First of all, I want to thank those of you who have been reading this blog and sending me lovely emails and/or saying encouraging things when we meet. Today while talking to Friend A our conversation went to the goofiness of blogs and I suddenly felt weepy. True, we have all been fighting colds and and not getting enough sleep because of the cacophony of coughs (excellent alliteration execution), but mostly I think it's because I have found this whole blogging business to be surprisingly more.
It's more work than I thought -- chucking something onto this screen at the end of a night when I'm exhausted; it's more personal than I thought -- how to express an idea without some bloodletting?; it's more embarrassing than I thought -- seeing mistakes -- either mechanically or substantively days after the fact... yipes...; it's more humbling than I thought -- I talked to somebody who has a "following" of tens of thousands a day... ummmm, yeah...I don't have that. I didn't set out to have that (of course I say that -- it's like when that kid broke up with you in 7th grade and you were all: well, I didn't want to be going out anyway...). I truly do see this as a journal for our family, a way to stay connected to a few friends, and maybe a way to share ideas with others who question what and how this generation of moppets can be learning...
And yet, in the spirit of full discloser, as stupid as it sounds (I've been blogging for a solid three weeks) there was a part of me that heard that (tens of thousands a day?!?), and thought: wow, I'm pathetic... I'm doing something chumpy and I'm not even a "successful" chump...
However, three people came through for me. Friend A, my high school English teacher, and Mr. Rogers.
Friend A, seeing me crumble, said simply: "Don't stop."
Ms. G's card that she gave me on graduation night said to remember that more important than a best-selling novel will be the words that I write to my family and friends.
Mr. Rogers spoke to me through a video that I really should watch every morning before I open my mouth for the day...
Today, after a hard day of blowing my chapped nose and destroying any confidence my kid might have had in his/her math skills (I'm pretty sure that I won the Biggest Biotch in the Building competition -- and we live in an enormous building -- eat that tens-of-thousands-a-day...), I knew that my family needed some healing. And so I turned to Fred Rogers.
If you haven't watched Mister Rogers & Me you need to get on it. On the cover it says that it's "one man's story," referring to the director, Benjamin Wagner's meeting and subsequent exploration of Mr. Rogers and his ideals. That's been done in some books. What the movie does is something cool -- it demonstrates how Wagner's talent (and the talent of his brother) -- talents that could be seen as incongruent with Rogers's message (using short clips and brief encounters to get across the message of slowing it down and being present) -- have a place. Each of us have talents that have a place.
In both writing and literature analysis classes we talk about how brilliant it is when the craft reflects the content. So here is a movie that talks about a man, a teacher, who says: you are important and I like you just the way you are. And then the movie itself shows not how the director started wearing cardigans and speaking v-e-r-y slowly, but how he used what he had to offer and built something good. What he built is a depository for all these profound Mr. Rogers nuggets that a worn out and weepy stay-at-home home-schooling mom can watch in just over an hour, and ultimately feel like tomorrow is going to be a better brand new day. And while there are things that I can/should improve, what I fundamentally have to offer is fundamentally good.
Just as important, I was reminded that my kids are valuable just the way they are. Even if they don't know their place values. Actually, because right now they don't give a rip about flipping place values.
Apparently Mr. Rogers wanted to share with people the importance of finding and appreciating the deep and the simple in a world that is increasingly shallow and complex. I've committed to help with his mission. The next time somebody asks me what our "curriculum" is, I am going to say: "We are learning how to contribute something deep and simple in a world that is shallow and complex." When pushed for specifics, I will say that we are starting with gratitude. If I am grateful that my spawn can see the numbers I'm writing, hear the questions I'm repeatedly asking, and smile at me even if they are frustrated, how much better are the lessons going to go?
And so, if you're reading this: thank you for doing so. Thank you for supporting me -- with the scheme, with the blog, with trying to be a better human. It's a good feeling to know you're out there.
I'm struggling here to figure out if school happened today at all. The Girl did the donkey for a pin-the-tail game, and Judd the Red Chicken did the tails...So, I guess we did art.
Today is The Sister's birthday. We got up early to do a little birthday decorating, made some eggs, and went back down to the Lower East Side. The Sister tries to eat responsibly, so we realized that if she was ever going to experience Doughnut Plant bliss it would probably have to be on a special occasion, like her birthday. We figured that the eggs would act as a sufficient protein block (so, I guess the kids had a nutrition/health lesson), and we headed south.
After partaking, we walked a couple of blocks to our favorite fish store (so, I guess they had a Biology lesson), and Judd the Red Chicken bought some new fish for his aquarium with some money that his Grandma gave him. He felt that today would be appropriate, not only because the fish store is so close to where one gains doughnut euphoria, but also because he wanted to name a fish after his aunt. If you ever want to see a bunch of cool aquarium fish and giggle over the fact that only in NYC would there be a store that sells both pet fish and bait you MUST go to Pacific Aquarium. The people that work there are crazy-kind. They will talk to my son and answer every question he has for a full twenty minutes even though they know he's only buying a three-dollar fish.
This afternoon, after the fish all got to know each other, The Sister spent her day doing a family tradition that the kids started doing a couple of years ago.
Back up so I can give proper homage: we know a couple that are exactly what you want your kids to be when they grow up. They have a tradition that we copied. And it's actually because we copied it from them that I am sharing it now. I kind of think that service is usually best when it's secret service... but if this cute couple had kept their tradition a secret, we would never have learned of it... so here's to sharing good ideas in the spirit of promoting propagation, not for a pat on the back.
Here's the tradition: on their birthdays I let them cut school to spend the day doing acts of kindness -- with the goal of doing as many as their new age. The Sister was turning 17, so she had 17 services to do. She was a bit overwhelmed by it, so I told her it was her choice. The kids, however, rather obnoxiously insisted, so she agreed. I think this was her final list:
1. Helped the neighbor set-up her new iPod dock/clock (she actually did this yesterday, but the kids thought she should count it, as they always try to include that neighbor in their days of service).
2. Held the elevator for a long time for a group of people (this is kind of a big deal in New York where people will look you straight in the face as you're rushing to make it, and lean over and push the "Door Close" button -- they will continue looking you in the eye as the door closes between the two of you).
3. Made the kids' beds beautifully (they told her that she was welcome to do this daily).
4. Swiped her Metro card in the subway station for a flustered lady whose card wasn't working.
5. Opened the door for an elderly gentleman.
6. Handed out flowers to people on the street. Note: one lady was so taken by this she exchanged phone numbers with her because she wanted to introduce her to her son who's in his first year of college. Personally, I think the service cancels out if you get a boy's email address out of it, but as The Sister pointed out, she gave out other flowers, too.
7. Gave cookies to the doormen.
8. Bought a bag of groceries and gave it to a homeless lady.
9. Gave $3 to a homeless veteran.
10. Gave balloons to a couple of kids.
11. Took the kids to the park for a few minutes so my doughnut-induced headache could have a fighting chance to go away.
12. While at the park, picked up trash.
13. Helped clean up around here.
14. Helped a confused person in the elevator.
15. Returned some mail to the neighbor that was mistakenly put in our box.
16. Wrote a letter to Mom.
17. Wrote a letter to a friend.
There are some things to be learned from a day of service: 1. If you look for it, there are a lot of opportunities to help out 2. Most people are doing a lot of little kind acts everyday 3. When you try to serve, some people are gracious and grateful, and others are suspicious and mean. The Sister shared how she felt when a woman was rude to her when she tried to give her a flower -- the kids jumped right in with their stories from the trenches.
Sometimes the experience is beautiful -- like when The Boy gave a flower to a lady who started crying because it was her birthday, too, and nobody here knew because she was far from home, and she had been feeling sad. She asked him for his name and told him that every year on their birthday she would think of him. Gorgeous.
Then there are those who must think that the kid is going to hand them the tulip and then demand ten bucks or something, so they throw up a hand or hunch their shoulders and say, "No!"... or just grunt. Whenever that happens I feel so badly for the kids. It actually takes some gumption to go up and offer, so when they're rebuffed it hurts -- kind of makes them feel icky, like they did something wrong.
So, service -- you need to know how to give it and how to take it, right?
I guess I provided an act of service to the kids by not having them do any formal lessons today. They certainly don't have a problem accepting service... Oh well, a favorite aunt only turns 17 once. We are so happy we got to spend the day with her.
Old people. I like them. I know that a lot of people like babies. To me a baby hasn't done much but show up, but an old person has proved that he/she has some chutzpah and good luck. Their very existence makes me hopeful.
Though today is still a holiday, we did do some stuff. My favorite thing was getting to take my kids to an event that I thoroughly enjoyed several times last year while they were in school.
On Tuesdays at noon there is a free jazz concert at the Bruno Walter Auditorium, a part of the Lincoln Center public library. The Gotham Jazzmen.
It's not just any jazz performance mimicking Louis Armstrong; referencing Eubie Blake. The musicians are musicians. And they got that way by being musicians for a looooong time. There are no music stands; there is no sheet music. Just five gentlemen who must have more music retrievable in their heads than I've ever even heard. They say jokes on stage that only they, and the hardcore jazz aficionados in the audience, understand ("We'll do it in eight. Hahaha. We'll see how this goes...").
The kids brought their clipboards and worked on some math and drew some pictures. The Girl started her Christmas list. They could have fallen asleep and I would not have cared. I'm convinced that the quality and spirit of the music was so strong that we were absorbing it through our pores. Further, the personalities on the stage caught their attention enough -- they frequently looked up during the jokes ("C? You can't start this one in C! Well... there's always a first... A one, and a two, and a three..."). We are pretty far removed from the world of such musical understanding, but at least my kids know that that world is out there. And impressive, fun, brilliant worlds are not just inhabited by the young and the beautiful.
Listening to the music today my mind started drifting...
Several years ago my grandma and her friend -- both retired at the time -- went to the local public elementary school and volunteered their services. Constantly hearing about the crushing needs of our school system they thought that the red carpet would surely be unrolled, and small, yet appropriately appreciative little hands would line up along the sides of that carpet, hold their pencils aloft and create a tunnel for these sisters of mercy to walk through...
The gals dressed sharp, but made sure to wear comfortable shoes, for they were fully prepared to do some hustling...
They were sent home faster than a Ziploc with pee clothes. The principal explained that it was too complicated to have volunteers in the school.
(Sister, complicated is going to be when you want to be pushed into the square of sunlight someday and you can't figure out why the bulk of society doesn't give a wrinkled gnat's arse about you.)
Alright, I mused as the cornet trilled, you can't have senior citizens in the school because a) they could be pedophiles b) they are unreliable -- they get sick, they fall down, they get lost in Wheel of Fortune reruns... and c) I couldn't think of another reason. Fine -- they can't put a sensibly-shoed foot in the classroom, but what about our kids getting some old people time by scheduling trips to an assisted living home? The residents that want to participate could gather in a specific place and the children and the seniors could share talents -- sing, or read, or chat... The kids could interview them and write some essays or biographies. They could hold their hands.
Duh -- sorry. Slipped my mind. By the time the kids are mature enough for something that requires this level of sensitivity their field trips need to align with the curriculum. And the curriculum needs to align with the core standards. And the core standards are what they are going to be tested on. And that is the formula that is going to make them great citizens and humans with depth.
So today I played out a dream about adding more humanity to the public school experience while "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" was passing over some piano wire.
I looked around the room at the performers (very active "senior citizens") and the audience (some quite elderly), and felt crazy grateful that my little family was there.
