Each year in class we read Eve Bunting's, A Picnic in October. I love the story for many reasons, but most importantly for the symbolism of Freedom that I get to discuss with my newly assimilating students. I love to hear what they believe freedom is and what they think of their new country. It is also a time where I get to hear background on my students. They tell some of their stories to me and my eyes are always opened just a little bit more to what some people go through in order to make it to the U.S. and the great opportunities that we have in this country.
The only draw back to the story is the one part when a character says the S word -you know, stupid! The kids always suck in their breath and some will even say Miss that was a bad word, I can't read it. Literally, I have had students stop reading and refuse to say this word out loud. It has always led to huge discussions about how the word is not bad, but just not always nice. etc, etc.
This has always really bothered me since, I have never thought any word was bad, perhaps some words are not polite or justified for public use, but all words have a place that is why people began using them.
The only phrase that really grates on my nerves is OMG. Said by my little ones completely and without a blinking eye to the fact that they just said the Lord's name in vain. It is a definite "do not do" in my class. However, I am constantly fighting this battle.
This year it hit me square in the face. I had just asked my third graders to again not say OMG and suddenly they were open mouthed, eyes wide, and stuttering because the word stupid was on a page in a book.
All I know to say about this revelation is WOW, How did We as the collective educationalworld (parents included) let this huge misappropriation of angst happen!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
When the 10 Year Old Cooks
A while back (like about 3 weeks ago) I really didn't feel so good. Of course, as it usually goes it was on a night when my hubby would not be home. I was dragging myself home with the kids in tow all the while knowing that my night would not be restful, but filled with the needs of others.
On arrival home, I dragged myself into the family room and plopped onto my favorite comfy spot and groaned. The oldest asked me what was wrong and I explained. I am sick.
Now Isaac is my nurse. He is a kind hearted soul and the more he grows the more compassionate he is becoming. Even so, I was surprised when he told me that he would help fix dinner. Almost a boyscout, he had helped prepare other meals on campouts with his pack and I knew he could handle the directions. After all, Mac and Cheese in any form just isn't too difficult and it was about all I could handle on this particular night.
So I asked him to boil water, put in the noodles, and then cut up the velveeta and put it aside until we were ready for it. I heard him in the kitchen opening packages. I heard the bubbling of boiling water, drawers sliding and the soft plunk of a knife on a cutting board. I was thankful and very proud.
After al the preparations were done, Isaac went to his room and became absorbed in what ever he does in there, so I decided that I better haul myself off my comfy spot and go see what was happening with the noodles. They were done and it was time to drain off the water.
The first thing I noticed about the noodles was the intense murkiness of the water. I had never seen water so white from boiling macaroni before. I poked around in the pot, but found nothing strange so I decided to go ahead and drain the mac. When I did, I discovered tiny spongy white pieces of SOMETHING stuck to most of the noodles. I stared in disgust. What could this be? I racked my foggy brain, but could think of nothing that would look like this. I gingerly put a little of the substance to my tongue to taste. No taste.
I was certainly baffled so I called my mom. She was baffled too, and couldn't manage to offer anything more than "Could the mac be bad?" and "Do you think it was a wormy thing boiled to oblivion." I shuttered at that since I had already put on tiny part of one of those things in my mouth.
However, it didn't taste like protein, or anything else and we were hungry. What ever it was was no longer alive,(if it ever was alive) so out of a resolve to not think about it any more and a desperation of having nothing else to feed the children without dragging my sick self out to a grocery store, I decided to rinse each piece of mac and then get on with my life. What doesn't kill us will make us stronger, right?
So I rinsed and placed each piece of spongy-free macaroni back in the pan.
My rinsing done, I had all the items ready for the cheese sauce portion of the meal. But, I couldn't find the velveeta anywhere on the kitchen counter. I remembered hearing a knife cutting something,but the evidence was no where to be seen. So I went to find Isaac and see where the velveeta was.
"Isaac," I asked, "Where is the cheese you cut up?"
"Mom," He said, "I put it in the pot with the macaroni."
And suddenly the mystery of my spongy little tastless mess in the kitchen made perfect since. Note to the galley - Don't boil velveeta. It is yucky!
On arrival home, I dragged myself into the family room and plopped onto my favorite comfy spot and groaned. The oldest asked me what was wrong and I explained. I am sick.
Now Isaac is my nurse. He is a kind hearted soul and the more he grows the more compassionate he is becoming. Even so, I was surprised when he told me that he would help fix dinner. Almost a boyscout, he had helped prepare other meals on campouts with his pack and I knew he could handle the directions. After all, Mac and Cheese in any form just isn't too difficult and it was about all I could handle on this particular night.
So I asked him to boil water, put in the noodles, and then cut up the velveeta and put it aside until we were ready for it. I heard him in the kitchen opening packages. I heard the bubbling of boiling water, drawers sliding and the soft plunk of a knife on a cutting board. I was thankful and very proud.
After al the preparations were done, Isaac went to his room and became absorbed in what ever he does in there, so I decided that I better haul myself off my comfy spot and go see what was happening with the noodles. They were done and it was time to drain off the water.
The first thing I noticed about the noodles was the intense murkiness of the water. I had never seen water so white from boiling macaroni before. I poked around in the pot, but found nothing strange so I decided to go ahead and drain the mac. When I did, I discovered tiny spongy white pieces of SOMETHING stuck to most of the noodles. I stared in disgust. What could this be? I racked my foggy brain, but could think of nothing that would look like this. I gingerly put a little of the substance to my tongue to taste. No taste.
I was certainly baffled so I called my mom. She was baffled too, and couldn't manage to offer anything more than "Could the mac be bad?" and "Do you think it was a wormy thing boiled to oblivion." I shuttered at that since I had already put on tiny part of one of those things in my mouth.
However, it didn't taste like protein, or anything else and we were hungry. What ever it was was no longer alive,(if it ever was alive) so out of a resolve to not think about it any more and a desperation of having nothing else to feed the children without dragging my sick self out to a grocery store, I decided to rinse each piece of mac and then get on with my life. What doesn't kill us will make us stronger, right?
So I rinsed and placed each piece of spongy-free macaroni back in the pan.
My rinsing done, I had all the items ready for the cheese sauce portion of the meal. But, I couldn't find the velveeta anywhere on the kitchen counter. I remembered hearing a knife cutting something,but the evidence was no where to be seen. So I went to find Isaac and see where the velveeta was.
"Isaac," I asked, "Where is the cheese you cut up?"
"Mom," He said, "I put it in the pot with the macaroni."
And suddenly the mystery of my spongy little tastless mess in the kitchen made perfect since. Note to the galley - Don't boil velveeta. It is yucky!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
You Picked Me!
This Friday we received a precious Christmas Card from one of the families we travelled to China with. Sarah was sitting by me when I opened the card and we chatted about the little Chinese girl in the photo.
She said "She is from China, like me." Yes, I said. We oohed and Awed and then went to put the card on the angel card holder that will display cards through out the holidays and probably won't get taken down until June. :)
About two hours later, as I sat typing my research paper, Sarah walked up to the card holder. She pointed to the little girl in the picture and said,
"Her mom went to China and chose her" "But, You Chose Me!" Her hand went to cover her heart and she bent her knees a little leaning into her words. "You Chose Me, Mommy!" And then she was bouncing on her toes delightedly. Her smile beaming. And again she giggled "You Chose Me!"
I smiled at her, stunned by the exhuberant emotion. I tried not to cry as I thought of the miracle her life is becoming. I thought about God and his Grandeur. And I thought about His love.
"Sarah" I said. "I chose you. Daddy chose you. And God chose you!"
"Yes" She squealed and then turned heal and bounced down the hall filled with joy.
She said "She is from China, like me." Yes, I said. We oohed and Awed and then went to put the card on the angel card holder that will display cards through out the holidays and probably won't get taken down until June. :)
About two hours later, as I sat typing my research paper, Sarah walked up to the card holder. She pointed to the little girl in the picture and said,
"Her mom went to China and chose her" "But, You Chose Me!" Her hand went to cover her heart and she bent her knees a little leaning into her words. "You Chose Me, Mommy!" And then she was bouncing on her toes delightedly. Her smile beaming. And again she giggled "You Chose Me!"
I smiled at her, stunned by the exhuberant emotion. I tried not to cry as I thought of the miracle her life is becoming. I thought about God and his Grandeur. And I thought about His love.
"Sarah" I said. "I chose you. Daddy chose you. And God chose you!"
"Yes" She squealed and then turned heal and bounced down the hall filled with joy.
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