MY BOGGY BLOG: find your way through the murk
Notes from the Homefront -- Theresa Jarosz Alberti, writer and mother... http://sapphire.albatross.org
Yesterday I went to the school to help the 7th grade teachers with
reading tests that need to be administered three times a year, as a
part of this No Child Left Behind thingy. It was my task to call
students to my table one at a time, have them read three different
articles to me for one minute each, and then I would record how many
words they read in that time, subtracting out any words they stumbled
on (we were instructed to subtract *any* word they stumbled on, even
if it was eventually said correctly).
In my two hours of testing, I heard from a wide array of students.
There were a few excellent readers with high scores and few
subtractions, there were medium readers, there were poor readers.
There were students from other countries for whom English was
obviously a second language. One boy from Ethiopia had a very strong
accent and could sound out words very well but they were not always
pronounced correctly. How do you rate someone like that? I realize
that some of this testing is good, to find out where kids are so that
they can get the help they need, but if they are going to rate our
school by student scores and take away funding because we have some
students who progress slowly or students who don't test well... it
makes me mad. I think we are on the wrong track. I love the diversity
of our school, but all these tests and judgments about our school are
*not* based on our diverse student body. Our kids are enriched by the
diversity, but the test scores do not take that into account.
Birthday Sleep over, Part 2--- I forgot to report on the boys' sleep
over last Friday night. DD had her belated 12th birthday sleep over
over a week ago, and DS had his likewise belated sleep over on Friday.
We had invited six boys over, but one couldn't make it, so we had six
12 year old boys (including DS), 8 yr old DS, his friend for a bit of
playtime in the evening, and DD. We have had sleepovers for several
years now, and I was dreading the Testosterone Fest based on years
past, where all this boy-energy explodes in our basement play room,
resulting in wrestling, toys being thrown about, swords and sticks
whacking, and yes, injury. I was expecting more of the same this
year.... but wait, don't turn away in disbelief when I tell you that
it was pretty tame. Really! They played Yu-gi-oh cards, computer
games, watched movies, played hide-and-seek outside in the dark,
roasted marshmallows, glutted themselves on the make-your-own-sundae
bar. All in all, not too much stress for parentals in charge!
It got me to wondering about the changes going on in these boys. They
are all a few steps into puberty now... is more of their energy going
into their hormones now, or do the computer games stimulate yet focus
their energy? Or...? I'm not sure. But it is interesting to note these
changes, to see the differences in the boy and girl experiences, and
to see how it will be when younger DS turns 9 in November and has his
sleep over.
I went to see and hear Anna Quindlen last night, who was being
interviewed for MPR's Talking Volumes series about her book
"Blessings" (which I've almost finished reading). She is so
inspiring-- first of all, her writing is fabulous, both her fiction
and her nonfiction columns for Newsweek and The New York Times. She
gives a very good interview, speaks very eloquently, intelligently and
colorfully, making it all look effortless. And yet she endears herself
to women like me-- mom, struggling writer, by her honesty about
writing and mothering: how great both are and how hard both are. If
you are so inclined to listen to this broadcast of her interview (or
interviews with other authors), you can do so at [1]Talking Volumes.
Happy Birthday to Me--- My birthday was three days ago, September 23,
and now I'm 39 years old. It was quite a pleasant birthday this year.
I had my two writing groups that day (my choice, since both are heaps
of fun for me), and my morning women's writing group spoiled me with
sweet gifts-- books, cards, jewelry, flowers, writing notebooks. Sigh,
how perfect! I had a piece of Baker's Square French Silk pie with my
lunch later (ahhhh, heaven), and my family had given me all the gifts
I'd asked for on my list! Being 39 hasn't phased me too much... YET. I
know 40 is right around the corner, but I feel like I've really been
moving forward toward a lot of my goals, especially cruising along
with writing my novel and poetry. So I won't worry about the big 4-0
yet... hopefully I'll just keep cruising forward and come out of this
year with a few manuscripts to peddle around.
References
1. http://www.mpr.org/books/talkingvolumes/tvbooklist.shtml
It's been a long time since I was a momma to
babies, with my own "baby" being almost 9 now. He still likes to curl
up on my lap, a great snuggler, but he's all stretched out now with
these long legs and arms. Sigh! But from Saturday to Sunday, I got to
be "momma" to a baby all over again, and oh, it was sweet, but oh, so
tiring!
The sleep over girls had just left at 11 am and my sister and BIL
showed up with their youngest, Baby L, who is 5 1/2 months old. They
were going to an out-of-town wedding, and I was watching the baby
while Grandma and Grandpa took the almost 3 yr old and almost 5 yr
old. So I got Baby L. from 1 pm Saturday until 1 pm Sunday, and DH had
to be out for the evening on Sat., so there was no relief pitcher
until 11:30 pm! It did help that my 12 yr olds were able to help-- DD
helped play with Baby, hold her and feed her, and DS made lots of
goofy faces. I made them both at least watch me change diapers so that
if they ever babysit they will have a clue.
And oh, Baby was so sweet! Gurgling and cooing and smiling and making
"talking" noises. She is still little enough that she can only roll on
the carpet with some effort, and can't sit up yet, and loved to be
held. We rocked and she ate and played... and I remembered all those
wonderful-comfy-adorable baby moments I'd been through years ago.
During the afternoon, I even started thinking, "I'm only on the verge
of 39. I could still have a baby. I could have all this baby sweetness
again..."
And then came the screaming. From 12:45 AM to 1:30-- piercing wails,
body taut, unresponsive to any method of comfort. I was already pretty
tired from lack of sleep the previous night, and DH and I tried all
the walking and bottle and pacifier and soothing talk, etc., and
finally I went down to rock her and watch TV, and she took the bottle
and fell asleep. Whew! And then I started to remember how much work a
baby is and how Very Nice it is to have bigger kids! Yay, Big Kids!
I did love having a baby for the night... and maybe I'll borrow Baby
L. again some night and give her parents a break. Being an Auntie is
wonderful! I get all the love and bonding and sweetness, and then the
next night I can give Baby back and get some real sleep!
Okay, so I was up till 1:30 AM with sleep over
happenings (mainly making sure my sons got to bed so at least someone
would get some sleep), and even though I slept in till 9:00, I still
woke up feeling like I had a hangover. My coffee-fix helped that. The
girls woke at 9:45 and reported that they'd stayed up till
4:30...groan! Oh well, that was my DD's goal, and she achieved it!
Now as the girls are strewn about the living room, watching a bit of
one more movie before they have to go, I'm thinking about how nice
this sleep over went overall. Yes, we had loudness and rowdiness and
chaos, but mostly it was an easy sleep over. And that was because
(light bulb going on) I made things easier for me. You see, usually I
try to play this Perfect Mom blended with Martha Stewart, and I would
make a cake and plan an out-of-house activity and make pancakes for
breakfast. This time, I bought ice cream and a lot of toppings for an
ice cream bar instead of cake, we put up a tent and had a bonfire, and
the girls watched movies and played games. For breakfast, I bought
many bags of sugar cereals that usually don't grace our table very
often, and the girls served themselves breakfast when they wanted it.
All in all, the changes didn't amount to any less fun for them, and it
made my life so much easier and my stress level way down. I think I'm
learning that simple things can be just as good as elaborate ones,
especially if the simple things mean I skip the pre-party crabby bitch
phase!
The first of our belated birthday sleepovers for our twins is
tonight-- DD and 5 of her 12 yr old friends. I'd forgotten how excited
kids get in these situations, all the noise and chaos! They are having
fun singing songs, watching manga films and maybe LOR Two Towers
later, making smores at our bonfire, making supersweet topping-heavy
ice cream sundaes (I didn't feel like making a cake). DD goal is
always to stay up as late as possible... one year I woke at 4:00 AM to
find one girl sleeping sitting up at a video game-- looked as if she'd
passed out mid-game! Next week we'll have over-active,
testosterone-laden 12 yr old boys over for DS's party. Whew!
Guilty Pleasure---Last night, we watched the 90 minute season opener
for Survivor. It's become a family tradition, ever since we got hooked
midway through the first season. Honestly, we don't watch much TV at
all (well, the kids do try to watch as many cartoons as they can), and
I've despised any little snippets of the overabundant reality
programming that I've seen. But Survivor has become such a fun little
ritual for us. We enjoy watching the foibles and challenges these
people face, laugh at the stupid things they blurt out in front of the
camera, debate the merits of the various contestants. It's also been
interesting to compare various seasons, and how the producers try to
keep the show fresh by putting a new spin on things. I also think
we're all captivated by the show because we helped DH do an audition
tape for it several years ago... he would love to be on the show (not
me, no thanks!), and the idea that he could possibly have a chance to
be a contestant adds a little flavor to the show for us.
They always make the contestants eat insects or other gross stuff for
one of the challenges... shudder. It's fascinating to watch though...
I think about the different things that people eat in this world, and
how bugs other strange stuff can be seen as just part of the daily
diet, or a treat. I wonder what we eat as Americans that would totally
gross out other people in the world?
Belatedly reporting in on a fine weekend: got to go to the Festival of
Children's Literature in Red Wing on Saturday. I love these kinds of
writing-related events, where I get to meet authors and socialize with
other writers and feel like I'm doing something productive, all while
having fun! I went with three other women writer friends, and we had a
lovely road trip, getting lots of time to chat in the one hour drive
there and back. It turned out to be a very kid-friendly festival, with
lots of activities and projects for kids to do, so we made a note to
remind ourselves about that next year.
For me, the high point was getting to hear Kate DiCamillo speak. I've
heard her a few other times, and she is just so down-to-earth and
humble and smart-alecky. I know she is my age, too, and when she had
her first book published a few years ago (Because of Winn-Dixie), it
ended up getting a Newberry Honor and lots of attention. Sometimes
when I hear a writer like this talk, I'll feel jealous or put off, but
with Kate, I end up feeling very hopeful, like: I can do this too.
Sunday was the Renaissance Festival, which we go to every couple
years. I wanted to make a point of it this year because we need a few
more fun things to tack onto our summer, since we never really did
have a "vacation." The day was nice and cool and sunny, and I felt
totally relaxed as we just wandered around the festival, looking at
shops, watching a few little shows. We salivated over a lot of
wonderful merchandise but couldn't buy any (broke), but we did have
some treats. DH and older DS were bummed that the Scotch Eggs booth
was all sold out, but they comforted themselves by eating the
gargantuan smoked turkey legs (me too; yum!).
I always have a little dream when I'm there of being wealthy some day
and getting to really shop. Sigh... maybe some day. But we peasants
have a good time at the Ren Fest anyway!
I really don't want this blog to become weather-dominated... but
heck,oh well, just let me say it: It finally rained! After two months
with none, we had a day and night of pitter-pat raindrops, cool
wetness soaking into the parched earth. Rain or snow is not normally a
thing to get very excited about in Minnesota-- we usually have both in
plenty-- but when they are absent for too long, the whole county
cheers their return. The earth feels new again.
I've been kinda down this week. Just talking to various folks, I've
been feeling a bit disillusioned about our school. Usually I feel
pretty great about our school, a somewhat large K-8 with a deaf and
hard-of-hearing program, meaning that all the kids are taught some
sign-language and deaf students are often integrated into their
classrooms, providing a wonderful way to experience, learn about and
welcome people with handicaps into their lives. We were given a new
principal last year, and he seems to be a really nice guy, someone who
listens to parents and is very visible in the school. But this week
I've been hearing more about the politics of the school. I've been
hearing about Art Adventure, a fabulous program through the
Minneapolis Institute of Arts where parent volunteers are trained to
present several works of art to a classroom, and then the students go
on a fieldtrip to the museum to see the actual 8 works of art they've
learned about and discussed. This will be my fourth year in the
program, and it is wonderfully exciting to see how stimulated the kids
are to talk about the art works, to do the art projects we bring in,
and they love the museum trip. It really personalizes art for the
kids. When we go to the museum (and for many kids, this may be their
only exposure to art museums), it is so fun to see kids responding to
the artwork, and when they see a piece that we covered in previous
years, they remember it like an old friend. It is so rewarding for me
to see this as a parent and volunteer, not to mention the fact that
*I* learn a lot about art from this experience too!
Well, this week I've been hearing about the money woes of school
budgets, how there is no money, and Art Adventure might not happen
this year. And since our school was put on the Naughty List (in the No
Child Left Behind scheme of things, our school was found lacking in
some test scores), the focus has been to improve our test scores, math
and reading. Yes, the kids do still have an art class once a week
(with an art teacher who was given a materials budget of $75 for the
whole school year-- not per student, just $75 for a school of 1200
students!), but art classes can in no way allow the kind of discussion
and intimacy with artwork that Art Adventure can. And the PTA, run by
some very dedicated but controlling folks, doesn't want to give money
to Art Adventure. More politics here. AND one of the very talented
women who was running Art Adventure in our school pulled her child out
of the school and is of course no longer involved. It always makes me
feel pretty sad to see a very involved parent pull out of our school,
giving up on it all for some reason unknown to me.
I feel like a balloon is quickly deflating in front of me. Phlbbbbbt.
I'm not sure what can be done, but I'm talking to people and seeing
what options are available. I'll do what I can, but I'm really not
political. Maybe I could be, but it's really not my forte, or what I'm
good at. However, I am looking at the big picture, trying to see what
it is about me and why I get disillusioned... oh, it's happened
before, disillusioned with government, church, society, the
neighborhood, even writing sometimes. I must be living in illusion--
maybe it is my tendency to romanticize things? Or again,
perfectionism, wanting to see everything as black or white, when
nothing really is. DH says he doesn't get disillusioned because he
doesn't have expectations. I'm not sure. I'm chewing on this one
today. What do I need to learn about this, on this cool and gray rainy
day (not black or white)?
Our Midwestern drought continues here, with temps in the 90's, crunchy
grass and dying gardens. Usually our summers are a mix of heat,
humidity and wild thunderstorms with drenching rain... but we haven't
had rain in about two months! I don't know how the farmers do it...
growing their crops and waiting on the weather. I'd be a basket case
of nerves. It was always so depressing to read the Little House on the
Prairie books and see how their harvest could look very promising one
year and then a hailstorm would dash their crops and their hopes to
bits.
We went swimming at the YWCA yesterday. We are so lucky to have a new
facility that has been so wonderfully thought out-- there's an indoor
track (a blessing in the winter!), two pools, a fit kids gym where
parents can drop kids to have fun while parents work out, all kinds of
weight machines and exercise equipment and classes. Swimming felt
especially refreshing, and now my kids can swim well enough that I can
go and do some laps and get some exercise while they swim. The family
pool was busy but not overly crowded, and as I hung out with my kids
there, I looked around and took notice for a moment of all the various
skin colors around me. There was a big Hispanic family, several Somali
kids, some African Americans. When I go to Cub for groceries, the
diversity is even greater-- I can hear several different languages
around me as I shop, see Somalis, African Americans, Hispanics, Native
Americans, Chinese, Hmong... and probably more that are slipping my
mind right now. I love the diversity, love the ordinariness of it here
in the city. That's just the way it is, life in the city.
I grew up in the suburbs, with two "black kids" (as we called them
then) in our whole school of about 1500 kids. When diversity began
creeping out to the suburbs in the last few years, I've heard comments
about it, how different those people are, how much trouble they bring
with them. I'm so sad to hear this! My children go to a city school
with a wonderful diversity of ethnicity, and that is just normal to my
kids. They will not grow up being afraid of nonwhites because they
will have shared pencils with them and tagged them at recess. That's
not to say that there aren't problems in the city or that we all get
along with our differences all the time. But we do have more
opportunities to see each other as just people or neighbors and to
share something of our similarities or differences with each other.
There is so much to learn in this big old world of ours.
Our Midwestern drought continues here, with temps in the 90's, crunchy
grass and dying gardens. Usually our summers are a mix of heat,
humidity and wild thunderstorms with drenching rain... but we haven't
had rain in about two months! I don't know how the farmers do it...
growing their crops and waiting on the weather. I'd be a basket case
of nerves. It was always so depressing to read the Little House on the
Prairie books and see how their harvest could look very promising one
year and then a hailstorm would dash their crops and their hopes to
bits.
We went swimming at the YWCA yesterday. We are so lucky to have a new
facility that has been so wonderfully thought out-- there's an indoor
track (a blessing in the winter!), two pools, a fit kids gym where
parents can drop kids to have fun while parents work out, all kinds of
weight machines and exercise equipment and classes. Swimming felt
especially refreshing, and now my kids can swim well enough that I can
go and do some laps and get some exercise while they swim. The family
pool was busy but not overly crowded, and as I hung out with my kids
there, I looked around and took notice for a moment of all the various
skin colors around me. There was a big Hispanic family, several Somali
kids, some African Americans. When I go to Cub for groceries, the
diversity is even greater-- I can hear several different languages
around me as I shop, see Somalis, African Americans, Hispanics, Native
Americans, Chinese, Hmong... and probably more that are slipping my
mind right now. I love the diversity, love the ordinariness of it here
in the city. That's just the way it is, life in the city.
I grew up in the suburbs, with two "black kids" (as we called them
then) in our whole school of about 1500 kids. When diversity began
creeping out to the suburbs in the last few years, I've heard comments
about it, how different those people are, how much trouble they bring
with them. I'm so sad to hear this! My children go to a city school
with a wonderful diversity of ethnicity, and that is just normal to my
kids. They will not grow up being afraid of nonwhites because they
will have shared pencils with them and tagged them at recess. That's
not to say that there aren't problems in the city or that we all get
along with our differences all the time. But we do have more
opportunities to see each other as just people or neighbors and to
share something of our similarities or differences with each other.
There is so much to learn in this big old world of ours.
The first day of school was yesterday, and excitement was in the air.
I remember how I felt every year as a kid... happy to be starting
something new and getting to see old friends, nervous about how it
would all go, wondering about my teachers and if I'd like them, and
would they like me? The delight of having new supplies to work with,
all those shiny pencils and blank notebooks, and new clothes to wear.
And I never could sleep much the night before, the butterflies in my
stomach having kept me jazzed. I don't get nervous now, sending my
kids off to school, but I still feel the excitement and delight for
them, and for me too! It's a new beginning for me, with hours of my
day to myself, to write and keep on with my creative endeavors.
We lost power for two hours this morning. I was sitting at my computer
when I heard a loud gun-shot like explosion, and the power zapped off.
This had happened last month, too, and I had thought it was
heat-related back then. I went out to chat with my neighbor, and he
said a bird had landed on the transformer and blew up, and that was
what had caused the outage last month, too. He said the bird was in
the alley. Of course I had to go see...
[Gross Alert!] I had expected to see bits of feather and bird parts,
not much intact. But it was actually kinda interesting... the poor
birdie was all in one piece, but its whole torso had blown open, as if
slit down the middle and splayed open. I could see the open stomach,
which was filled with the recent breakfast of worms, and the muscular
chest wall, which was purplish-red and still covering the heart and
lungs. I was surprised at how interested I was in this, and not
squeamish at all... maybe I missed my calling in the medical field. I
could have been a surgeon. I would be rich! Really, though, nothing
beats writing. I guess I could write about a surgeon if I wanted to...
I may be forced to go put on some pants. It's actually cool and gray,
and only supposed to reach the mid-70's. Feels like fall, but I know
we're not done with hot weather yet. We're in that season where you
don't know how to dress in the mornings-- will it start out cool and
then get hot, or will you freeze all day?
Blah, blah, blah. I'd better go upstairs and write!