And She Was... (original) (raw)

And She Was... By the time you read this the world will have changed

		There is something both sweet and scary about preparing Naomi for her first big protest where bad things might happen. It's Orlando and so I'm not as worried as I might be if it were DC or New York or some of the other places I've participated in social actions like this one, but still, sitting your kid down and saying "Here's a card with all your pertinent information, put it in your bag," and writing her name, age and birth date on it and "In case of emergency" who to call. (Stuff they tell protesters to write on their bodies, but that I didn't want to write on her just in case.) Explaining to her "Avoid the police, if you get lost, find someone with a stroller," and telling her which media outlets she's not allowed to talk to. Naomi asked about going to the women's march today. I have mixed emotions about it-I'm proud of her for wanting to take a stand, I'm frightened at the idea of letting her go, I'm excited to see her take real ownership in her own world and embrace the power she has to be part of making change.We've prepared her to be safe as best we could, she's capable of talking to the news media (and we've even told her a few that we don't want her to talk to,) and she's as ready as she can be. I may not be ready to help her deal with the things she might see or hear, but I will rise to the occasion.Miriam didn't want to go-she couldn't handle a crowd that size or the noise; after some discussion last night Andrew and I decided that I'd stay home with Miriam and he'd take Naomi. In a truly dangerous situation, he's bigger and scarier looking and better able to protect Naomi and keep her safe. I'm sad about missing out, and about sharing that experience with her, but I think as parents it's one of the times we choose what's best for our children over ourselves.We did give her a job to do today-we showed her the Safety Pin Box project and asked her to do their Safety Pin Box Kids Mini Task. I am so very proud of Naomi and the person she's turning into.

		three bomb threats, three weeks In the last three weeks there have been three bomb threats at our local Jewish Community Center. The JCC is a great spot-terrific camps, love their kid programs, wonderful pre-school, lots of great things about it. But the world has become threatening, and bomb threats at the JCC, while not out of the ordinary were not frequent; I'd always treated them as a "comes with the territory" sort of thing...that being Jewish, just like various other things comes with a certain amount of being threatened. So with three bomb threats in three weeks of course, people have talked about this a whole lot lately. Today, as I was just about ready to leave the house to pick the kids up from school and head to Girl Scouts, my phone rang. the number looked vaguely familiar, but not enough to be in my contacts or for me to know it, so I answered it. It was the reporter who interviewed Naomi a few weeks ago, wanting to know if I could talk to her on camera about what's happening at the JCC. I consulted with Andrew (it's his family too, and I need to make sure he's ok with how public things are,) and agreed to do the interview-the catch was I couldn't do it where she wanted (near the JCC)-I had to have her meet me near the kids' school so I could get in car line, then do the interview while I was waiting. I arrived, she hugged me, we slipped the microphone on, answered a few questions, and raced off to get the kids and head out. I hope that next time she calls me for something, I'll have time to do things like take a shower and do my hair before I show up. I wasn't expecting the hug-it made me think about what the female equivalent of the handshake is though. Maybe that's it. Anyway, here's the story in the print and video format..http://www.mynews13.com/content/news/cfnews13/news/article.html/content/news/articles/cfn/2017/1/19/fbi_investigating_th.html?cid=facebook_News_13

		You may or may not recall that two years ago, Naomi wrote a letter to the mayor of our town about the lack of Hanukkah decorations in the city light displays, and he wrote back to her promising to correct that. Two years later, there are still no Hanukkah decorations in the city-sponsored display, and when we were talking about this with a friend of mine, (who happens to also be the pastor of the local Presbyterian church,) she suggested that Naomi go to the public comment period at the city council meeting and make a statement. ( Naomi's statement and mine...Collapse )I also read a statement from my friend the Pastor, who had planned to attend but got called away to church at the last minute. The mayor was visibly uncomfortable with the statement. I was busy watching Naomi, more than the mayor, but Andrew says that it was kind of like "Uh oh, I did promise this, I've been caught and shamed by an 8 year old and now it's public record." We were really prepared-we even brought a copy of her letter and the mayor's response, which were collected by the city clerk and entered into the record. I have no idea if it will matter in the end, if anything will change. But my kids are learning truly how to make waves, how to hold elected officials accountable, how not to let things be if they're not right. And that's an important lesson. I also submitted my first piece of writing for publication. We'll see where that goes...probably a dead end, but if it happens, that would be awesome.

		Naomi and Miriam go to a "casually uniform" school; their school has uniforms but most of the time, unless a kid is violating the county dress code, they don't really do anything about it. So I told her she could wear her "A Woman's Place is in the House and the Senate and the Oval Office" shirt on Election Day next week as long as she wore proper uniform bottoms and put a school uniform shirt in her bag in case they told her to change. Both kids are frightened but interested in the current election cycle, at least for president. We had a fascinating conversation a week or two ago about candidates-the two candidates running to represent our district are a woman who doesn't reflect my values and a man who, while he and I disagree on many fiscal and financial matters, on most social issues, we're well aligned. I asked the kids who I should vote for-the man or the woman, and they immediately said "the woman," until I explained that she didn't reflect my values but the other candidate did. I explained that you have to look at which candidate lines up with what you believe in the most, and sometimes even that's not perfected, and went on with "What if you believe in saving trees and oceans, and one candidate says 'cut down the trees' and another says 'save the trees' and leaves out the oceans. Who do you vote for?" They picked the "save the trees" candidate, but I was fascinated with their conversation that followed. They discussed different strategies for helping homeless people, and environmental things, but most interesting was listening to them talk about school populations-about what to do if we discovered we needed more spots for students in our schools-they considered the possibility of expanding the size of our current schools or building more schools and we talked about the environmental impact of those choices and economics and the traffic patterns, and all sorts of complicated things that I don't think most kids think about. It was really deep and amazing. What it did get me thinking about though, was how I perceived elections; I was a little older than Naomi in 1984. Ronald Reagan was a "bad guy" in my head, but the Soviets and their missiles were scarier and more threatening. I don't ever remember being as frightened as they are about the future of my own country though, when considering an election.

		I had brunch yesterday with a friend, someone I've known for a while...since my pre-kid days. He's a currently single, childfree, gay male friend, a few years older than I am. He travels occasionally to Orlando on business, and when he does, we try and get together. When he first mentioned coming to Orlando this time he did mention he would enjoy seeing the kids (he hasn't seen them in about two years)-he's not a huge fan of kids, but he likes mine, and they talk about Lego a lot (he uses Lego in his work,) and they have fun. It didn't work out to get together when the kids were free, but he and I were able to get together, have brunch, and chat. I had a lovely time, but it was such a deep reminder of the difference between my life before and after kids-sitting and laughing about artistically designed bathhouses where amusement park designers have been a part of the experience, and things like that. It was lighthearted and joyful and exciting, and I felt good after leaving, but I also felt a deep reminder of where I am now. I miss what I had then, but I also suppose it's probably like many things and will never taste as good as I remember it.And as I was thinking about that part of my life, I also had the chance tonight to use what I began learning in that phase of my life (and have continued to learn because it helps me help my own children,) to help a friend help her child...a friend who I'd probably not know at all were it not for kids, considering that I met her through a Mom's group. To have her say "I knew you would be my resource on this" and to talk about my passion for teaching this reminds me that I am good at some things, even when I forget, and reminds me of the value of the experiences I had then in living my life now, and how I can draw together what I know from then with what I have learned in the interim. I've had a few feeling-really-good-and-valued moments in the last few days. Unfortunately, they're hard to hold on to.

		Chatter from a child... Straightening up Miriam's room with her tonight and she picks up a toy horse made by Schleich. The Schleich animals are anatomically correct, in case you didn't know. She turns the horse over, looks at it and says to me, "Mom, does this horse have a penis?" I look at her and say "What do you think?" She examines the horse, puts it back on the shelf and says "I think it has a penis, it's a boy horse." Then she picks up a dinosaur and says to me, "Mom, did dinosaurs have penises?" I answer her "I don't really know that much about dinosaur anatomy. We can try and find out later." She says "I think they did, but this dinosaur doesn't have a penis. It's a girl."She's quiet for a few minutes, picking up things and she says to me, "Mom, I use to think penises weren't a real thing but now I know they are real. But Mom, penises aren't for everybody, Mom."Oh the giggles I had to swallow there.

		Small victory...I made it through my trip to the store to buy Yarzheit (memorial) candles without crying. I have a deadline that was technically this evening, but really isn't until 9/24...it was set tonight for the convenience of the person who needs the data and to give her some time to finish collecting it from the people who haven't turned it in. I'm grateful that when I called her today with a question about it she said to me "Stop stressing about it. You have a holiday today and tomorrow. I don't actually need to have paper in hand until Friday. Get the data entered into the computer and have your holiday. Stop by Thursday or Friday with the paperwork." She was right to remind me to take care of me and to not let this stress me out so much. I need to thank her for it. I'm really trying to focus on not having to go through the first time again for a lot of things. I made it through the first Rosh Hashanah without my Dad. Now the first Yom Kippur. Soon the first Simchat Torah, which the girls will enjoy. Sometimes being able to sink into the ritual is helpful-it brings some of the emotion that I may not have given a lot of thought to to the surface and allows me to let go. Same friend who reminded me to take care of me also said "Grief doesn't end, it just changes." Someone else said to watch out because it may sneak up on you in a few months when something else is going on and to give yourself time and space for that. I had this moment a week ago where Miriam said something and I would have reached for the phone and told him about it and he would have loved hearing the story, and I looked at my phone and put my hand on it but I knew I couldn't just make the call. And what about when I upgrade this phone? Will I change the entry from "Mom and Dad" to "Mom" or what? I'm working on it.

		Sometimes I miss my dad in this empty, aching sort of way that I can't describe quite like anything else. Like yesterday when Miriam and I were doing some math with ten frames and she looked at me and said "If it had only four spots I'd only be able to count to four." I would have loved to call my Dad and tell him "She just basically grasped the idea of base ten math without ever hearing the words." He'd have kvelled. And I'd have enjoyed telling him about it. There's an amazing difference between working with Miriam and working with Naomi, and it comes down to how much the mechanics of fine motor tasks were difficult for Naomi. Both of them knew the materials but because we were asking Naomi to do things like "draw the counters in the picture" it would take ten times as long as it needed to. Once we switched to things like stickers, it helped, but it's refreshing to start from a positive experience. We're typing a lot of Naomi's work now, but I'd really like to get her settled with a 504 or IEP soon because while we're very lucky to have amenable teachers, that may not always be the case. Speaking of amenable teachers, what a change this year's teacher is. Kindergarten was fine, nothing outstanding, just there. The English/Math teacher wasn't very good at differentiation, nor very creative, she was just kind of adequate. The French teacher was pleasant, and slightly more creative. (She's Miriam's main teacher this year.) First grade was a nightmare. It's a challenge to find teachers who are certified to teach both elementary grades and French, and so they hired someone last year who had previously been teaching high school and who was totally inappropriate for elementary school-developmental expectations were out of line with first grade, didn't understand why bringing four cupcakes, saying "only the best students get them" and not giving them to the typically well behaved students who don't stand out meant that my typically well behaved student came home in tears and wondering why her best wasn't good enough. That was a relatively mild incident with her-she was fired at the end of the first marking period. The rest of the year was a cobbled together mix of long term subs (some very good ones) and the second grade French teacher pulling double duty with two sections of second grade French and two of first grade French. We were looking forward to a reprieve in second grade, possibly even having the Mom of one of Naomi's friends this year. Well she ended up moving up to teach third grade, and they hired a new second grade French teacher this year. We were a little nervous, seeing a new teacher's name on the list, especially after last year (and understandably so,) but what a breath of fresh air he is. He's an experienced teacher, solid-he's been teaching for over 20 years, and hasn't been beaten down by the system. He's creative, he has them moving and interacting when he can. He makes sure they go outside every day. He does differentiated education as more than a buzzword. He says that he knows that there's value in good data but that they do too much testing. He says "I know the school policy is that you can't just drop in, but I don't mind if you do." He encourages contact from parents and if you contact him he says "come in for a conference." It feels like he's really invested in their success. (It also doesn't hurt to hear things like "This is probably one of the brightest classes I've ever taught.") They really are a good group of kids-the school is divided into two "academies"-French Academy and Spanish Academy, and it's a small school to begin with, no more than 72 kids total per grade level, 36 in each academy, so the kids know each other well, the parents know each other. I'm told by parents of older kids that they're all kind of like siblings by the time they get to grade 5. The teachers know the kids too-when Miriam started this year there were people saying "You must be Naomi's sister," or saying "Hi Naomi's Mom." Sweet note-the school is spread over several buildings all contained within a fence. Kids go in through the gate in the morning and then off to their classes. Kindergarten is in it's own building which also houses the resource room, therapy room for kids recieving services and the cafeteria. The steps up to Kindergarten are opposite the entrance to where Naomi goes in the building to go to class. The first day of school I walked with Naomi and Miriam, gave Naomi a hug and sent her to class, which is what she wanted, and then walked Miriam up to the kindergarten rooms. Parents are permitted to walk kindergarteners in for the first week, but it's a nuisance to find parking, walk in, then get back out, so we told Miriam that after the first day there would be teachers and the safety patrol to help her get to her room if she needed help. One of the other parents with a second grader and a kindergartener who enter the school from a different gate (they're walkers, we drive to school) said to me "I see the two of them in the morning, they walk together to the stairs, then Naomi gives her a hug and they go to class." There's some magic between the two of them and I don't know what it is. I had a really sweet experience tonight at open house. I'm the class parent for Naomi's class, and her teacher had asked if I would mind coming at the beginning and staying the whole time. I said I'd check with the rest of the family and work it out if I could-someone needed to pick up Miriam and really it wouldn't be right to not visit her classroom, so I had to make sure she was okay with Andrew visiting and not me. It was fine, and so I hung out in Naomi's classroom for a couple of hours (good thing I get along with her teacher.) So as I'm sitting there doing the things I need to do, one of the kids I don't know so well comes up to me (I know his Mom-the family is Muslim and the process for religious accomodations in the cafeteria is the same as the process for food allergies, and even though Naomi won't buy lunch, she has to have a plan with substitutions in place for safety reasons, so I see the Mom at the beginning of the year when we all go through these things.) The boy looks at me and says "Hi Naomi's Mom. I think Naomi is really nice and you teach her good." What a sweet thing to say, and in front of other kids, too. I think Naomi is nice too, Ahmed.




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			And you may ask yourself-Well...How did I get here?








			She's moving out in all directions








			That I was a billboard


			"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow grow, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation." -George Washington ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." -Henry David Thoreau, Walden ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself." - Anais Nin ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"If sex and creativity are often seen by dictators as subversive activities, it’s because they lead to the knowledge that you own your own body (and with it your own voice), and that’s the most revolutionary insight of all."-Erica Jong~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"There’s only one thing that I know how to do wellAnd I’ve often been told that you only can doWhat you know how to do wellAnd that’s be you,Be what you’re like,Be like yourself..."-They Might Be Giants~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"We are Buck's Rock. We have, each of us, contributed to it, and once we give a part of ourselves to something we believe in, it becomes a part of us."-Ernst Bulova~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"A lot of people, when they talk about gay culture they have this idea that we all live in this sort of a big pink house, and that we share the same political and social and sexual views which is clearly not the case. I've sat at dinner tables with right wing homosexuals, and to me that's like being a vegeterian butcher."-Boy George





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