New High School Adjustments

While many kids are going back to school today, Marissa has already been at Eagle Ridge Academy one week. What an amazing week it's been!

Her first night she came home with a passage she had to read and answer questions about. The passage? "The Apology" by Plato, written about Socrates' trial and sentence, as translated from ancient Greek. It starts like this:

How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was - such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth. 

Ummmm....yeah, sure.

For a girl who does not love to read and is often quite literal in her interpretation of writings, this was going to be a challenge. I read it aloud to her over several nights, paraphrasing what each section meant so she could make sense of it and answer the questions. If a person is unaccustomed to reading this kind of writing, it is incredibly difficult to understand. But with practice, it gets easier. By the end of the week she was starting "The Iliad" by Homer and was having no problem reading and comprehending the stanzas on her own. Wow, okay...

Some observations about her school that she appreciates:

1. She is loving wearing uniforms. So far she can't tell who the "popular" kids are in her class because everyone is dressed the same, there are no brands to distinguish between the "haves" and the "have nots."

2. The class sizes!! Her largest class is Humanities with 16 students, her smallest is Spanish with six. She is one of very few freshman in her Spanish II class and has a native Spanish speaker as a teacher, which she is super excited about.

3. School lunch is delicious! She brought a lunch the first day but after that has been eating the lunch at the school. It is freshly made there at the school, not shipped in and warmed like her lunches at Lake Harriet, and there is always a salad bar option.

4. They pipe in classical music to the lunchroom during lunch time. It is a classical education school, after all! There is plenty of room, there are even a few empty tables in the area, and she eats with the entire 9th through 12th grade students. Lunch is at a reasonable hour, because they don't need to stagger lunches due to class size. (Her lunch at her middle school started at 1:40.)

In a small group in her Humanities class they were discussing Achilles, which Marissa pronounced "Ah-CHILL-ease" having never encountered the name before. A boy in her group teased her about not being able to pronounce it. Shortly after he said, "myu-SAY" for muse, and she teased him back. The rest of the class they gave each other a hard time and intentionally mispronounced things to see who could say it the silliest.

She has already made many friends, both girls and boys, and has mixed grades in many of her classes — many are helping her get accustomed to the new things she's studying. Most everyone in school is engaged and ready to learn. She often gets frustrated and annoyed at students who talk or whisper while the teacher is talking, especially because with her ADHD she has a really hard time tuning out distractions. That is less of a problem at Eagle Ridge than at her last school.

I'm so excited for her to be at this school and for the opportunities she will have there.

The Glue That Holds Us Together: High School Reunions

Class of 1989 in 1989

Class of 1989 in 2019

This weekend was my 30th high school reunion, and it was pretty amazing.

I graduated with around 150 students from Sheboygan Falls High School. I have fond memories of my high school years — playing in the band, acting and playing for musicals, forensics competitions, and all-around fun.

Social media makes these reunions so different from what they used to be. We all keep up with each other's lives from a distance, but only what we all share on Facebook. A fun day, first day of school, a special dinner out for an anniversary, a kid's sports accomplishments.

But when we all get together, we share each other's lives. And because we've known each other so intimately, granted a long time ago, we are all pretty open about challenges facing each of us. Divorces. Careers gone askew, demanding jobs that suck the life out of a person. Challenges raising children. Caring for aging parents. The real deal that doesn't get shared on Facebook. And often these troubles are met with encouraging words of "I know what you're going through," or "You should talk to so-and-so, they went through something like that," or just, "I'm sorry that's happening to you."

Plus there are things to celebrate. One classmate opened a tab and let people know to have a drink on him. His explanation? "I've just been so fortunate in my life, and I want to share my good fortune with others." Wow, that's awesome, thank you!

I was speaking with another classmate and asking how life was going and he said, "I love my job, I love my family, I've got good health, I'm about as happy as I can be in my life right now, and I'm so grateful for it." That's the best any of us can ever hope for, and I'm so happy for him.

And sharing those high school memories, oh my! What is it about graduating high school together that becomes a glue that holds people together?

As seniors, my girlfriend Jody and I once had Domino's pizza delivered to the school for lunch. (There were other people who did this with us, I can't remember all of them.) We brought it into the lunch room to eat and the vice principal just about had a conniption, I've never seen that man's face so red. He was a small guy, not very tall or broad, but we got out of there with that pizza pretty quickly. Eventually we got smart and had pizza delivered to Jody's house just across the street. We would run to her house so we wouldn't get caught leaving the school to eat it, then dash back before the bell rang.

My friend Judi recounted spending hours in my basement, listening to music and goofing off. Had Wendy been there I could have told some good stories of a sleepover at her house where she pretended to be sleep-talking but wasn't really, she was just giving us a hard time.

Our class is planning on creating a scholarship fund and at our reunion appointed a committee of people to work on this. That's a pretty amazing legacy that we'll be leaving for future generations of graduates from Sheboygan Falls.

It was a great weekend getting together with my classmates, and I am so grateful for their being in my life, even if it's only every 5 years.

Comparing cute shoes, 25th and 30th reunions (Myself, Kelly and Rachel)

Goofing off.

Lindsey's Spoken Word Poetry

This girl is something else.

As part of Lindsey's 8th grade Language Arts class (the new term for what we used to call "English"), every student was assigned to write a spoken word poem.

The PTA funded a position with a local poet who worked with the students on this art form. They had to learn to use similes, metaphors, rhyming and rhythm techniques for writing an effective poem. Topic? Any of their choosing.

Some weeks ago her teacher sent out an email to parents inviting them to the final performance, which would take place in the classroom. She mentioned that some of the poems got very personal and emotional. I didn't want to inhibit Lindsey or others from expressing themselves fully, so I opted not to attend.

Lindsey threw herself fully into this assignment, with more enthusiasm than usual. She is a huge "Hamilton" fan and has gained a great appreciation for expressing oneself through spoken word.  In the same way I used to go to "English" class and kids now go to "Language Arts," I think that spoken word poetry is the new name for rap. It truly is an art form.

Her topic was on popularity, and why we as people care so much about how others look or dress, instead of what's inside a person.

This week was their performance day in class, and it was clearly the highlight of her day and week.

Some students were moved to tears by the readings -- one student burst into tears after her performance. Lindsey got a great response and applause after her reading. Topics ranged from loss, to a divorce in the family, dealing with a chronic illness, or just plain loneliness. Lindsey learned through this that a girl in her class is bullied by other students before school, though Lindsey has never witnessed it. She now makes it a point to say hello to her every day.

I'm so grateful that our kids get to have experiences like this through their school.

Two Kids. One School. Finally!

Finally -- one drop off, one school. Big changes for both girls.

For the first time since Marissa was in kindergarten, Lindsey and Marissa are finally in the same building. Their school is broken into Lower (grades K-3) and Upper Campus (grades 4-8) buildings which are an annoying distance from each other. Too far to walk but so short to drive that you spend more time at stop signs than actually driving.

Lindsey is in 6th grade;  middle school for her. This means she has 3 minutes between classes to get to her locker, change materials and get to the next class. She was nervous as could be Sunday night. She spent hours organizing her school supplies, labeled the binders and determining which ones would be used for which classes.  I kept reassuring her that all the 6th graders would be in the same boat, no one would know their schedules or where they're going, but it didn't do much to allay her fears.

Marissa is moving to the Upper Campus, where she will have more autonomy and responsibility. She also has the fabulous Mrs. O'Hara as her teacher, who was Lindsey's 3rd and 4th grade teacher. She already loves her teacher and her class. Even though she doesn't have many friends in her class at the beginning of the school year, knowing Marissa she will have lots by the end.

Another big change is that for the first time in their lives, the girls are taking the bus home from school. Now that I'm at a job where I'm working from home, they can take the bus which drops them off around 4:30. And a couple times already their first week, I was in our St. Paul office for the day and I gave Lindsey the key to the house. They let themselves in and the girls had their backpacks hung up, lunch boxes on the countertop and had started homework by the time I arrived home.

Marissa brought home a math test with specific directions from the teacher that students work on it alone with no corrections from parents, so the teacher could get a sense of each child's knowledge base. Marissa completed it in 10 minutes flat and when I looked it over she had gotten everything right, a far cry from last year's start to the year with her math assessment.

Lindsey got to sign up for an elective specialist and she opted for choir. She decided to drop orchestra after two years of viola.

More independence. More challenges. More fun. Bring on the school year!

Is Society Creating Helicopter Parents?

I found this post in my drafts folder, originally written in the spring of 2012. I don't know why I didn't post it but the topic is still relevant, even though two years have gone by since originally written. So I'm posting it now, complete with pictures from two years ago. Hard to believe that much time has already flown by.

Lindsey working on an art project. By herself.

One morning this past week I went to Lindsey's school to help her get a form from her locker. While walking along the hallway in front of the 3rd grade classrooms I saw other students' research projects that had already been turned in lined up along the windows. (See previous post on my lack of sewing abilities in assisting on this project.) While most projects were dioramas, as Lindsey predicted, a few had chosen the sewing projects.

After looking at the quality of the craftsmanship of the sewing projects, I can guarantee you that there was significant parent involvement in the final products. I thought one of the projects was a store-bought stuffed animal, until I saw the tell-tale seam where the animal had been stuffed and then sewn shut. For real? How does a teacher grade that, it so obviously isn't the child's own work?

Marissa proudly shows off her 1st grade writing project.

This same week, Lindsey's running club, Girls on the Run, has decided that their service project will be to hold a bake sale with proceeds going to the Animal Humane Society. The GOTR coordinator sent an email home to parents, explaining the group's chosen service project and informing us all that the girls would be planning the event after school on Thursday. Instructions would be coming home to the parents on what the girl would be bringing to the bake sale.

Before you could say "peanut butter chocolate chip," emails were flying around from all of the moms volunteering to bring various baked goods, cups, signs or what have you.

The coordinator emailed the group again and kindly but firmly said, "Thanks for all your enthusiasm for this service project. This is a girl-led project. Your child will be telling you what she would like to bring to the bake sale."

In other words, butt out. Such a good reminder.

Yet at the same time, in order to keep parents involved in their children's education, kids are assigned projects that in my opinion are beyond the child's ability to complete on their own. As a parent it becomes difficult to know where to start and stop with helping with the projects.

Lindsey's recent research paper and project had a great guide for parents to help with the writing piece. It reminded parents that the paper was to be the child's own writing, and that the parent's role was only to suggest edits or revisions, not to re-write the paper. There was a list of questions parents could use to help in that process.

This part is confusing to me. How can you make that clearer? You use this word a lot of times. Is there another word you can use that means the same thing? 

Those questions were extremely helpful to make sure I didn't take over writing the paper, yet could provide good feedback. But then the actual project portion of it clearly needed parent involvement to complete.

As a parent I am in disbelief at how quickly my girls are growing. It is easy to keep doing what I've done for them when they were pre-schoolers or toddlers, because I forget that they are now nearly 7 and 9, and can and should do many things for themselves. "Mom, may I have some water?" is now met with, "Sure. You know where the cups are. The faucet still works, right?"

I do not want to be a helicopter parent but I want to be involved in our children's education and lives. I am learning that it is an easy line to cross.

The First Day of School....Twice

 Back to school felt so different this year.

For the second year in a row, we used an offer through a fundraising campaign for the school to buy our back-to-school supplies. I went online and ordered school supplies for a 3rd grader and 5th grader, and everything was delivered to our house in the middle of the year in one fell swoop.

Yes, it cost more than going out and buying the supplies ourselves. Is it worth it to not spend a month worth of Sundays in stores fighting the crowds for the last red notebook or packet of #2 lead pencils? Every penny.

We also didn't do back-to-school clothes shopping. There's no point in buying pants and long-sleeved shirts when the forecast was for 90 degrees every day for the first week. I knew the girls would've insisted on wearing their "new" outfits and they would have roasted.

My ulterior motive for this, of course, is that when the weather finally cools down and we need to buy those items, they will be on sale because the back-to-school retail season will be over. Heh heh heh...

So it already felt a little weird going back to school, but it was made weirder by the brutally hot weather that forced Minneapolis Public Schools to close for the last two days of the first week of school, since most of their buildings aren't air-conditioned.

Three days of school. Five days off for Labor Day weekend. Then four days of school.

It's enough to screw up any family. Are we in a routine, or not? Are we packing lunches, or not? Is this summer vacation, or not?

So the Tuesday after Labor Day felt like the 1st day of school...again.

Two heads are higher than the fireplace mantle, now.

But we only took photos on the actual first day. They were both very excited, had already met their teachers and knew a few friends who were in their classes. The reports on the first day were good -- both of them have new students to the school in their grades, which always reminds me of the grades in which I was the new student to a school. I hope my girls were welcoming to them.

For the third year in a row our kids are still in different buildings. This wouldn't have been the case except that an addition was put onto the lower campus to ease crowding, and the 3rd grade is in the lower campus for the first time. Marissa is excited that her classroom is in the new section. Her desk and chair are brand new; they have never been used by a child before her. She has a locker for the first time, and it also is brand new.

Marissa finds her locker at the open house.

The Grand Opening of the Lower Campus addition.

When Lindsey and I met her teacher the week before school started, her teacher was telling me about her teaching experience. She's taught various grades, but has settled into 5th and really likes that age. 

"The kids change so much this year, especially the girls," she said to me, with a knowing look of the kinds of changes girls start going through in 5th grade.

Lindsey overheard this, of course, and insisted that we measure how tall she is on the 1st day of school. "Because my teacher says I'm going to change a lot this year, so I can't wait to see how much I grow."

Ummm...I'm not sure those are the kinds of changes she was referring to, but we didn't get into it, we just measured her. She'll find out in health class.

What Counts as Bullying?

When Lindsey came home from school feeling picked on and sad after her bike riding and name-calling day, I made the mistake of venting my own frustration about the incident on my Facebook wall. I didn't name the culprits and didn't blame the school, just said how sad I was that my daughter was so hurt.

Here's some of the feedback I heard (in fewer words than what was used):

• Kids are cruel, bullying happens. Tell her to suck it up.
• Soy Sauce is the tamest nickname I've heard, why does it even bother her?
• That's too bad but there are worse things in life.
• That's terrible and you need to get on that teacher.
• Shame on those other kids' parents.
• You should get those other kids in trouble.

I also found it interesting that some people jumped to the conclusion that the bullies were either boys or girls. I hadn't stated one way or the other, and can only assume that people jumped to those conclusions based on their own personal experiences.

The most telling comments were the ones in which people recounted their own experiences in being bullied. They could remember every word, every action like it was yesterday. For some of them the bullying had happened 40 years ago, but they still remembered the hurt that it caused. Those wounds stayed with them for a lifetime, to be recalled at a moment's notice.

Why would we think it's okay for that to continue on, generation after generation?

The parents of bullies, for the most part, would probably be appalled if they realized their children had reputations as bullies. I would be more upset if a teacher had to call me to tell me that Lindsey had been picking on other kids than on the other end of that equation.

The official district policy states that intimidation and teasing count as bullying. To me, bullying is any action that makes someone feel bad about him or herself. The fact that Lindsey was not looking forward to going to school the next day was the limit for me, because that impacts her education.

As a parent, it is my job to raise children who will become independent, confident, caring adults (add any other positive adjectives you like to that statement.) It is also my job to be their advocate, to fight for their rights where they are not able to advocate for themselves.

I asked Lindsey's permission before I contacted her teacher because I want to balance those two responsibilities. I don't ever want to be accused of being a "helicopter parent" but don't want to leave my child defenseless. If Lindsey had not given me permission I would have said nothing to her teacher and let her continue to try to deal with the situation on her own. I was relieved when she told me it was okay if I speak to her teacher, and the behavior was handled.

This situation made me realize how very tough parenting can be. I'd better start saving for my kids' therapy now.

What Happened to Lindsey, Part 2

If you missed it, you can read part 1 here.

I couldn't wait to pick Lindsey up after her first day of her bike-riding unit in gym. She had just learned how to ride her bike and was excited to show off her skills.

When I picked her up she looked mopey and kind of sad. I tried to ask how it had gone but she wouldn't say. It wasn't until we got into the car that she finally felt safe enough to burst into tears.

It was awful, she said. Everybody teased her for her tiny bike, and of course they all passed her up because her wheels were so small. Even her friends joined in the fun, not remembering that perhaps somebody's feelings were at stake. She had been so excited for the class and instead it turned into a taunt fest.

The other part that made it hard is that she had gotten a nickname at the beginning of the year that had come to a climax that day. The short story of that nickname is that a teacher had misspelled her name "Lindsoy" on one of the first days of school, and the kids started calling her Soy Sauce. When she first heard it even Lindsey giggled and thought it was kind of funny, but then it spread like wildfire. Kids were calling her Soy Sauce in class, in the hallways, at lunch and kids who didn't even know her started calling her Soy Sauce.

The same day of the biking incident the Soy Sauce nickname had reached a tipping point for Lindsey, and she had had it.

I felt so badly for her and wanted to hug her all night. It hung over the entire evening and was all she talked about. She didn't smile and she wasn't looking forward to going back to school the next day.

I finally got her permission to talk to her teacher about what had happened, and her teacher was amazing. She spoke to the class the very next morning about name calling without pointing out Lindsey's situation. One boy who was apparently an instigator of the nickname looked at Lindsey knowingly, but she just ignored him and turned away. We bought her an appropriately-sized bike which she took to immediately and couldn't wait (again) for the next gym class.

Her second biking outing was today and she did great. No one teased her for having a small bike, and the gym teacher reminded everybody that people go at their own pace and that it's not a race.

There's more that can be said about this, and I'll probably write a few follow up posts on the subject. It definitely got me thinking about the definition of bullying, how we accept it as a society (or choose not to) and where to draw the line as a parent in getting involved in our children's social upbringing.

What Happened to Lindsey Part 1

We love our children dearly and want to protect them as much as we can, while still letting them learn their own way, become their own people and develop their talents.

Lindsey had a challenging start to her 4th grade year.

On the first day of school we received a flyer home from the gym teacher informing us of a biking unit that they'll be having right away this fall. Children will be expected to bring or ride their bikes to school, and they will learn about biking safety and bike around the gorgeous lakes that are in our neighborhood.

Sounds like a dream gym class for any 4th grader. Except our 4th grader has yet to learn how to ride her bike.

When she read the flyer she burst into tears. I told her we could get a pass from the class since she couldn't ride, but then she said she didn't want a pass because she was embarrassed that her friends would find out that she couldn't ride her bike yet. She'd been embarrassed about it for a year or more which was part of the reason why she still hadn't learned how to ride. She refused to practice in our own neighborhood where her friends might see her. Any attempts we made to take her to a remote location like a parking lot was met with about 5 minutes of effort, 5 minutes of whining and 10 minutes of pouting. We gave up. She would just have to learn how to ride in her own time...whenever that would be. Apparently now was the time.

She decided that she would learn how to ride her bike in two weeks. And guess what -- she did. She confided in a friend of hers that she didn't yet know how to ride a bike, and her friend came over and showed her. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her finally riding down the street. Wobbly, but riding. We tried to teach her for 2 years and her friend taught her in 5 minutes.

One problem was that she was still riding the bike we bought her when she was 4 or 5, and she is now 9. Because really, who would buy a child a bike that fit them when she hadn't learned to ride the smaller one she already had? She was still unsteady; I figured that a smaller bike would be better for her for a while, at least until she got more confidence. Wayne thought that we may want to get her a larger bike before her class, but I was concerned about her confidence on the larger bike, and said we should wait.

The day of the first biking outing Lindsey was excited. She couldn't wait to take her bike to school. She had learned how to use a bike lock and loved her helmet. I couldn't wait to pick her up from school to see how it had gone.

First Day of School

New shoes. Backpacks. Notebooks, paper, pens, and the list goes on and on. Oh the things we need to send children to school in America.

For the first time since hitting school age Lindsey was less-than-thrilled with the start of school. Usually she can't wait and is excited to meet her new teacher, see her friends again, and learn. But this year, when Sunday night rolled around and she realized school was really starting the next day, she burst into tears.

"I thought the summer would last longer!" she wailed.

Me too, kiddo. But it is indeed time, and so we picked out our outfits, set out new backpacks and got a good night's sleep.

Marissa couldn't wait. She was excited to be in 2nd grade and was so happy to meet her teacher, who also happened to have been Lindsey's 2nd grade teacher. She couldn't wait to find out who would be in her class, where she would sit, and be all the way on the second floor of the two-story building, where only the 2nd graders go.

During the open house we realized that she and a good friend of hers were seated right next to each other, with no one else at the table. Her friend's mother and I both happened to mention to the girls' teacher (independently, ironically) that we were taking bets on how quickly they would be separated. After arriving home Marissa let me know that the room had been re-arranged a bit, and her one friend wasn't at her table anymore, but now two different friends were, so it was still okay. Hmmm....we'll see how often Marissa gets moved this year as compared to last.

I didn't realize until the girls put their backpacks on that they both had picked out first day of school outfits that matched their backpacks that we had bought earlier in the summer. Marissa happened to match her backpack exactly.

I wonder where they get their love of patterns.

And look! My tripod actually works! How sweet to finally get a photo of our entire family on the first day of school.

HomEc Revisited

Lindsey has a final paper for school that she's been working on for several weeks. It's a research paper on an ocean animal, with the added twist of a project to be presented along with the final paper.

Keep in mind the girl is in 3rd grade. I don't remember doing schoolwork like this in 3rd grade.

She's spent several weeks researching her animal. When we were on our way to Boston a few weeks ago I had to review her first draft, and she's had a few more drafts since then. And then she had to pick one of eight different ways to add on a project about this same animal. Her project could have been a diorama, a collage, a poster, but no, she picks...the pillow.

The pillow?

Yes, one of the choices is to make a pillow, either in the shape of your chosen animal or with a picture of the animal on it.

Oh, did I tell you what her animal is that she's doing her report on? The giant squid.

Or, as any adult with my upbringing will think, the giant penis.

I tried to steer her into a different direction, something involving paper. But she had her heart set on a sewing project, because she was pretty sure not many people were going to do one, and she wanted hers to be different.

Yeah well, when I have to sew it for her, it will definitely be different! Especially considering that I don't own a sewing machine.

On Sunday Lindsey and I went to Michael's to get supplies, and her idea of a pillow was something made out of felt. Oh, sewing with felt, I think I can do that.

So she cut out the squid shape, used fabric glue to put it on the pillow, and used self-stick felt letters to write the name of the animal on it. We'll attach yarn as the tentacles after the pillow is complete, but first I had a job to do: sew the damn thing up. 

After the kids went to bed one night I sat down with some TV, my sewing basket (yes I own one, thanks, mom) and the pillow case.

I had no idea that it was possible to sew pre-cut pieces of felt in such a way that you could make the edges NOT line up. Apparently it's possible. But when you turn the pillow case inside out, you can't tell. Now it'll be interesting to see how it looks once we stuff it.

It's a squid,dammit.

And the Academy Award Goes to...

The week after the Academy Awards Lindsey's grade held an award ceremony of their own.

The students all had to pick a paragraph to read in front of the entire class. The class would then vote on who read their paragraph with the most expression, the best pronunciation, the least number of stops and so on. Staring only at your paper and speaking in a monotone voice was clearly not recommended.

The other piece of this was that you got to dress for the occasion as if you were going to the Academy Awards, and there would be a best dressed category as well. Pull out your fanciest dress, your suit you wore to Aunt Evie's wedding, you're going to a show!

Guess who was incredibly excited about this? My girl, of course.

Guess who wasn't? Most of the boys. (Heresay, but still, I suspect Lindsey's right.)

Lindsey spent a week planning out what she was going to wear. And she got permission from me to wear the flower girl dress from Travis and Elizabeth's wedding nearly 3 summers ago. It's just aging in a closet, why not? And while the dress is now a tee-length on her, sadly it still zips up around her ribcage, even over a shirt. The girl needs to eat.

She picked out her hair accessories the weekend before, had me paint her nails the night before, and the morning of the big event she asked me to curl her hair.

Curly girl all ready for the show!

Lindsey has about 40 minutes of curling worth of hair.

I wish I could've been there to see it, but I had been absent from work for various other volunteer efforts and concerts of late, I just couldn't justify it. So I had to wait to hear how it went until the end of the day.

Lindsey practically glowed when I picked her up. She had won best dressed! She talked about how everyone "ooo'ed" and "aahh'ed" when they saw her, and some of her girlfriends held up the train of her dress as she walked.

She had such a great time!

You like me! You really, really like me!

It's not what you say, it's how you say it

"Mom," says Lindsey in a serious tone, with a grave look on her face. "I'm excited to go back to school, but there's a boy in my grade who is kind of naughty and I'm not looking forward to seeing him again."

"Really?" I say cautiously, with a hundred questions swirling in my head. Does he tease her? Is he pulling her ponytail? Does he trip her in the hall? I can feel the momma bear in my chest ready to pounce. I know who this boy is: he isn't in her class but is in her grade. I see him every day at their after-school program when I pick up Lindsey. He always seems to be playing nicely with the other boys, but then those 30-second interactions can be deceiving.

"He's just not very nice," she says. "He's always saying, 'What the BLEEP!'"

"You mean he says a bad word?" I ask.

"No," Lindsey explains, "He says 'bleep.' But it still isn't very nice."

"So his actual words are 'What the BLEEP?'" I confirm.

"Yes," she says. "He's really mean."

We finally settle on the fact that it isn't what he says but the circumstances under which he says it which makes him mean in her mind. My advice to her is to avoid him, something she's apparently been pretty successful at doing up to this point anyway.

Those kids who say "bleep," though. Boy, what troublemakers.

Our Star Student

The week before Thanksgiving Marissa was selected to be star student in her class. Each child has an opportunity to be star student throughout the year, usually the week of his or her birthday. Apparently there were no birthdays that week, so Marissa's teacher selected her to be the star student, since she's got a summer birthday. The star student has to complete a poster about him or herself, and then gets special privileges all week like being the line leader and being the teacher's special helper.

Marissa was so happy to be selected! She brought home the poster and pulled it out to work on right away. What's her favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite vacation? She couldn't wait to share with her classmates. We looked through all of our pictures, carefully selecting which three would have the honor of being printed and taped to the poster.

Once it was complete she practiced presenting it with each of us several times a day. This is all over one weekend, mind you. This is the most Marissa has been excited about doing schoolwork -- ever. She was most excited about the end of the presentation, when she gets to say, "Any questions?"

Finally, it was Monday. The girl practically leaped out of bed, so excited to go to school and do her star student poster presentation.

She wore a special outfit with brand new sparkly tights that we'd purchased over the weekend.

I couldn't wait to pick her up that evening to ask how it went.

It went well, she reported. The favorite part that she told me about was when she said, "Any questions?" One little girl raised her hand and said how she also had gone to DisneyWorld.

Marissa's reply was, "That's not a question, that's a comment."

Nice teaching, Ms. Perez!

We're very proud of our star student.

First Day of School 2011

Who are these little posers? Where did the big grins go, the ones where you can practically hear "CHEEEEEESE!" by looking at the photograph? And really, who taught these girls to pose this way?

Today marked the first day of school for the Minneapolis school district. Marissa is now in full-day class as a first grader, and Lindsey is now in a different building as Marissa.

Marissa didn't seem phased by all the preparations. She wasn't nervous or scared, she was just excited and couldn't wait to see her friends.

Lindsey, on the other hand, was nervous about being the lowest grade in a big school (her school is 3rd through 8th grades). She was nervous about the "big kids," and didn't know where she should go in the morning for Minneapolis KIDS.

This all melted away when we walked in the door and she immediately saw two of her best friends hoola-hooping in the cafeteria. Turns out the cafeteria is where the Minneapolis KIDS group hang out. They showed her where to store her backpack, then grabbed another hoola hoop for her.

What a way to start the day!

Marissa has a little bit of a different day, in that we were unable to get her enrolled in Minneapolis KIDS. So I went to work and Wayne went back home with Marissa and she played happily with her toys until it was time to go to school. He escorted her straight to her classroom and helped her turn in school supplies, then put things in her desk and get settled. (Thus no pictures of Marissa's start to the day.)

I can't believe it's back-to-school time already. I am so thankful that I was able to take a lot of time off this summer to spend time with the girls. It makes the return to school easier to know that we took advantage of the summer days as much as we could.

Why There Are No Photos of My Parents' Visit

Because my mom and stepdad are angels sent from heaven. As such, they cannot be photographed -- mere humans would never see them.

My parents were scheduled to arrive on my children's last day of school, to watch our girls on Thursday and Friday when we didn't have daycare but both of us wanted to save our vacation days. Two days before their scheduled arrival, Marissa was sent home with lice.

On Tuesday, she was sent home with lice...again.

On Tuesday night, my previous post on my imaginary itching was proven untrue -- I did indeed have the little buggers in my hair. At 3:30 am I found myself de-lousing myself in the bathroom, liceMD kit in one hand and comb in the other.

And to top things off, after checking her for two days and declaring her lice free, on Wednesday Lindsey's hair finally began moving of its own accord as well.

My laundry room was knee deep in laundry both clean and dirty. All our pillows and stuffies were in garbage bags tied up tight in the porch, and both girls were one pair away from being completely out of underwear.

And then my mom and stepdad arrived, despite my having called them ahead of time to warn them that we had lice in the house. They didn't cancel, they didn't say "let us know when it's all gone." They showed up, did loads and loads of our laundry, combed and picked all three of our heads, and didn't shudder at the thought of these nasty little bugs (even though I am still).

In between domestic chores inside the house, they managed to sweep out our garage, organize the kitchen pantry and plant 92 marigolds along our walkway.

And then, before leaving on Saturday morning, they threw one more load of laundry in the wash.

Angels, I tell you.

There are no pictures because, really, who wants to see pictures of children getting their heads picked, or of all the laundry, or of the nit combs all lined up like soldiers after being sanitized.

But most of all, I didn't want to singe my parents' angel wings from the photo flash.

Valentine's Day is for...[fill in the blank]

Kids.

At least in my house it is. It used to be for celebrating our coupledom, our dating life together, but it is now taken over by little girls who celebrate the day with crafts in pink and red.

Today my kids had a concert in their school, followed by "Friendship Day" parties in their classrooms.

What can I say, it was adorable. We loved every minute. I loved seeing my kids interact with their friends, watching them giggle and smile as they exchanged valentines with each other.

And we especially loved the concert.



We got to hear this next one for the last couple of weeks from Lindsey.



And our mantle was taken over by the valentines made for us by our kids.

And in the midst of our family's recent loss, this was a timely reminder of cherishing those people who are important in our lives. Today I think our whole family felt cherished.

 

Mom/Volunteer of the Year Award

Some months ago I signed up to volunteer in my youngest daughter's kindergarten classroom for their pajama party, which was today. I dutifully put the date on my calendar, though I didn't know the exact time.

It all went downhill from there.

First, the room rep's emails to me about the plans kept going into my spam server, so the first actual email I received from her said something like "Are you there? Are you doing this or what because I've got to find a replacement if you're not." (Only she was more polite.) I then found her initial emails in my spam filter. (Sorry for the minor heart attack, Laura.)

My directions were to show up at 10:45 with popcorn and juice boxes in hand, but with explicit instructions about the popcorn: store bought only, and if I brought a big bag that needed to be opened and divvied into popcorn bags for the kids, I needed to open it in front of staff because food that was already opened was not allowed in the school. With food safety and allergy concerns, I get it and can respect it.

I got two big bags of pre-popped popcorn, a bunch of red lunch bags (to be festive) and enough juice boxes for all. I got there early and watched the class enjoy the obstacle course in the gym for a while before getting the party started. But I couldn't prepare the individual popcorn bags yet because, well, I was supposed to open the bag in the presence of a staff member, and no one was in the classroom.


Marissa's class on the obstacle course, aka "The Jungle."

Once the class got back into the room, I opened the bag and began filling the lunch bags with popcorn.

It became evident within filling four lunch bags that I had not bought enough popcorn.

Not even close.

I ended up dumping out the four bags I had already filled and had to measure each bag about one-third full to have enough popcorn for every child.

I am so lame.

The first child who was handed a bag looked inside and said, "Mine's not full."

I said, "Yes it is," and moved on.

Oh well, I thought, at least every child has equal amounts, they'll never know how little popcorn they actually got.

"Okay everyone," says the teacher, "Let's line up to go to across the hall to watch the movie."

Because, you know, it's cool to watch movies with your friends who have brimming full bags of popcorn because the other teacher's parent volumteer brought FIVE bags of popcorn for everyone. They even had extra in the back of the room for the teachers and volunteers if they wanted.

I am incredibly lame. I can't even do this right, and it's so easy.

Some day my daughter's teacher is going to announce to the class that Marissa's mom is coming to the classroom to volunteer, and they will all groan. "Ohhh, not Marissa's mom! She's so cheap. She never brings enough stuff."

Brown bags: spilling over with popcorn. Red bags: not so much.

With this handful Marissa ate the majority of the popcorn in her bag.

So now I know: it takes about 5 bags of store-bought popcorn to feed a class of 26 kids. Good to know, in case I'm ever asked to do this again. But I suspect I won't be.

Fall Harvest Fun

Today I volunteered at Lindsey's fall harvest party. Back when I was a kid it would've been called the Halloween party, but no matter, it's an excuse to veer from the norm, put down the books and have some fun for a while.

Lindsey's room had four "stations" and I manned the craft station with other parents. We helped 26-some kids make ghosts out of paper plates. I'm not the craftiest mom around, but I managed to hold my own.

It was fun, it was chaotic, it was the fastest hour of my day. Lindsey loved having me in her class, and I loved finally putting faces to all the names she's always talking to me about.

It was over all too soon, and I gave her hugs and kisses before leaving. I was expecting some tears, but she was having such a good time with her friends that she was happy to say good-bye.

I then made my way to Marissa's class, where I knew her fall harvest party would be wrapping up. One of their stations was one of the funniest activities I've ever seen. They had a blue plastic pool filled with hay. They would then bury a rubber chicken in the hay and have the kids dive in to find it. It was hilarious and messy, something I didn't expect in a classroom.

I sat with Marissa while she listened to a book being read by a parent, and posed for a few pics before heading out to work.

Surprisingly, Marissa was the one who was all tears and hugs, not wanting to let me go. I was finally able to get away after promising to pick her up "at 5," as she put it.

I wish I could be there more often. As it is I will be volunteering in Marissa's classroom next, in December for their holiday party. That seems too far away right now.

So Marissa...How Was Your First Day of Kindergarten?

-- She loves Minneapolis KIDS and playing with Lindsey with all the toys.
-- The zhu zhu pets at Minneapolis KIDS are the BEST.
-- The boringest part was the "bee" rules, which they reviewed in Mr. Carlson's class. "Bee" responsible, "bee" respectful, "bee" your best, etc. I hope she doesn't find following those rules "boring."
-- She doesn't like Mr. Carlson's class because she doesn't know anybody in it. (Keep in mind Mr. Carlson's class is her actual kindergarten curriculum -- if she didn't have working parents that's the only classroom she would be seeing right now.) But...she does like Mr. Carlson himself, so that's good.
-- She LOVED the media center (today's term for the library) and loved it when Mrs. Knight read the class a book.

Her one area of worry on her first day was the PIN system that they use for breakfasts and lunches. Each child has a PIN that they have to enter when they buy their lunch, and she was worried that she wouldn't know it. She used it twice her first day, at breakfast and at lunch (to buy a milk, she brought a lunch from home). One of the staff let me know that by lunch on her first day she had already memorized the PIN They asked if anyone knew their PIN and she, along with some 1st and 2nd graders, raised her hand. She got to go to the front of the line and used it with ease.

That's my girl!

On the other hand, she sat at the allergy table at lunch with her peanut butter sandwich. She understood that some kids at the table were allergic to peanuts, but she didn't think that included peanut butter, so she thought it was okay that she ate her peanut butter sandwich there. We tried to explain but the concept didn't really get through. We'll have to let the teachers know so they help her know where to sit. We certainly don't want her endangering other kids because she doesn't think that a peanut allergy and a peanut butter allergy are the same thing.

The really great news from my perspective is that throughout our long Labor Day weekend she is counting down the days until she goes back to Mr. Carlson's classroom. I'm thrilled that she's so excited.