Parent Teacher Conference

I went to Parent Teacher Conference at the girls' school a couple of weeks ago. I like to go to these meetings to touch base and see if what I am seeing at home in terms of academics matches with what the teachers are seeing.

I got great reports for both girls. I will record some of them below for posterity (and a bit of bragging on my brilliant children as well. If Mom can't be a kid's biggest fan, who can? :))Getting these great reports is especially sweet beacuse I had worries about academics for both kids for different reasons. For Birkely because she has only been here for two years, never had any formal education in Ethiopia, didn't speak English, etc. And for Brynly because she TALKS ALL THE TIME.

Here are some highlights:

Brynly's teacher said she is always happy and enthusiastic. She loves to work in all the areas of the classroom and transitions well. She loves their Thursday afternoon Justin Bieber dance parties and has lots of friends. She can write her name, identify upper and lowercase numbers. Her teacher seemed perplexed that she could not get her to work on numbers over 10. I can tell you exactly why that is. Brynly wants a phone. I told her she could not have a phone because she could not identify the numbers. So, she is only focused on the numbers that are found on a phone keyboard. :)Brynly has taken well to organized school. She is a people person and, I think, pretty much sees the school day as a social event but, at this point, I'll take it as a win.

Birkely's teacher said Birkely is delightful. She is polite and kind and has lots of friends. She is intelligent and driven. I was somewhat suprised to learn that she is in the top reading and math groups and scored the highest of the class in some measure of reading that I cannot recall at the moment. I was surprised to learn this not because I don't think Birkely is smart. On the contrary, I think she is incredibly so. She picks up concepts quickly and posesses many higher order thinking skills that are often elusive to internationally adopted children with a history of malnutrition. I was suprised because of the aforementioned fact that she has not been speaking English for very long relatively. It takes 2 or so years to gain conversational fluency but often takes 5 or more to gain academic fluency. I had braced myself for a tough academic road for her. So, far, not the case.

When she came home, I took somewhat of a gamble in deciding that our home was not a school and I was her mother not her teacher. We did pretty much nothing academic that summer. I put the eggs in the school's basket and hoped that it wouldn't backfire. It didn't. Even though I sort of live in Podunck, her school has a great ELL program. From the start, she received the support she needed to succeed in academically and socially. Beyond that, her teachers and everyone at the school are just good people who truly care about my child.

The Art of Athletics

I played some sports as a kid. I dabbled in most. I only really committed to swimming and I was moderately good and successful at it. My focus was on the arts for the most part. I studied theatre and dance. I performed. I enjoyed going to plays and museums. I liked to be creative, etc. I never sought out sports events to go see or watch on television. I did enjoy the competitive aspect of auditioning and such, but that was probably as far as the link went between arts and athletics.

Having an athletically talented child has given me a new perspective. When I see a good performance or a piece of visual art, I appreciate the skill and technique involved in its creation. And I enjoy that extra, undefinable flair that goes beyond skill mastery. The good ones make some sort of statement. The artist is able to look at a larger picture and say something about it or some element of it.

That is now more and more how I feel when I watch Birkely play soccer. She is mastering new skills and exhibiting technique rather than just blasting the ball down the field. But it goes beyond that. More and more, when she plays, she does seem to see the larger picture. She knows the field-her position on it, and the ball's and the relation of the two to everyone else on the field. When she is successful at getting the ball where she wants it to go, it is kind of like watching a dance.

Perhaps others can't see it, but I see her making a statement as well. She hasn't, historically, had much control over things in her life. People she loved in Ethiopia and here have died. She was moved from place to place. She lived a very regimented orphanage life for awhile. Even the "normal" kid life she has now involves falling in line a lot of the time. On the field, I hear and see her statements of power over the ball. Or of being in harmony with it. Statements of caring and friendship in her genuine happiness for the success of her teammates. Even if no one else does, I see it. And, thanks to my Sporty Spice, I can see the art of athletics.

Reading

Back in August I decided I wanted to read more. Since then I have read three books. Not an earth shattering number but still three more than I would ordinarily have read. The first was Year of Wonders. It is my university's common reading for the year. I didn't love it but it was okay. The second was a Dog's Purpose. A little contrived but I really enjoyed it. The third was The Year of Magical Thinking. A freind of mine told me about it several years ago. He had read it a few months after his mother died. I wrote breifly about it in my last post. Anyhoo, when I was reading it, there was a specific passage that really described sort of where I was/am. I marked the page and planned to save that passage somehow. So, I think maybw with each book I read I will make note of some passage that I want to remember or revisit. The blog seems as good a place as any to do that.

" I'm writing now as the end of the first year approaches. The sky in New York is dark when I wake at seven and darkening again by four in the afternoon. There are colored lights on the quince branches in the living room. There were also colored Christmas lights on the quince branches in the living room a year ago, on the night it happened, but in the spring...those strings burned out, went dead. This served as a symbol. I bought new strings of colored lights. This served as a profession of faith in the future. I take the opportunity for such professions when and where I can invent them, since I do not yet actually feel this faith in the future."

So, yea. I like that passage.

I am now reading Beneath the Lion's Gaze. It is set in 1970s Ethiopia during the Derg revolution that nseated Haile Selassie. Interesting, frightening. I'm about half way through/ I will report back when I finish.

New Year's Day

New Year's Day 2012. This is a day when people usually look back, look ahead, etc.

I don't want to look back on the year just past. It sucked. Words I would use to describe it include: devastating, catastrophic, duck and cover. I just really don't want to reflect on it.

Looking ahead has a bit of comfort in it in a sort of ignorance is bliss sort of way. I don't look forward in the way that I used to. There will never again be that "all is right with the world" feeling for me. But, I am allowing myself the thought and hope that 2012 will be better than 2011.

I am reading a book right now ( The Year of Magical Thinking). It is memoirish type thing about an author whose husband keeled over at the dinner table one night when they returned to their NYC apartment after having visited their 20 something, comatose daughter in the hospital. There isn't really a story to it. It is this woman working through the first year after her husband's death. At one point in the book she wrote basically that grief was passive and that mourning was the work, the therapeutic putting together of broken pieces. That line, "grief is passive", has stuck with me. I understand that. The last nine months have been marked by grief. I think I am ready for the mourning part. I kind of have to be. I don't like being in a passive state. I don't like being sad and miserable almost all the time. I can't allow my children to live that way. So I guess that is what I am looking to happen in the year ahead. Still doesn't sound like a barrel of monkeys, but it is what it is.

Beti Smiles

Meet Bethlehem. Beti. She smiles. She smiles all the time. She was smiling when I walked into the Read and Feed Learning Center and met her. She was smiling when we loaded up the van to head to the amusement park...when she took my hand as we walked to the first ride...when she ate her very first ice cream cone. Every time I saw her, she had a big smile on her face. She smiles one of those smiles that comes from her eyes as much as her mouth.

She lives a life that would steal the smile from most. Both of her parents are dead. Let me say that again. Both of her parents died. She is nine year old and has no parents. She lives with extended family who took her in. She lives in a poverty that would bring us to our knees. I am talking about no electricity, no water...nothing.

But, she smiles.

The day we took the kids to the amusement park, she thanked me over and over. "Amaseganalu, amaseganalu..." I learned a lesson from this child and am pretty sure I should have been the one thanking her.

A Day at the Park

I need to post about my recent trip to Ethiopia.

In the meantime, enjoy

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Duncan

This funny looking little dog has been a breath of fresh air in our house.

We had been dogless since September 22. I had decided the best plan would be to wait until my Christmas break and then get a puppy. It was killing me to wait. I didn't like being dogless. I love our twin kitties and they are fun and all. But, I am a dog person. I really missed having a dog. But, I am working everyday and am going to be gone for a week to Ethiopia next month...A puppy takes a lot of time to train. They have to go out to pee and poo every couple of hours... So, I was gonna wait.

Then, Sunday a week ago, my sister calls to tell me the Humane Society had some dogs at the pet store for a mini adopt a thon. I needed to come see this little pug looking dog. We headed over and met this cute little guy. He walked around with my nephews, sat on Birkely's lap and licked Brynly. Everyone just loved him. He was not a baby puppy, but a little over a year old, already neutered, up to date on shots. Perfect. But, someone had already been there looking at him and she came back with her son. They filled out papers for him and arranged to come get him. Alas... But wait, he had a brother the Humane Society lady said. I decided to go meet the brother the next morning.

I arrived at the shelter the next morning to meet the brother. As I walked in, the lady said, "they didn't take him." It was fate. I filled out the papers, wrote the check and said I would pick him up the next day. My mom stepped up and offered to go get him that day. Woo hoo.

Duncan is great. He is stubborn as all get out. A shoe and some other things have fallen victim to him. He steals our underwear and we are on cage #3 in an effort to contain him while we are gone. He is snuggly and loving and will sit on my lap through an entire soccer game. He snores and snorts and hogs the bed. He eats the cats' food and isn't quite housebroken. He gives doggie kisses freely and his whole body shakes when he wags his curled up tail.

I still miss my Rudi, but Duncan sure has softened the blow.