Merry Christmas

The presents are all opened, Les is back at work, and I have a little time to sit back and reflect.
This year we decided to keep things simple.  Let's begin with the tree.  This was our monster kitten's first exposure to a Christmas tree.  We knew that he would be filled with a sense of wonder and adventure as soon as we put up the tree.  So, we gave him a couple days to explore the bare tree and get to know it.  He didn't disappoint!  Consequently, we decided to hang only nonbreakable ornaments this year.

Heinz in the treetop

Cassie told all the cats to be good or Santa wouldn't remember them!

Cassie made one last attempt - she read Heinz the story of the nativity.

Right after Thanksgiving, the girls began perusing the toy catalogs.  Aunt Susan had sent them several that promised to be full of creative and brain-stimulating toys.   In early December, Lacey presented me with her list - a lined piece of notebook paper, filled from top to bottom.  I suggested she go back and shorten the list a bit.  Lacey promptly returned, having scratched out a few items.  I told her to spend a couple days thinking and then to make a list of the five things she really wanted.  Eventually, I studied her list.  Number one was something called, "Zing Shot."  Hmmm, this sounded like some kind of rebound toy.  I paged through the catalogs until I found the circled item.  "Whoa!," I exclaimed to Les.  "Lacey is asking Santa for a slingshot.  I sure hope Santa uses his common sense."  I continued down the list.  Item number two was called, "Kids Take Aim."  Not having learned, I mused that this sounded like some kind of architecture set.  I flipped through the catalogs again and was startled to discover that this was a bow and arrow set.  Well, at least Lacey was consistent.

Les and I made a solo flight to the toy store one evening.  The first thing he picked up was a rapid-fire Nerf gun.  "How 'bout this for Lacey," he asked.  

"What will you do when she shoots you in the face?" I replied.

"Take it away, of course," said Les.

"Then," I recommended, "don't waste your money!"

As we watched frantic customers shoving through the aisles and grabbing at toys, we decided we really didn't want to be a part of that.  We ended up going home and ordering a Kindle for Cassie and a Nintendo DS for Lacey.

In mid-December, the girls helped with the toy sorting and gift giving at church.  The adults marveled at how efficient the girls have become.  But, after all, the kids are the toy experts.

Sorting toys at church

The weekend before Christmas, the Dale City fire station brought Santa aboard a fire truck to visit Gaby.  Because Gaby has been receiving chemotherapy, she has to stay at home to protect her immune system.  Santa's arrival was a very special treat for the neighborhood children too.

Santa and Mrs. Claus

As Christmas break approached, I felt a little frantic.  I still had baking to do, a house to clean, and gifts to wrap.  I just wanted to get through the last couple days of school and tackle everything that waited at home.  I had agreed to let my students have a party the last day before the break.  I was very impressed with their resourcefulness.  They called around town to find a restaurant that would have pupusas and saltenas prepared by 9:00 a.m.  Then, they tasked the one student in the class who has wheels to pick up the food.  This student owns a motorcycle, not a car.  So, I'm not sure how he managed to get all the food to school.  The students presented me with a card that read, "For a Priest Who's a Special Blessing."  Clearly a little something got mixed up in translation.  But, the sentiment was genuine.  

Later, I was telling Lacey about the party.  "But," I concluded, "my students are sad about the holiday break."

"Why?" asked Lacey, thinking my students must be insane. 

"Well," I explained, "most of them don't have family in the U.S.  They will miss their friends and teachers at school."

"I think you feel sad for them," Lacey said.  This became the "wow" moment for me, when I heard the angels singing and felt the heat from the star that was shining so brightly.  Lacey had demonstrated genuine, sincere empathy!  This was my greatest Christmas gift.

We spent Christmas Eve with Gladis, Julio and Gaby.  As you can see by our masks, we were working hard to protect Gaby from any possible sniffle or cough, because she was preparing for surgery on the 26th.

Cassie and Gaby playing

Me with Gaby

The girls setting up the table we got for Gaby

Gaby thought Les was Santa.  She kept pointing at him and saying Ho! Ho! Ho!

Gladis, Gaby and Julio

Lacey and her electronics

Cassie and her electronics

 The girls responded well to our desire to keep things simpler.  Cassie wrote and illustrated poems for us.  Lacey used her alphabet beads to make a necklace that spelled Cassie's name.  "Now," Lacey explained, "all of your teachers will know your name!"  The name thing has been so troubling for Cassie that I even blogged about it.  How very clever of Lacey!

Yesterday, Gaby had her surgery.  The doctor removed the tumors from her kidneys and was able to save the remaining healthy pieces of her kidneys.  We are now anxiously waiting for her kidneys to heal and start working.  Gladis and Julio are grateful for all the prayers from friends and family members.

Gaby wearing the hat that Cassie made for her

Diary of a Wimpy Parent, Part 1

For the past two years, we fretted over Cassie's transition to middle school.  We read a number of series about middle school students: sixth graders being tortured by eighth graders, girls being tortured by boys, and girls being interested in boys.  I continually reassured Cassie.  "It's not that bad," I told her.  Or, "Yes, you will have to deal with boys.  But, with practice, it won't be that bad!"  Of course, we assured her over and over again that she would never become a wimp.  Little did I know that I would be the one who would be forced into becoming A WIMP!!

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking Cassie up from a birthday party.  Another mother approached me and said that her daughter has been coming home from school upset every day because a teacher calls my child, "Quesadilla."

"Really?" I asked.  "I think Cassie would probably have mentioned this to me.  Do you think maybe the teacher is just mispronouncing her name a bit?"

"Oh, no," the other mom insisted, "If this were happening to my child, I would call the teacher and complain.  Your child shouldn't have to put up with this."

Later, I asked Cassie about this.  Ever since Cassie was in preschool, we have urged her to solve her own school problems, if possible.  Over the years, she has written letters and had meetings with teachers, counselors and the principal, to discuss various injustices that she has observed.  But, when necessary, I have helped her out.  I tried to get a sense  for whether or not this was a problem that could be resolved at Cassie's level.  She explained that she had been answering to "Quesadilla" for weeks.  She continued explaining that this teacher struggles with the students' names and has been calling one student "Kuh."  (I tried to transcribe this.  Cassie pronounced it like "duh," with a "k.")  I asked Cassie if she had told the teacher how to pronounce her name. 

"Several times," she said.  "I told her that I like being called, 'Cassie, 'not 'Cassidy,' and I write 'Cassie' on all my papers.  I'm afraid the teacher will get mad if I say anything else."

"Does being called 'Quesadilla' bother you?" I queried, immediately hating myself.  Come on, of course it bothers her.  Being made fun of on a daily basis would bother pretty much anyone.

"Yes," Cassie answered.  "Everyone laughs because the teacher is clearly calling me 'Quesadilla.'  It's not an accidental mispronunciation."

I don't want to sound too critical.  I'm a teacher and I know the many challenges classroom teachers face.  Trust me, I know.  I want to be fair to the teacher.  Over the years, I have encountered many names that are difficult to pronounce.  I currently am working on pronouncing 'Aurelio' and 'Efrain.'  These names are difficult so I practice in my car, where no one can hear me.   Names are important.  They are one's identity.  Last week, several students informed me that I was mispronouncing another student's name.  They explained that the Eritrean student's name was "Sofia," with an accent on the first syllable, not the second syllable as it typically would be for a Spanish-speaking student.  I apologized and practiced the unfamiliar pronunciation in front of the class.  But, "Cassidy" is really not that hard to pronounce. 

"Well," I began, "If you really want me to, I could contact your teacher and explain how to pronounce your name."  And, again I hated myself because I was hoping that Cassie would say she didn't want me to contact the teacher.  

Cassie said that she would wait a couple more weeks and see what happens.  I sighed in relief, hoping my kid wouldn't see what a wimp I've become.  Am I really scared to contact a teacher?

Okay.  Time for some deep breathing before I completely stress myself out.  The thing is, I really don't know how to contact Cassie's teachers.  I attended back-to-school night and met each teacher.  Yeah, well, I didn't really meet any of the teachers.  I sat in their classrooms, observed, and listened to them talk.  With one exception, none of them had any idea who I was.  I'm sure they didn't even all know Cassie.  Each one had a different preferred method of contact.  One said she prefers email.  Another prefers that a note be scribbled in the student's planner.  Another also prefers email, but cautioned that it would take several days for a parent to receive a response.  Another prefers phone calls.  And, yet another prefers personal meetings because other forms of communication could cause hurt feelings.  I carefully scribbled notes about all this.  But, the following day, the notes made little sense and I threw them out.  So, as my brain raced, I realized that if Cassie said that she wanted me to contact her teacher, I would have no idea which means of communication to use.  And, if I screwed up and made the teacher angry, my kid's grade might suffer.  And, that is really the bottom line.  Grades are important to Cassie.  Grades are important to Cassie's parents. Cassie's grades have been good this year, absent any parental interference.  Do I want to risk messing this up?  Am I being unfair for thinking that a teacher would get mad if I complain and lower my child's grade?   Am I being unfair to my child?

Even if this situation resolves itself, there are several others waiting to be addressed.  And, here I sit, a self-proclaimed Wimpy Parent, not knowing what to do.  I have to believe in our system of public education.  I use things that I don't like about my children's educations to inform my teaching.  But, right now I feel that I'm failing my child because I really don't know how to help her at school.

A Little Magic

Last night, we celebrated the wedding of our very dear friends, Magic Bob and Maria.  "Magic Bob" earned his nickname from Cassie when she was three years old and Bob first performed magic tricks at her birthday party.  There is always a little magic in the air when Bob is around.  So, the nickname has stuck.

Mr. and Mrs. Magic Bob!

The girls were excited.  They got to wear their Christmas dresses and new shoes.  And, they got to stay out very late.  Lacey and her dress left glitter all over the house and restaurant.  Cassie's shorter skirt, heels and grown up appearance left Les in shock.

I hoped to get a snapshot photo worthy of appearing on our Christmas card.  As I clicked away, I was reminded of how wonderful my kids are and how lucky I am.