A little tidbit

I was in the back of Eli's classroom the other day doing a little work for the teacher while all of the kids were sitting up front listening to her mini-lesson about plot in writing.  She asked a few questions about the difference between the plot of a picture book and that of a novel.  The students were all mostly involved, answering questions, asking their own.  Then the teacher asked, 'What about poetry?  Does poetry have plot?'  Eli raised his hand and was called upon.  "Well, it depends, something like an epic poem, say like the Illiad by Homer, that definitely has plot..."  And I'm in the back wondering how in the world he knows about the Illiad.  I'm and English major for goodness sakes and have yet to read it.  I knew from the start of this parenting business that at some point these guys would pass me by in math.  I was not prepared for it to happen in about 2nd grade math with this dumb new lattice method of multiplication, which I just do NOT get, but whatever, I knew the day would come.  But I thought I would have a little more leeway with English.  Wishful thinking, I guess.

Sounding Off

The news lately has been full of tragic stories of teens taking their lives, most in response to being bullied for being gay, or perceived as being gay.  I work at a school where the GSA (Gay Straight Alliance) is strong and proud, and really mostly made up of straight allies who are standing up to support their peers.  They have no agenda other than to create a safe space for themselves so that they can turn their attention to learning, rather than focus on mere survival.  And they've done it.  The other day a student announced at the All School Meeting that it was "National Coming Out Day" and then explained that this was a chance for people who have had to live closeted lives to step out and start to live as who they are.  It is the custom at Avalon that all announcements are met with applause.  Even when I announce that there will be a high stakes standardized test in the afternoon.  They clap.  They are nice that way.  After this student made his announcement I held my breath for a second, wondering what kind of response he would get.  I will point out that announcements about the activities of the GSA (protests at the capitol, a school dance, a booth at a festival) are made often and greeted with respect, if not always enthusiasm.  I should not have worried- maybe it had something to do with the news of suicides and the tension around this issue, but the applause was thunderous and went on for a quite while.  Here was a diverse group of kids from all corners of the twin cities and they were taking a moment to say (with their hands) stop the hate, stop the madness, give everyone a chance to learn and live in a safe environment.

This same student was recently quoted in a StarTribune article on the subject and today a letter penned by him (and his GSA compatriots) was published in the 'point/counterpoint' section of the editorial page under the heading:  What does it take to make a school safe for learning?  The counterpoint to our student was written by Tom Prichard, the president of the Minnesota Family Council.  The comments on the page have been a mixed bag of support, questions, and a bit of hate-mongering.  I hate to read those.  All this young man is asking is that schools are safe for all.  We work hard to do this at Avalon, and I see the payouts.  In a conversation with his mom last week she said that what she loved about Avalon is that her son's main force of energy is NOT spent defending who he is or keeping out of the way of bullies, but rather on investigating the local food movement and getting intimate with the details of organic farming.  He is learning and growing in ways that were not possible in other environments and she is thrilled.  So am I.  Here's a link to his article.  It may not be perfect, but it's honest and it's brave, and he signed his full name, unlike many of the hateful people leaving their comments below it.  Go Ben.  Strib Article

School Pictures

It's school picture day today.  Jon and I tried to make last minute hair cut appointments for the boys last night, risking them going down in history with a bad cut, but it wasn't to be.  We couldn't find an opening for them.  They were thrilled, of course, and in their relief from avoiding the cut, they promised that I could throw them both through the shower this morning and then actually take a brush and perhaps a blow dryer to their hair. Eli is no problem.  He has relatively short hair and it sits how its going to sit.  There's not much managing needed or possible.  But Theo.  His locks are long right now, and after a few minutes under the influence of my blow drying prowess he came out looking a lot like....Andy Gibb.  Don't know how I came to be the mother of Andy Gibb, and I'm not sure I like it.  But Theo does.  I will take a picture of him soon so we can do a comparison.

Covert Operations

Last night after dinner we realized that we were in fairly desperate need of hay for the rabbits.  Not that the rabbits were showing any signs of desperation- they never show many signs of anything.  But the hay was gone so I convinced Eli to ride his bike down to the pet store with me.  The only glitch in the plan was that it is October in Minnesota, and although our temperatures have been summery lately, the sun goes down ever earlier each night, and by 7 it was pitch black out there.  I suited up our bikes with a variety of lights, including cool green glowing boomerang shaped things that stick in the spokes, and reluctantly put on Jon's sweat-smelly reflective vest.  At first I was going to have Eli wear that and I was just going to wear a white shirt and hope for the best, but then I saw Eli's school guard vest and I thought Aha!  He can wear that. 

Not so fast.  Apparently part of becoming a guard these days includes signing a blood oath that you will not wear the vest in vain.  Or so Eli led me to believe.  I did manage to convince him that protecting his life while we went on an emergency hay run was not using it flippantly.  He countered with, "or we could drive."  I didn't buy it.  I manhandled him into the vest and took off down the road.  He followed, but he kept glancing furtively left and right, looking for undercover traffic cops (which may be the romantic branch of traffic copping, if it exists) who might arrest him on the spot.  As our friend Tim mentioned, we made it through the dragnet unscathed. 

It turned out to be a lovely ride with hardly no traffic on the back roads we traveled.  And the whole way down the hill into the village we were guided by the most lovely banana moon I've seen in a while.  I said, "Oh, it's reminding me of old Wild Bill" (my grandfather who shared a banana moon connection with me and who passed away a few Octobers back) but Eli wouldn't let me elaborate, I was making him sad.  But at least that distracted him from his fear of being caught out in the vest.  He will be most mightily upset if he knows that I am about to post a picture of him all vested up.  Sorry Eli.

Borscht

So yesterday I looked around the kitchen and found myself staring at quite a supply of beets and cabbage and potatoes from our CSA.  These are not ingredients I use every day so I entered them into google to see what kind of recipes might pop up.  And sure enough the first 468 entries pointed toward borscht.  I have nothing against  this Russian soup- it's just that I have never made it before and I was a little nervous to have my debut taste tested by a real live Russian who happens to be pulling up a chair to our dinner table every night.  But it couldn't be avoided.  So I made it and awaited the verdict from Ildar.  He came in, looked in the pot, asked, "What's this?"  "Borscht."  He raised his eyebrows.  He gamely took a bowl and sat down for dinner.  I watched closely as he tasted the first spoonful.  He smiled and then said, "It's good, but it's not borscht."  I guess I'll take that as a positive review.  Right?  It got the rest of my dumb family laughing and pretty soon all of them were making plans as to how I could open up a stand in Russia selling "American style borscht."  Ildar added several points to the marketing plan, including this conclusion, "I think you should plan to take your stand to a new city every month, because maybe most customers will only come once and then not return, so you will have to find new customers somewhere else."  Hmmmm.  Well, I guess I don't know how to feel about the borscht, but it made it clear to me that Ildar is feeling downright comfortable in our household.  I like that.  But I don't think I am going to be making anymore borscht here for a while.

Status Update

So our new 'son' has been here for just over a week and I think we've all pretty much fallen in love with him.  He's a delightful kid.  I'm completely surprised how quickly I've come to think of him as part of us.  I know that we're going to lose him at the end of the school year, that he's really just a visitor passing through our lives- but I'm feeling pretty lucky that we get him for the duration.  Two weeks ago when this hosting of a foreign student was first posed to us I had some real misgivings about how it was all going to work.  And I admit that I was less than generous in my thoughts when I came to realize that this was going to translate to extra laundry, more meal prep and clean up, and some random expenses.  But that was when it was for some unknown kid.  Now that Ildar is in the house and we know him, of course I can toss his laundry in, and he is a great help in the kitchen, and I'd love to help him experience as much of the St. Paul life as he can, so a little extra expense is no big thing.  I do realize that we are only about 10 days into this and there is much time left in the year, but so far all is good.  Until he finds out that I sometimes write on a little blog and that he might end up as a topic!  Awkward.

This New Generation

Last night some neighbor kids were over hanging out.  A newly minted 5 year old stepped up to the piano to play us a tune.  She sat regally on the bench, flounced her hands out a little, then turned, eyed the 'crowd' and said, "Do any of you have cell phones???  Turn them off!"  Here she is, just a couple of hours into being five, and she's got the new drill down.
It reminded me of something that happened on our canoe trip down the Namekagon this summer with 8 of my most favorite kids.  We spent much of our time on the river tackling ye olde '2 minute mysteries'.  If you don't know what these are, they are kind of like glorified 20 questions.  Or gorified.  Because they almost all contain a story of death or dismemberment.  For example, the person in charge of the mystery might give out the line, "The music stopped and she died".  And then the solving crew has to ask yes or no questions to try to figure out how she died.  In this case it just so happens that she is a blind circus performer on the highwire and she knows that she is at the other end of the wire when the music stops, but some jealous co-worker wants her out of the picture and so stops the music early, she gets confused, stops, and falls to her death.  That is seriously the answer.  And the thing is that the questioners will get there.  It never fails to amaze me.  Another one starts with just these facts: "A man goes into a restaurant, orders an albatross sandwich, takes one bite, then jumps up, runs outside and kills himself."  Solve.  And they do.  Once you get into the groove with these you know what kind of questions to ask to get you to the (often grisly) conclusions.  But here's the thing about this new generation:  they have a whole new set of questions that they think to ask.  Such as, "Were there weapons of mass destruction involved?"  or "Did he use biological weapons?"  These questions, when posed by an innocent looking 8 year old lounging in a canoe in the middle of a fabulous wilderness, can be disconcerting.  And NO!  of course there are no WMD or biological whatevers, there are only ice cubes and shipwrecks and circus workers.  These mysteries were connocted in an more an innocent era, when murders were accomplished with icicles or umbrellas.  But now I feel like I've given too much away.