Loose Ends

Sorry there's been no new post for several days. I've been in the middle of everything for a while and haven't been able to find the endings. The loose ends keep slipping through my fingers, so to speak.

My son's grades were stellar for the first six weeks of this new school year. The lowest was an 88 in English. I think that's fair as he's only been studying Mandarin for the last two years. The other grades all ranged between 97 and 100. And this was not good enough for the principal. No, she still refuses to allow my son to study in the fourth grade.

Why? Because she knows he'll do extra well on his standardized tests as a third grade student, but worries he'll make a more average fourth grad test score. I can't tell you how much I detest this and how truly I feel like he's being victimized by the school system here.

And the kicker is that he won't be taking that exam at all in this school.

No. Mommy got a J O B!! More on that in a moment, but it means that we are moving back to Arkansas in a few days and he will not even be in this school. Even though I explained that to his principal, she still will not say anything other than the fact that she thinks I should find him a different school.

This move will be hard on my son, I think, because we've moved so much and he is making good friends here, and is being pursued quite openly now by a particular little girl who he SWEARS he doesn't like. Ah, third grade social life is more nuanced than any soap opera, to be sure!

But hopefully we will make the move well in spite of our social and romantic endeavors. It's a job that I think I'll enjoy quite a bit, and one that will require me to use a lot of Spanish. I'm quite nervous about this, as I haven't used Spanish in some time. But I do look forward to improving my second language skills once again. I miss the me I feel like I am when I get to interact in Spanish.

I don't have a car, a place to stay in AR, or any money. But I have a J O B! Finally! I'll just have to figure out the rest as I trip along. Wish me luck!

 

 

And welcome, Vietnam:

Welcome, South Africa:

So glad you guys could drop in. I hope you'll come back often.

 

Integrated Nut

Doesn't that just about say it all?

I took this photo when I was working in Chang Hua. The teacher who worked at the desk next to mine was having a snack and I was laughing and giggling at the thought that I was the real integrated nut. My fellow teacher couldn't figure out what was so funny about her snack even though I did try to explain, but she was still gracious enough to allow me to take the photograph.

 

Welcome, Finland.

 

 

Idiots

Sorry, but I can't seem to post much these days. Nothing that I want to say is anything that I want to say. If that makes any sense at all.

I don't want to feel the way I feel.

So here are a few things that I feel like I can say.

Life in a small town. Sometimes it's so small you can't breathe. Sometimes you pull something out of the mail box and make passers-by sure you're insane because you're laughing so hard you're crying. Standing in front of the mail box. In the middle of the day. Laughing.

Welcome, China.

Welcome, Estonia. Lovely flag!

 

I guess that's enough for now. It's the best I can do today.

 

 

 

 

Home Coming

I used to wonder, when I was a kid in High School, why they called it Home Coming when no one ever left. I still wonder about that.

Yes, I know you've come back "home" to school after the break, but it's usually not as if you went anywhere other than home from school for the summer. You know, a mile down the road. Where you go after school every other day of the year.

Home Coming is a non-even for me now. I've been back in the States now for almost three months, but I'm still not home. I don't have a home. I can't, therefore, come home.

I wish I had a home.

I wish my kiddo had a home.

Where I am now had a Home Coming Parade not long ago. My son made out like a candy store bandit, which he didn't need at all especially so close to Halloween. But he loved it.

Big Day In A Small Town

Can you tell there's a Hawaiian theme? I almost missed it myself.

 



 

Candy Store Bandit. That bag was half full by the time the little parade was over.

 



 

 

By the way: Welcome Brazil!

 



 

 

Can't Get Enough

Honestly.

Tip of My Toung

 

From This Valley

 

 

My Father's Father

 

 

And apparently, this is all the universe will allow me to put into one post! I can't get any other of my favorites to work. There are so very many more.

 

I hope, if you're reading, that you like them as much as I do.

 

 

 

 

Se Habla Espanol

Go Me! I passed a Spanish test today. I haven't used my Spanish in a couple of years now and, though the test was rather easy, I still nailed it! Cold. I still got it, baby!

In celebration, here is one of my very favorite Talia songs:

Welcome

I've just figured out how to check on who's reading my words and I've learned that in the last week, my little blog has had visitors from Germany, France, the United Kingdom, and Iraq. In the last month, I've been a virtual host to visitors from Ireland, Russia, Taiwan, and the Philippines.

As you might imagine, just from the title of my little blog, this pleases me a great deal. I love the thought of being connected, in some small way, to so many other people from so many other places. You are all very welcome. I hope you feel comfortable here.

I am just an ordinary person, with a less than average blog about noting in particular. I can't fathom how you might have stumbled across this page. And I like that, too. There's a certain romance in it, is there not?

I realize that my country has suffered the loss of two real ambassadors this month. Maybe this has something to do with people searching that word and finding my blog. As I said in the 911 post, we all suffer for hate and ignorance. It's horribly tragic.

People who've never known freedom of speech and personal expression often have a difficult time understanding Americans. Truly, when you have people out there sculpting their hate into art forms, or those with nothing better to do than to stir up someone else's hatred simply for their own entertainment, it's not difficult to think that Americans are crazy for this free speech business.

But it's vital to who we are. How do you stand against an oppressor if your oppressor will not allow you to speak? It's much more difficult, I suppose. The real danger is often not the speech, but the thought that the speech inspires in others, right?

But I am a very proud free thinker. I think that it's very important to allow even the hate mongers to spew, because it shows me how I need to think about that person, how much or how little regard for his/her words I need to have, or in what way I should regard them.

I've written a lot here about the American education system because it obviously no longer actively strives to inspire and instruct critical thinking. But the worst thing about the education system in Taiwan is that it practically disallows critical thinking, or thinking of any kind.

Students still must memorize Tang poems. Not that these aren't worthwhile poems, but very little is allowed in the way of questioning or considering the poems. Teachers tell the students what the poems mean, why it was written, and that's it. Students are not encouraged to question their teachers abotu anything at all.

The great thing about the liberal arts, such as poetry, is that they're supposed to inspire you to think, to feel, to identify, or to reason. They're not meant to be pills to swallow and regurgitate on command.

Free thinking. Free speech. You have to take the good with the bad so that you can learn the difference and why that difference is important to you.

I haven't wanted to talk about the ambassadors here because I don't want my blog to be political. But it's important. One idiot's right to free speech. Rioting and deaths. There's that thing again, about a religious belief in love and a practice of hate. Ignorance abounds. Sometimes, you simply have to say to yourself something like, "No, I don't understand that type of action, that type of speaking. But I know the person who did it was indeed a person. If I want him to respect my rights, I must also respect his."

Another idiot who is running for the presidency of the United States has lately practiced the same freedom of speech and has likely cost himself the election. So, sometimes, there is an odd type of balance to the process.

Anyway, welcome friends. Thanks for dropping by. I hope you'll visit again soon.

 

 

Guinea Pig

I have a friend here who's an amateur photographer and will take a friend's wedding photos this weekend. She called yesterday and asked if she could practice on me and my son yesterday afternoon, so today I have a couple of new shots of the two of us.

This is really nice because I don't have many of us together at all. We didn't get to take many photos because the camera battery was low, but there were one or two nice shots. I'll post my favorites today.

This is my friend’s attempt to do the focused subject/blurred background trick. What a great photo of my amazing kid!

 

Holding hands with the most handsome guy in the world.

 

Squirrely

 

And my very favorite:

 

 

 

So, that was our afternoon project. I'm happy to have the photos. Some of them turned out pretty cute, don't you think?

 





AJ's Grand Slam!

If you read back to the beginning of this blog, you can see how tough my job as a SPED teacher was for me, but the one really bright spot was my para-pro, Mrs. Harris. We became very good friends as we worked side-by-side forty hours a week.

We supported each other, encouraged each other, and provided a shoulder or an ear, or a lunch treat. Whatever it took. And I'm very grateful that our friendship has lasted though we haven't worked together now for three years.

I hope to see her again soon. More than that, I'd love to see the new baby, Ashton! He was born after I had already landed in Taiwan, so though I was there for the pregnancy, I've never gotten to love on the baby.

Ashton's big brother, AJ, and my son really enjoyed playing together and got to be friends almost as close as their moms. Last night, my son was thrilled to see a video of his friend AJ living the Sandlot dream when he hit a grand slam and brought in all the base runners, and then slid into home base. I share it here today, because Aunt Lori is proud of her AJ!

 

This is Mo and AJ feeding the ducks not long before we moved to Taiwan. Believe it or not, Mo is older, but AJ was about a half a mile taller! Mo and I both miss our friends very much.

 

 

 

 

 

And this is a clip of AJ's Grand Slam!

 

 

The Sandlot is still one of Mo's all time favorite movies. I like it, too!

 

 

 



Half Day

My son will be home after noon today and I just can't wait! I'm more excited about the half day than he is.

There's a viral video of a mom doing a dance on the first day of school as she sends her kids off on the bus. It's very cute. But I just can't get excited about back to school.

I really, honestly, love being with my kid. He's an awsome person. And I miss him all day, every day.

I'm so thankful for our relationship. I'm thankful that he's my son--being his mom has always been a source of joy and pride for me. He's a great kid with good manners and a sweet heart.

And today I get to see him earlier than usual. Yippie!

I think I owe this fortune of quality time to a homecomming parade this afternoon. Which is an utterly silly reason to shorten a school day, IMO. But this time I'm not complaining.

Here's the happy mom and her cute dance:

 

I'm like this, but in reverse!

 

 

 

 

Twilight

No post yesterday, sorry. A big nasty headache has been eating away at my resolve to stay human.

On a somewhat ironically related note, I've finally finished the first book in the Twilight series. I've promised countless students and friends, even my mom, that I would read these books. It's been years now and finally I've slogged my way through the first book.

Yes. Slogged. As in trudged my way through a cumbersome tome of mind-snagging implausibilities.

Sorry. Don't hate me, but it was really not as good as it was built up to be. It did pick up toward the end. But you have to just willfully suspend so MUCH logic to get through it.

Anyway, I'll begin New Moon today. Wish me luck. If you like eerie coincidences, it begins on September 13. That's today. As Sheldon Cooper might say, I love it when things work out.

I'm reading these because a local theater is going to show all four movies when the last one comes out next month and my friend wants us to go. It sounds fun, but I refuse to watch movies I haven't read as books--if they were actually books first. So, I have to get reading.

But really. Come on. This stuff passes as great? Barbra Kingsolver, Belva Plame, Toni Morrison, John Irving, Eudora Welty, Maya Angelou, Pearl Cleage. Just off the top of my head, all these are miles and miles, leaps and bounds, better writers. There are so many more.

Not that I'm trying to disparage Stephenie Meyer. I haven't written four bestsellers. My hat's off to her. But the stuff that satiates the masses in this great nation. I really do worry for the American education system.

Oh, I forgot to add this. A friend sent it today and I did, honest to goodness, LOL.

 

Twilight Series

911

Today is the eleventh day of September. This is the eleventh year after the year so many lives were changed. It's no small thing.

It's a little on the poignant side for me to be in Texas again today. I was here, eleven years ago, but in another town.

I can remember the grappling feeling in my brain--trying to both grasp the reality of the situation and simultaneously to reject it. The deep, reeling, desperate, shallow-breathed, humanity of the moment as the second plane hit the south tower of the world trade center. Instantaneous overwhelming grief for individuals I didn't know and for those that knew them, empathy for their loss, great desperate, selfish, soul-straining prayers that none of the loss I was irrationally mourning might be mine.

And then to spend the rest of the day in wonder that the entire world hadn't stopped. To feel like the carrying on of life was to tap-dance on a land mine. Wondering if more was to come, or if it was okay to let the initial shock take over altogether and resonate. It takes energy. It takes strength to absorb a blow, and if more are coming, you might need that strength for something else.

By the grace and mercy of God none of the grief was mine in a direct personal sense, such as that of losing a loved one. But we all were attacked that day. Every American and everyone else. Because it didn't matter who was on those planes, or who was in those towers. Many who were killed and hurt were not Americans. It was evil. It was hatred. And it was ignorance. We all suffer for these. Each one of us.

I like the photo at the top of the blog today. It's not the burning towers, the masses running through streets, their lives chased by the debris of falling buildings and burning bodies. It's strength and it's hope. It's carrying on. It's not giving up. It's not giving in. And it's gratitude.

This is a deeply personal thing for me. This date will always elicit strong feelings in me. I took the attacks very personally, because I understood very well the blanket nature of the hate and the ignorance that drove the attack.

And I took it personally because I think of myself as a "Stateless Ambassador." I don't feel like I belong to any one place, like I have only one home. I find "home" on both sides of the Earth, and I feel I could find it almost anywhere. We are all human. We were all attacked. If we can all be made equal in attack, we should all be free to love one another and to be loved by one another. We are all human. We all belong to each of us. That's why this day means so much to me. It's not only because I'm American, but because I'm human. Those who chose to attack could have chosen to love.

It's bewildering to me, honestly, how lines on a map can divide hearts and minds. How those who believe religiously in Love can practice such indiscriminate hate.

Father, forgive them, and please help me to do the same.

"Do You Know Where Your Heart Is?"

Hmm. What a question.

A doctor asked that question of my then three year old son while she was giving him a check up and wanted to listen to his heart. She listened to his heart alright.

His answer? "Yes, ma’am. It's with my mommy."

And everybody said, "Aaawwww!"

No kidding. The doctor and I both just about cried, it was so sweet. I've never forgotten it. I can remember it as clearly as if it were 10 minutes ago, even though he's nine and two thirds now.

It was one of those tiny little moments. A very small thing to say to a very small boy when every adult in the house is in a hurry to get on to something else. And he just stopped time. And my heart. And my breath. Just for a moment.

A beautiful, shimmer-eyed moment at wonder that this tiny person had such amazing perspective.

He hasn't lost it, either. I've dragged him from one corner of the Earth to the other and back again. Things have been good and things have been less than good. I still run around trying to be on to the next thing faster than I can get the present thing done. But he's still right there, right in the middle of that dazzle bright, breath-catch of a moment.

He said to me the other day, when we had a moment to ourselves and we were taking a walk, the next-to-the-sweetest thing.

"Mom, do you know one of the things I love Jesus the most for? Because he gave me you for a mom."

We know, at least, the two of us, where our hearts are. Even if we don't know anything else. Do you?

Do you know where your heart is?

The Girl With The Red Balloon

Nothing about anything. Just an untied-loose-ended feeling today, and one of my all-time absolute favorite musical indulgences.

I love, love, LOVE The Civil Wars. One of the reasons I like them so much is that I find their music and writing style to be original, authentic, and resonant on many levels.

I like the song as an interpretation of the painting. And I like every image of a red-balloon-girl I've ever seen. So here. This is visually, and aurally, and emotionally where I'm at today. And I kind wish I could inch, just a bit, closer.

This one is by Banksy, irreverent, anarchistic, defiant graffiti artist. And I like it.

It’s innocent, wistful, impedingly tearful, loss-ache inducing, and both cold and warm at the same time. At least, that what it does for me.

And this, ay, que me encanta, is The Civil Wars.

Note the gone-just-a-bit-off-the-rails, carnival, drunkenly heady, just a touch frightful, full on delightful, sorrowful, lonely tones. At least, that's what it does for me.

 

 



I'm Not Kidding

I spoke with my son's principal today about how the first week has gone. She agreed that if he has all "A"s at the end of six weeks, she'll consider allowing him to promote to fourth grade. She did, however, stress that if he goes to fourth he'll have to take the fourth grade standardized test, and if he doesn't do well, she'll be asked why she allowed him to promote. And of course, he’ll be at a disadvantage then because he will have missed the first six weeks of fourth grade.

Really. We have an administrator who's willing to take a chance on a kid after six weeks, but who'd really rather allow him to sit mostly idle for an entire year because she's worried about that end of year test score and what it means to her financially.

This system is NOT one for the kids. It's leave every single kid as behind as possible, lower the standards as much as we can without straight forward public humiliation, so that we can pass that test.

Crime in Italy! Crime in the classroom.

And speaking of that, I also spoke to his teacher this morning about perhaps giving him more, and more challenging, homework. As I did this, I cringed inwardly at my mental flashbacks of Taiwanese parents coming to me to ask for more homework for their children. But this is different. Right?

I felt awful. My kid looked at me like I was kicking his puppy. But I want him to LEARN something this year. I want him to keep the good study habits he learned in Taiwan. He doesn't need four hours of homework, but a bit more than four problems covering material he's already learned would be nice. I don't like the attitude he's developing that school is so easy that he doesn't need to try.

Anyway, her reply was that they just had a conference with some math specialists who are trying to convince them to give NO homework for math because it stresses the children too much.

I'm not kidding.

And this is a campus where, last year, seventeen teachers were laid off due to government spending cuts. I realize that this has to be just the most stressful job. I'm secretly kind of glad that I'm not employed as a teacher here. But come on. I care. I really care. Not a lot of parents here care. Couldn't they be glad that I care and willing to work with me?

The principal even said that they usually have very few "A" students in fourth grade here and that from this she understands that they are challenging the kids. Well, from this, I might guess that this is a tiny little red-neck, slap-a-tick, town where most moms and dads work in factories or farming and don't spend time with their kids being concerned for their education. I'd even bet a good percentage of the moms and dads here don't read on as high a level as my son. Maybe fourth grade is a challenge to most of these kids, but there's a reason for that.

I'm not kidding.

School's in for Autum. School's Out Forever.

 

Alice Cooper on the school board? Nah. That really would be too cool for school. But here are a few thoughts on what it might mean to be in school these days. This may go astray a bit. Forgive me.

 

My son's been a third grade student here for one week. He should be in fourth grade and, though he's happy to be on easy street, I'm very worried and disappointed with the way things are going so far.

 

We've just come home after spending the last two school years in Taiwan. Part of the reason we were there was to give him a chance to learn about that part of who he is--Taiwanese. It was important to me that he have some understanding of that side of himself. His father isn't in the picture until he looks in the mirror; then there are lots of questions that I felt would be better answered where they really all started.

 

Plus, it was important for me that he have a chance to learn some Mandarin--and he did. My son did a GREAT job of learning a language that he didn't speak a word of when we landed, and of learning subject material through that language. I'm very proud of him!

 

But he should be in fourth grade this year. After spending the last two years studying his tail off, he feels like he can almost sleep through school. He told me, in fact, after the second day of school that he thinks he'd be fine in sixth grade here. And he's right! I bet he really could do it.

 

When I took him to Taiwan, two years ago, he had just finished up with first grade here. In Taiwan, I chose to put him back into first grade again because he was going to have to study through a language he didn't speak. And in third grade, there's a big jump for Taiwanese students because they have to learn about 3-5 thousand characters that year. If they don't already have the spoken vocabulary for this, it's truly a daunting task! Even for kids who've never been outside Taiwan, third grade is a tough year.

 

So, I put him first again to give him time to catch up. I wasn't sure how long we'd be there, but I knew he needed a chance to learn to speak before he had to write.

 

He did very well. He brought home straight "A"s. But the school her wants him in third grade simply because he hasn't been to third grade.

 

Come on. Is anyone home? He hasn't been to second either, here. Second grade here and second grade in Taiwan aren't equal.

 

For one thing, in Taiwan first and second graders still only attend school for half days. Full day school days don't begin until third grade. Not that students don't study all day. Most study from sun up to sun down. After school, there are any number of cram schools for Taiwanese students to study in, and they do.

 

My son had 4 hours--that's FOUR hours--of homework every night in first and second grade in Taiwan. That was working with the Taiwanese tutor I hired to help him with his work because I couldn't read it. And that's NOT including any cram school hours, which I didn't think he needed on top of his regular school work.

 

These are only two simple examples of why it shouldn't mean anything to the local administration here that he's been to second grade, but not third. There are many other differences that I won't bother to type out. You get the idea.

 

He's learning math here in third grade that he learned in first grade there. All the books in his library are babyish books that he's too advanced for. He's reading on a 6.5 grade level for me. When he was studying in Taiwan, I didn't push spelling or writing in English, but I did encourage him to read as much as possible. I knew (I thought I knew) that as long as he had his reading skills, he'd do fine if we came back here.

 

So my child is now fully bilingual, and fully bi-literate, but the school here won't allow him to study in fourth grade.

 

Why? He brings home one worksheet for homework. This one worksheet has four questions. Stuff he learned two years ago. This is a total joke.

 

Why indeed. When he came back here and I asked them to put him in fourth grade, they insisted on testing him. They gave him a standardized test that they use for end of year promotion to fourth grade. But he'd never seen such a test before. He didn't fail, but he didn't do well enough to cause them to allow him to study in fourth grade. He only spent twenty minutes on his reading test--which most end of term third graders take in two hours. And he still didn't fail it. He just rushed through it.

 

He took longer to take his math test, but was confused by the questions and the vocabulary--most of which he knew only in Mandarin because he'd learned his math overseas. And yet he still passed that test, too. It was all format and unfamiliarity, plus a little boy's impatience with a silly test that he knew was too easy for him.

 

So what do I do? I'm a teacher myself and I take my own son's education very seriously. I'm quite frustrated with the local administration's tick-the-box approach to this, with no real concern for providing my son with the best education they could provide him with. But I have no money, at the moment, for private instruction, and to homeschool him, I'll have to have very flexible employment.

 

Really, the education system here is in more trouble than most people likely realize. Where’re the critical thinking skills evident in this situation? The child is not familiar with this testing procedure and format = he's not ready to promote. It doesn't matter if he knows the material or not, or if he has other knowledge that his peers don't, or if we're wasting his time by not giving him access to new knowledge.

 

If the administrators can't think more critically than this, the school's out forever, indeed. No point in thinking for yourself any longer at all. Just learn to be a box ticker. Ugh.

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday to me!

When you're 41 years old, you're not dead. So I guess that's enough. Or is it?

Have you had enough?

41 years. Not enough.

41 smiles. Not enough.

41 miles between you and the ex. Not enough.

41 minute back rub. Not enough.

41 kisses. Not enough.

41 daffodils. Not enough.

41 pairs of shoes. Not enough.

41 laughs. Not enough

41 long conversations with an old friend. Not enough.

41 dollars in my pocket. Not enough.

41 tries to get it right. Not enough.

41 helping hands. Not enough.

41 minutes of quiet after hosting a slumber party. Not enough.

41 dances. Not enough.

41 sunsets. Not enough.

41 "I love you, Mommy!"s. Not enough.

41 invites to lunch with a friend. Not enough.

41 attaboys. Not enough.

41 vacation days. Not enough.

41 raises. Not enough.

41 baby steps. Not enough.

41 million dollars. Not enough.

41 sunny days. Not enough.

41 snuggle-n-snoozes. Not enough.

41 walks on the beach. Not enough.

41 margaritas. Not enough.

41 warm summer rains. Not enough.

41 great friends. Not enough.

41 sincere hugs. Not enough.

41 cups of coffee. Not enough.

41 careless whispers. Not enough.

41 chocolate kisses. Not enough.

41 "how was your day?"s. Not enough.

41 favorite songs. Not enough.

41 "Thank you."s. Not enough.

41 swims in the ocean. Not enough.

41 good books. Not enough.

41 of your baby’s laughs. Not enough.

41 “Are you proud of me, Mom?”s. Not enough.

41 “You’re so pretty Mom.”s. Not enough.

41 new tomorrows. Not enough.

Put A Candle In the Window

I'm the worst blogger in the worst blogger in the world! I just figured out how to check if anyone's even looking at this silly blog and there were FOUR of you last month! Four wonderful people actually checked out my pitiful blog and I haven't even bothered to update it in ages and ages. I'll have to try to do better.

After spending the last two years on the ROC (on the island of Taiwan), my son and I are back stateside again. It was quite an eventful two years for us, and I can honestly say that, though it wasn't a bad two years, I am finally happy to be here again. For a "Stateless Ambassador" that's quite an admission.

When I left, I was so ready to go. I had CCR's Long as I Can See the Light running on a loop in my vehicle, in my mind, and in my heart. Honestly, I thought I'd never want to be back here again.

I was simply run down. Worked to death. Emotionally rung out, I guess.

Now I'm back, but you can, of course, "never go home again." That's because "home" is never there. Each time I've spent any amount of time outside the States, I've come back to a similar, but different country. But the biggest changes, I think, are always within me.

It's time to be an American again, for a while. It's what feels right, “. . . long as I can see the light."