Why it's super cool to have ESL kids

I know that I'm supposed to be a loving mother and professional educator who respects the immense difficulty of children learning a new language.  But seriously, having English as a Second Language kids is really hilarious and very interesting to a word dork like myself. 

What is so funny is that they way they learned English is not the same way native speakers learned it.  They store words of similar sounds together in their brains, not necessarily having similar meanings.  For example, you probably have the words "lipstick" and "lip gloss" near each other in your brain.  Solomon has "lipstick" and "chopstick", "chapstick", and "ripstick" all stored in the same place (in case you don't have a boy in your house, a 'ripstick' is a cool new kind of skateboard with a pivoting center).  He often asks if he can eat his noodles with chapsticks or tells me that his lips are chapped and he needs lipstick or I kissed him and got chopstick all over his face.  He was mortified when we all laughed at him after we asked him what he wanted most for his birthday and he said, "A new lipstick!"  He is a really good sport about laughing at himself, and truly, his English is terrific.  He doesn't even qualify for English support anymore and hardly even has an accent.  But these odd little language quirks still happen and crack me up.

Tinsaye has had a harder time with English.  Her accent is still present and she still needs help in school.  Its unbelievable how much vocabulary we take for granted that kids know.  For example, she told me recently about a math test she took that one of the problems asked "Estimate the size of a blade of grass:  3 mm, 3cm, 3m or 3km".    She said, "I didn't know the word 'blade'.  I thought it meant like the big place of grass where you maybe play football or soccer...." I said, "You mean 'field'?"  She said, "Yes, 'field', but I didn't remember that word either, so I guessed 3km because that would be a really big grass place, but I was so scared that it was wrong so I asked my teacher what is 'blade' and he said it is the little stick of grass and then I was really happy I asked because I know it was NOT 3km for the small stick of grass it was 3cm and so I changed my answer and I got it right!"  She never used to want to ask for help, but fourth grade work is hard for her.  She has a lot of pride, but she has discovered that she'd rather feel dumb asking for help than feel dumb failing a quiz. 

Tinsaye's accent is still pretty heavy and somehow it gets more pronounced when she is angry.  We say she morphs from a nice American girl into The Angry Ethiopian.  She will come to me just howling with rage over something Thomas did to her (Thomas is always the instigator):  "Toe-mahs is making me so ingree!  He is always pooshing me and saying to me 'I get the rrrremote!" and I told him I vas vatching Vizzzzards of Vaverly Place and he said 'eees my turn, mom said' and I say 'noooo!' and he yinked the rrrrremote away and changed the channel to some stooopeeed  Deescohvery Channel show with bugs and when I got mad he is just LAUGHED at meeee!!"  It is very hard for me to not laugh too.  If I laugh, that is when The Angry Ethiopian morphs into The Sobbing Ethiopian.  That's not funny at all.   

MLK Day 2012

On Martin Luther King Day, 2010, we accepted the referral for Tinsaye and Solomon, forever changing all of our lives.  Here's the photo we had of them. 

All we knew was that they were brother and sister, mostly healthy, around 6 and 8 years old.  And that they needed a home.  Somehow, we said yes. 

On Martin Luther King Day, 2012, here is what they looked like:

 

 I often think "what if we had said 'no'?"  Where would they be today if our fear had been stronger than our faith?  If our worries had overcome our hope?  If the need for keeping things 'safe' and 'status quo' had been greater than our desire to do the right thing for people in need?   

More significantly, where would America be if Dr. King and all the civil rights activists had said 'no'?  If their fear and worry and safety had outweighed their faith and hope and action?  Personally, I know that we didn't act alone and I feel certain that they didn't either.  Their courageous choices changed the future. 

One of my favorite exhibits at The Henry Ford Museum is the Civil Rights exhibit.  When I see my four terrific kiddos hanging out of the window of the bus that Rosa Parks rode, I wish more than anything that I could go back in time to say thank you.  Her sacrifices made my family possible. 

Black Friday

After hearing the reports about Black Friday violence, after reading about the lines, the crowds, the billions of dollars spent on "great deals", after seeing the abandoned Ford factory parking lot 2 miles from my house converted into "shuttle parking" for Twelve Oaks Mall, I have been in a kind of sick depression for the last 24 hours.  I am feeling ashamed to be an American during this season.  It seems like more than ever our sole focus is on consuming, buying, getting, having more stuff, more electronics, more food, more clothes, more crap that we do not need and do not have room for.  Does anyone really need to stand in line for hours to buy an Xbox for $200?  Which is probably their third game system, played on their third (or fourth or fifth) plasma TV.  And of course, then you need to spend another $200 on games, controllers, headsets, and rocker chairs.  What value is ANY of this stuff?  And the time?  What value do we place on our time when we spend hours buying this junk, hours setting it all up, and hours playing?  And next year there's something better and we do it all again. 

It is easy to say "that's not me, I don't do that", but it is our culture.  I am sickened and embarrassed by the way the world views us as Americans for the way we "celebrate" the "holidays".  Even a modest celebration entails buying gifts that we don't need and are often meaningless and involves quantities of food that are practically obscene.  How is this celebrating?  Everyone is stressed, anxious, petty, jealous, greedy, and this is what we teach our children is a "magical Christmas". 

I know that I see the world differently that most people.  I remember picking up Solomon and Tinsaye and getting ready to leave the orphanage and telling them to get their stuff.  Every possession they owned fit in the front pockets of their shiny new Land's End backpacks we brought for them.  The clothes they were wearing had to be returned to the orphanage for the other children.  I saw people in Ethiopia stand in line for six hours or more not to get an Xbox,  but to see a doctor.  They didn't pepper spray anyone, they didn't get overflow parking.  How could the $400 you spent on more electronics have changed the lives of any one of those people? 

It's easy to say "we can't fix the world, Ethiopia has their own problems, it's not about me, I'm an American and I deserve this stuff".  In case you hadn't noticed, it's not Ethiopians coming to get food from your local food bank.  It's not Ethiopians lined up at the Salvation Army trying to find winter boots for their kids.  I have students that I see every day that take showers at school because they have no running water in their house.  I have students who live in their cars or with relatives with no electricity.  When we ask parents of needy children at our school how we can help their family for Christmas, they ask for socks, mittens, and gift cards to gas stations so they can keep gas in their cars to get to their minimum wage jobs and be able to pay the heating bill.  When Brian was handing out food baskets at our church last year he tried to give a family a turkey for their Christmas dinner, but they refused because they were living in a motel and didn't have an oven to cook it.  They took the packaged food that they could heat up in a microwave.  How could the $400 you spent on more electronics have changed the lives of any one of those people?

Does anyone else see these people?  Does anyone else think America is asking for some serious cosmic smackdown by living in such smug oblivion?  DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!  You!  Today!  Change something about the way you live so that others suffer less.  If you want to give your children a magical Christmas, make it about people and not things.  Make it about Jesus and not Santa.  Make it about lists of things you can give instead of lists of things you want..  Instead of spending three hours in line to see Santa at the mall, or three hours in line waiting to buy more stuff, spend three hours with your kid volunteering at a food bank.  And then do it again in January.  And keep doing it.  Listen to the people you meet there and then listen to what God tells you to do about it.

Sorry if this post bothers you, it bothers me too. 

Why I Love My Cleaning Lady

We have had a cleaning lady, Alla, since about 2006.  We had to lay her off when Brian got laid off in fall 2008, but she was "recalled" in the fall of 2009 when his work started picking back up.  She is a pleasant, serious Polish immigrant lady in her mid-fifties and she cleans my house far, far better than I ever would.  She comes on  Wednesdays while we are all at school/work, and it's like the good fairies came in and worked their magic all over the house.  When I walk in, it smells clean.  There are fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet.  The faucets are all shiny.  There are no piles of junk laying everywhere.  The microwave doesn't have exploded Chef Boyardee ravioli inside it anymore.  The beds are all made up, smooth and fresh and I can hardly wait to climb into my clean sheets.  Thanks to Alla, Wednesday afternoons are my favorite part of the week.

She will leave me little notes in funny European printing with ESL spelling/grammar, "Plese to buy Soft Scrub" or "You are needing paper towel".  Sometimes she comes later or I am home on break and then she will tell me things.  She can't pronounce 'Joan' however, and she calls me 'John'.  One day this past summer she said to me, "Last week I am cleaning your ceiling fan. It was too dirty, I must clean it."   I said to her, "Alla, I'm so sorry, I know it was filthy!  I didn't know how to clean it on the high ceiling, how in the world did you do it?"  She replied gravely, "It was very hard, John.  I am standing on chair and it is still too low, so I am getting small stool and put on chair and get long duster.  Is very dangerous, but fan is too dirty, I must clean."  I squeaked out, "thank you", but I was envisioning coming home to find her lifeless body on the living room floor under my filthy ceiling fan and living with the guilt that my dirt cost this poor beautiful woman her life.

Alla's grandson is about Thomas's age and she has always really liked Thomas just because he reminds her of her grandson.  Once she had just cleaned the boys' room and Thomas came running in from outside, ripped off all this clothes, chucked them all over his room, threw on his bathing suit, and was half way out the door when Alla yelled, "TOMAS!  YOU ARE PICKING UP YOU CLOTHES!  I AM JUST TO FINISH CLEANING YOU ROOM AND YOU ARE MAKING MORE CLOTHES!"  Thomas sheepishly turned around and picked up all his mess and apologized and left quietly.  I smirked from my couch, not having to say a word. 

One time my mom and dad were at my house on a Wednesday before I got home from school.  Alla said to my mom, "You are very proud of John."  Mom said yes, she was.  Alla said, "Her kids, they are good kids."  Mom said, yes, they are.  Alla said, "This house, it is full of love.  I am finding the notes."  Mom asked her what she meant and she showed her... the sticky note on my mirror from Tinsaye that said, "I love you Mom" and Solomon's drawing in his room of our family that said "I love my family".  When I started looking around, I noticed the 'love notes' were everywhere!  I never really noticed them much before.  I was too focused on the piles of laundry, papers, shoes, and dirt.

I love Alla because she cleans my house and helps me maintain my sanity.  But I really love her because she reminds me that every house she cleans is messy, but not every house she cleans is full of love.

The Dish Canary (or Joan is a Crappy Mom)

Tonight after dinner, Brian was dealing with a client crisis on the phone, Thomas was starting trouble with his sisters, I was trying to clean up the dishes while keeping the kids quiet for Brian and stopping the fight.  Solomon came in to me very seriously and said:

Solomon:  Mom, I need your help, I'm starting a Dish Canary.

Joan (not really paying attention)...I told you to leave them alone, Thomas!  Get up to your room and practice your clarinet and don't make me tell you again!

Solomon:  Mom, Mom!  I need you right now!  I'm starting a Dish Canary!

Joan (increasingly annoyed and only slightly paying attention):  What is a Dish Canary?

Solomon (with huge eyes and great shock in his voice):  YOU don't know what a Dish Canary is?  You're a TEACHER!

Joan (finally paying attention but completely blowing a gasket):  Solomon Martin, I am tired of all this ridiculous attention-seeking behavior!  I do not have time for whatever nonsense you have going on right now and if I said 'what is a Dish Canary?' then I obviously do not know what a Dish Canary is!  Now if you really want my help then tell me what you need and stop wasting my time! 

Solomon (quietly and with regret):  Well, a Dish Canary is a book that tells you all the words and what they mean.  I saw it at school and thought I could write one.

Joan:  A dictionary?!?  You mean a dictionary???  You want to write a dictionary?

Solomon:  Well, yeah.  I said I needed some help.
 

What kind of a horrible mother yells at her kid who wants to write a dictionary?!  I laughed out loud, got down on my knees in the kitchen and hugged him and said, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you.  Where should we start?"  and Solomon grinned and said, "How about 'absolutely'?  I don't think I spelled it right."

First Day of School

Six weeks ago was the first day of school.  Here's what everybody looked like on that exciting day!

Thomas started sixth grade and is now in the middle school.  Notice the dark porch?  He catches the bus at 6:50am.  He is loving having his own schedule, more freedom and independence, the challenge of multiple teachers and more homework.  He is playing clarinet in the band and he is AMAZING (that is his critical self-analysis).  He intends to switch to saxophone later this year and follow in his Aunt Mandy's sax footsteps.  He is following in his dad's footsteps by running cross country and he's doing pretty well with that also.  He struggled at first remembering gym clothes, instrument, homework, lunch, running shoes and everything else every day, but he seems to be getting the hang of things now and seems very happy overall.

 

Tinsaye started fourth grade.  She skipped third to catch up with same-age peers.  She is doing much better emotionally this year.  She has gone from crying about something at least once a day (usually more) to maybe tears twice a week.  She has just settled in and leveled out emotionally.  I think her growth is settling down too... she grew 5 1/2 inches and gained 25 lbs in her first year here.  Hopefully that will slow because we can't keep her in clothes.  

  So far she is doing fine in fourth grade in spite of some pretty big gaps in her learning.  On her last math unit she started out with a 30% on her pretest.  At the end, her final test was 90%.  She is just a really hard worker.  She adores her teacher and is developing a whole new set of fourth grade friends.  Her vision is 20/20 in her good eye but she is legally blind in her bad eye.  It doesn't seem to affect her, though.  In another year or so we may get her a contact for her bad eye because it is correctable to about 20/150, but the ophthalmologist isn't sure her brain will use that eye even if it works.  

 

 

 Meredith started third grade this fall and I think she's having her best year yet.  She does not love school like the other kids do and her usual answer to "how was your day?" is "fine" or "okay".  This year I'm getting "GREAT!"  She likes her teacher and her class and I think she's catching up academically to some of the other kids her age.  She is still taking piano lessons and doesn't love to practice, but she loves her teacher and she loves to be able to play the pieces she finishes.  Her class will go on an overnight trip to Mackinac Island in the spring and she is very excited about doing that all by herself (no sisters or brothers or parents dragging along!).  Mere is taking gymnastics with Tinsaye on Saturday mornings and she really likes that (and it's not too taxing on our overloaded schedule).

Solomon  is in second grade this year.  He was disappointed that none of his best first-grade buddies were in his class and he was nervous about getting glasses in August and starting school with his new glasses.  All his fears were unfounded however, when everyone loved his glasses and he made lots of new friends right away (plus he still sits with his old friends at lunch).  

His vision continues to improve.  He had surgery to correct his wandering eye in May and now he has improved depth perception.  The eye drops continue to lower the pressures in his eyes and now his vision is correctable to 20/40 and 20/60.  Solomon started karate this fall and he is going to be a Ninja for halloween.  He's all about kicking, punching, jumping, spinning, and any other smashing that he thinks counts as "martial arts".  He loves to read and is the kid we never have to remind to do his daily reading minutes.  He also does math worksheets for fun.  It relaxes him.  Seriously.  He's the child of my heart, but clearly not my genetic material.

We could not be more proud of these terrific kids that God has given us!

Catching Up

Catching up.  It's what I do.  It's how I roll.  It's what this blog should be called.  I never seem to be able to stay on top of everything in my life, so I'm always "catching up" with something or someone. Since my last post in July (!!) many things, of course, have happened.  Nothing monumental, just life.  We spent lots of time at the cabin, worked our tails off on the house and yard, got everybody ready to start school, started school, started fall activities.  Also started going crazy, losing perspective, working too hard, and forgetting to laugh.  Started developing a short temper, unrealistic expectations, irritability, and impatience.

So now I'm catching up.  With this blog, with the people in my life, with my priorities.  Will it ever be thus?

Here's my new motto:

Find the joy.  If you can't find the joy, find the grace.

God put this in my head a few weeks ago while I was developing my crappy habits of irritability and impatience.  It seemed lovely.  When it came to me, I was like, "YES!  That's what I need to do!  My life is full of joy and grace.  This will be easy and will totally keep my perspective!"  

I was wrong.  Finding the joy is really, REALLY hard at 9:10pm when I am exhausted and Tinsaye is whining and Meredith STILL hasn't brushed her teeth and Thomas just remembered a math test tomorrow and Brian is yelling at Solomon that he CANNOT buy "crazy cheesy bread" for lunch tomorrow because it is garbage and he'd better get in there and make his lunch RIGHT NOW and all the kids should have been in bed 45 minutes ago and my whole body aches and I just want to crawl under the covers and never come out.  

Finding the joy is also really hard when it's 4:15pm and I have foolishly used up all my energy on my 225 students and am now late to pick up Thomas from cross country practice on my way home to get the other three off the bus and get someone to the dentist, the doctor, the therapist, church, a friends' house, Target, a piano lesson, or the library to return late books (see previous post) before figuring out what to make for dinner that is not a) expensive, b) fattening, c) more complicated than 3 ingredients, and d) going to take longer to prepare than 15 minutes.  

Finding the joy would also be considered difficult at 11:30am, when I have already seen 150 adolescents, have 30 minutes for lunch and am starving, but have to answer the 15 emails and 2 voice mails that have appeared since 8:20 when I last checked, have a stack of makeup quizzes to grade, have a blown speaker that needs repair and three mp3s that need to be burned to disc, have to call the counselor about one student, call a parent about another two, and write one up for behavior, have a concert next week that needs parents called to help out, two fundraisers that need attention, a trip that is not getting planned because other things need to happen first.

But this is my life.  And there IS joy.  And lots of grace.  When I am completely blowing my stack, Brian will say in a quiet (and definitely snarky) voice, "How about that joy, Joan?  Did you find it yet?"  (See what I live with?).  But when I stop and take a breath and pull back from the minute, I can almost always find the joy.  

Working with kids at school definitely brings me joy.  The paperwork and deadlines are bad, but the kids are wonderful.  I love what I do, I love that I am good at it and that the kids leave my room happy.  

Spending 5 minutes alone in the car with Thomas on the way home to the insanity is joyful and precious.  He is changing into a teenager before our very eyes and I love the quiet minutes alone with my oldest baby as I listen to his latest negotiating strategy to get a cell phone.  

There is grace at 9:15pm when God gives me the patience that I no longer possess on my own to remain calm and move each kid steadily toward bed.  And then there is joy at 9:30pm when I have a clean face, clean pjs, a warm bed, and my Nook for 30 minutes of quiet.  Plus a couple Tylenol PMs.

See, it's always there.  You just have to look for it.  I think it's getting easier for me to find.  

Blogging helps me find the joy and grace in my life so even though it's another thing to do, I'm going to keep at it.  I will backtrack a bit to catch up on the last three months.  Thank you to everyone who gently said to me, "I miss your blog posts!"  I haven't even posted on Facebook for a month, it's been that crazy.  So thanks for your patience, support, and prayers.  We are still alive, even though we've been media dark.  We've just been finding the joy.