Matching Tracksuits

Month: February 2010

Farm Party

Monday 22 February 2010

Almost all children adore animals. Kids are attracted to the novel, and what could be more novel than another living creature?

DSC_0889

L’s love of animals borders on obsessive, and like many obsessions, hers leads to behaviors that seem counterproductive: she loves are cat almost literally to death (at least that’s certainly the cat’s point of view). And so a visit to a farm is simply perfect for L: she gets to experience animals up close, yet the familiarity that leads L to take so many liberties with our cat  is missing.

DSC_0893

Over the weekend, we went to a birthday party held at a local stable and farm — brilliant idea. We petted chickens and fed goats.

DSC_0896

DSC_0911

The highlight, of course, was in the barn.

DSC_0919

Like all good riders, the children got a chance to do a little horse grooming, learning how to brush the horses with the various brushes then applying their new knowledge.

DSC_0925

L is a curious mix of excitement and conscientiousness. She was eager to try the various brushes and wanted to use them correctly, but she never really took the time to try to remember — to allow others to remind her — how to the various brushes.

DSC_0928

She’s a little like me, I guess: she dives in, fairly confident that she’ll get it right soon enough that any mistakes made along the way won’t be significantly problematic.

DSC_0931

Fortunately, the conscientious side of her took control when she was on the horse. She listened carefully and didn’t deviate from instructions even slightly.

DSC_0937

Once it was all over, the swings outside the barn beckoned. L had had fun the entire day, but she seem a little relieved to be doing something she knew how to do. Novel is good, in small doses.

Symmetry

Tuesday 16 February 2010

The Girl enjoys playing with the chess set I brought back from Poland. (If I remember correctly, a gift from Nana and Papa, when they came for our wedding.) She has invented her own little version that involves us using single pieces to push our opponent’s single piece around the board for a few moments. She loves the game, but I’ve yet to discern the sublime objective.

DSC_0875

Occasionally she just gets all the pieces out and puts them on the board. There’s usually a pattern: black pieces on black squares; white pieces on white squares.

DSC_0878

A perfectly impossible position, but notice: the white king is in check, forking the queen.

It’s another example of the similarities between toddlers and older children with autism: pattern, pattern, pattern. Everything has its place, and to disturb that order is to invite chaos, in more ways that one.

We’re more like that than we’d like to admit. A colleague once commented that we’re all on the autism spectrum; it’s just that some of us have very mild cases. Mine manifests itself in my obsession with seeing patterns in floor tiles and then feeling a compulsion to walk in accordance with said patterns.

That’s probably why I looked at L’s work, smiled, and said proudly, “Very symmetrical. Well done.”

In the Snow

Sunday 14 February 2010

It promised to be a lovely morning: after a day of snow, the forecast was for cloudless skies Saturday morning. I opened my eyes and realized I had to get outside with camera and tripod as fast as possible.

But it was hardly any fun alone. Since we finally had snow, K and I were both eager to get the Girl out into it.

Once outside, L was keen on imitating K and me: in short, she began cleaning. First, seeing us knocking the snow off the car with a broom, she needed to help. But weightier obligations awaited her in the back.

The deck.

When we had a snow an ice day, L enjoyed knocking the ice off the banisters and deck chairs, and she was eager to get to work. In the course of a few minutes, she’d just about knocked off all the ice.

Yesterday, she applied her expertise to snow. She banged it a few times as experience had taught with the ice, then knocked it off.

If only we could keep this urge to clean in imitation going for another fifteen years or so.

As it was, the cleaning bug lasted only a few more minutes. She knocked some snow off trees and shrubs, then headed to the front.

The great sadness was that the snow was too dry to make even a small snowball, let alone a snowman.

Still, snow angels seemed doable.

“Watch and learn,” I told the Girl, then gingerly lowered myself onto the ground. I’d forgotten how quickly the snow invades shoes, sneaks up jackets and settles into just about every article of clothing.

L took a more direct route, and with a flop was wallowing in the snow.

She didn’t mind the snow working its way down her boots, up her jacket, around her neck: by the time we forced her back inside, she was covered with it.

Real Snow

Friday 12 February 2010

Not ice. Not sleet. Snow — actual snow — began falling just as school let out this afternoon and continued until well into the evening.

DSC_0762

Such a rare occurrence in South Carolina that it became the evening entertainment. Some quiet music (Madeleine Peyroux), red wine, and a view of the snow falling.

DSC_0763

Certainly all my students are disappointed that all this happened on a Friday, and a Friday before a free Monday (Presidents’ Day) to boot. No chance of a snow day.

DSC_0764

It’s a fairly dry snow, piling up lightly and promising a fun morning with the Girl tomorrow.

DSC_0765

Teaching to Share

Wednesday 10 February 2010

We’ve been teaching the Girl to share. With no siblings, she’s fairly accustomed to having all her toys all to herself. Yet sharing is not something you can force or even teach like tying a shoe. It’s something in which she needs to see the intrinsic value herself. And the only way to convey that — the joy of sharing, you could call it — is to model it.

“Here, Mama. Would you like some of my cake?” I ask K. She has a slice herself, but she gladly accepts. We smile, but they’re genuine smiles: it’s amusing, the whole process, and it’s difficult to do it with a straight face.

L is beginning to catch on. The other day, she brought me a bit of candy she’d tried, saying, “Tata, I’m sharing this with you. I don’t like it.”

Hat

Sunday 7 February 2010

There’s a particular hat that is positively ubiquitous in southern Poland. Farmers, loggers, town drunks — any and all men can wear them, especially once they reach age forty.

I received one before I left Poland. Though I could never bring myself to wear it there, I wore it occasionally in the States.

The Girl recently discovered it.

DSC_0686

It seems it’s no longer mine.

Cat Gut

Wednesday 3 February 2010

“Mr. Scott, is it true that chewing gum is made out of cat guts?”

The question floated up in the midst of a quiet, productive moment. It was, in a word, a gift.

“Of course,” I answered, deadpan. “What else would it be made out of?” I was wondering how long I could keep the straight face.

“Really?” She wasn’t buying it, and quite frankly, she shouldn’t have: I’m a bad liar.

“Seriously.”

A pause as she searched my face for some sign of deceit.

“Would I lie to you?” I asked, still holding the straight face.

“Yes!” she laughed.

At that moment, a young man seated behind me stood up, marched to the garbage can, and violently spat out his gum.

That question was a gift, I tell you.

January Reads

Tuesday 2 February 2010

I have decided to complete the “52 Books in 52 Weeks” challenge. I shouldn’t be much of a challenge at all, given the amount I read for the classes I teach and the fact I’ll be starting grad school (again) shortly. Still, I thought for a year I’d keep track of everything I’d read, regardless of the reason or, for that matter, the “quality.”

January’s list was varied, to say the least:

AuthorBook
Dean HamerThe God Gene: How Faith Is Hardwired into Our Genes
Bart EhrmanGod’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question–Why We Suffer
Robert BaerThe Devil We Know: Dealing with the New Iranian Superpower
Bel KaufmanUp the Down Staircase1
Paul LanganShattered 2, 3
Paul Langan and D. M. BlackwelBlood is Thicker2, 3
Anne SchraffSomeone to Love Me2, 3
Anne SchraffUntil We Meet Again2, 3

The Bluford books really shouldn’t count, I tell myself. They were something I read because some students were reading them. At the same time, I learned a great deal from them.

The series is aimed at African American students, and many of my black students say they can truly relate to the characters and situations.

In the case of Someone to Love Me, that is truly tragic. It tells the story of Cindy, a high school freshman who has only a distant relationship with her mother, who is constantly going out with her boyfriend Rafe (I believe that was his name — some shortened form of “Raphael”). She is constantly leaving her daughter at home with a couple of cats and a freezer filled TV dinners while she goes out on the town, eating out, buying new clothes, and generally acting selfishly irresponsible. When an elderly neighbor invites Cindy over for a hot dinner, she relish it: “It had been years since Cindy had eaten such wonderful homemade food.” Perhaps the most damning passage in the book. The girl goes on to get involved with an abusive older boy and has to face her mother’s anger — and physical abuse — when she tries to convince her that Rafe is a dealer. It is an emotional, sordid affair from page one.

If this is in any way the reality of any of my students, it’s little wonder they have difficulty focusing on school work.

1. Re-read
2. For school
3. Bluford series (for school)