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Month: November 2017

Bedtime

Wednesday 8 November 2017

“Daddy, will you come lie with me?”

The Boy is having trouble falling asleep, and when this happens, there’s only one real solution: to climb into the bed with him and let him fall asleep curled in one’s arms.

I’ll admit that there was a time that I was growing tired of this. It was an almost nightly ritual, and with so many things I needed and wanted to do in the evening once the kids were asleep, I just wanted him to drift off as quickly as possible.

But over the last couple of years, another change has happened, which has altered my outlook on stretching out with the Boy in the evening. The Girl, now almost eleven, requires little to no bedtime assistance, and some nights, I have simply kissed her goodnight and turned out her light. She’s growing up, and in doing so, she’s developing her own evening routines and rhythms, and unlike the Boy, she no longer gets scared as she’s going to bed.

It struck me, then, that E will be following suit soon. No, not really all that soon, but soon enough. A few years and the whole bedtime ritual in the house will look entirely different than it does now. A few more years and neither one will really want K or me to lie in the bed with them, stroking their hair, whispering to them to lie still and go to sleep. And I will look back on this time when I could have done it with a tinge of regret that I didn’t do it more often.

Which is why, when the Boy asked if I would lie down with him, I did so without hesitation.

Lost Stars

Tuesday 7 November 2017

E and I were lying on the bed in the master bedroom, reading. He always gets a book from school for his daily reading log, and often the book is leveled just right for reading with a parent: a few words he knows, enough short words that he can sound out, and a few words that he needs a lot of help with. Always a refrain of sorts, something easily remembered that he can just repeat.

Today’s book: My Dad and I.

We made it through the book, which was about all the things the narrator’s dad teaches him to do and all the things he teaches his dad to do, and E began teaching me about his star behavior system in school. Of course I knew all about it: I just had a conference with his teacher a few weeks ago, and we get a daily report about how many stars he ended the day with. But of course I let him explain it.

“We start with three stars, and if we do something wrong, we lose a star.” He paused, then added, “I haven’t lost a star yet this year.”

What will he do when he loses a star?

Updated B

Monday 6 November 2017

The Girl got her report card today, and much to her surprise, she didn’t get that B. Turns out it was on the second quarter reporting period — which  means she has a hole to dig herself out of. But at least the streak remains.

B

Sunday 5 November 2017

The Girl tomorrow will be getting the first B she’s ever made on a report card. It’s in social studies, and it weighs heavily on her.

“I got an A on the study guide,” she told me this evening, “but I got a C on the test.”

I don’t remember when I got my first B. Probably on my first report card. I can’t remember when I got my first C, but I think it was in junior high. I do remember getting the one D I ever received: earth science, ninth grade. I think I made all As and Bs in college, but if I had, I would have not graduated simply Cum Laude but rather Summa. Or so it seems to me.

Obviously grades were never all that important to me. Sure, I wanted to do well, but I didn’t beat myself up over it. I sat back and watched everyone who was interested battle for valedictorian and salutatorian honors, and I think I slipped into the top 10% of my class and was somewhat pleased with that.

The Girl’s biggest concern is remaining on the All A Honor Roll. Will this disqualify her for end of year honors? I had to admit that, despite being a teacher, I really didn’t know. Again, I never really worry too much about it.

My own students come to me sometimes worried about their grades. My English I Honors course has had the dubious distinction of being the first B for several students over the year. I express my regret, point out that I don’t give grades but that they earn grades, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking, “It’s not such a big deal really.” For them it is: it’s a high school credit course, which means it will count toward their GPA.

I’ve had students’ parents have their children repeat English I in high school to get that A. I’ve even had one mother require her daughter repeat because her A wasn’t high enough. “Your class was much harder,” the girl wrote later in an email.

So I try to comfort L the best I can, suggesting that it’s not the end of the world. She dries her eyes and says, “I know.” But I know that doesn’t help all that much.

Fear

Sunday 5 November 2017

“A reading from the first chapter of Malachi,” she intones. It’s the first reading of the thirty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time during the “A” cycle, lectionary 151. She pauses and begins.

“A great King am I, says the LORD of hosts, / and my name will be feared among the nations.” And in my own mind, that which I can never say to my wife — the question. Why?

Why would God declare that his name will be feared? Why should we fear it? What kind of father would want his son to fear him? It makes God seem terribly petty, terribly immature, almost like a bully.

“And now, O priests, this commandment is for you:” And why then apply it to us? I recall the notion that we are all priests in some sense or another — isn’t that in one of the epistles? It’s terribly popular in Protestantism: the priesthood of believers.

If you do not listen,
if you do not lay it to heart,
to give glory to my name, says the LORD of hosts,
I will send a curse upon you
and of your blessing I will make a curse.

Again, why? Why does God seek glory? Why does he demand praise? Why does he require subjugation?

You have turned aside from the way,
and have caused many to falter by your instruction;
you have made void the covenant of Levi,
says the LORD of hosts.

What exactly did they do? How did they void the covenant? Was it just that they didn’t praise him? Or did they eat ham?

I, therefore, have made you contemptible
and base before all the people,
since you do not keep my ways,
but show partiality in your decisions.

Does this mean that God somehow influenced the opinions of others to make the people — his people, his chosen people — seem base to others? Isn’t that kind of cheating? And if he would do that, why not influence people to do good rather than the opposite?

Have we not all the one father?
Has not the one God created us?
Why then do we break faith with one another,
violating the covenant of our fathers?

Is this how a father treats his children?

I am falling away from the faith. I sit in Mass and think about it critically, as I’ve not done in years. I give myself licence to doubt.

It’s liberating.

Moving

Friday 3 November 2017

I’ve a moved a few times, each time different. Moving to Poland in 1996 was accomplished with the help of two suitcases and a carry-on bag. Moving back to the States was similar. Moving from one apartment in Boston to another, just north of Boston in Mauldin, lasted one long day with multiple trips in the smallest available U-Haul van because it was all that was available on that day when everyone in the greater Boston area who is moving moves. Moving back to Poland in 2001 was like 1996: two suitcases and something under the seat in front of me. Back to the States in 2005 included several mailings and the usual airline baggage. From Ashville to Greenville was easier since we had a large U-Haul and several helping hands. But in all those adventures, I moved only a few thousand things at most. And that’s counting each article of clothing and miscellany separately.

This week I moved 207,282 objects, plus several databases and a handful of email addresses. Changing hosts is a long involved process. Life goes on as usual, but one’s online presence stops. Visits to traveling museums and Halloween come and go complete with pictures, but they all sit on one’s computer until, at long last, it’s all done and everything is back to normal.