When everything, positively everything is blooming,
or about to bloom,
when spring is leafing out everywhere,
there’s only one thing to do: get out and enjoy it.
the girl
Atypical Saturday (Lent 2012: Day 32)
Saturday has a morning ritual that never changes. It begins with some Skyping to Babcia and Dziadek in Poland. The Girl carries on two-thirds in English, a bit in Polish, and the rest in squeals and laughs. Ballet follows, with me heading to a nearby McDonald's for a coffee and some paper grading. Returning home, it's time for polski cwiczenia, Polish practice. Saturday after Saturday it's the same, in ordinary time, Advent, Lent, or Easter.
A five-foot visitor in our backyard, though, is hardly an every-Saturday occurrence. If it were, I think we might be seeing less of Nana (and, by proxy, Papa).
A black rat snake Pantherophis obsoletus, this fellow came slithering along our side yard, and I noticed him just as he was winding his way among the Leyland cypresses that shield our deck from neighboring yards.
K was simultaneously fascinated and repulsed, wondering aloud whether I should kill it.
"Of course not!" I declared. "This guy eats rats, mice, chipmunks, squirrels, and a host of other things I'd gladly do without." But as a compromise, I took a pitchfork and scooted him down to the edge of our property where he promptly wound his way into an extremely large azalea, curling around the branches until it was four or so feet in the air.
Returning to the upper part of our yard, I discovered some moss that appears to have sprouts. First a snake, then odd moss -- who knew what else might come our way.
Yes, a very tenuous Lenten connection. Still, one can't say I didn't try.
Lent 2012: Day 31
Lent is about sacrifice, and a significant part of our everyday reality is sacrifice in the form of delayed gratification, when we sacrifice the immediate satisfaction of our desires for some further, greater good. For example, we could buy that new camera lens we want (and I have been drooling over Nikon's 17-55 2.8 for some time) on credit and have immediate gratification; delaying said gratification by saving for the lens (and at $1,500, that particular lens would take quite a bit of saving of my personal spending money) means not racking up unnecessary debt that could hurt us in the long run. So we delay gratification for a good that is even further in the distance, and in this case, hypothetical. But the immediate price is a sacrifice of potential joy.
The Girl has been saving for a Barbie camper for months now. Granted, it only began a little before Christmas, but five-year-old time is like dog-years: it's all relative. She gets a little cash here and there, from us and her grandparents, and this week, she made it: $70, the Wal-Mart website price.
So this evening, we went to Wally-world to buy it, only to find the price there was $94. I took it to customer service to inquire about the justification for the price difference. It turned out, they were aware of it -- and they did nothing about it.
"We'll price-match with a competitor..." began the customer service rep.
"But not with yourself," I finished.
"Right. Not even store to store."
I sensed a crisis brewing, but the Girl handled it marvelously: a few whimpers of disappointment but nothing significant.
Back home, we shopped around and found it on sale for $50. And now the Girl has a good start on her savings for a Barbie house -- and a lesson learned about delayed gratification.
Lent 2012: Day 28
Conversation often turns into an excuse to discuss oneself, and talking with someone who seems to have a knack for turning the conversation back to himself is exhausting.
The unselfishness of speedily and gracefully distracting ourselves from self is also singularly difficult to practice.
Yet it's somehow a natural conversational occurrence. Whether it's a sincere desire to help someone by sharing a similar experience or an unconscious competitive streak, we hear a story and we want to add something from our own lives into the mix. Resisting this urge is critical for what Faber calls "kind listening. But like many other kindnesses, it involves a degree of self-sacrifice.
I think of the Girl dating at some point in the future -- within the next, say, 25-30 years -- and one of my most deeply held requirements (as if I'd have any say) for any young man interested in her would be that he show the ability to listen. It's a rare gift these days, and I fear it will be rarer still when the time comes.
The quoted excerpt is from Father Frederick Faber’s Spiritual Conferences, excerpted here.
Lent 2012: Day 26
After a beautiful day yesterday, it seemed only appropriate that this morning begins with rain -- a drizzle that suggests an afternoon movie and, if we're lucky, a nap. But by noon, it's sunny, and the backyard calls.
There, we find that the cabbage in the backyard planter, growing since sometime in October or November, has reached the point that putting off consuming it would be almost wasteful -- at the very least, it would hint of sin.
So what's a Polish girl to do but make a surowka out of it -- basically, a vinegar cole slaw. The Girl helps with the sauce/marinade. But that only keeps us busy for so long: our newly discovered park is only four miles away, so K packs some fruit while I entertain the Girl in the swing, then just before four, we head out.
We take a different route, with a trail head buried in the back of a Little League park I've passed almost every day for five years. Who knew?
Same park, different sights.
A quick stroll through the woods brings us to the lakeside and a small observation platform built out into the water.
With the temperature and the amount of green, it's difficult to believe that spring is still technically two days away. And from what I've been reading, it seems to be the same situation through most of the States.
"If it's this warm now, what will it be like in August?" people wonder, as if weather had a cumulative effect.
Cumulative effect or not, there is a cumulative effect of all this walking: a tired, fussy girl who's ready to head home and get some food. We make it across the largest bridge in the park just to sit long enough to decide it's time to head back
counting and noting the steps along the way.
And what does this have to do with the twenty-sixth day of Lent?
With an end like this, does it really matter?
Nana, the Girl, and the Swing
Playing and Building
Helping
Food
Teachable Moments
It often astonishes me how few social skills some students have. Among other tendencies, they exhibit an inability to accept criticism, to delay gratification, to express frustrations in a positive manner, or to know when it's best to keep a particular thought to themselves. "How is this possible?" I sometimes wondered in the past; having a child whose verbal abilities and cognitive skills increase daily has taught me: these students simply haven't had sufficient direct instruction.
There are so many things that kids pick up on without being taught directly -- chief among them, the most unique characteristic of humans: language -- that it's easy to forget that some things we take for granted actually have to be taught. We think that correction is teaching.
Tonight, I came home with a bit of spare change in my pocket, and as the Girl is saving for a Barbie camper, I give her a bit of my loose change when I have it. I gave her a quarter; she smiled and asked, "Can I have more?"
The easy response -- the response I suspect a few of my students got as children -- would be, "Can you what?! Don't you go asking me for more when I've already given you something!" And that would be the end.
Tonight, I took the quarter back and explained calmly that, when someone gives you something, it's really not very polite at all to ask for more. "Let's try it again," I said, directing the Girl to return to the spot where she was standing.
"I have something for you," I smiled again.
"What!?" she asked in almost genuine excitement -- she's a good play-actor.
I gave her the quarter, raised my eyebrows ever so slightly, and she replied, "Thank you!" and put it in the piggy bank.
Explicit teaching followed by directed practice. Sounds like I what I do eight hours a day...