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the girl

Eighteen Years Old

Monday 16 December 2024 | 0 Comments

Eighteen years ago, the Girl was just that -- a newborn treasure, a gift we were to cherish, a future wrapped in a little bundle. That day, she couldn't open her eyes yet; today, she couldn't drive to school because her car was in the shop. How things have changed.

That day, my mother and father became Nana and Papa. Their first grandchild had just entered our world, and they were thrilled, ready to laugh at the slightest thing, unwilling to let L out of their sight. Now Nana and Papa are no more, unable to see the strong, intelligent, and beautiful woman the Girl has become.

That day, her future was unclear but promising. Today, there is more clarity, there is more promise, but still more mystery.

18th

Saturday 14 December 2024 | 0 Comments

Tonight, I believe, was a last of sorts. L had her eighteenth birthday party, and from what I can see, it might be the last birthday party we throw for her. Well, not the last: we'll throw her parties for as long as we can, but the last time we do it while she's still living at home.

This was a party the Girl herself planned in large part. She picked the restaurant. She decided which items would be on the menu. She made the guest list and reservations. And for the most part, we were non-participants: the kids stayed in a private room and we took the Boy to the main dining room of the restaurant and went back only when it was time to have the cake.

So different from the parties of the past. In a sense, then, the progression of our parties was a metric for the progression of the Girl. Her first birthday party was completely on us (naturally); her eighteenth, (almost) completely on her. It's another of those "letting go" moments.

But I can't say I mind letting this go: it's nice to see her pick up responsibilities we've always taken care of. It's another sign she's maturing.

Another sign of maturing: of the guests she invited (and those who came), we knew only a couple. It wasn't a question of us simply not making the guest list as we used to; we didn't even know the guests in some cases. Sure, we might have heard the kid's name, but we didn't necessarily know who was who. And that's as it should be as the Girl moves into adulthood.

"The Girl." I've called her that for so long that I can't think of a time I didn't call her that. Legally speaking, come Monday, she'll no longer be the Girl but the Woman. Legally speaking.

Emotionally speaking, she will always be the Girl.

Elf

Wednesday 04 December 2024 | 0 Comments

Elf has made his yearly appearance, but this year, he seems just to be hanging out in the living room.

"I know it's you and mom!" the Boy explained last year. And the year before that.

"But still, it's fun, isn't it?"

But this year, there it sits. Not moving. Not hiding.

Another sign that everyone is growing up. The traditions of Christmas slowly fall away. The Girl used to write a letter to Santa and leave out a snack. I can't remember the last time she did that. The Boy searched for Elf. I can remember the last time he did that, but it seems to be just that -- the last time.

Should we resist this? Should we try to cling to these things even after the kids have outgrown them? I think not. It's time to move on, to grow up, to pick up new traditions.

The Elf

Mikołaj 2020

Downtown

Friday 29 November 2024 | 0 Comments

Portrait

Sunday 24 November 2024 | 0 Comments

Four Thursday Vignettes

Thursday 14 November 2024 | 0 Comments

Practice

Every morning I have hall duty in the arts wing. On one side is the band; on the other, strings. I walk back and forth between the two, listening to a beautiful cacophony of kids learning music.

A young lady is practicing her violin part. I recognize the melody.

"Do you know what that is? Who wrote it? What it's called?" I ask with a smile. The boy standing with her is one of my favorite students, but I don't teach him. He's on a team down the hall, but he's a sweet young man who smiles a lot and is friendly with everyone, so we've chat a little almost every morning. He glances at the sheet music at the same time she does. I beat them to it, though.

"Edvard Grieg. It's called In the Hall of the Mountain King." One of those pieces we all recognize from this or that film or advertisement, but few can identify by name. "Bet you didn't expect an English teacher to know that, did you?" I laugh. They both agree it was unexpected, then go back to practicing.

Texting

We received a text this morning about some visitors to our school: we would be having district personnel touring, and they are not paying attention to us teachers; they're looking for what students are doing. In other words, no need to talk to them or anything. I got admittedly a bit snarky and replied,

Usually, when someone on the group text makes a comment everyone likes, hearts and thumbs-up start bouncing all over the place. For this -- nothing. Several teachers later said they appreciated my text, but no one felt comfortable expressing it in a way that everyone could see it. I think that speaks to the overall feeling that seems to be sitting like a low, heavy fog, and if I were to guess, I'd say it's not just our school.

The Visit

Of course, the district personnel come to my classroom. The first one comes accompanied by our principal. Did he guide her here? As soon as they leave, another administrator brings another district person to our classroom.

It was a good day to visit, truth be told. The kids are having a Socratic Seminar -- one of their favorite activities. After we'd watched a bit of Harvest of Shame yesterday in preparation for our unit on immigration stories, we transitioned to Harvest of Shame Revisited -- a 2010 return to the topic of conditions migrant farm workers face. The common question on the viewing guide was the same: "Why do these folks earn so little money?" So this morning, I decided to change plans. We discussed that. In a limited way. In a South Carolina way.

All the kids discussed how we could do this or do that, but the bottom line was that all their ideas cost money. "Who's going to pay?" I pointed out there are a couple of sources, but one is we, the people. "They get paid so little because we want cheap food." That's true enough, and it led to the discussion I was intending about the necessity sometimes to sacrifice for the good of others.

Left out of the discussion -- the elephant in the room for some perhaps -- was the exorbitant salaries of CEOs. Where does that money come from? It can come from the consumers, but it can (many say should) also come from reduced CEO salaries or increased taxes on those earning at that level.

But this is South Carolina. And that is socialism. Not really, but it's going to be labeled Socialism (always with the capital letter) in many South Carolina homes. And that's at least part of the reason I didn't even bring that up.

Truth be told, the fact that it might raise some parents' dander is only part of the reason. To cover this well, I'd need to get a couple of articles for the kids to read about CEO wages compared to employee wages, and this was a spontaneous lesson. I'd decided to do it only this morning after reading yesterday's responses. But I do take that ugly s-word into consideration.

Such is teaching in South Carolina.

Teaching the Boy

I've been reticent to force my own teaching methods and ideas on our kids. L turned out to be a good writer without my help, but E has been struggling a bit. Still, offers of help but nothing more.

Today, he asked for help with his essay. I showed him how I have my students plan and organize their writing, and he found the technique simple and useful. He went upstairs and rewrote his entire essay using my method.

"The essay is so much better!" he gushed.

"That and the fact that you spent two hours in the evening working on it are things you can be really proud of," I replied.

"Thank you."

I've always oved that about the Boy: when you complement him, he quietly and modestly thanks you for the complement. It has always made me smile.

Volleyball and Soccer

Saturday 09 November 2024 | 0 Comments

Game Night

Friday 08 November 2024 | 0 Comments

We only have so much time together as a family of four. L will graduate in a few short months, and then her time in our house will be limited to summers. I expect that soon enough, she won't be staying with us the entire summer. She'll be twenty, twenty-one years old. She'll have her own life. She'll have her own priorities. She'll have a job that she'll want to continue working over the summer. Or she'll have some internship or other. So these evenings are rare.

Some things have, of course, changed, but for poor K, nothing has changed. She always has the absolute worst luck in board games. When we play Monopoly, we call her (and she calls herself) the Slum Lord because she can never manage to get anything other than the very cheapest of properties, and the three of us end up bankrupting her in fairly short order. Tonight's game of Sorry was no exception. But one other thing stayed the same: we all laughed heartily about it.

Laughing as a family -- few things are more precious.

The End

Tuesday 05 November 2024 | 0 Comments

Tonight, L's volleyball career ended. She won't be playing in college, and we've all decided to use the money we would have put toward a final club season to other uses (like adding some time in Greece this summer for her senior trip). So six years of volleyball came to an end in the second round of playoffs against a team from Clover, South Carolina.

We've passed the exit to Clover countless times over the years. It's just before the turn off highway five to Aunt D's house -- Aunt D, who helped take care of both Nana and Papa, who has a heart that gives endlessly. We commented often on how funny it was that there was a town named after our dog. Strange how these little turns appear unexpectedly in our lives: L's final game in a town we've known and had a private joke about for years but which we never would have imagined visiting.

In a sense, that's been the common theme of L's volleyball career. To begin with, when she mentioned in sixth grade that she wanted to try out for the middle school volleyball team, I was a little surprised. She'd played soccer at the Y as a kid, but she wasn't interested in continuing it. If she devoted her free time to anything, I would have, back then, assumed it would have been dance. She always seemed a bit more showy than athletic as a young child. But once she made her decision to try out for the team, nothing could stop her. Not even not making the team the first year. If anything, that increased her determination.

Once she became obsessed with volleyball, I never would have imagined she could be part of a state championship team. Such occurrences are fairly rare: one has to be at the right place (or rather, on the right team) at the right time. But two years ago (almost to the day), her high school team took the state championship.

There was a time it seemed unimaginable that she wouldn't play volleyball in college. She seemed so dedicated to it, and she was improving by leaps and bounds each year. But it was not to be: she didn't get any interest from any of the colleges she wanted to attend, and she made the decision that she wouldn't choose a college just because she could play volleyball there.

Of course, there were the initial expectations about this year. "We're not going to win any games this year!" she declared after the first few practices and warm-up tournaments. And it seemed like they wouldn't be able to get their game together, but the did. And they finished second in the region.

They got further than they ever expected; they achieved more than they thought they could. But that last game -- it was tough to go out like that. They just couldn't get things together, achieving the same dismal results in the first two sets: 14-25. I thought they'd fall apart completely in the third set, but they got themselves together and took the game to a fourth set with a 28-26 win in the third. In the fourth set, they had the same trouble they had in the first two sets and lost 17-25.

It was a tough way to end a wonderful six years of volleyball, and the Girl had difficulty holding back the tears. She broke down after last year's final game as well. She said it was out of sadness for losing the seniors: "It's the last time I'll play with them." I think in the back of her head, though, she knew in a year it would be her turn. She wants to put herself forward as a no-nonsense type of kid, but I think she's got just a little of my sentimentality in the mix.

Last Time

Wednesday 30 October 2024 | 0 Comments

Tonight was the last time the Girl went through the introduction ceremony at Mauldin High. They won their playoff game, but they won't be playing at home anymore this season. A bittersweet moment to be sure.