High Fives and Hash Browns

On my mother's advice, which has an impeccable accuracy, I have been trying not to compare the schools. And trying as much as possible to raise up the fun and achievement of what the boys have done at their new school. Hindrances to this are the fact that their new school costs one-eighth of what the old one cost and I feel guilty about that. And another one is that that I feel bad for them bc they are so different than the other kids racially and even culturally. ( Benicio said that he had to ask a kid to repeat himself several times and then the kid got in trouble for talking.)

To be exact, my mother's warning was: Make sure you don't compare the schools because then they will idolize the past.

My adjustments:

-Do not ask to see their daily "behavior score." Rather, rejoice in Manny's bloodthirsty reign as "King" in Four Square for what was apparently 4 rounds straight.

-Do not fret about lost snack containers. Rather, delight it the fact that Benicio traded a the second half of a bag of cheese popcorn for 2 hash browns.

-Instead of wiping my eyes when a row of boy classmates gave Manny a high-five at dismissal on Friday afternoon, I just smiled into my shoulder.

My Glorious: An Example of Who We Are

On our annual mountain vacation this year, you would think that the texting teens or facebook-hooked-tweenies in our family would be checked out, sullen and morose. I submit this song, which they co-wrote, as evidence to the contrary. The reality is, in fact, their spiritual lights are most definitely on:

The angel told Mary that she'll have a baby

but maybe she thought that was kinda crazy

you knew all about the Immaculate Conception

it's even cooler than the movie Inception

Jesus is God and God is Jesus

They're the same person all he does is please us

the devil does bad things they're so ugly

but God says no you ain't messin with my duggy

Jesus performs miracles like every day

it's so impressive that it makes us wanna say

CHORUS

God is bigger than

the air I breathe

my glorious, my glorious

Nany and Big Dad teach us the word of the Lord

and our main motivation is a substantial reward

Judges, Kings, Prophets and the Holy Ghost

this contest we'll see who knows the most

About Zimri and Omri and King Hezekiah

All the way down to the Great King Josiah

Chillin with Legaspi's Sanchez's and Beatty's

We're not the haters, we're the hatees

The Father, son and the Holy Spirit

3 like a tripod so let me hear it!

CHORUS AGAIN

And what's more, to the point about being checked out, they proceeded to compose these lyrics and teach them to the Super Smashers or younger cousins. And what's EVEN more is that they came up with choreography.

There are so many things about this song that I love. But my favorite part is in the last verse, the note of persecution in the midst of this rousing rap song. It's like: Yeah, we're hated for believing these things. And we know it.

I love that my boys know this rap by heart and how they watched the whole creative process between big group meals, swimming, walking to the basketball courts. I think it's so precious-- these cousins coming together around a little routine. They worked cooperatively on this thing that hangs together like a battle song, a hymnic perspective shift, a creed of sorts.

Normally, tweens and teens really unnerve me. But knowing that I've seen these kids grow up. We're talking birth, diapering, babysitting overnight. These were the kids that helped convince Geoff he could be a father. We wiped drool! We watched their first steps. We let them climb our heads. We pretended they could dunk on us-- now they REALLY can! They were the first kids we ever drove in our cars. And all that, we just adored.

When I read this song they wrote, I feel like adolescence hasn't really changed them. They are those same souls. We just have to be a little more patient about digging out the gems in the conversation. A little more rigorous about proving that we aren't going to rat them out or judge them. The song helps me remember that as their aunt the same strategy that had applied persists: For goodness sake, just enjoy them.

Do It For Aslan

I don't think we'll be reading Narnia. I've tried. Geoff's tried. It's like when I was pregnant and I hid all the Dr. Seuss books bc I was always too out of breath to read them. I love words as much as the next reader but Seuss' interminable rhymes were repetitious and took a huge toll on my energy.

Now, it's C.S. Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia." Geoff started Prince Caspian back on Duval St. The boys would attempt to listen but then would either fall asleep or ask to bring Lego into bed while Geoff read.

Twice this week, C.S. Lewis' work has been referenced. Aslan's reputation not for being "safe" but "good." This is a piece that is held up high in my program and in my school's denomination. This is one example inspires a theological hard-on for every great teacher and pastor I have ever had. And while I share the admiration for the metaphor, for some reason, Lewis' books just put me to sleep.

My quest for the perfect cross-age book for bedtime will continue. We'll do Polacco. We'll do Bunting. We'll find something else.

Not Bad or Good, Just Different

Some things from last year that I won't see this year:

-origami dreidl

-knitting

-finger-weaving

-cards and dice at homework

-the boys' dirty fingernails

Some things about this year that I've never seen before:

-Grammar books

-"copy books"

-lunch menu

-lunch trades

Days, the First

We've gotten the first few weeks out of the way. It has been like learning a dance. Some kind of big, flash-mob-scale electric slide. And we are shuffling in our hap-hazard, can't quite find the beat way. Clara has to be en route to her school by 7:20. The boys by 8:10. And yet Calliope CAN'T be dropped off before 8:45. On mornings where I have Apologetics at 8:25, I don't see the big kids from the time they are just starting to sit up in bed until I have to ask them to set the table for dinner.

There was the day that I am arriving at Clara's school only to get an urgent call from Geoff saying, "Please don't tell me you have my car keys." Sure enough, they were attached to my bag. It's so harrowing, getting to where we are going and then sitting back to listen to a lecture and needing to slow-the heck-down.

Everyone's been asking about the boys. When I think about it, I could cry about how they are doing this brave thing-- trying to make a go of it at a new school. They are studious with their substantial homework, daily behavior scores and so much seated work time. They are however, really into having their own desks. At parent-night, we got to see them. Manny's already had a dusting of eraser crumbs, two books from home crammed in there. And Benicio's looked like a military foot locker, with things lined up, a freshly sharpened pencil at a right angle to a pink ereaser. Manny sits in the first row. Benicio sits in pairs and has a work-partner. They are half-intrigued, half-daunted by the school's demerit system.

Clara has gym three times a week and says that and math time are her favorite. Her show and tell was an Aladdin math activity book. And her favorite comments from the class were when one boy said, "I like how the pages are full." And another friend said, "Where did you get that?" And her response was, "I don't know, I think my Mom thrifted it."

A quote from Calliope's playdate: "Pretend your name is Sarah-Olivia but I call you "Baby" and that's fine with you." And also, "My mom says you don't eat dairy but cheese popcorn is a more perfect dairy."