but then again, I rarely feel 'caught up' these days. Today I realized you could tell me it was February, April, or June, and I would really, truly believe you, so out of it do I feel at given moments of a day. So much like a long dream does a school year feel to teacher-me. The days blur together, full of little logistics; events of September and December can feel like they happened only last week; events of yesterday can be a total blur, undiscernible, hazy and out of reach.
There are two more school days left. Two! If I keep saying it, will I believe it. Two! Plus graduation evening. I am in a whirl within. What's going on? The promise of freedom from what's chewed at me for months and months and months... the promise is dangling there, but I'm not sure whether to snatch it, to stare at it, or to just walk right through it. Or hit myself over the head with it to make it real.
Highlights from the last many days of not-blogging:
Thursday, May 28: The Best Day of School Ever.
I took my kids to Central Park. I felt like their mom instead of their teacher. Away from the closing-in walls, and the eyes and ears of more organized and systematic people. It was how education should be. They climbed trees! For the first time! (Then Central Park people came and told them this was not allowed. But we had a good solid thirty minutes of tree climbing first!) The Ross Pinetum is a wondrous place.
To address their humanity, to get to see them as people, small people, instead of a cluster that needs managing. Blessing.
J. found himself rather stuck in his tree at one point. "You'll just have to live there until your legs grow long enough to climb down, then," I said. "We shall bring you a pillow and some snacks, and when you're thirteen, you can come back down again." The story-making in this vein continued for some minutes.
One chaperoning mother looked at me like I was marble-less.
Another laughed and enjoyed the look on J.'s face. He seemed to be mulling over the merits of the plan.
J. also made it his mission today to pet every single dog we passed. You pass a lot of dogs in Central Park. And on the way to Central Park from the train. And on the way back to the train from Central Park. Once he learned the etiquette of the thing -- asking "may I pet your dog?" he was the charmingest little pet-petter the West side has ever known. This made me happy.
The aforementioned chaperoning mother once again seemed ill-at-ease with my management (or lack thereof) of J.'s life.
Another J., my J-girl, fell off a stone wall she was balancing on and cut her lip rather badly. This was sad and pretty gory. She wailed. We bought an ice cream sandwich. After cleaning her up in the bathroom. I hand-fed it to her on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. "You can go home and tell your family about how you cried so loudly, they could hear you all the way in Haiti!" I tell her. She smiles through her pout.
We found dandelions. Lots. Talked about seed-spread. Walked through a tunnel within which two gentlemen with saxophones were playing The Pink Panther Theme -- just for us.
We saw the Bethesda Fountain and terrace together. What a place to be with my wee ones.
They learned the word 'bark' today as it applies to trees. They did not know the word 'bark.'
J.girl would ask me when she saw an open patch of grass, "Can I roll in it?"
(I had promised them we'd be climbing, running, rolling in grass and open spaces.) "Of course! Go for it." "We can roll, guys!" she'd call out, as if this was the greatest thing ever to be allowed.
We didn't make it where I planned for us to make it within the park, but I didn't care a bit. They were out, they were free, we were exploring, we were touching living, growing things. They climbed rocks. They can run. ALL. Day. And THIS is what I'm having to keep cooped up in the white-brick bowling alley we call my classroom? No wonder we go wacky back at school.
Treasures
in rooms of clay.
the following Monday...
D. remembers that he hit me in the leg with something last Friday. "So," he asks eagerly, "Are you blue?" I check for the bruise he's hoping to see. "Nope. Sorry, bud."
I praise God for the transformation in my floppy, funny F. He is so proud now of how quickly he does his work, a different boy from the F. of October, who spent every moment calling out for attention from the rest of the class and completely ignoring me. I welcome my F. to school with a giant, running-start hug, and his grin delights my heart. He's in his own world, this boyling. And I love it.
Tuesday...
J. has taken to saying "...and paint the walls" at the end of all my directions. It does make me smile. Every morning we stop outside the classroom and I ask what we should do when we get inside. "Line up our bookbags, hang up our coats, and stand on our spot," replies the dutiful child of the day. J. is chomping at the bit to add his bit:
"...and paint the walls."
Today we made a mural (on paper, not directly on the walls -- sorry, J.) of a bakery window. i've been wanting to do this for a long time now. Bakery windows are magical things.
This week we are talking about seeds being planted in the soil of our hearts. Today as I told the parable of the sower, I had to stop and pray over them even AS they were in the very act of ignoring the Word of God, choosing instead to play with some piece of lint from the carpet, to mess with each others' hair, to squabble over position... oh, God. We are so blind. They are so blind. Open their hearts, Lord. Only You can. If today all they got was that I'm desperate to see You do this, and that You can, that's enough. That's enough.
Wednesday...
This one goes out to a certain remarkable friend who suddenly appeared at the top of the 1 train stairs at 207th Street this afternoon.
This one goes out to our Mel from Arizona. She suddenly appeared here in my uptown world, and the world is better for it.
We started learning the 'tongue song' today. It's more of a chant really. It involves clicking your tongue first, in a certain rhythm... then "The tongue (clap clap) is like (clap clap) a bit or a rudder. The tongue (clap clap) will steer the way that you go.... Are you spouting clean or dirty water? You're sprouting the fruit of the seed that you sow..." there's more. That's all I went for today. They like clicking their tongues. This is a subject we've long needed to talk about. I love the Biblical metaphors of clean and dirty water, of tongues bearing fruit. Of the power of this tiny muscle -- the power of death and life. The kids resonate with this. I'm thankful.
Thursday:
We started today with an orchestra moment. Each child picked something in the room to make 'music' with, and then beat it along to the Tongue Song. This was nice.
Today I was pleasantly surprised
by my troops, my dears. It just takes me aback whenever we can do any activity without an extreme amount of reprimanding, redirecting, etc. Today I put them in their reading partners and asked them to read a book together...
and they did it. They did it! I can't tell you how quietly flabbergasted I was. They must be growing up.
We also measured stuff. Measurement is my favorite Kindergarten math unit, I think. Just because they like it.
I started showing them 'Follow That Bird' today. We never watch movies. I think this is the second one all year. I'm excited. "One of my favorites," I say. "Don't talk! I want to hear it!" This seems to work. This is a really well-made kids' movie. It holds their attention. It keeps moving. They're in suspense... I love this movie. It's full of vivid atmospheres, almost-tasteable and -touchable memories. Waylon Jennings in a turkey truck. Two farm kids on an easy-going day. Haystacks and car chases and a big map. It's wonderful. I've always wanted my kiddos to see it.
My urban kiddos who resonate so naturally with Sesame Street itself, the location. I love old Sesame Street. It looked kind of dirty. There's a kind of run-down family clinic in view in several scenes of the movie; everything's a bit grubby... and beautiful. Lit up by the friendships and the love of life all around it.
I wondered today
how much of my passion for urban redemption and relationship
is rooted in old Sesame Street. Is it what I'm looking for? Is it why?
I guess I'll never know.
He works in mysterious ways. He plants so many things in our hearts.
Tonight I saw the dramatization of an extremely remarkable story.
Irena's Vow. It's on Broadway. If you're in New York, go see it.
Friday.
Today was my little O.'s last day. My first goodbye.
Today we planted pumpkin seeds in bags of soil. Each child with his own bag, and each child had to speak a kindness, plant a beautiful 'seed' verbally to another while planting the actual seed in that person's bag o' dirt. There's just nothing more exciting, apparently, than a bag of dirt
when you are five or six years old.
"Run for your LIFE, Big Bird!!!" cried my F., who was in such suspense he could not keep his seat during the second half of Follow That Bird today. I grinned.
They SQUABBLED today. It drove me Berzerk. Tense. It's senseless. Pointless. ENDLESS !
Today I was reminded about the waters of Meribah, where Moses struck the rock... will I strike the rock? Cry out "You rebels!"? Or can I believe that serving the sinners, speaking truth faithfully to them, is enough
for You to work through
in their lives ?
God, give me a faith in Your sovereignty
that is as unshakeable as YourSelf.
