Books and more books

I made it out to the Wisconsin Book Festival last night.

I went to hear Lorrie Moore speak. I just finished "Gate at the Stairs" and really liked it. We timed it so that we would arrive just as she came on stage, and not have to listen to some guy I'd never heard of before who was speaking before her on some strange book that he'd written about chickens.

I was underwhelmed by Ms. Moore. She wasn't feeling well, and she spent most of her time making sure that we understood that she wrote FICTION, dammit. If we were not sophisticated enough to realize that a novel was an art and it WASN'T TRUE than we just didn't deserve to read her books.

She is adored by the NYTimes. They gush:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/28/books/28book.html

She is not so much adored in Madison. Not much gushing:
http://www.thedailypage.com/isthmus/article.php?article=26812

Perhaps it is because despite all of her protests otherwise, people think she writes about Madison. (And really, anyone who has lived here for even a month knows that 'Troy' is no fictional city. It's Madison!) And she writes with a bit of disdain. Or truth. Depending on how you see it.

I think she is a brilliant writer and I don't care what she writes about - I'll read it.

But of course, the highlight of the evening turned out to be Michael Perry - the guy I'd never heard of before who wrote a book about chickens. The one I was trying to avoid. He was an amazing speaker. I laughed. I cried. And I can't wait to read his book, Coop, which I now know is about way more than chickens.

Any other book recommendations out there?

Realization

I write a lot about how my kids go to a low-income, diverse school. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that once in a while, a scary thought sneaks into my head, a "Could they be getting a better education at (insert private school here) or (insert white suburban school here)?" thought.

This year, I am no longer PTA President, which is a very good thing. I love, love, love the school, but one can only run things for so long. And the two men (yes, men) who have replaced me are a thousand times more qualified and competent than I ever was.

They are brilliant and caring and have started doing "listening sessions" in the different neighborhoods of our school. Last night was the one for Spanish-speakers. Tomorrow night is the one for Hmong speakers. Those of us who sadly only speak English, can listen through the translators.

I was holding back tears last night when I heard, for the first time, the thoughts and dreams of our Spanish-speaking parent population. Guess what? Same as mine. We all want to have kids who enjoy school, behave for their teachers and learn to love learning.

The tears almost came when one of the fathers apologized to us through the translator. He wanted to make sure that we understood that if he didn't engage us (the native English speakers) in conversation at school, that it was only because English wasn't his first language and he wasn't always comfortable initiating conversations. He said this after delivering one of the most moving monologues about our school (again, through the translator) that I have ever heard. I really wish I could speak Spanish, because I'm sure something was probably lost in translation.

I was struck with an overwhelming feeling of how absolutely lucky my kids are - and how lucky I am - to be able to interact with families like his. And to go to a school like ours, that has this amazing community of committed teachers and families.

We lost 3-4 more families this year, they all transferred to the higher-income, whiter schools, so I've been feeling a bit blue. It's hard not to take it personally when we lose families. The schools we lose families to don't have any non-English speakers. (Hence, the test scores are higher.)

But I realized last night that wisdom can be found in unexpected places. And I think my kids are the luckiest kids in the world to go to a school with classmates who have origins from all over the world.

And I also realized that I really want to learn Spanish again. I want to be able to speak to the parents without a translator. My four years of high school Spanish aren't cutting it.

I've spent most of the the last few months feeling stressed about losing the families we have lost. But tonight, for one brief moment, I'm feeling sorry for them. They may be surrounded with higher test scores, but I suspect we might have something that matters more than test scores: community. Granted, we are a community of various skin colors, income levels, and languages...but I suspect that people aren't holding back tears at the private school PTA meeting.

Alaska

OK, now I get it: The incredulous looks on knowledgeable faces when I admitted I had never been to Alaska, despite the fact my sister had lived there for over a decade. I get it now. All of you - you were right, I was missing out.

It is perhaps the most beautiful place I've ever been.

The kids were in heaven. It is perhaps a kid-vacation paradise. Tide pools, hiking, fishing, kayaking, mud, mud and more mud.

It made me realize just how sterilized our Lower-48 outdoor play space has become. We are a family who spends a lot of time outdoors - we bike, walk, run, swim, you name it. But much of our outdoor time is spent in a yard or at a park or a beach or on a well-traveled trail. Even canoeing on the lake involves maneuvering around motorboats.

In Alaska, there are vast expanses of wilderness. Here in Wisconsin, I've noticed that kids create their own wild spaces. They all congregate around the largest, farthest, most hidden tree at the park, and build forts and find sticks and rocks and cool leaves. Kids need wilderness. (exhibit A: Michael Chabon's article)

How does one bring more wilderness into an urban/suburban life?

As for us, we are already planning our next trip to Alaska.

Headed to Alaska

On Monday, we head out to Homer, Alaska to visit my favorite sister. She's been out there for over 10 years, but we have never visited. ( I know, I know, I'm the worst sister in the universe.)

In my defense, I've been busy popping out (and raising) these:










Two of them in fact - one XX and one XY.

Taking babies/toddlers/preschoolers to Alaska was just not my idea of fun. Frankly, getting to the grocery store in one piece during the baby/toddler stage was some days more than I could handle.

But now, they look like this:












And we've decided they can probably handle the 12+ hours of travel without kicking the seat in front of them or spitting up all over the person next to them. And so we are off for a big family adventure to lands far away.

Now if I could get the boy to stop repeating "I can see Russia from my house," we should be all set.

If I were in charge of Education

Lots of commentary in the last weeks about how to improve education for poor kids.  See: 11D, and David Brooks, and Half Changed World. 

I've got a simple, sure-fire solution to raising the test scores of poor children.

Here's my plan:

Everyone who has more than they need can join a mentoring program, get matched to a child who doesn't have enough.  You simply promise that child that you will do everything in your power to make sure he or she has clothing and food.

That's it, really.  clothing and food.

You see, once the shelter, clothing and food needs are met - amazing things can happen. (Ideally, you'd be able to promise the shelter too, but let's not bite off more than we can chew right away. clothing and food, and books, maybe.  I should add books.)

OK, so maybe it is more than that.  You see, once you experience the sheer magic of helping a child succeed when they face every single conceivable obstacle in life....something happens to you.  You start to care. 

So, now a child has food, clothing, books (possibly shelter) AND an adult who cares.  Voila - higher test scores.

I've had a rough couple of weeks with my current match situation. Unbloggable stuff. Stuff that has me reaching out to social workers and other professionals.  Stuff that has me curl up in the fetal position on my living room rug when I'm all alone and no one can see me crying.

One possible solution for the current "stuff" is to find other matches for some of the other younger kids in the family.  Right now, I'm the only match and there are 5 kids. The 8-year-old boy has been on the waiting list for two years.  TWO YEARS. TWO YEARS.  

It kinda breaks my heart. Turns out there are almost 300 kids on that waiting list.  Mostly boys.  Most have been on for years. This mentoring stuff works, (really, it works.) 

But no one wants to do it. 

The one silver lining:  I was on the phone with a local respite center talking about (unbloggable stuff) and reading about all the things they need on their website. My daughter, who absorbs way more than I think she does, gathered up every penny she has ever saved, and carried it out to me. She wanted me to give it to the respite center.  We are headed over there this week.  Just when I think I am doing just about everything possibly wrong that I can as a mother, she goes and does something like that to prove me wrong. 

I guess.  

Part of me wants to shield my own 9 year old from the ugly parts of  the life of my 10 year old match. I try the best I can. But let's be honest: I can't. We've opened our home and our life to this other child and I can't pretend that her life is just like ours. It isn't.

But her test scores?  Up.  Way up.  So we plug on...two steps forward, one step back.

 

No longer the target demographic

There is a super cool start-up company, Alice.com, that is in my building, on my floor even. They are selling household products over the internet, with a social media twist. They have an extremely well written blog with gorgeous photos and a lovely design. I wish them great success. You should go there now, and subscribe to the blog. You won't regret it.

I was so excited when I learned they were moving into our building. I figured I'd be their perfect target demographic. After all, I have a blog. I'm on Facebook. I'm on Twitter. And I already buy almost everything over the internet. I have an Amazon Prime account. I order my milk/dairy products directly from the local farm over the internet. I often get my groceries delivered through the local coop over the internet. Prescriptions too, over the internet.

I'm one of the few people in my neighborhood who clean my own house, and given enough time and energy - I actually enjoy cleaning. So a new site with household and cleaning products over the internet - how perfect is that? (you know, now that I think about it, I might be the only person in my neighborhood who cleans her own house...sigh.)

But I have been dismayed to realize that I am so obviously not their target demographic.

Their message is not in any way directed at an over-committed busy 40-year-old working, PTA President, mother-of-two. They offer advice like "don't hit your snooze button" in the morning. Snooze Button? What is that? I haven't had to set an alarm for 10 years! Those children....they wake me up every single morning and last time I checked, they don't have a snooze button.

And we've been working very hard to get son D to stop saying "Yo!" Evidently, 6 year old boys enjoy preceding every sentence with the word "Yo." (So far, I haven't had to answer to "Yo Mama" but I tell you, it is coming any day now.) So, I'll have a hard time dialing a phone number that begins with "Yo" as theirs does.

I could go on and on. It turns out that I am no longer in the coveted "18-35" demographic and it's a weird, weird feeling. When did that happen? What's next? Will I start sitting on my front porch yelling "Kids! Get off the lawn!"

Thank God for Mir over at Want Not. She may not have a cool internet start-up. But she gets what it is like to be a crazy-busy mother with a crazy-busy life and still have to get the damn shopping done.

(And she has great coupons....)

Kids just want to have fun.

So far, we have limited our kids to 1 -2 extra-curricular activities at a time during the school year. For the girl, this means piano lessons and soccer. The boy has chosen baseball and soccer. (And they can walk to almost all of them - very little car transport necessary)

When they only have 1 -2 activities, we can still manage to eat dinner as a family 5 nights/week. I don't go too crazy from carting kids from activity to activity. They look forward to their activities and don't get too overtired or over scheduled. It works for us.

But.

But...we are seemingly alone in this philosophy. All their friends are in 3, 4, or even 5 different activities. Daughter D. didn't do Girl Scouts, because of the 2-activity limit. Son D didn't play on a basketball team. And so on...you name it, they didn't get to do it.

It's uncomfortable to be the only family with a certain rule. And as the kids get older, we are finding ourselves in that position more and more. We have stricter rules about a lot of things (video games, bedtimes, etc.) and the kids are starting to notice that. (Did you know that my son is the ONLY six year old in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE who has to go to bed at 8 pm and is not allowed to get a Nintendo DS? Really, he is.)

I can totally see them adding activities as they get older. But now - they are 9 and 6. They still like to run over to the park and play a pick-up game of some made-up sport with whichever kids they can collect along the way. I don't want to fill up every afternoon with some scheduled activity. When will they have time for unbridled fun?

For now, I'll take the unstructured play over another activity. Husband D and I are both coaching soccer teams this spring and I can tell you - some of these kids are burned out. They don't want to go to a practice and play an organized game. They want to run around and be silly and have fun with their friends. This makes coaching a tad more challenging!

Of course, in 10 years, when my kids get rejected from their top college because of a lack of extra-curriculars....well, then they can prove me wrong.