Looking focused

Jordan has to write a couple of essays for middle school application purposes. To the question, "What rule do you have a hard time following and why?" he quickly dictated the following response:

"I have a hard time looking completely focused. When teachers talk, you are supposed to be looking at them, watching everything that they do, and not doing anything to distract anyone. I am not usually doing anything to distract anyone, but they want me to also look engaged, which makes my mind drift. When I am fiddling with something I am still completely listening to what the teacher is saying and taking everything in, but it’s hard to also look engaged. At my old school we had something called a fidget where you could talk to the teacher outside of class and she could say yes or no to your fidget, telling you whether you could use it or not."

I find this fascinating. I am especially fascinated that he chose a social rule, one that is probably not written anywhere or even explicitly stated, but that he gets in trouble for not following. 

I wonder if it is true that he is taking everything in when he appears inattentive. Another possibility is that he just cannot give the teacher the visible attention he is supposed to give and knows it. Yet another possibility is that he thinks he is attending fully but actually is not; this seems the most likely, human awareness of multitasking being what it is (not). 

T sign

Aaron had his first choir recital this weekend. He was very excited and pleased with himself! Here he is in his cool outfit, and lining up with his classmates at the church where they performed.

They sang Christmas songs, which Aaron is making peace with. There is a video of him here: it's password-protected, but just message me and I can share it with you. His part starts at 6:30, and he is in the front row on the right end.

The recital was held in a church, as they all are. As I was walking Aaron in, he said, "Mommy, what is that T sign they have all over?" I didn't know what he meant by a T sign. Then I realized he meant the cross. Oh. I admit I felt a tiny blush of pride, having gotten him all the way to age seven without being entirely infiltrated by ambient Christianity. But of course I think kids should know this kind of thing:

Me: That's called a cross, and it's the symbol of Christianity, like the Star of David is for us. It tells you this is a Christian place.
Aaron: Okay, but why is it that shape?
Me: Let's get inside and I'll tell you all about it.
[This is my usual tactic for when I am asked a big question - I come up with some plausible two-minute delay, which helps me get my thoughts together. Once we were inside:]
Me: So you know about Jesus.
Aaron: Yes, right, the baby Jesus.
Me: Probably the number-one thing that makes Jesus so special for Christian people is that they believe that when he died, he took away everyone's sins. And the way that he died, actually it was pretty mean and nasty. People killed him, and they killed him by nailing him up on a big pole with another pole across it to nail up his arms. That's the cross shape. It's a terrible way to die and very sad. But looking at that cross shape reminds Christian people of what is special for them, which is that when he died, he took away everyone's sins.
Aaron: Oh! Okay.

Conveniently, we were at a Catholic church, so there was a great big giant crucifix over the altar illustrating what I had described. I'm guessing it was twenty feet high. There were also statues around the periphery depicting various scenes from the end of Jesus's life. Jordan and Dale and I had seats near one rather graphic crucifixion scene, complete with bleeding heart and weeping ladies. Jordan was disturbed. "I don't like looking at that one," he said, "It's creepy." We don't do much with suffering in our strand of Judaism, so this might have been unfamiliar on several levels.

Show and share

Jordan's class has been having "show and share" lately, where each kid gets five minutes to show something to the rest of the class. The range of presentations runs from kids who formed a band that practiced for months, to a kid who just got up and told a joke, to a kid who made an elaborate presentation about the pet guinea pig. I asked Jordan a couple days ago what he planned to do and he said play the trombone. I wondered if this was the best idea, since he has not touched the trombone in months; maybe he should talk about choir or piano instead? Nope: trombone. Okay.

Well, it was a giant hit. He took requests. People yelled out Hanukkah songs and he just played them - not perfectly, but pretty good for a first try. How does he do it?

[iPad or iPhone users try this link instead.]

As you can hear on the video, I asked him how he does it, and it's not something that he can articulate very well. He said, "I know where each note is and I know what it sounds like." He also stated truthfully that he barely ever practices; "Somehow I just pick it up and I know it every time," he said. His teacher reported by email that during their snack break, he played some more, and the whole class sang along with him.

Not Christmasy

In the car after school, tonight being the first night of Hanukkah:

Me: So this is the first year that you two have been at a school that does not celebrate Christmas at all.
Jordan: In fact they don't even want us to talk about it. If we talk about it with our friends they suggest that we change the subject.
Me: Maybe they are thinking that school is a good place to get a break from Christmas. Since it's kind of all Christmas all the time outside of school.
Jordan: I feel like there is no Christmas anywhere that I go, in any of the things that I do.

This surprised the heck out of me. Jordan has been incredibly immersed in Lessons and Carols for weeks, and to me, Lessons and Carols is just about the most extremely, religiously Christmasy thing our family has ever participated in. Not only are the carols primarily religious, but also there are readings from the Gospels, and an overall atmosphere of reverence, in a church. It has taken a fair amount of conscious relaxation for me to feel comfortable with it. (And now I love it, as beautiful classical music.)

Me: Um... really? Even with Lessons and Carols?
Jordan: That is just stories. The baby Jesus and so on. I don't see that it really has anything to do with Christmas.
Me: What would make something Christmasy to you?
Jordan: A tree and presents.

I reported this to Ben, one of Jordan's choir directors, and he was as surprised as I was, but then he backtracked. He said that in choir, they don't treat the carols as religious; they check that the boys understand the text, but the carols are musical objects, not prayers. This fits right in with Jordan having said he is untroubled by the Christian content of what he is singing.

Lessons and carols

Jordan is now well into his first performance season with the Performing Choir of the Northwest Boychoir. It is intense! They have eight performances of Lessons & Carols in two weeks; each performance is 90 minutes, plus another 2-3 hours of warming up, working out how they will get on and off the stage (mostly it's a new church every night), getting dressed, and so on. This is in addition to a heavy rehearsal schedule at their home base in the U-District. Everything is incredibly well-organized and well-communicated; this choir has been doing this a long time with the same highly capable staff, and they have really got the logistics down cold, thank goodness. So we have made good plans, and arranged carpools, and are supporting Jordan with lots of rest and food and encouragement in between. But still, it is a busy and hardworking season.

I ushered for the first performance, and I have to admit, the music is transportingly beautiful. I don't care for Christmas carols generally speaking, but these pieces sung by this choir are so precisely gorgeous, so classically perfect, so rich with harmonies and soaring melodies, I can't help myself. I love it. I listen over and over.

Here is an official picture of them at the concert I attended. Jordan is in the front row on the far right - a tough position, because he is highly visible, he is not comfortably surrounded by more experienced boys, and he has to start the recessional on an exact cue. (The cue is the word "let": "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let--"). The robes they wear, and the format of the performance, are patterned after the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols performed every year by the choir of King's College in Cambridge, England, founded by Henry VI in 1441. (However, the British Lessons & Carols is only about 100 years old, and includes modern as well as ultra-traditional music.)

We are watching to see how Jordan is doing with this new height of musicianship. So far what we see is that he has a lot to manage. First of all, he had not 100% memorized everything in time for the performances, and missed two key rehearsals because he got sick, so he is straining to keep up musically. Then, there is so much to pay attention to in addition to the music: stand like this, do not look at the audience, activate your peripheral vision so you are sure to do the same thing as the person next to you, tip forward when you sit down so that your robe does not choke you at the neck, sit perfectly still and tall at the edge of your seat, hold your binder open in this hand and turn the pages with that hand, when you stand up move your binder this way so it is under this arm, remember what happens when you sing "Let." He also has a lot to deal with regarding the acoustics of the spaces they sing in: at the church in the picture above, for example, he could not hear other sections much at all, and there was an echo off the back wall that sent their sound back to them a beat or two after they made it. This is all on top of the super rigorous musical perfection they are expected to produce. I am curious whether Jordan is enjoying his performances, but I think he is mainly just working very hard to remember everything and do it all right. He says that even when there is a bit of a rest (like while another boy is doing a reading), he is going over the thousand things he needs to remember in his head.

To me, he (and the choir as a whole) seem to be pulling all this off brilliantly, but apparently things have been rocky behind the scenes. After the first concert, their director told all the new guys (except one) that they had made so many mistakes he was tempted to kick them out of the rest of the concerts, but wouldn't because he can't afford to lose their sound. Ouch. The second concert, according to the director, was no better. It is hard on us parents, picking up Jordan tired and hungry and discouraged at 9:30pm, but Jordan does not stay down for long: after a good night's sleep he feels matter-of-fact about the whole thing, and is mainly concentrating on what he needs to do better the next night. Finally, the third night, they were much improved, and the director was happy, and Jordan's sense achievement was tremendous. It was wonderful to end that first string of concerts on a good note.

We aren't sure how this is adding up yet. Is it too hard for him? Is this too much to ask of a ten-year-old? Or is this totally healthy, exactly the kind of high expectations and self-discipline that will help him develop as a musician and a person? It is hard to know for sure. Part of why it is hard to know is that we are not in the room: we do not see his interactions with his director. And this is a sign of our changing parental role as he grows into the tween years: increasingly, his interactions with authority figures are his own, not mediated by us. It is a strange feeling. However, we have every reason to be optimistic; we know that the director, the other instructors, and the other boys are providing a fantastic environment, a community of learners and mentors that we can trust to bring out the best in our kid. We have packed his world with great people and opportunities, and now he gets to make his own way. We shall see.

We all have a few days off now. Next weekend Jordan performs once at a church in West Seattle, three times at a cathedral on Capitol Hill, and then finally at Benaroya, with a symphony orchestra.

Family reading

We have family reading time in the evenings, whenever we are all home and have half an hour to spare before kid bedtime. I sit in the living room and read aloud; Dale and the kids eat ice cream at the dining room table, then Dale curls up on the couch, and the kids draw or play with legos while they listen. Sometimes this is every night, sometimes we go weeks without reading; it depends on our other activities, the kids' homework, and so on. It's great when we can do it regularly, because we all love it.

We started (some time ago... could it be a couple years by now?) with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. The children were completely captivated. I remember that as I read, they would come a little closer and a little closer, so that eventually they were each draped over one side of the armchair I was in, gazing at the Tenniel illustrations while I read. The story literally drew them in. Jordan loved the wordplay, which was a little over Aaron's head at the time (part of why I think it might have been a couple years ago). They both loved the absurdity. I adored these stories as a kid, especially Through the Looking Glass (more logical); I read that one over and over. Dad still has "my" old copy at his house, and a number of corners are torn from the pages... As a kid I really liked chewing on paper, and I especially liked the pages of this book, which were thick and soft and booky-tasting. It was a big hardback with large margins, so I couldn't see any harm in it at the time. Jordan and Aaron thought this was pretty funny. They did not inherit my paper-eating urge.

I am not perfectly sure what we read next but I think it was the Wizard of Oz. I don't think I had ever read the original before, and we all enjoyed it a lot. Another one with wonderful illustrations. They had not yet seen the movie - it was too scary for Aaron, but Jordan watched it with me on a sick day, and it was a great time. Next we tried a contemporary book that turned out to be forgettable and I'm pretty sure we never finished it. I determined to stick to truly unmissable titles, preferably classics. So we read The Hobbit, and of course, it was fantastic. It is such a fun series of vignettes, never a dull moment, and funny, in a way that was enticing and surprising for the kids. This was our first book with almost no pictures at all, and quite a bit longer than the other books we had read, but the boys loved every second of it. They drew fanatically while I read, scenes of Gandalf and trolls and mountains and dragons. They were so hooked.  I especially enjoyed reading a book that was way beyond either of their reading level, where we had to stop and discuss vocabulary pretty regularly, but that we could all thoroughly enjoy nonetheless. And I had fun with the voices. Apparently I'm good at it; my family showers me with compliments.

Next we read three E. B. White books in a row - Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, and The Trumpet of the Swan. I think we might have gotten interrupted from reading Stuart Little and not gotten back to it, but oh, wow, the other two were both so good, we could not get enough of them. Even better than I remembered. The characters are so rich, with thoughtful interior lives, and the action is wonderfully imaginative but also completely relatable. The trumpeter swan is named Louis! which went straight over my head the first time around. Of course we all cried our eyes out over Charlotte's Web, and then I had to go rent the 1973 animated movie, and we laughed and cried and sang all the songs. Debbie Reynolds! Aaron figured out how to play the chorus to "Deep in the Dark" on the piano, and we heard it over and over and over for many weeks. I love it still. I hear that E. B. White hated that movie. And did you know that's the same White as Strunk & White? Wow.

After that streak of contemporary fun I decided to pull out the big guns again and we read The Fellowship of the Ring. Such a completely different book from The Hobbit: so much more serious and sustained, and the fears are so real, and the plot so much more epic. And you know what? We never tired of it. The boys hung on every word. The magic, the monsters, the mysteries, the danger, the loyalty, the resourcefulness; the myriad characters, the setbacks, the mounting dread, even those long landscape descriptions; they loved it all. When that was done there was no question of stopping, so on we went to The Two Towers and The Return of the King, meaning yes, we did, we read the whole trilogy. Every bleedin' word. It took months and months. The children drew the scenes, acted out the dramas, discussed the plot points, guessed the endings, and we read and read and read. Again with the voices. It was a whole family era, and a wonderful one.

Next was Harry Potter I, II, and III, and that was a total blast. Dale and I had read all the Harry Potters (aloud!) as they came out but not since, and neither of the kids had read them, so we could all just enjoy the heck out of their fantasticness. Maybe in a year I'll read another one. I feel strongly that a great book is great at the right time, and that if you a great book read at the wrong time, there's a risk of not appreciating it. For example, a librarian I admire asserted that Moby Dick is a great book that is not meant for teenagers, and that assigning it in high school is a terrible idea because they hate it and never read it again. For another example, thank goodness I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in college, while I was also reading Plato, because I could really appreciate it then, and if I tried to read it now I bet I wouldn't like it anymore. I know there are first and second graders reading the whole Harry Potter series, and that's up to them, but I think IV and forward are much more adult themes (plus they are getting too scary for Aaron), and that you never get the chance at a first time again. So they are on the shelf. If either of the boys wanted to read them, they could pick them up on their own, but they aren't doing that, and I'm kind of glad.

Next we read The Book of Three, which Dale and I both loved as kids. And I am sorry to say that it did not hold up at all. It felt like a cheap Tolkien knockoff; the same magicky-questy-companions outline but with thin characters, limping dialogue, and a story I couldn't entirely follow. I found that while I was reading it, I kept accidentally reading it with the wrong tone, because things happened that felt out of character or out of the blue. The boys seemed to enjoy it just fine, but Dale and I were bored.

I thought part of the problem might be that we were too much in the fantasy genre, in which maybe everything was going to seem like a Tolkien knockoff. So for our next book I changed genres: another childhood favorite of mine, but this one a little more toward science fiction with a math/physics angle: A Wrinkle in Time. This is the one we are reading right now, and unfortunately, we are disappointed again. It feels like one of these books that is all about being a moralizing analogy to something, instead of having a life of its own. It's very conceptual, and people keep having to explain things to each other. I am kind of slogging through it. I can't remember what I liked about it so much as a kid. The angry girl protagonist? Maybe she was unique in children's literature at the time? Well, maybe things have gotten better; she's no Katniss.

So what shall we read next? I am avoiding the Narnia series: even though I loved those as a kid, I have heard reviewers say they don't hold up, and talk abut your heavy-handed analogy. I wonder about Peter Pan, but some friends have found that the racial and gender sterotypes in that one are so awful they can hardly read it. I have Peter and the Starcatchers on deck, a modern prequel to Peter Pan that a lot of people love, and I'm looking forward to that. Someday I'm expecting to read A Wizard of Earthsea, but it's too much in the Tolkien genre for right now. I've also had recommendations for Farmer Boy (Louisa May Alcott). My ideal books are classics (though I'm open to modern classics), above the kids' reading level, that we can all genuinely look forward to hearing together night after night. Any suggestions?

Cold eggs

A friend of mine with a new baby was telling me how her husband, who is a fully capable father, lets the baby cry longer than she does. He will take his time finishing what he is doing before he responds to the baby, whereas she will leap to soothe. I think this is a classic split for parents, usually (if I may be so bold) along these gender lines. To this day, if one of the kids asks me to make breakfast, I will do that first, whether I've had my own breakfast or not. In fact, if I have made my own breakfast and set it on the table to eat, and then Aaron asks me to make an omelet, I will do that first. Only after I have provided for him will I sit down to my cold eggs. I mean, hello.

I think my motivations are not entirely based on satisfying the child; I also want to check this pending omelet off my list, the better to relax over my own breakfast. But still.

Riddle

Jordan, Aaron, and Amara in the back of the car on the way from school to their respective arts activities.

Jordan: I have a riddle. It is better than God; rich people need it; poor people have it; and if you eat it you die.
Aaron: I do not know.
Rachel: I think I know.
Jordan: Just guess. Not you, Mommy.
Aaron: Marijuana?
Amara: TNT?
Jordan: No. Mommy what do you think?
Rachel: Nothing.
Jordan: Right. See? Nothing is better than God, rich people need nothing, poor people have nothing, and if you eat nothing you die.
Aaron: [giggling] Wow. That is pretty good.

Upright piano

The piano player in one of Dale's bands inherited a baby grand piano and needed a home for his upright. We volunteered! It is a beautiful thing. It is larger than we pictured... it makes our electronic piano look (and sound) like a toy. Inserting it into our living room has caused a cascade of change; move the furniture, accept that some of it simply doesn't fit, rearrange other rooms to accommodate, realize that new lamps are needed here and new shelves there, that kind of thing. But we have now officially welcomed it into our home and are starting to enjoy it.

Moving it in was surprisingly straightforward. The movers had long ramps and a wheeled cart and that was pretty much that. The thing weighs 650 pounds.

Academic attention

Jordan is getting a kind of academic attention that we have never experienced before. His teachers really see what he is doing, and interpret what they see with insight and compassion. They are encouraging, while holding him to high standards. They are alert to his specific strengths and needs, and are able to design educational situations that will benefit him as much as possible. It is a real pleasure. Here is an update we got today about his reading, from the learning specialist who will be working with him in an upcoming book group: 

Jordan seemed to do well with Island of the Blue Dolphins; however [his regular teacher] knows much more than I do about that his day-to-day interaction with that book. The solid skills Jordan has when reading for pleasure are helpful when reading assignments for class. Whenever I checked in with him, he was engaged and was able to talk thoughtfully about the part he was reading. 

From conversations with [his teacher], I know that she wants to make sure he has a deep level of comprehension with regard to assigned text, and since she has the majority of the class to think about, having me focus on one small group seemed like a good way to ensure the understanding that we’re aiming for. (The book group meetings will be run mostly by the students, I’ll just be an observer or one of the members.) Making sure Jordan is able to demonstrate his level of comprehension orally (through discussion and maybe dictation, if appropriate), as well as in writing, continues to be an important aspect of assessing his understanding of any text. His writing seems to be going more smoothly for him and he is very capable; however I want to make sure we don’t forget that getting his ideas down in writing may still be impacted by his dysgraphia. So when assessing his reading comprehension, there needs to be an oral aspect of how we check in with him, as well as the written component. 

They just started the book this week, and it has some challenging themes and vocabulary specific to the time period. I’m sure Jordan will do well with the book.

Wow. For comparison, here is the kind of feedback we were getting about his reading last year:

Ouch. It still stings to read those. This was after we had the extensive learning assessments and conversations with the school to establish learning accommodations appropriate to his needs. I wish it could have been better for us in public school; I wish whatever wasn't right could be rectified (whether that is the preparation of the teacher, the teaching load, the class size, the curricular expectations, or whatever else contributed to this unfortunate situation). But it wasn't right, and I am so thankful to be where we are now.

Middle schools

As I have said in this space before, I worry about middle school. In particular I am not hopeful that our neighborhood public middle school will serve our older child well. So we are looking around. There are two other public schools we have our eye on, one a science-and-nature themed K-8, and one a new middle school just north of us. Both of these places seem to have visionary principles and happy teachers, and they both a lot smaller than our neighborhood middle school. However, they will still have large class sizes, and still be part of a system that doesn't have much time to spare for a bright, socially adept, non-disruptive kid who has not fallen far below his grade level. We are seeing wonderful benefits of being at a school whose teacher:student ratio is 1:10 instead of 1:25, and where teachers provide Jordan with the kind of cuing and feedback that enables him to get things done. Thus, we plan to apply for private middle school. We have to decide where to apply now-ish; we are well into tour season already, and applications are due in January.

There are a lot of private middle schools in Seattle. Only two are grades 6-8 (one near us and one in West Seattle). Some are K-8, and some are 6-12 or even mysteriously 5-12. Geography is important to us so we made a list of all the reasonably nearby ones, plus one that is very close to my work. This gave us a list of six independent schools to visit. We have toured three so far. The first was way too Catholic for our family (I don't know how I missed that). The second we loved; it seems like a wonderful education, great student body, and a great location; but spots at this school are so coveted that the chances of our getting in are extremely small, and the grapevine says they push students very hard academically, which is not something we want. The third seemed like a good, solid, ordinary school, like what public school should be but isn't; we will apply there too, even though the sports emphasis is not our style, and we hear that they don't offer much tuition assistance. Three more to go.

Even after we decide where to apply, there is the question of getting in. A K-8 or 5-12 school doesn't admit very many sixth graders, and even the places with major 6th grade entry points are small, admitting a total of 35-75 kids. The application itself is extensive, requiring essays by parents and students, multiple teacher recommendations, and scores on a standardized test called the Independent School Entrance Examination. And then on top of that, we would certainly be needing significant tuition assistance to go to any of these places. So who knows. But for now, we are plugging through this part of the process and trying to make the best decision we can with the information we have.

Challoween

We have gotten in the habit of celebrating both Halloween itself and Shabbatoween, the nearest Shabbat to Halloween; the former we do in our neighborhood and the latter is hosted by Jessica and Jules. This year, however, Halloween was a Friday night, and since our neighborhood seems to be the best for trick or treating, we hosted. There were more people than could sit down for dinner, and I was rattled by having had a lockdown at work that day (it turned out that there was no danger, but I was crouched under my desk for thirty minutes listening to the helicopters outside). Nonetheless we had spaghetti with eyeballs (meatballs with mozzarella-and-olive eyes), and apple vampire fangs, and challah stuffed with candy corn:

We managed to stuff all the kids into a frame for a photo before we headed out trick or treating. A vampire, a bat, a mummy, a Sith lord (that's Jordan), an Ewok (Aaron), an 80s chick, Jace, a demon lawyer (in the hockey mask - he served us all bloody papers), a gnome, and Kermit.

Jordan's costume put his camp-made lightsaber to great use; his robe was large enough to properly swirl out behind him, and picked up a hilarious amount of mud, too. Real Sith lords probably don't have this problem because the Empire's facilities are so clean. Aaron's Ewok costume took some doing... we had ordered a bear hat online, but it didn't come in time, so we repurposed a cat-ears headband by covering the ears with brown sock toes. Add a brown t-shirt for the snood, and that fantastic staff constructed by Dale from stuff in the yard, and voila! Ewok chieftain. His raccoon, Silvercoat, was an Ewok too, with a snood made of a brown sock. 

The grownups were in the spirit as well. I was mama Ewok, in the hat originally intended for Aaron.

Tashlich

Rosh Hashanah was over a month ago, but oh well, better late than never. Tashlich was at Matthews Beach during a miraculously sunny part of the day. The Seattle Times was there as usual and got some great pictures.

The children love this ritual. I try to help them be thoughtful about it instead of merely feeding the ducks; so I invite them to share what regrets or sins they are tossing away, if they are willing. (If they feel this is too personal, they do not have to share.)

Aaron: I threw away one time that I was not nice to Silvercoat (his plush raccoon). I called him a little coo.
Me: Oh, really. I am sure he would forgive you if you asked him.
Aaron: Yes I think so. In fact he did already. But I still wanted to throw it away.
Me: Got it.
Aaron: And I threw away one time that I .... [starts to cry] Mommy I don't like to even think about it -- [crying for sure now]
Me: Oh honey, what is it?
Aaron: [sobbing] One time I got mad at Jordan and I said I wished he wasn't even there, 
Me: Oh, sweetheart. You feel so sorry about that.
Aaron: [trying to pull himself together] I'm going to try and go have a little fun with him now to cheer myself up.
Me: Okay.

He ran off to play on the beach with his brother. I feel sure all is forgiven.

All cylinders

Aaron these days has a quick mind, a sparkling wit, and a heart full of pride for all he is learning. Which is a ton. Between the regular part of school, Hebrew, boychoir, and piano, he is going a mile a minute. The other day as we left boychoir, he was excitedly telling me about some fun accomplishment of his, and we had the following exchange:

Me: Aaron, I would say that you are firing on all cylinders lately. Do you know what that expression means?
Aaron: No.
Me: It's about a car engine.
Aaron: Oh right right I know about that, a car engine has a bunch of cylinders.
Me: Yes, and that is where all the little explosions happen that make the car go. Pow pow pow! So if you say someone is firing on all cylinders, they are going pow pow pow in every one of them, and the car moves forward really fast. I think you are like this right now. Boychoir pow pow pow! Hebrew pow pow pow! Math pow pow pow!
Aaron [giggling]: I guess that is right about me!

It is great news that he is doing so well in Hebrew, because he started out (as a new kid) behind the rest of his class. But his class has two teachers (!), so one of them worked in a small group with all the new kids, and made him very comfortable; and he is now reading Hebrew very skillfully. Last week he learned that the very last letter of the Torah is lamed (an L sound) and the first letter is bet (a b or v sound); the rabbi asked, "What does that spell?" and Aaron almost fell out of his seat to answer, because it is his brother's Hebrew name, Lev. It means "heart." The rabbi said that some people think this is because the Torah is the heart of the Jewish community. She then invited the kids' thoughts on what they think is the heart of the Jewish community. Aaron finally got called on, and said: "The community itself." Now that is an answer worthy of the rabbis. And I couldn't agree more.

Overall Aaron loves all the Jewish content at their new school. He is particularly relieved about the holidays. He says that at his old school "every time there was a holiday we had to watch a movie or see a PowerPoint or something," referring to the fact that his observance would get used as a "teachable moment" to educate the rest of the class about Jewish holidays. He also had kids "making fun of his religion" (his words) at Christmastime. He said, "I understand why it was like that, Mommy, because it was a Christian school." Is that not a bit spooky? It was a plain old public secular school, but to him it felt Christian. Now he feels like he's in the right place. As part of their practicing the value of gratitude, he said that the other day in tefilah (prayer service), he said he was grateful for humor. "And Emanuel cracked up," he added. Another good one.

Related:

Aaron: Mommy sometimes I feel funny singing Christian songs in boychoir.
Me: Aaron, I can understand feeling uncomfortable about that. I have had that feeling myself, and I solved my problem by joining a Jewish choir. Jordan, do you have any advice for Aaron? How do you feel about singing Christian songs in boychoir?
Jordan: It doesn't bother me at all. I never think about it.
Me: That's what I thought.
Jordan: I don't pay any attention to the words. In fact, if I think about the words it takes away from my concentration and makes me sing less well. So to me it is just sounds, and it doesn't bother me one bit.
Me: That is one kind of reaction to have. And it is a good one, because honestly most choirs sing a lot of Christian songs. It's just a fact that a lot of the choir music was written by Christian people. So it helps if you can not mind it.
Aaron: Yeah, well.
Me: You know what helps me sing songs like that and enjoy it?
Aaron: What?
Me: I think that God loves music. All kinds of music. But I think that God especially loves singing, because it is your voice. I think that is the most important thing. What kind of song it is, I think that is less important.

I don't know what God is, but I feel quite sure about the music part.

Biking

The fact that our kids, at ages 7 and 10, did not know how to ride bikes yet was a source of increasing chagrin to us as parents. We've tried, but it's always been very frustrating and not very productive: the kids would cautiously squeak along on training wheels, and that's it. This weekend we decided it was time for Bicycle Boot Camp. We informed the children that it was part of our job as parents to teach them to ride bikes, and they could do it, and we were going to make it happen, kind of whether they liked it or not, even though we hoped they would like it. I made up my mind to power through, maintain my own good cheer, and not get sucked in to any kid drama or misery. I did some research and decided we would do it the way REI suggests. This is where you first remove the pedals and put the seat low enough that the kid can have both feet planted on the ground; their first stage is to just walk the bike along, which is intuitive and secure for most kids. Next they scoot with their feet to start coasting bit by bit. Next they coast farther and longer, learning to balance and steer. Then the pedals go back on and you're practically there. 

On the big day I packed my purse with candy to use as rewards and off we went. At the start, Jordan was timid and Aaron threw a complete tantrum for twenty minutes, during which time I ignored him and worked with Jordan. And it worked! Jordan went from barely walking the bike, to coasting for a beat or two, to shouting with joy while he coasted faster and longer! He worked his tail off and made giant, huge, major advances within one hour. Aaron, meanwhile, calmed down enough to try again, and he did all right too! It was a very hardworking hour - the boys dealing with themselves both physically and emotionally, and me absolutely determined to keep up a cheerful and impervious front. But it was a big day. And they were very excited. They asked to do it again the next day, and within one more hour were coasting gleefully through obstacle courses we set out with cones, and crushing crackers that we threw out ahead of them as targets. Now they want to go biking every chance they get. They do not want to put the pedals on yet, but that will come soon... we just keep cheerfully saying that biking with pedals is almost exactly the same as without, except you can go uphill. 

These movies are from the second day:

On the first day, the boys each dealt with their emotions in their signature way. Aaron went immediately to pieces and pumped himself into an ever-greater frenzy of anger and sadness and hopelessness with negative self-talk, screaming "This is impossible, I will never be able to do this!" and flailing himself around and shouting at me. I calmly stated things like, "You can choose to try again." Once I even said, in response to some I-will-never-be-able-to-do-this statement, "You can prove yourself wrong." Eventually the storm passed and he wanted to try again, and I helped him, and he was joyous at his own transformation, and said merrily on the way home, "Mommy you were right! I did prove myself wrong!" No self-consciousness or baggage that I can see. Jordan, meanwhile, pretended everything was fine even though he was clearly hating the whole thing bitterly at first. At some point he got frustrated and started to become overwhelmed, but stuffed it. Used his extraordinary emotional self-control to squeeze that anger and sadness down to a small dot inside him and put his attention back on his task. Then he started to succeed, started to feel himself flying, and loved it, and was triumphant. Which style is healthier? I really could not say.

Op-Ed

Several weeks ago, a colleague of mine who does advocacy for the American Physical Society asked if I would write an op-ed for our local newspaper. I was surprised that he asked me; I'm not much in politics, especially compared to some people I work with. But the APS does not have many active policy-type people for the state of Washington, and one of our senators cares about women in the sciences, and they were hoping for a piece connecting women in physics to federal funding for the sciences. They said they would strongly assist me with writing the piece (they have staff for that). So I said yes, sure, I'll help, why not.

The way it worked is that an APS person interviewed me about my own history as a woman in physics. She then drafted an opinion piece that connected my story with what's going on politically, and framed a particular request for legislative action. Since I knew basically nothing about the political part (or about writing op-eds), her collaboration was essential. However, she said things I would never say (like "build a better America"), and the op-ed has only my name on it, not hers. When I read her first draft it really hit home to me that everyone would see this: my friends, my neighbors, my rabbis, you name it. I had to write something that I felt good about. So I put more work into it than I was initially expecting to, and felt okay about the result.

I submitted it to the Seattle Times (did you know that just anyone can do this?) and they picked it up within the hour. There was then an editing process with the newspaper, during which they changed the order of things and removed all uses of the word "we" (apparently readers will not know who it refers to). And then on Monday morning it was published! With a title I had never seen and don't actually think describes the piece well. But I am prepared to let it go.

The resulting piece is not 100% me. This is not even necessarily the issue I care most about in the world. (I'm not even sure what issue I care most about in the world; it depends on the day.) The piece is a meeting place, where my own heart and expertise are put in the service of a cause that is presenting itself. It's opportunistic, like my volunteering. Something shows up that needs doing, and maybe I can help do it.

It seems like the thing is getting a heck of a reception. I was so right about everyone seeing it: every day more people I know say something nice to me about it. I posted it to Facebook and got 60 likes and 4 shares, which for me is a lot. The Times asked permission to distribute it to its partner news outlets, and so far it has been picked up by the Walla Walla Union-Bulletin, the Columbia Daily Herald, and the Virginian-Pilot. The STEM Education Coalition put it in their newsletter. LinkedIn has a group discussing it. SPU will republish it in its glossy magazine. The APS is contacting reporters about whether they want to interview me. My best guess is that this will die down shortly; but hopefully even if it does, I am helping tip some scale or other.

The comments on the online article are mostly pretty bad. The most common response is along the lines of "Girls are free to study whatever they want; if they're not interested in science, that's up to them." This, while it sounds all very progressive and American, denies any responsibility for how we shape and constrain girls' interests. (I'm not even counting the one who said, "If chicks do get interested in pursuing physics and STEM, the jobs they would have had can be filled by chickified dudes." WTH?) Other deniers of gender unfairness take a line more like "Guys have to deal with the occasional jerk, too; just man up." (Here's another op-ed those folks might read.) Then there's the commenter that assumed that I was a B student (because I said science has a place for B students), and the people who think I am an example of a woman who dropped out of physics to be in the social sciences (understandable, but incorrect). I have not joined the fray... I think it is better if I just stay out of it.

The emails, though, I will respond to individually. These are emails from strangers who took the trouble to look me up, and every one of them is thoughtful and substantive. One is from the parent of a thirteen-year-old girl with tremendous aptitude in math and science who is starting to experience gender crap that steers her away - for example, her school (on Bainbridge Island) offered her the chance to walk to algebra in sixth grade, but since the other students doing the walking were all boys who treated her poorly, she would rather not. This parent wanted my suggestions for how to support her. I didn't know what to recommend, and felt the burden of being in the role of an expert without any actual expertise, but I knew who to ask, and got some good leads. Another letter was from a woman who faced similar obstacles 50 years ago and just wanted to say good luck. Another letter was from a scholar of gender effects on academic performance who wanted me to review his work. Another was from a high school teacher who wanted my advice for supporting women and underrepresented minorities in his physics class. Each letter is fascinating, and a little scary, and very human.

Volunteering

Our family is involved with a number of worthy nonprofit organizations, and I do a fair amount of volunteering. To be honest, I don't so much do this because they need me; there are many, many needy people and organizations in the world and I am not always motivated to help them. Sometimes I do it because it's a quick thing I can do to help out (I think of this as mini-volunteering). More often I do it because I want to build my own community, and getting together with people to do a helpful activity is a great way to get to know them. Then there are the times that I can really take the lead on something that I enjoy for the sake of the project itself. These categories are just off the top of my head. I am continually being asked to volunteer for more things, so I thought I would take a look at what all I am doing volunteerwise, to see the big picture.

Temple
My big volunteer commitment for temple is that I co-direct Mitzvah Day, a day of community service involving about 400 kids doing nine different service projects (one for each grade). This takes many hours of organization spread over many months. The most fun part is that I work with a terrific co-director, who has become a friend primarily through this collaboration, and connect with many parents to help them run the projects for their grade. It is also pretty darn satisfying to help make so much community service happen. In addition to Mitzvah Day, I organize the annual "schmoozes" for religious school parents, which is easy to do. I also help with one-off things like office work and honey cake; since we live nearby, it's easy for me to pitch in with little stuff.

School
I am pretty excited to make friends with other families at our new school, so I volunteered to be the room parent for second grade, which will put me in communication with a particularly terrific bunch of families (who will be our cohort for four years, presumably). I am also going to go ahead and volunteer to do procurement for their annual fundraising auction, because I think I will be working with people I'll like, doing something that I'll be good at.

Boychoir
For boychoir, I have done only mini-volunteering. I might do some ushering, but that is pretty self-interested (ushers attend concerts for free!), and I want to chaperone the tour next summer. My experience is that boychoir does not foster community among the parents the way temple and school do; boychoir is mainly about the boys.

There is also another category of activities that I am tempted to call volunteer activities, but because they are part of my academic life, they are called "service." These activities are expected of me as part of my work culture. I am not specifically rewarded for them the way I might be if I was faculty, but it's what people like me do, and it is often a way to collaborate with colleagues I like as well as make things happen that I am glad to see happen. Examples of service activities are reviewing papers (either formally or informally), mentoring or advising students at other institutions, serving as an elected representative in my professional community, writing an op-ed advocating for science funding, and so on.

Bad Words Education

I am of the opinion that there are a lot of bad words a kid needs to learn before middle school. Not in order to use them, although I think that in the right time and place that can be fine. The main reason is that to be uninformed is to be vulnerable. If other kids say, "Hey come with us, we have some pot," or "Everyone who comes to this party gets a blow job," and you don't know what "pot" or "blow job" are, you are helpless. It is nice to fantasize that no one will ever say these things to our sweet innocent children, but this is a fantasy. It is also tempting to think that we parents are protecting our children's innocence by keeping these words from them, but I think this is not true either. Our family discussion of the Vagina Chant has not caused any increased use of the term (far from it). And also I think their innocence runs deeper than any vocabulary, a true absence of the kind of cynicism and rebelliousness that bad words signify. Though possibly this is another fantasy.

We are embarking on a year of Bad Words Education in our household because Jordan starts middle school in a year, and is already hanging out with 13 year olds at boychoir. Life presents many teachable moments in this area. For example, Aaron's seven-year-old friend told Jordan yesterday that Aaron was "pissed off" about something. (This was correct, but crudely put.) Jordan did not know what "pissed off" meant, but he could tell it was a bad word, and he was startled that this kid would say it. It turns out that Jordan and Aaron didn't know what "piss" meant, either. So I told them piss is a rude word for pee, kind of the same thing as crap being a rude word for poop. I said how some people might say they were going to "take a piss" and that means go pee. I said how people who do this are probably looking to sound kind of tough and shocking on purpose, to get your attention, but it really just means pee. I said that for some reason that I don't know, "pissed off" means angry. We had a laugh imagining what the relationship might possibly be: do people have to pee when they get really mad? Do they get so mad they want to pee on someone? A mystery. (Bad Words Education will have many mysteries.) After this discussion my kids were more disturbed by the phrase, rather than becoming inured to it, and more disturbed that their friend used it.

Rachel: I think bad words come in three categories: swearwords, sex words, and drug words. I will tell you about these words a little at a time, not all on one day. You don't want to hear them all at once.
Jordan: No, that would make me sick.
Rachel: Aaron, you do not have to listen to these words if you don't want to. You have a long way to go until middle school, so you could wait.
Aaron: I want to hear this too. My friends say bad words sometimes, like, you know, that one that we talked about.
Jordan: One guy in boychoir says - Mommy can I say it just once to tell you what it is?
Rachel: Yes, definitely. You can always say any word one time to tell me what the word is. You will never get in trouble for that.
Jordan: Okay. One guy in boychoir says.... eff you. I'm not going to say the word after all.
Rachel: Okay, let's talk about that one. I'm going to say it, so get ready: The saying is, fuck you.
[Jordan and Aaron gasp and giggle.]
Rachel: We have talked about this word before, do you remember? This saying means something like, "Somebody should stick their penis in you whether you want them to or not."
[The children are appalled, a tumult of small shrieks, disgusted and giggling and writhing in their seats.]
Jordan: I don't even know why anyone would do that!
[See what I mean about their deep innocence?]
Rachel: It's meant as a very angry thing to say. But maybe the guy in boychoir was not very angry. Sometimes people say it just very casually, too, not only "fuck you" but "fucking" [the children wince]. Like someone might say, "Could you get me some more fucking water."
Jordan [laughing hysterically]: That is so weird! That doesn't even make any sense!
Rachel: You're right, it makes no sense, but the idea is that it sounds kind of angry and exciting. People usually say it when they're frustrated. The water is not a very good example. A better example would be, remember before dinner I was having such a hard time stringing those beads? I might have said, "I cannot get this fucking bead onto this fucking string!"
[The children collapse in gales of helpless laughter.]
Jordan: What does that even mean! Stick your penis in a string? Stick a string in your penis?
Rachel: I know, it doesn't make any sense.

After we had recovered from that, I invited Jordan to choose a bad words category. He said "I definitely do not want to hear any sex words, and we already did some swear words, so you can tell me some drug words." I decided to start with marijuana, which is all over the newspapers these days in our state. I told them all the nicknames I could think of for marijuana, for getting high, and some basic paraphernalia. I am sure I did not cover everything, and will never cover everything in this lively, ever-changing linguistic area. But I think it helps. If nothing else, it establishes bad words as appropriate subjects for family discussion.

Sticky spot

Jordan is at a sticky spot in his piano learning. He can do all the major scales at about 152 beats per minute, which is awesome, but he is not perfectly consistent about which fingers he uses for which notes, and that is something that is supposed to become automated, the way it is in typing. He also uses a hand position that will not serve him well in the long run (flat fingers instead of tall, playing on the pads of his fingers instead of the tips). Lastly, he has been working on a particular Bach minuet for several weeks, which is not in itself a bad thing, but it's something that his teacher, Ben, thought he would blow through a lot faster. And here is where Ben really demonstrates his character as a teacher. My own temptation, much as I hate to admit it, is to think something along the lines of, "What's wrong with you? Shape up!" Not very constructive. Ben, on the other hand, at a moment when Jordan was doing something else out of the room, said to me: "Hm; this piece is not as easy as I was thinking it would be. What do you think is going on?" The assumption being that if the learning is not going smoothly, there is probably something that the teacher needs to learn, in order to better facilitate the student's progress.

Once Ben asked that question, I realized I actually think there is an answer to it, or part of an answer. Jordan has the following awesome musical skills, among others: He can hear intervals instantly and precisely, he can solfege anything either in writing or by ear (which is an extension of hearing intervals), and he can memorize music. All of these are strongly reinforced at boychoir. The Bach piece, however, has a lot of big, unpredictable intervals in it, so you are really better served by knowing that the next note is a D, instead of knowing that it is an octave-plus-a-third down from the last note; and reading music by the letters is not one of Jordan's strong suits. Jordan knows this; he has told me that he finds notes on the piano by intervals from a known note, instead of absolutely, and that naming the notes is harder for him. This is a solvable problem! I will hop down to our music store and get flash cards. This will be good for both him and Aaron.

About the fingering on the scales: I bet this is a similar issue to handwriting, which is also not automated for Jordan the way it is for many of us. Ben's action plan for this is to just really practice the scales with correct fingering, even though it means slowing down, until the correct fingering is reliable. It is hard for Jordan to slow down in order to use proper form... in anything. But he is trying.

First day of school

Today was the boys' first day at Seattle Jewish Community School, and everybody loved it. Jordan said, "Everyone told me everything I need to know. They told me so well, I didn't even feel like it was my first day. It was like it was already the third day." Aaron declared that he and his Hebrew teacher are "matched," because they are both new to the school. I said, "It feels good when someone else understands how things are for you, doesn't it," and he agreed. We new parents had a couple hours of orientation in which we were not only doused with useful logistics, but also inspired and moved (at least I was), and delighted by the staff and the other families. The letter home from one of Jordan's two teachers brought a tear to my eye... she said her favorite teaching is "Treat no one lightly and think nothing is useless, for everyone has one's moment and everything has its place" (Pirkei Avot 4:3). What a great thing, to be at a place where people have not only the intention, but also the expertise and the resources, to carry this out.

We are jumping in to this excellent community with both feet. Dale volunteered to be the first-day photographer, helping take cute pictures of every single family as they arrived (except our own, of course). And I will be the second-grade room parent. It's going to be a busy year, but a good one.

One chat of many

Jordan: I have a little spot on my forehead.
Rachel: Does it hurt?
Jordan: Not really. Maybe a little when I touch it.
Rachel: Maybe it’s a pimple. Do you know what a pimple is?
Jordan: No.
Rachel: It’s a little sore. It can just happen for no reason, or it can start to happen with puberty.
Jordan: With puberty?
Rachel: Yeah. You remember what puberty is?
Jordan: Yes. Turning from a kid to a teenager.
Rachel: Right. So when that happens, there are special chemicals that your body starts to make, and these special chemicals make all kinds of things start to happen to your body. They are called hormones. They give you strong moods. They make you grow taller. They make you more smelly.
Jordan: They make hair grow on your body.
Rachel: Right. They make your testicles larger, if you don’t mind my saying so. And also for some reason with a lot of people they make these little sores happen, usually on your face. If you start to get more of them, it might be puberty.
Jordan: Cool.
Rachel: If that starts to happen a lot and it gets annoying we can get you some special cream to help them go away faster.
Jordan: Okay.

I figure if we can have about 5000 more conversations like this one, we will cover most of what a kid needs to know.

Goodbye Phil

Yesterday we said goodbye to our beloved kitty, Phil. Phil has been with us for twelve years - longer than either of our children - and he was an adult when we got him, at least four and maybe six years old; so he was a very, very elderly cat. He had been reasonably robust until a couple of weeks ago. But last week he almost entirely stopped eating, and kind of just stopped overall. I won't describe the details but it was very sad to see his steep decline. 

Phil was always a very loving cat, loved to be petted, purred all the time, never bit or scratched, and loved attention from all people, especially guests. Anytime there was a party or band practice he would put himself right in the middle of it. Anytime anyone sat down on the couch he would pop up and butt his head on you to be petted. Phil had a lot of fans among our friends and family for his cat charm. He used to be quite a stocky guy, which is hard for me to remember now because he has been skin and bones for some time now. Here he is with each baby.

The kids are very deeply affected by this loss. It has been a time for us all to talk about how to experience such piercing sadness. It is hard to sustain such big, sad feelings, and it's okay to need to take it in small doses. However, it is not okay to try to turn sad feelings away and insist that everyone cheer up; because when you feel bad feelings, they pass, but if you refuse to feel bad feelings, they tend to stick around in a troubling way. And also if you don't talk about sad feelings, you feel not only sad but also alone; and in our family, we want to be together if we are sad.

Aaron was heartbreakingly expressive about saying goodbye to Phil.

Jordan was deeply affected too. He stayed with Phil until the end. Both boys helped select the gravesite in our backyard and participated in the digging. We felt how the intense sadness would overwhelm us, and then get less again, and then return when we laid him in the ground or later saw his food bowl or realized there was no longer a reason to leave the bedroom door open a crack for him to come sleep on the bed.

We spent the end of the day watching little home movies from when the kids were babies and toddlers, always with Phil in the background (or foreground), purring and getting in on things. We all had a real sense of the passage of time, and how far our family has come together.

Unmanlike

We watched Singin' in the Rain together recently, and the kids loved it. Aaron in particular has re-enacted the "Make 'Em Laugh" scene a hundred times. He clearly loves the slapstick vaudeville dancing as much as the singing. He has always loved to dance; for example, he got up on stage to imitate the hula dancers in Hawaii, and danced the night away at our 70s birthday party. So I asked him about it.

Me: This year you are going to learn a lot of music, with both piano and choir.

Aaron: I am already a very good singer.

Me: You are. You have a good voice and you have a good ear. so that when you hear a song, you can sing it back very well. 

Aaron: Yep.

Me: I am wondering about another thing, because you also love to dance, right?

Aaron: I do! [Does a little dance right on the spot.]

Me: Not right away, but someday, do you think you would want to take some dance lessons, too? Along with the music?

Aaron: Well no I don't think so. Because I think that would be unmanlike. 

Me: Oh, but there are lots of dancers who are men who are fantastic. 

Aaron: Like Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor!

Me: Absolutely. And lots of other men. If you ever wanted to do dance lessons, we would make sure that you got lessons that are good for boys.

This has got me thinking about several things, including how strongly gendered dancing is. I think this is a shame, I wish it wasn't the case, and will do what I can to undermine the stereotype by offering examples of awesome dancing men. But Aaron is right: In our society dancing is mostly for girls. 

Another thing I notice is that Aaron feels very strongly about participating in activities that match his gender identity, which is way, way over on the boy side of the gender spectrum and always has been. (So is Jordan's.) This is a little trickier. As a woman in physics (among other things), I want to especially encourage people to engage in rewarding activities regardless of those activities' gender baggage. However, at Aaron's age, I am concerned that if I try to get him to pursue activities that he knows to be girly, he might misunderstand me as disrespecting his gender identification. Acceptance isn't less important for those whose birth gender, bodies, and personal identity all match. He's not saying he wishes he could do dance lessons but can't because he's a boy; he's telling me he doesn't want to do dance lessons because that would not match his gender identity. I realize this is a pretty fine line. For now I'm just keeping my eye on it.

Yet another thing, in which the philosophical meets the pragmatic, is how we recognize and nurture our kids' unique talents and desires. Of course, I want to do so. However, I do not believe that any kid has One True Talent and if we fail to cultivate it we're letting him down. At least not usually. I think that a normal kid has a bunch of little baby possible talents, and when one of those aligns with some high-quality education, it blossoms. I think that we parents should not feel guilty about choosing to pursue certain of our kids' talents for practical reasons -- because there's a good teacher of that thing nearby, or you already own that instrument, or your kid has friends who are doing that thing. I plan to be satisfied with making some pretty good matches between talent and training, ones that are satisfying for the kid and sane for the family. Thus, Aaron starts in choir and piano, because our family has a good thing going with both of those already. We will see if this turns him on the way it has turned Jordan on, and I will keep the dancing in mind.

Later we had this other conversation, about a Disney movie we are watching:

Aaron: In Tarzan is there a real actor who does those great tricks and moves?

Me: No. Those moves are only in the drawings. The actor who does Tarzan's voice stands still while he says the words.

Aaron: Oh.

Me: But I did hear an interview once with the guy who did the drawings for the Tarzan movie [Disney master animator Glen Keane], and he said who he was copying who does those kinds of moves in real life. Would you like to know?

Aaron: Yes!
Me: Surfers and skateboarders. Surfers go sliding on waves like Tarzan slides around on the trees, and skateboarders go flying in the air when they do their tricks. 

Aaron: Oh yeah like when they fly up high and grab their board and maybe even go upside down! [He started leaping around to illustrate.]

This got me thinking about other disciplines that use the body for artistry and entertainment, like gymnastics. That's not convenient for us either, to be honest, and it's also fairly girly -- probably not as girly as dancing, but not as masculine as skateboarding, for sure. There is a skate park right near our house...

Camp Kalsman

Jordan is at sleepaway camp for the first time -- very exciting! Camp Kalsman is about an hour north of Seattle and the dropoff today was fantastic. When we pulled into the parking lot who should be directing traffic but our beloved Robert, the boys' babysitter for about a year when they were three and six! He recognized us right away and was thrilled to learn that Jordan would be in his cabin. Total score. We saw bunches of people we knew, but even the strangers felt like friends we hadn't met yet because everyone was just so incredibly happy and attentive.

Checking in 200 kids to sleepaway camp is complicated but Camp Kalsman really has it down. First, in the parking lot, counselors quickly tag the kids' bags and throw them in a big truck for delivery to their cabins. Next you head over to a team of counselors who sing a silly song and ask a bunch of questions about whether you have been sick recently. Then you are admitted to the central building, where you work your way around a series of tables each with its own purpose: sign the anti-bullying pledge, drop off care packages, iron out any medication arrangements, get checked for lice, get your picture taken, choose your electives. It was all very well-run and friendly. Here is the lice check -- note the counselor enthusiasm.

We dropped Adam off first. Kalsman is only about five years old so the facilities are quite nice. Adam settled right in.

His cabin has a helpful checklist on the door.

Jordan is not the slightest bit nervous about camp, as far as we know. He loves new experiences, he is socially extremely adaptable, his best friends Ian and Moses are both there, and he makes new friends easily. As soon as we got to his cabin he busted out his new Magic: The Gathering cards and got down to business. Here he is with Moses and Ben, a kid he knew already, I don't know from where. He knows people everywhere he goes.

He was politely willing to work with me on making his bed. Then he was clearly done with me, not in a rude way, just a fact. He waved goodbye pleasantly and socked in with his friends. That's how it's supposed to be, right?

Here is the view out his back door. The camp also has a lake for boating and a pool for swimming; I haven't seen those.

After the dropoff, a bunch of parents went out to lunch and laughed about our irrational fears about our children. Most of the other parents I was with tend to worry that their kid won't get something they need socially - that they won't participate in enough things, or won't get the alone time they need, or won't make new friends, or whatever. I was grateful that they shared their worries so that I could enjoy not having them. I worry more about Jordan losing things, or not having a warm enough jacket, or pretending he put on sunscreen when he didn't and getting burned to a crisp, or possibly wandering overconfidently off into the woods with a few friends and breaking an ankle or getting eaten by a bear. But Jordan is actually very together about not losing the important things (like his glasses), and the other things are just part of the glory of being at camp. Right? Right. He is going to have a great week.

Jordan's birthday

Jordan's birthday party was just as simple as Aaron's and just as fun. It was a scorching hot day and all anyone wanted to do was have a waterfight.

Aaron was a frequent target, which he mostly enjoyed. 

They did this for an hour, until we judged them to be perhaps a little baked. We invited them to a table in the shade for the party's only prepared activity: decorating your own monster cupcakes with googly eyes and other weird candy features. (I had prepared a dozen cupcakes with monster-hair frosting.)

Each kid posed for a photo with his creation. Several confessed that it was really about how much candy you could pile on your monster.

Sam

Nat

Moses

Colin (who has allergies and brings his own cake)

Ian

Keegan

Aaron

After that, more waterfight. Everyone went home seeming very satisfied.