Monday, September 21, 2009
Moments Like These
Our nighttime routine was normal. Bath, diaper, pjs, put "baby" in crib, read one or two stories (tonight one, plus one page), sing songs. But when we got to the song parts, Nora was fidgety, so I grabbed her tight and held her close, like I used to do when she fit in one arm. And then I sang, with my eyes closed part of the time, as usual, I guess to make sure she knew her eyes should close pretty soon too. But this time, when I opened my eyes, all I saw were bright eyes and a giant grin around a red thumb. And I couldn't help but smile back. And then she giggled. And I giggled. And pretty soon we were in full-on laughter. Over nothing. And we couldn't stop. Any eye contact caused more hilarity. So I closed my eyes and tried to act serious. I finished the verse, opened my eyes, kissed her goodnight and placed her in the crib. And here I am writing it down since it is moments like these that I hope I never forget.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Sesame Street Is Invading My Brain
I used to be cool. Well, not really, but I used to be able to at least fool the students into thinking I was. I knew what they were into and what they watched, the music they listened to and the jokes they thought were funny. I could bring the cool things up when they least expected it and win them over to my side.
Today I realized that all has changed. I no longer reference cool, hip, "in" shows or songs. I no longer make jokes that relate to the newest fad or most popular movie character. No, I compare things to Sesame Street. I am so lame.
Today one of my students was making a joke about living in a trashcan. I threw her a look and she said, laughingly, that she lived in a green can. And I said, embarrassingly, "like Oscar the Grouch." I wanted to die of embarrassment, though the student kindly laughed.
This caused me to flash back a few days when I was talking to a student about his thesis statement for his essay. He asked if he should use third person and talk about himself in the thesis instead of saying "I." I said, "No. You shouldn't talk like Elmo." And everyone knew exactly what I was talking about, and again they laughed as good students should, but I know they must now be thinking that I am so lame. So lame.
Today I realized that all has changed. I no longer reference cool, hip, "in" shows or songs. I no longer make jokes that relate to the newest fad or most popular movie character. No, I compare things to Sesame Street. I am so lame.
Today one of my students was making a joke about living in a trashcan. I threw her a look and she said, laughingly, that she lived in a green can. And I said, embarrassingly, "like Oscar the Grouch." I wanted to die of embarrassment, though the student kindly laughed.
This caused me to flash back a few days when I was talking to a student about his thesis statement for his essay. He asked if he should use third person and talk about himself in the thesis instead of saying "I." I said, "No. You shouldn't talk like Elmo." And everyone knew exactly what I was talking about, and again they laughed as good students should, but I know they must now be thinking that I am so lame. So lame.
Friday, September 11, 2009
From the Sidelines
Before I sent Nora back to daycare I worried about her napping and eating. I worried about missing her too much and about her getting sick. I didn’t worry about her being social, since she always seemed to be a people baby – as evidenced from her game with the hat shown below.
On Tuesday when I picked Nora up after school she ran over to me as usual and started blurting out so many words at once, trying to tell me all she had done that day. As I smiled at her enthusiastic talking, Miss Liz told me that Nora hardly talks all day, that she cuddles and sucks her thumb for much of the time. “She laughs,” she said. But she isn’t the social butterfly I had thought her to be. Miss Liz said that she and Miss Laura had decided that Nora will either be a rebellious teenager or one who makes such astute observations that you wonder where she learned it. I vote for number two.
I left daycare that day upset. I want Nora to have fun, to interact, to show all her beautiful words and songs she sings while she’s home. I took her quiet thumb-sucking as a sign of unhappiness.
My mother reminded me that when I was two and a half and spent my days at Aunt Mary’s with other kids, I had to be bribed to play. I didn’t suck my thumb, but I picked apart my stockings for comfort, refusing to interact with even my cousins or friends I had known for a while (if you can know anyone for a while at 2?). I would report to my mom when she asked me if I deserved my prize that indeed I did not. I didn’t want to play.
I actually remember some of this (scary and cool that Nora may remember soon…), and I don’t remember that I did any of this because I was unhappy.
And then at school I thought about some of my best students who are quiet. One in particular came to mind. She listens intently all class and then usually stops and chats with me on her way out, making very intelligent observations that I wish she would add to the discussion in front of everyone, but that’s not her style. And it wasn’t mine either. I’m sure my high school teachers would be shocked that I stand in front of a group and speak all day. I probably didn’t utter one word until forced in most of my classes. And I think Ken was the same way.
But, like Nora I did have my moments. In kindergarten I was the doll in the play – the center of attention, and I screamed out my lines and belted out my songs to make sure everyone heard what I had to say.
And today, when I got to daycare, Nora ran over and hugged me as usual. But then she ran away, through the tunnel they had open on the floor. She looked at her friend Emily and laughed when she came out the other side. And then she ran up the plastic slide and did her little stomp dance around the room. She was having fun. She didn’t want to run out the door.
So I guess I have to remember that quiet isn’t always bad. That she’s clearly learning (see the ABC video below) that she’s happy all day and sometimes silly. That cuddling isn’t a sign that she misses me all day, but that she loves many people. And that she will have her moments when she steps on the stage and moments when she wants to watch from the sidelines. And it will all be ok.
On Tuesday when I picked Nora up after school she ran over to me as usual and started blurting out so many words at once, trying to tell me all she had done that day. As I smiled at her enthusiastic talking, Miss Liz told me that Nora hardly talks all day, that she cuddles and sucks her thumb for much of the time. “She laughs,” she said. But she isn’t the social butterfly I had thought her to be. Miss Liz said that she and Miss Laura had decided that Nora will either be a rebellious teenager or one who makes such astute observations that you wonder where she learned it. I vote for number two.
I left daycare that day upset. I want Nora to have fun, to interact, to show all her beautiful words and songs she sings while she’s home. I took her quiet thumb-sucking as a sign of unhappiness.
My mother reminded me that when I was two and a half and spent my days at Aunt Mary’s with other kids, I had to be bribed to play. I didn’t suck my thumb, but I picked apart my stockings for comfort, refusing to interact with even my cousins or friends I had known for a while (if you can know anyone for a while at 2?). I would report to my mom when she asked me if I deserved my prize that indeed I did not. I didn’t want to play.
I actually remember some of this (scary and cool that Nora may remember soon…), and I don’t remember that I did any of this because I was unhappy.
And then at school I thought about some of my best students who are quiet. One in particular came to mind. She listens intently all class and then usually stops and chats with me on her way out, making very intelligent observations that I wish she would add to the discussion in front of everyone, but that’s not her style. And it wasn’t mine either. I’m sure my high school teachers would be shocked that I stand in front of a group and speak all day. I probably didn’t utter one word until forced in most of my classes. And I think Ken was the same way.
But, like Nora I did have my moments. In kindergarten I was the doll in the play – the center of attention, and I screamed out my lines and belted out my songs to make sure everyone heard what I had to say.
And today, when I got to daycare, Nora ran over and hugged me as usual. But then she ran away, through the tunnel they had open on the floor. She looked at her friend Emily and laughed when she came out the other side. And then she ran up the plastic slide and did her little stomp dance around the room. She was having fun. She didn’t want to run out the door.
So I guess I have to remember that quiet isn’t always bad. That she’s clearly learning (see the ABC video below) that she’s happy all day and sometimes silly. That cuddling isn’t a sign that she misses me all day, but that she loves many people. And that she will have her moments when she steps on the stage and moments when she wants to watch from the sidelines. And it will all be ok.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Note About the Next Post
The post below this one is actually from a model school project I am having my students do. They are making a visual argument about the true America and are going to have to use the website voicethread.com to create a narrated visual argument. So before I assigned the project to them tomorrow I thought I better try out the technology. And of course I did my voicethread about Nora. I hope the students are as excited as I am about the project!
To watch the voicethread below, click the play button on top of the photo.
And thanks to Michelle for taking awesome pictures!
To watch the voicethread below, click the play button on top of the photo.
And thanks to Michelle for taking awesome pictures!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Nora's Things
School has started. Obviously. And I have so many stories that I think about writing, but so little time to actually put them down here.
Nora got sick exactly two weeks into daycare, just as had happened last year and just as will probably happen every year from now until forever. And along with sickness for Nora comes cough. And along with cough comes vomit. The other morning Ken said that I needed to write about her vomit since it was her “thing” like asthma was mine and lazy-eye was Ken’s. I guess vomit is better than either of those, but her insanely easy gag reflex that causes her to vomit after coughing with any intensity is certainly something I hope she outgrows. Fast.
Not only has daycare made her sick, but it has also made her affectionate. I’ve written before how she is a sweet baby – and that has now taken a whole new form in her too-sweet-for-words hugs and kisses. She has this way of grabbing on, laying her head on your shoulder and patting your back all at the same time. She does it when I come to get her from daycare and when she just is feeling cuddly. She did it to her Mimi with such passion on Friday when she came to surprise Nora at daycare that it made us all laugh. She did it to Aunt Betty this weekend, making it hard for her to get in her car and drive back to Dallas when there was a sweet cuddly 20 month old clinging on. And I know she does it with at least two of the ladies at daycare. And when I see that I feel good that she cares for the women at daycare (though there’s a part of me that hopes she doesn’t just cuddle all day, but plays and laughs too).
Daycare is also helping to make her smarter - Nora is learning to sing. It is almost cuter than the hugging – and much more impressive. One night last week I walked in while she was taking a bath (Ken’s in charge of bath-time) and Ken and I both looked at each other, wondering simultaneously whether the tune and words coming out of Nora’s mouth could have really been the alphabet. And we concluded that it was. She had the tune down perfectly and would throw in letters at the right moments too. She certainly doesn’t have it anywhere nearperfect, but I can tell she’s learning. And she also started singing “up ba ba ba ba ba high” the other morning, which I of course concluded was her version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She sings while she plays and while she drifts off to sleep, a tune always in her head.
And lastly, daycare is teaching her the inevitable – “mine” and “no.” Right now Ken and I think both are pretty amusing. She stands on her stool by her books and yells out “mine!” like someone is trying to snatch something away from her (see attached video). And no one is, of course. She may have learned how to say mine, but the concept of what it means still is a bit foggy. She also does this thing where she shakes her finger and says, “no, no, no.” We had a video of it, but Ken erased it (iphone learning curve – he’s erased a few cute videos…). She still doesn’t tell us no. So, again, the word is clear but the concept fuzzy. I’m glad. But I know it won’t be long.
Nora got sick exactly two weeks into daycare, just as had happened last year and just as will probably happen every year from now until forever. And along with sickness for Nora comes cough. And along with cough comes vomit. The other morning Ken said that I needed to write about her vomit since it was her “thing” like asthma was mine and lazy-eye was Ken’s. I guess vomit is better than either of those, but her insanely easy gag reflex that causes her to vomit after coughing with any intensity is certainly something I hope she outgrows. Fast.
Not only has daycare made her sick, but it has also made her affectionate. I’ve written before how she is a sweet baby – and that has now taken a whole new form in her too-sweet-for-words hugs and kisses. She has this way of grabbing on, laying her head on your shoulder and patting your back all at the same time. She does it when I come to get her from daycare and when she just is feeling cuddly. She did it to her Mimi with such passion on Friday when she came to surprise Nora at daycare that it made us all laugh. She did it to Aunt Betty this weekend, making it hard for her to get in her car and drive back to Dallas when there was a sweet cuddly 20 month old clinging on. And I know she does it with at least two of the ladies at daycare. And when I see that I feel good that she cares for the women at daycare (though there’s a part of me that hopes she doesn’t just cuddle all day, but plays and laughs too).
Daycare is also helping to make her smarter - Nora is learning to sing. It is almost cuter than the hugging – and much more impressive. One night last week I walked in while she was taking a bath (Ken’s in charge of bath-time) and Ken and I both looked at each other, wondering simultaneously whether the tune and words coming out of Nora’s mouth could have really been the alphabet. And we concluded that it was. She had the tune down perfectly and would throw in letters at the right moments too. She certainly doesn’t have it anywhere nearperfect, but I can tell she’s learning. And she also started singing “up ba ba ba ba ba high” the other morning, which I of course concluded was her version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She sings while she plays and while she drifts off to sleep, a tune always in her head.
And lastly, daycare is teaching her the inevitable – “mine” and “no.” Right now Ken and I think both are pretty amusing. She stands on her stool by her books and yells out “mine!” like someone is trying to snatch something away from her (see attached video). And no one is, of course. She may have learned how to say mine, but the concept of what it means still is a bit foggy. She also does this thing where she shakes her finger and says, “no, no, no.” We had a video of it, but Ken erased it (iphone learning curve – he’s erased a few cute videos…). She still doesn’t tell us no. So, again, the word is clear but the concept fuzzy. I’m glad. But I know it won’t be long.
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