How To Plan A Goodbye Party for Grade 5 Students
In advance:
Buy cups, plates and napkins - check
Buy fruit and drinks - check
Buy present and flowers for teacher - check
Beg sister to bake famous chocolate cake for the second time in four days - check
Order pizzas for pickup at 10:45 am - check
Morning of:
Pop popcorn - check
Cut up fruit - check
Carry drinks, present, flowers and snacks to car - check
Pick up pizza - check
During:
Feverishly replenish drinks while marvelling at the amount of pop children can consume in 5 seconds flat - check
Make sure everyone has access to pizza and kick yourself because you ordered too many 'nacho' pizzas and not enough of the plain pepperoni pizzas - check
Prepare slices of chocolate cake without accidentally eating too much for the yummy frosting - check
Take tens of pictures of your boy wonder with his friends, amazed at how seamlessly and easily he fits in after only a few months in the class - check
Try hard not to cry when the class presents your son with an album of personal messages, photos and mementos for him to bring back home to Canada - check
After:
Shed a tear as you walk home again, relieved at how well everything has worked out, but sad that it is coming to an end - check
Wonder how come your son never mentioned any of the cute girls in the class, when they all seemed very taken with him - check
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
28 Apr 2008
26 Apr 2008
Change Is In The Air
For the last few weeks, I do not think I've slept past 6 am once. The sun wakes me up each morning by flooding the room with sunlight well before the alarm clock considers jumping into action.
It's a glorious way to wake up - in every sense of the word. I do not have to rush out of bed to prepare for the day. I have plenty of time to lie and think about everything and nothing, before I turn to the task of dragging two groggy boys to the breakfast table.
The evenings are equally light. Yesterday, Mike and I went out for a walk at 8:30 pm, and when we returned from an hour-long stroll around our neighbourhood, the sun was still high and bright in the sky.
These long days are one of the biggest benefits of being this far north. Sure, we pay for it during the winter, but it's a trade-off I'm happy to make.
Though there's still frost on the ground each morning, the sun quickly heats up the day and the trees, shrubs and plants are bursting to explode into full spring foliage. It won't be long now, until the last remnants of snow in the sun-deprived areas behind the garage are gone forever.
It's a glorious way to wake up - in every sense of the word. I do not have to rush out of bed to prepare for the day. I have plenty of time to lie and think about everything and nothing, before I turn to the task of dragging two groggy boys to the breakfast table.
The evenings are equally light. Yesterday, Mike and I went out for a walk at 8:30 pm, and when we returned from an hour-long stroll around our neighbourhood, the sun was still high and bright in the sky.
These long days are one of the biggest benefits of being this far north. Sure, we pay for it during the winter, but it's a trade-off I'm happy to make.
Though there's still frost on the ground each morning, the sun quickly heats up the day and the trees, shrubs and plants are bursting to explode into full spring foliage. It won't be long now, until the last remnants of snow in the sun-deprived areas behind the garage are gone forever.
Posters made by the kids to Benjamin
Transition is in the cards everywhere, as B boy said goodbye to his Norwegian school class yesterday.
After a party day at school, with yummy food, speeches and presents, he came home with letters and drawings from every child in his class, a photo album of his months at the school, not to mention lots and lots of good memories.
The level of success Benjamin's had this year is more gratifying to me than almost anything else we've done, as he was my biggest concern when we embarked on this adventure.
Unlike his big brother who charmed his way through childhood with an easy smile and friendly demeanor, Benjamin can be a bit socially awkward.
While he is the most generous and caring boy I know, when he gets into a group setting, or feels insecure, he starts acting silly and goofy, forgetting any and all manners he may have picked up along the way.
To the uninitiated, he probably seems wild, restless and out of control, when the fact of the matter is that he's shy and unsure about how to handle those feelings of insecurity.
I was worried that coming to a different school, learning another language and having to make new friends would be too much for him. Mike and I had an 'emergency' plan of withdrawing him from school if things didn't work out for him, and simply home-schooling him instead.
But children are so resilient, aren't they? Not only has Benjamin done an excellent job learning a new language, he's also made more friends here than he made in three years of school in Canada.
These last few weeks have been chock-full of playdates for my B boy, eager to squeeze in every last minute of social time with his little buddies. Plans have been made to meet up next time we're in Norway. Email and MSN addresses have been exchanged.
While B boy still suffers from awkwardness and over-excitability in new settings, he really has come such a long way in learning to manage those feelings. He's changed a lot these last 10 months, and I couldn't be prouder of my baby boy.
24 Apr 2008
Benjamin's Last Day
I guess progress is being made, packing-wise. Benjamin's closet is pretty empty at this point, and this morning he only had a couple of jeans and three or four shirts to last him until we leave on Tuesday. The rest had been packed in suitcases ready to go.
So don't ask me why I picked up more clothes for him today on my shopping quest.
The shorts were just too darn cute to pass up. And of course he needed a matching shirt to go with them. And a hat. And belt.
Of course he did.
Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, and I don't feel like I've really packed until I'm jumping up and down on the suitcases to get them to close.
Yeah, that must be it.
Tomorrow is B boy's last day in the Norwegian school. His teacher has cancelled all lessons tomorrow, and they are having a party day in his honour. Today they decorated the classroom with posters and balloons in preparation for tomorrow.
It's touching to see how much effort they're putting into making his last day a good one. We are bringing in pizzas, fruit and drinks, and my sister has baked her famous chocolate cake for the big party.
It'll be difficult to say goodbye to the class, as Benjamin's had such a good time there. We always knew he'd only be there for a little while, but still...
Moving sucks.
So don't ask me why I picked up more clothes for him today on my shopping quest.
The shorts were just too darn cute to pass up. And of course he needed a matching shirt to go with them. And a hat. And belt.
Of course he did.
Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, and I don't feel like I've really packed until I'm jumping up and down on the suitcases to get them to close.
Yeah, that must be it.
Tomorrow is B boy's last day in the Norwegian school. His teacher has cancelled all lessons tomorrow, and they are having a party day in his honour. Today they decorated the classroom with posters and balloons in preparation for tomorrow.
It's touching to see how much effort they're putting into making his last day a good one. We are bringing in pizzas, fruit and drinks, and my sister has baked her famous chocolate cake for the big party.
It'll be difficult to say goodbye to the class, as Benjamin's had such a good time there. We always knew he'd only be there for a little while, but still...
Moving sucks.
15 Apr 2008
Ode To Canada
Note: It's still snowing today, but I thought I'd spare you more weather whine. Instead, I'm going a bit preachy on y'all, as I've been psyching myself up to leave Norway and return to Canada. So without further ado...I give you my "Ode To Canada."
Babies are born colourblind. They do not distinguish between blue or brown eyes. A white face or a black one.
Babies love whoever loves them back.
As they grow, children begin to look for more than just baby lovin', but they're still making friendships based on personality traits. They remain unmoved by externals such as skin colour, gender, size or grooming for a long time. Two kids who like to talk will naturally gravitate towards each other, as will those who prefer to run and jump.
Oh, to be wise like a child again!
Children's International Summer Villages (CISV) is an organization that sends children at age 11 to camps all over the world for a month. The organization, which celebrated 50 years in 2007, was conceived by a child psychologist after the devastations of World War II.
The intent behind CISV is building peace through friendship, and its central idea is that this must begin with the younger generation.
While they are still colourblind.
I was lucky enough to go to a CISV camp in Brazil as an 11 year old girl, along with three other kids from my country. The impact this experience had on me cannot be exaggerated, as it allowed me to make friends with children whose backgrounds couldn’t have been more different from my own.
And the single most important lesson I learnt that summer was that behind those external differences, we were really all the same.
But my children are even luckier than I am. They don’t need to go to a camp half around the world – they live this reality every day in their very own community in Canada.
My boys have grown up with friends and neighbours who have different traditions, religions (occasionally wearing different clothing in deference to these religions) and skin colour, often speaking more than one language at home.
Mike and I like to refer to the children’s school as a "mini UN", filled by kids who hail from countries all around the planet. Lunchtime is a sight to see. Out come the naan and curries, the rice and the noodles, the burgers and fries, the croissants and cheese. It is a veritable feast of world cuisine.
Through school and play dates, our children and their friends take bits and pieces from their individual backgrounds, and create a brand new value system that is much more international than anything I had a chance to experience in just one month in Brazil.
We now celebrate holidays I had never heard of before, we eat foods my parents would gawk at, and we have fun doing it!
Imagine how the world would look if today's world leaders had gone to a CISV camp or grown up in a community such as ours in Canada. Would we still have all these conflicts based on either religion or a fight for wealth?
Perhaps I am naïve, but it seems to me that many of the problems in the world today are caused by fear. Fear of the unknown and fear of having things taken away (sadly, we don’t become better at sharing as we age – quite the contrary).
And as we grow older, the instinct to surround ourselves with what is familiar - and therefore less challenging - appears to become more ingrained.
We gradually become less open, less colourblind.
That's why CISV has it right – it is important to start with the younger generation.
Or better yet, grow up in a place where everyone is different. Because if different is what you are used to, what’s familiar to you – then it’s not really different at all. Or scary.
As great as Norway is - for us it has been absolutely wonderful this year – I think the future of the world relies on inter-marriage, figuratively and literally. And in that respect, Canada is light-years ahead.
Babies are born colourblind. They do not distinguish between blue or brown eyes. A white face or a black one.
Babies love whoever loves them back.
As they grow, children begin to look for more than just baby lovin', but they're still making friendships based on personality traits. They remain unmoved by externals such as skin colour, gender, size or grooming for a long time. Two kids who like to talk will naturally gravitate towards each other, as will those who prefer to run and jump.
Oh, to be wise like a child again!
Children's International Summer Villages (CISV) is an organization that sends children at age 11 to camps all over the world for a month. The organization, which celebrated 50 years in 2007, was conceived by a child psychologist after the devastations of World War II.
The intent behind CISV is building peace through friendship, and its central idea is that this must begin with the younger generation.
While they are still colourblind.
I was lucky enough to go to a CISV camp in Brazil as an 11 year old girl, along with three other kids from my country. The impact this experience had on me cannot be exaggerated, as it allowed me to make friends with children whose backgrounds couldn’t have been more different from my own.
And the single most important lesson I learnt that summer was that behind those external differences, we were really all the same.
But my children are even luckier than I am. They don’t need to go to a camp half around the world – they live this reality every day in their very own community in Canada.
My boys have grown up with friends and neighbours who have different traditions, religions (occasionally wearing different clothing in deference to these religions) and skin colour, often speaking more than one language at home.
Mike and I like to refer to the children’s school as a "mini UN", filled by kids who hail from countries all around the planet. Lunchtime is a sight to see. Out come the naan and curries, the rice and the noodles, the burgers and fries, the croissants and cheese. It is a veritable feast of world cuisine.
Through school and play dates, our children and their friends take bits and pieces from their individual backgrounds, and create a brand new value system that is much more international than anything I had a chance to experience in just one month in Brazil.
We now celebrate holidays I had never heard of before, we eat foods my parents would gawk at, and we have fun doing it!
Imagine how the world would look if today's world leaders had gone to a CISV camp or grown up in a community such as ours in Canada. Would we still have all these conflicts based on either religion or a fight for wealth?
Perhaps I am naïve, but it seems to me that many of the problems in the world today are caused by fear. Fear of the unknown and fear of having things taken away (sadly, we don’t become better at sharing as we age – quite the contrary).
And as we grow older, the instinct to surround ourselves with what is familiar - and therefore less challenging - appears to become more ingrained.
We gradually become less open, less colourblind.
That's why CISV has it right – it is important to start with the younger generation.
Or better yet, grow up in a place where everyone is different. Because if different is what you are used to, what’s familiar to you – then it’s not really different at all. Or scary.
As great as Norway is - for us it has been absolutely wonderful this year – I think the future of the world relies on inter-marriage, figuratively and literally. And in that respect, Canada is light-years ahead.
27 Mar 2008
Advanced Curriculum
Wednesday, 4 pm, somewhere in Norway
After a few tense and teary moments (tense = me, teary = the boy), we finally figured out exactly what needed to be studied for today's math test.
Fractions!
The assigned study sheet was procured through yet another trek back to school, whereafter we discussed the basics of denominators and adding and subtracting. The practice questions - courtesy of the study sheet - were in the vein of:
1/4 + 2/4 = ?
The boy was doing fine, but I was getting frazzled, trying to get him to study and finish my own work, when Mike offered to step in as homework monitor.
And promptly discarded the study sheet in favour of his own practice questions:
1/2 + 2/5 – 4/7 +1/7 = ?
Forget about learning to walk before you run, because, you know, his boy is soooo beyond that.
And never mind the boy looking more bewildered and confused than ever...
After a few tense and teary moments (tense = me, teary = the boy), we finally figured out exactly what needed to be studied for today's math test.
Fractions!
The assigned study sheet was procured through yet another trek back to school, whereafter we discussed the basics of denominators and adding and subtracting. The practice questions - courtesy of the study sheet - were in the vein of:
1/4 + 2/4 = ?
The boy was doing fine, but I was getting frazzled, trying to get him to study and finish my own work, when Mike offered to step in as homework monitor.
And promptly discarded the study sheet in favour of his own practice questions:
1/2 + 2/5 – 4/7 +1/7 = ?
Forget about learning to walk before you run, because, you know, his boy is soooo beyond that.
And never mind the boy looking more bewildered and confused than ever...
7 Jan 2008
Bye-Bye!
This morning, we woke up two very tired boys. Many, many late curtain calls had made it difficult for them to fall asleep last night, and they were totally unprepared for the 7:30 am wake-up call.
Groggy C boy and grumpy B boy ate their breakfast in silence. They dressed slooooowwwlllyy, and then sat on the couch rubbing their eyes and staring blankly out into space.
I had to help them put their outerwear on - snowpants, heavy jackets, hats, gloves. Everything zipped up. Big winter boots on. School bag - check. Lunch - check. Drink - check. The boys themselves stood there like zombies on cruise control.
After encouraging hugs and motherly statements about how fun it would be to see their school friends again after the holidays, they were ushered out into a dark, snowy Norwegian winter morning. I even waved supportively from the window until they disappeared behind the garage and I could no longer see them.
But then...
I snuck back into bed and slept for another hour.
School RULES!
Groggy C boy and grumpy B boy ate their breakfast in silence. They dressed slooooowwwlllyy, and then sat on the couch rubbing their eyes and staring blankly out into space.
I had to help them put their outerwear on - snowpants, heavy jackets, hats, gloves. Everything zipped up. Big winter boots on. School bag - check. Lunch - check. Drink - check. The boys themselves stood there like zombies on cruise control.
After encouraging hugs and motherly statements about how fun it would be to see their school friends again after the holidays, they were ushered out into a dark, snowy Norwegian winter morning. I even waved supportively from the window until they disappeared behind the garage and I could no longer see them.
But then...
I snuck back into bed and slept for another hour.
School RULES!
13 Dec 2007
Santa Lucia: To Sing And To Shop
Warning: Braggedy-braggy post ahead.
December 13th is Santa Lucia day in Scandinavia, and this morning my boys' school gathered their students in a darkened gym. There they waited until an elected girl, portraying St. Lucy, solemnly walked into the room dressed in white, wearing a crown of candles. She was followed by a procession of other little girls, also wearing white, each holding a single candle. They slowly made their way around the room, while singing hymns to Santa Lucia in their high children's voices.
I have vivid memories of being chosen as a candle girl at my school one year, and how my hands shook as I stood outside the door, waiting to go into the gym. I was fearful of the candle in my hands, and nervously excited about singing to the rest of the school. When the moment finally arrived, I recall being amazed at how quiet and enraptured my fellow students seemed as we entered the room, and what a lovely light the flickering candles cast in the gym. To an 8 year old girl, the experience was oddly moving.
Even though boys play no part in the Santa Lucia procession, I was excited for my children to experience the ceremony for the first time ever this year. What would they think of the singing? And the candles? Would they be overwhelmed by the feelings of peace and joy that I still clearly remember 30 years later, even though they'd be spectators and not participants?
I guess I'll have to ask Benjamin about that, since Christopher ended up being in the procession after all. And no, not as a girl - even though his much contested long hair might cause you to mistake him for one.
You see, recent discoveries apparently have it that, in addition to white-clad angels, Santa Lucia was also followed by a posse of Norwegian stable boys.*
Who knew?
As head stable boy, Christopher ended up singing - solo - in front of the entire school in this year's Lucia production, wearing the typical stable boy outfit of a traditional, knitted sweater, short pants and long red woolen socks.
Judging from his blank expression when I tried to share my own memories of Lucia with him this afternoon, I'm pretty sure he didn't feel all mystical and powerful, either.
He did, however, believe this to be a good first step on the way to his chosen career of "being famous." I guess that's something.
*Equal opportunity taken to a new level, clearly.
****************************************************
In other Christopher news, my the-universe-revolves-around-me-eldest-born-child just came out of bed to ask me if I can drive him to a mall tomorrow and leave him there. He wants to go shopping for his Christmas presents by himself, because "this year I want you to be surprised, not like last year, when you knew all the presents ahead of time".
[Gulp]
That puddle you're standing in is my melting heart.
December 13th is Santa Lucia day in Scandinavia, and this morning my boys' school gathered their students in a darkened gym. There they waited until an elected girl, portraying St. Lucy, solemnly walked into the room dressed in white, wearing a crown of candles. She was followed by a procession of other little girls, also wearing white, each holding a single candle. They slowly made their way around the room, while singing hymns to Santa Lucia in their high children's voices.
I have vivid memories of being chosen as a candle girl at my school one year, and how my hands shook as I stood outside the door, waiting to go into the gym. I was fearful of the candle in my hands, and nervously excited about singing to the rest of the school. When the moment finally arrived, I recall being amazed at how quiet and enraptured my fellow students seemed as we entered the room, and what a lovely light the flickering candles cast in the gym. To an 8 year old girl, the experience was oddly moving.
Even though boys play no part in the Santa Lucia procession, I was excited for my children to experience the ceremony for the first time ever this year. What would they think of the singing? And the candles? Would they be overwhelmed by the feelings of peace and joy that I still clearly remember 30 years later, even though they'd be spectators and not participants?
I guess I'll have to ask Benjamin about that, since Christopher ended up being in the procession after all. And no, not as a girl - even though his much contested long hair might cause you to mistake him for one.
You see, recent discoveries apparently have it that, in addition to white-clad angels, Santa Lucia was also followed by a posse of Norwegian stable boys.*
Who knew?
As head stable boy, Christopher ended up singing - solo - in front of the entire school in this year's Lucia production, wearing the typical stable boy outfit of a traditional, knitted sweater, short pants and long red woolen socks.
Judging from his blank expression when I tried to share my own memories of Lucia with him this afternoon, I'm pretty sure he didn't feel all mystical and powerful, either.
He did, however, believe this to be a good first step on the way to his chosen career of "being famous." I guess that's something.
*Equal opportunity taken to a new level, clearly.
****************************************************
In other Christopher news, my the-universe-revolves-around-me-eldest-born-child just came out of bed to ask me if I can drive him to a mall tomorrow and leave him there. He wants to go shopping for his Christmas presents by himself, because "this year I want you to be surprised, not like last year, when you knew all the presents ahead of time".
[Gulp]
That puddle you're standing in is my melting heart.
6 Dec 2007
Christmas Concert
Last night we went to Benjamin's Christmas Show with all the grade 2s in his Norwegian school.
The children enthusiastically sang several songs for us, all the while demonstrating highly sophisticated scarf movements. Not always in tune, but never without gusto.
Many of them also had roles in a play. Unfortunately, I am unable to relay to you the riveting story of the play, but it definitely had something to do with...eh...Christmas?
When it came to delivering their lines, the children seemed to have three options:
A. Shout them loudly, thus making me worry that the sound system might implode.
B. Whisper them softly, so I wondered if the system had in fact shut down.
C. Use a normal voice, reassuring me that the sound system was OK, but speakveryveryquickly, leaving me none the wiser as to the plot of the story.
The show was high on adorability, if less so on actual ability. A great time was had by all, and we went home with an extremely proud 7 year old. Who - if I may brag - was one of the most enthusiastic singers of all, in Norwegian.
3 Dec 2007
Where Did These Boys Come From?
This morning was a little stressful. Mike flew back to Canada for a couple of weeks, and thus woke the boys up slightly earlier than usual to say goodbye. True to form, B boy hardly budged from his curled up position, hidden from view by a massive blanket.
Christopher cried.
Christopher has a very difficult time saying goodbye. He will agonize over an upcoming farewell for weeks (which is why we rarely tell him in advance), and he'll fall apart as the moment finally arrives. There'll be tears and long hugs. It's hard and I know Mike hates saying goodbye to him. Benjamin, meanwhile, takes everything in stride. He'll give you a hug, and then he's off playing. Seemingly without a care in the world.
But the funny thing is -- once you're gone, Christopher is fine. Almost immediately, he's back to chattering about this and that, totally focused on everything around him, apparently oblivious to the fact that anyone's missing. He may mention it at bedtime, but only occasionally. And when you're back, while he's happy to see you, there's no big reunion hugs of affection. It's almost like you never left.
Benjamin, meanwhile, suffers pangs of loneliness if someone's missing from his little world. He'll recreate the moment of farewell - the one you thought he wasn't paying any attention to - and he'll agonize over the fact that he didn't tell you he loves you, or that he didn't hug or kiss you. He'll count the days until your return, the hours, and even the minutes. And once back, he's on you like a moth to a flame. Making up for all those hugs and kisses.
It amazes me that my two boys came from the same gene pool, the same womb. They barely have anything in common. Except for their incessant chattiness, I can only think of one trait they share:
A total lack of organizational skills.
I couldn't tell you how many mitts or hats B boy has lost over the years. Certainly enough to clothe of all Luxembourg's preschoolers. And maybe Iceland's too. Last year, he lost two pairs of snow pants within the first winter week, and by the end of the season, that number was in the double digits. I was just amazed that he managed to keep his jacket all season long.
Christopher isn't too bad when it comes to outerwear, but he's a mess with respect to his school books. To illustrate, allow me to recount our adventures just today...
This morning, while I was attaching his lunch bag to his bag, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the school bag's side pocket:
Me: Christopher, is this something you need?
C (taking the paper): Oh no, this is a song I need to memorize for Santa Lucia. We're doing the rehearsals today.
Me: When did you get this?
C: Last Wednesday.
Me (deep breaths - remember, child just said goodbye to father): Christopher, do you need to know this for today, or can it wait until the 13th?
C: The rehearsals are today, and we have to know it by today.
Me: Well, practice now then. Practice, practice, practice. That's all you can do. You have 30 minutes.
After school, Christopher always calls on his fancy-smancy cell phone on his loooong (4 minute) walk home:
C: Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi 'Stopher! Did you have a good day?
C: Yep.
Me: Do you have everything you need to do your homework?
C: Yes, I brought Norwegian and English today.
Me: Okay good, I'll see you soon then.
2 minutes later:
C (opening the door): Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi sweetie - how did it go with the rehearsals?
C: Fine, she just said I have to know the song by tomorrow. I didn't lose my part.
Me: That's great. Did you bring the sheet home to practice?
C (getting his books and his lunch out of his bag): Yes. But I didn't have time to eat my lunch today, so I'm going to eat it now.
Me (looking through his books):...mmm...okay. Where's your weekly homework plan?
C: I put it in my bag - it's the folded sheet.
Me (taking a deep breath, sensing what's coming next): The folded sheet is the song you need to practice. I can't see the homework plan.
C (now looking frantically in his bag): Oh...no...I thought it was the folded sheet.
Me (calm, lecturing voice): Next time maybe you could *look* at the sheet before you leave?
C (getting his jacket and toque on to go back to school, while being a bit emotional): I always have to go back to school!
Me: Christopher, you really have to learn to take responsibility for your things. It's like forgetting to practice that song this morning -- only you know what you need to do, so you have to organize and plan for it.
C (in a huff, not feeling like a lecture): OKAY. 'bye.
10 minutes later:
C (opening the door): Here's the sheet.
Me: Excellent! But...where's your toque?
C: I wasn't wearing a toque, was I?
Me (breathing deeply...again): Yes, you were, Christopher. Did you leave it at school?
C (getting emotional...again): Oh no...!
Muffled sound as he slams the door. I watch him walking dejectedly back up the road.
4 minutes later, phone rings:
C (happy now): It was in my pocket! I got to the classroom, and I realized that I'd taken off my toque because I was hot and I put it in my jacket pocket.
Me: All righty, then. I'll see you at home.
A short while later, at the house:
C (opening the front door again): OK, I have everything now, right?
Me (coming to the hall from the kitchen): I don't know, I assume you have all your books?
C: Yes, I do.
Me (waving the supposed homework plan he walked back to pick up from school): So this is the new format for the homework plan?
C (looking at the paper, groans): Oh no! I took the wrong sheet. This is the work plan for what I'm supposed to do at school. Not the homework plan.
Me: Bye, bye...
And as I watch him walk back to school for the third time that afternoon, I realize it is going to be a very long two weeks of solo parenting.
Bloggy friends -- make me feel better by telling me I'm not the only parent with this problem?
Christopher cried.
Christopher has a very difficult time saying goodbye. He will agonize over an upcoming farewell for weeks (which is why we rarely tell him in advance), and he'll fall apart as the moment finally arrives. There'll be tears and long hugs. It's hard and I know Mike hates saying goodbye to him. Benjamin, meanwhile, takes everything in stride. He'll give you a hug, and then he's off playing. Seemingly without a care in the world.
But the funny thing is -- once you're gone, Christopher is fine. Almost immediately, he's back to chattering about this and that, totally focused on everything around him, apparently oblivious to the fact that anyone's missing. He may mention it at bedtime, but only occasionally. And when you're back, while he's happy to see you, there's no big reunion hugs of affection. It's almost like you never left.
Benjamin, meanwhile, suffers pangs of loneliness if someone's missing from his little world. He'll recreate the moment of farewell - the one you thought he wasn't paying any attention to - and he'll agonize over the fact that he didn't tell you he loves you, or that he didn't hug or kiss you. He'll count the days until your return, the hours, and even the minutes. And once back, he's on you like a moth to a flame. Making up for all those hugs and kisses.
It amazes me that my two boys came from the same gene pool, the same womb. They barely have anything in common. Except for their incessant chattiness, I can only think of one trait they share:
A total lack of organizational skills.
I couldn't tell you how many mitts or hats B boy has lost over the years. Certainly enough to clothe of all Luxembourg's preschoolers. And maybe Iceland's too. Last year, he lost two pairs of snow pants within the first winter week, and by the end of the season, that number was in the double digits. I was just amazed that he managed to keep his jacket all season long.
Christopher isn't too bad when it comes to outerwear, but he's a mess with respect to his school books. To illustrate, allow me to recount our adventures just today...
This morning, while I was attaching his lunch bag to his bag, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the school bag's side pocket:
Me: Christopher, is this something you need?
C (taking the paper): Oh no, this is a song I need to memorize for Santa Lucia. We're doing the rehearsals today.
Me: When did you get this?
C: Last Wednesday.
Me (deep breaths - remember, child just said goodbye to father): Christopher, do you need to know this for today, or can it wait until the 13th?
C: The rehearsals are today, and we have to know it by today.
Me: Well, practice now then. Practice, practice, practice. That's all you can do. You have 30 minutes.
After school, Christopher always calls on his fancy-smancy cell phone on his loooong (4 minute) walk home:
C: Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi 'Stopher! Did you have a good day?
C: Yep.
Me: Do you have everything you need to do your homework?
C: Yes, I brought Norwegian and English today.
Me: Okay good, I'll see you soon then.
2 minutes later:
C (opening the door): Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi sweetie - how did it go with the rehearsals?
C: Fine, she just said I have to know the song by tomorrow. I didn't lose my part.
Me: That's great. Did you bring the sheet home to practice?
C (getting his books and his lunch out of his bag): Yes. But I didn't have time to eat my lunch today, so I'm going to eat it now.
Me (looking through his books):...mmm...okay. Where's your weekly homework plan?
C: I put it in my bag - it's the folded sheet.
Me (taking a deep breath, sensing what's coming next): The folded sheet is the song you need to practice. I can't see the homework plan.
C (now looking frantically in his bag): Oh...no...I thought it was the folded sheet.
Me (calm, lecturing voice): Next time maybe you could *look* at the sheet before you leave?
C (getting his jacket and toque on to go back to school, while being a bit emotional): I always have to go back to school!
Me: Christopher, you really have to learn to take responsibility for your things. It's like forgetting to practice that song this morning -- only you know what you need to do, so you have to organize and plan for it.
C (in a huff, not feeling like a lecture): OKAY. 'bye.
10 minutes later:
C (opening the door): Here's the sheet.
Me: Excellent! But...where's your toque?
C: I wasn't wearing a toque, was I?
Me (breathing deeply...again): Yes, you were, Christopher. Did you leave it at school?
C (getting emotional...again): Oh no...!
Muffled sound as he slams the door. I watch him walking dejectedly back up the road.
4 minutes later, phone rings:
C (happy now): It was in my pocket! I got to the classroom, and I realized that I'd taken off my toque because I was hot and I put it in my jacket pocket.
Me: All righty, then. I'll see you at home.
A short while later, at the house:
C (opening the front door again): OK, I have everything now, right?
Me (coming to the hall from the kitchen): I don't know, I assume you have all your books?
C: Yes, I do.
Me (waving the supposed homework plan he walked back to pick up from school): So this is the new format for the homework plan?
C (looking at the paper, groans): Oh no! I took the wrong sheet. This is the work plan for what I'm supposed to do at school. Not the homework plan.
Me: Bye, bye...
And as I watch him walk back to school for the third time that afternoon, I realize it is going to be a very long two weeks of solo parenting.
Bloggy friends -- make me feel better by telling me I'm not the only parent with this problem?
6 Nov 2007
Homework At Our House
I'm sitting in our dining room watching, out of the corner of my eye, as Christopher prepares to do homework. He has just come home from a friend's house, it's 4:30 pm, and the sun is already setting. I've suggested he do his homework at the kitchen table, because the light is better there.
As I write this, I've counted him going back and forth from the kitchen to his school bag in the hallway 3 times. Each time carrying a single item from his bag. First his math book. Then his notebook. And finally, his pencil case.
There is no way a girl could've been this distracted, is there? She would have been able to get all three things out of her bag at once, surely? Or better yet, moved the school bag into the kitchen? Heck, most boys may even have thought of this. But not my Christopher. He's too busy chatting to anyone who'll listen to concentrate on what he should be doing.
[One hour later...]
Christopher continues to do his homework. He finished his math pretty quickly. Math is easy for that child, but he still manages to make it look horrendously complicated by being so. darn. messy.
He is now reading about Northern Norway. I understand that this is difficult for him, seeing as it is in Norwegian and all. But he has come into the dining room twice in the last 5 minutes with sentences starting like this: "You know, when we were in Hawaii last year..."
"Stop right there, Christopher! Unless Hawaii has suddenly become part of Northern Norway, you need to go back to your work." I say with as much firmness as my voice can muster (and believe you me, that's quite a lot).
He's clearly taken aback, because 2 minutes later I hear: "Are we having pizza toni..."
"Christopher! Nose. In. Book."
30 seconds later, realizing he's getting nowhere with me, he attempts this one on Mike: "Do you remember in Planet Earth, when the baby whale drank 3000 liters of milk a day?"
Mike acknowledges the question, says he can't deny that this is an interesting fact, but shouldn't Christopher be doing something else right now?
Why yes, he should. Northern Norway. Keywords in notebook. Now.
Please tell me it isn't just him?
*******************************************************
Rewind 4 hours, to when Benjamin came home from school happy as could be. Rosy cheeks from the crisp air, jacket unzipped, just to drive his mother batty. He bounced joyfully into the house and declared to no one in particular, "I don't want to do homework the very minute I walk in the door." (Never mind that he'd already played for 2 hours in the after school programme at school). I told him if he wanted to play outside for a while, he could do so while it was still light, but that as soon as he came inside, it would be homework time. No playing inside before homework was done.
Wouldn't you know that he proceeded to stay outside for an hour? Using his scooter, he went around and around and around the block. Aimlessly and without any purpose, other than avoiding homework.
*******************************************************
So I guess it isn't just Christopher after all...argh!
As I write this, I've counted him going back and forth from the kitchen to his school bag in the hallway 3 times. Each time carrying a single item from his bag. First his math book. Then his notebook. And finally, his pencil case.
There is no way a girl could've been this distracted, is there? She would have been able to get all three things out of her bag at once, surely? Or better yet, moved the school bag into the kitchen? Heck, most boys may even have thought of this. But not my Christopher. He's too busy chatting to anyone who'll listen to concentrate on what he should be doing.
[One hour later...]
Christopher continues to do his homework. He finished his math pretty quickly. Math is easy for that child, but he still manages to make it look horrendously complicated by being so. darn. messy.
He is now reading about Northern Norway. I understand that this is difficult for him, seeing as it is in Norwegian and all. But he has come into the dining room twice in the last 5 minutes with sentences starting like this: "You know, when we were in Hawaii last year..."
"Stop right there, Christopher! Unless Hawaii has suddenly become part of Northern Norway, you need to go back to your work." I say with as much firmness as my voice can muster (and believe you me, that's quite a lot).
He's clearly taken aback, because 2 minutes later I hear: "Are we having pizza toni..."
"Christopher! Nose. In. Book."
30 seconds later, realizing he's getting nowhere with me, he attempts this one on Mike: "Do you remember in Planet Earth, when the baby whale drank 3000 liters of milk a day?"
Mike acknowledges the question, says he can't deny that this is an interesting fact, but shouldn't Christopher be doing something else right now?
Why yes, he should. Northern Norway. Keywords in notebook. Now.
Please tell me it isn't just him?
*******************************************************
Rewind 4 hours, to when Benjamin came home from school happy as could be. Rosy cheeks from the crisp air, jacket unzipped, just to drive his mother batty. He bounced joyfully into the house and declared to no one in particular, "I don't want to do homework the very minute I walk in the door." (Never mind that he'd already played for 2 hours in the after school programme at school). I told him if he wanted to play outside for a while, he could do so while it was still light, but that as soon as he came inside, it would be homework time. No playing inside before homework was done.
Wouldn't you know that he proceeded to stay outside for an hour? Using his scooter, he went around and around and around the block. Aimlessly and without any purpose, other than avoiding homework.
*******************************************************
So I guess it isn't just Christopher after all...argh!
10 Oct 2007
Once Upon A Time There Was a Field Trip
or
I Love Norwegian School - Part Four Hundred And Seventy Three
Today, in between stressing about the Thanksgiving Feast I am preparing for La Famiglia tomorrow, I managed to get out in the glorious fall weather for a field trip with B boy and his grade 2 class. Fortysome 6 and 7 year-olds, two teachers, and two volunteers walked for about 40 minutes from the school and into the woods to an idyllic three sided timber "koie" (cabin) in a clearing in the forest. Surrounding it were logs and stumps strategically placed for seating, and inside the cabin was a massive fire pit with a flap system in the roof to allow the smoke to escape upwards, and more tree stumps for seating.
The kids spent the next two hours climbing around in trees and on the logs around the cabin. Robes had been tied from tree to tree for extra balancing or swinging amusement.
Although there was a chill in the air, the sun was shining and the crackling fire we lit in the fire pit provided plenty of heat. While most of the boys fought imaginary battles on an epic scale with sticks and branches, the girls had fun gathering leaves into giant piles they could jump into.
After a while, the kids were split into a boy group and a girl group. The girls were ushered into the cabin, where one of the teachers proceeded to read the fairy tale 'Goldilocks' to them. The boys, meanwhile, sat outside on tree stumps placed in a circle, listening to their teacher reading 'The Three Little Pigs'.
They were then divided into even smaller groups and told to reenact the story they'd just heard. This caused a great deal of amusement and boisterous applause from their peers, especially among the boys who were eventually told to lower their voices, as they were drowning out all other sounds from far and wide.
Lunch time finally arrived, and the kids whipped out sausages, cheese sandwiches, and even noodles (!) to cook over the open fire. Many of them had brought nifty little telescopic BBQ tools that could be extended and used to spear their food for grilling. They also had styrofoam seating pads to protect themselves from the cool ground and thermoses with hot chocolate to keep warm.
After lunch, we collected garbage in a couple of plastic bags and put out the fire in the koie, before we headed back to civilization again. As we arrived at school, the kids had an hour left of the day, which was just enough time to write about their experiences in the forest.
It was definitely Benjamin's kind of school day! And who can blame him?
I think it's great that the school is willing to sacrifice learning time in class for experiences like this. You can't help but smile when you watch the kids running around with rosy cheeks and bubbling enthusiasm for anything the forest has to offer.
Life is going to get serious enough for these second graders soon enough, so I am all for letting them be kids for as long as possible. And I'll try not to worry if B boy hasn't mastered long division before the ripe old age of 8.
It was also one of those moments when you realize that the boys do perfectly well without their PlayStation, Wii, DS, TV and MP3 player. They don't even need a fancy destination for their field trip. A couple of sticks and a friend or two, and they can make things happen all on their own!
I Love Norwegian School - Part Four Hundred And Seventy Three
Today, in between stressing about the Thanksgiving Feast I am preparing for La Famiglia tomorrow, I managed to get out in the glorious fall weather for a field trip with B boy and his grade 2 class. Fortysome 6 and 7 year-olds, two teachers, and two volunteers walked for about 40 minutes from the school and into the woods to an idyllic three sided timber "koie" (cabin) in a clearing in the forest. Surrounding it were logs and stumps strategically placed for seating, and inside the cabin was a massive fire pit with a flap system in the roof to allow the smoke to escape upwards, and more tree stumps for seating.
The kids spent the next two hours climbing around in trees and on the logs around the cabin. Robes had been tied from tree to tree for extra balancing or swinging amusement.
Although there was a chill in the air, the sun was shining and the crackling fire we lit in the fire pit provided plenty of heat. While most of the boys fought imaginary battles on an epic scale with sticks and branches, the girls had fun gathering leaves into giant piles they could jump into.
After a while, the kids were split into a boy group and a girl group. The girls were ushered into the cabin, where one of the teachers proceeded to read the fairy tale 'Goldilocks' to them. The boys, meanwhile, sat outside on tree stumps placed in a circle, listening to their teacher reading 'The Three Little Pigs'.
They were then divided into even smaller groups and told to reenact the story they'd just heard. This caused a great deal of amusement and boisterous applause from their peers, especially among the boys who were eventually told to lower their voices, as they were drowning out all other sounds from far and wide.
Lunch time finally arrived, and the kids whipped out sausages, cheese sandwiches, and even noodles (!) to cook over the open fire. Many of them had brought nifty little telescopic BBQ tools that could be extended and used to spear their food for grilling. They also had styrofoam seating pads to protect themselves from the cool ground and thermoses with hot chocolate to keep warm.
After lunch, we collected garbage in a couple of plastic bags and put out the fire in the koie, before we headed back to civilization again. As we arrived at school, the kids had an hour left of the day, which was just enough time to write about their experiences in the forest.
It was definitely Benjamin's kind of school day! And who can blame him?
I think it's great that the school is willing to sacrifice learning time in class for experiences like this. You can't help but smile when you watch the kids running around with rosy cheeks and bubbling enthusiasm for anything the forest has to offer.
Life is going to get serious enough for these second graders soon enough, so I am all for letting them be kids for as long as possible. And I'll try not to worry if B boy hasn't mastered long division before the ripe old age of 8.
It was also one of those moments when you realize that the boys do perfectly well without their PlayStation, Wii, DS, TV and MP3 player. They don't even need a fancy destination for their field trip. A couple of sticks and a friend or two, and they can make things happen all on their own!
5 Sept 2007
What...he loves school?!
My boys are fairly typical, I think, in that they are "fine" with school, but given a choice, they'd stay home any day. No surprise there, right?
Imagine my shock, then, when I realized that Christopher now loves school. He is thrilled with the shorter hours, the freedom he is experiencing here, not to mention his hectic social schedule. I feel like he has grown up and matured so much over the past few weeks - and it's only been two and a half weeks of school. At this rate, he'll be unrecognizable by the time he gets back to Canada.
School starts at 8:30 am every day. Monday through Thursday, Christopher finishes school at 2 pm. But get this - on Fridays he is done at noon. It's so civilized! Top that off with a rule saying no homework allowed on weekends - and I don't know who is happier, Christopher or his school-weary parents! No more PowerPoint presentations to finish on Saturday, no more tests to cram for on Sunday.
Yes - "life with school" has suddenly got a whole lot brighter. And it bears mentioning that Benjamin is also done at noon on Fridays, which gives us a precious few extra hours to fly/drive away for the weekend....Stockholm...Copenhagen...London...Paris...here we come!
The more important thing is that even on longer days Christopher is perfectly content to go to school, be at school and hang out with his buddies. He plays soccer at recess and during the longer lunch break. He occasionally checks up on his brother, and according to B boy, he is always accompanied by a friend or two. But most of all, he is busy planning his schedule for the afternoon.
As soon as school is out, Christopher whips out his most prized possession - his new cell phone - and checks in with us. We just wait for the inevitable question to come (in Norwegian): "Can I go home with so-and-so?"...or... "I'm bringing so-and-so home. Can we make waffles?"
And the best part of it is - he has the time to go out in the afternoon. Partly because he has much less homework than what we are used to, and partly because he finishes earlier at school here.
It is wonderful to see how the boys organize themselves. You might think it would be all electronics and indoor activities, but, surprisingly, they spend a lot of time outside. They go to each other's house to jump on trampolines (no respectable family is without a trampoline in Norway) or they kick a ball around on the soccer field just below the school.
I was not sure what to expect from the other kids in the class Christopher joined this fall. I realized that his "foreign-ness" could be seen as cool, but it could just as easily have worked against him. You have to know that these kids have been in the same class, with the same teacher for 4 years already. They do not reshuffle classes from year to year here, so the children obviously get to know each other very well. The school is also much more proactive at arranging after school activities on a class by class basis. There are class sleepovers from grade 1, disco nights, games nights, sports nights, etc. That's a lot of bonding!
On top of that, foreign students are extremely unusual at this school. We are simply too far away from Oslo to get any of the expats or new immigrants. In fact, I think I mentioned in a previous posting that we are rather famous at our little school as "the Canadians". The teachers all knew we were coming before we'd even had a chance to go to the school to introduce ourselves!
Knock on wood - but so far the kids in Christopher's class have welcomed him with open arms. No one seems to pick on him for his grammar being off at times, or the occasional misunderstandings that are inevitable with a new language. It is heartwarming to hear them talking together. They do not even correct him when he uses the wrong word or messes up the word order. They simply reply as they would to any other kid. Amazing.
Imagine my shock, then, when I realized that Christopher now loves school. He is thrilled with the shorter hours, the freedom he is experiencing here, not to mention his hectic social schedule. I feel like he has grown up and matured so much over the past few weeks - and it's only been two and a half weeks of school. At this rate, he'll be unrecognizable by the time he gets back to Canada.
School starts at 8:30 am every day. Monday through Thursday, Christopher finishes school at 2 pm. But get this - on Fridays he is done at noon. It's so civilized! Top that off with a rule saying no homework allowed on weekends - and I don't know who is happier, Christopher or his school-weary parents! No more PowerPoint presentations to finish on Saturday, no more tests to cram for on Sunday.
Yes - "life with school" has suddenly got a whole lot brighter. And it bears mentioning that Benjamin is also done at noon on Fridays, which gives us a precious few extra hours to fly/drive away for the weekend....Stockholm...Copenhagen...London...Paris...here we come!
The more important thing is that even on longer days Christopher is perfectly content to go to school, be at school and hang out with his buddies. He plays soccer at recess and during the longer lunch break. He occasionally checks up on his brother, and according to B boy, he is always accompanied by a friend or two. But most of all, he is busy planning his schedule for the afternoon.
As soon as school is out, Christopher whips out his most prized possession - his new cell phone - and checks in with us. We just wait for the inevitable question to come (in Norwegian): "Can I go home with so-and-so?"...or... "I'm bringing so-and-so home. Can we make waffles?"
And the best part of it is - he has the time to go out in the afternoon. Partly because he has much less homework than what we are used to, and partly because he finishes earlier at school here.
It is wonderful to see how the boys organize themselves. You might think it would be all electronics and indoor activities, but, surprisingly, they spend a lot of time outside. They go to each other's house to jump on trampolines (no respectable family is without a trampoline in Norway) or they kick a ball around on the soccer field just below the school.
I was not sure what to expect from the other kids in the class Christopher joined this fall. I realized that his "foreign-ness" could be seen as cool, but it could just as easily have worked against him. You have to know that these kids have been in the same class, with the same teacher for 4 years already. They do not reshuffle classes from year to year here, so the children obviously get to know each other very well. The school is also much more proactive at arranging after school activities on a class by class basis. There are class sleepovers from grade 1, disco nights, games nights, sports nights, etc. That's a lot of bonding!
On top of that, foreign students are extremely unusual at this school. We are simply too far away from Oslo to get any of the expats or new immigrants. In fact, I think I mentioned in a previous posting that we are rather famous at our little school as "the Canadians". The teachers all knew we were coming before we'd even had a chance to go to the school to introduce ourselves!
Knock on wood - but so far the kids in Christopher's class have welcomed him with open arms. No one seems to pick on him for his grammar being off at times, or the occasional misunderstandings that are inevitable with a new language. It is heartwarming to hear them talking together. They do not even correct him when he uses the wrong word or messes up the word order. They simply reply as they would to any other kid. Amazing.
30 Aug 2007
What we do on Thursdays
As soon as school is done for the day, we like to take the boys out. Sometimes we go down to Drammen, like when we went to see the new library they'd opened. Other times we check out the local area here in Konnerud. Last night, we went to see Joakim play soccer and stayed for a while afterwards to kick the ball around with the boys. We also like going for walks in the forest, and occasionally we drop in and visit family. We do stay home some afternoons, and simply hang out and watch a movie, or jump on the trampoline with the kiddies.
Having these afternoons and evenings to do with what we please is such a change from last school year, when Christopher often had to spend hours on homework each afternoon and evening. Not to mention the lovely PowerPoint presentations that always seemed to be due on a Monday, meaning another weekend gone. I blame any wrinkles and grey hair solely on Christopher's workload last year, and the stress of fighting with him to complete it.
That is exactly why we are now trying to seize every opportunity to head out in the afternoon and early evening, and are truly relishing this new found freedom.
Except every other Thursday. On those days you will not find us venturing far from our house. No matter what might be happening elsewhere, we have to stay at home. In case of an emergency, only one person can go out, the other must stay home with the kids. "Why?" you might ask. Because every other Thursday night is Ice Cream night. That's when the ice cream truck comes to visit.
As soon as we hear that telltale bell, the kids and I rush out to stop the driver from leaving again. Not that we really need to worry. With our track record, the ice cream truck now stops directly in front of our house. Clearly, he knows where the VIP customers reside. You can almost see him rubbing his hands in gleeful delight as we come charging down the walkway towards him, money in hand.
We buy boxes and boxes of ice cream cones, ice cream sandwiches and popsicles in the hopes that they might last us the next fortnight. I prefer not to think about the amount of ice cream we actually consume in a week.
The very first Ice Cream Thursday we were here, we bought what I thought was a respectable amount of ice cream sure to last us the next two weeks. Boy, was I wrong! One visit from the cousins the next day, and we were almost out. The boys had gone to town in our freezer.
I lamented to my father about the ice cream shortage and my miscalculation, and that's when he confided in me that there is in fact ANOTHER ice cream truck, which comes every other Wednesday. "Why," I wondered, "had I not been told about this other ice cream truck previously?" Well, apparently not all ice cream manufacturers are equal, and my family has a favourite...
You probably know where I am going with this one already - not being connoisseurs of ice cream, we are happy to take any brand. Until one company offers us frequent buyer points or the volume discount we so clearly deserve, we are loyalty-less! That's why we now have ice cream trucks stopping in front of our house on Thursday one week and then on Wednesday the following week.
Having these afternoons and evenings to do with what we please is such a change from last school year, when Christopher often had to spend hours on homework each afternoon and evening. Not to mention the lovely PowerPoint presentations that always seemed to be due on a Monday, meaning another weekend gone. I blame any wrinkles and grey hair solely on Christopher's workload last year, and the stress of fighting with him to complete it.
That is exactly why we are now trying to seize every opportunity to head out in the afternoon and early evening, and are truly relishing this new found freedom.
Except every other Thursday. On those days you will not find us venturing far from our house. No matter what might be happening elsewhere, we have to stay at home. In case of an emergency, only one person can go out, the other must stay home with the kids. "Why?" you might ask. Because every other Thursday night is Ice Cream night. That's when the ice cream truck comes to visit.
As soon as we hear that telltale bell, the kids and I rush out to stop the driver from leaving again. Not that we really need to worry. With our track record, the ice cream truck now stops directly in front of our house. Clearly, he knows where the VIP customers reside. You can almost see him rubbing his hands in gleeful delight as we come charging down the walkway towards him, money in hand.
We buy boxes and boxes of ice cream cones, ice cream sandwiches and popsicles in the hopes that they might last us the next fortnight. I prefer not to think about the amount of ice cream we actually consume in a week.
The very first Ice Cream Thursday we were here, we bought what I thought was a respectable amount of ice cream sure to last us the next two weeks. Boy, was I wrong! One visit from the cousins the next day, and we were almost out. The boys had gone to town in our freezer.
I lamented to my father about the ice cream shortage and my miscalculation, and that's when he confided in me that there is in fact ANOTHER ice cream truck, which comes every other Wednesday. "Why," I wondered, "had I not been told about this other ice cream truck previously?" Well, apparently not all ice cream manufacturers are equal, and my family has a favourite...
You probably know where I am going with this one already - not being connoisseurs of ice cream, we are happy to take any brand. Until one company offers us frequent buyer points or the volume discount we so clearly deserve, we are loyalty-less! That's why we now have ice cream trucks stopping in front of our house on Thursday one week and then on Wednesday the following week.
24 Aug 2007
Status Report - Week 1
Christopher came home from school with a friend today. Oh happy days! I can't remember ever being so happy to hear that a friend of the boys was coming over. So far, Christopher has handled this transition with amazing ease. He does all his homework in Norwegian and has made several friends already. And he almost only speaks to me in Norwegian! Wow!
Benjamin is still working on making close friends, but he is happy to go to school (he has rated the school a 9 out of 10), and plays with most kids, even if he does not actually speak with them. It is amazing how kids find a way to talk without a common language. And let's not forget that he has a birthday party to go to tonight.
We always knew the jump to a Norwegian school would be a little harder for B boy. Speaking almost no Norwegian, he does not have the linguistic foundation Christopher has. He is also not as socially aware as Christopher, and can be quite shy. Unlike his big brother who does not understand the meaning of that word.
Still, all in all, I have to say that this has been a great week. One of our hopes for this trip is that the boys get a good grip on the Norwegian language, and I have to say that at this rate, we will have reached our objective well before Christmas.
Benjamin is still working on making close friends, but he is happy to go to school (he has rated the school a 9 out of 10), and plays with most kids, even if he does not actually speak with them. It is amazing how kids find a way to talk without a common language. And let's not forget that he has a birthday party to go to tonight.
We always knew the jump to a Norwegian school would be a little harder for B boy. Speaking almost no Norwegian, he does not have the linguistic foundation Christopher has. He is also not as socially aware as Christopher, and can be quite shy. Unlike his big brother who does not understand the meaning of that word.
Still, all in all, I have to say that this has been a great week. One of our hopes for this trip is that the boys get a good grip on the Norwegian language, and I have to say that at this rate, we will have reached our objective well before Christmas.
23 Aug 2007
Hallermoen
Try picturing this: A handful of single-story, brown wooden buildings with brightly coloured doors scattered around a playground in a clearing, and surrounded by large, mature trees in a small forest. An obstacle course with huge logs used as balance beams, ropes and wooden ladders off to one side of the buildings. On the other, in another small clearing, a soccer pitch has been marked out with gravel.
Can you see it with your inner eye? Leaves fluttering gently in the summer breeze...the sun's rays peeking through the tree tops. Serenity reigns - until the bell rings.
Out run 450 students with excess energy to burn off for the next 15 minutes. They attack the slides on the wooden playground with gusto. Launch an assault on the climbing frames erected around the slides, and jump on the balance beams with an agility indicating that this is not the first time. Down in the smaller clearing, the older boys have taken their shirts off on the warm day, and are continuing the soccer game from yesterday's recess.
The screams of joy, occasionally a shout of pain. Young voices everywhere.
Then the bell rings again. Children rushing this way and that way as their classroom doors open, and they are swallowed up by the little brown buildings. Peace and tranquility fall yet again over Hallermoen elementary school. You can almost hear a collective sigh of relief from the trees that yet another recess is over.
I cannot conceive of anything more idyllic than this setting for a school.
Can you see it with your inner eye? Leaves fluttering gently in the summer breeze...the sun's rays peeking through the tree tops. Serenity reigns - until the bell rings.
Out run 450 students with excess energy to burn off for the next 15 minutes. They attack the slides on the wooden playground with gusto. Launch an assault on the climbing frames erected around the slides, and jump on the balance beams with an agility indicating that this is not the first time. Down in the smaller clearing, the older boys have taken their shirts off on the warm day, and are continuing the soccer game from yesterday's recess.
The screams of joy, occasionally a shout of pain. Young voices everywhere.
Then the bell rings again. Children rushing this way and that way as their classroom doors open, and they are swallowed up by the little brown buildings. Peace and tranquility fall yet again over Hallermoen elementary school. You can almost hear a collective sigh of relief from the trees that yet another recess is over.
I cannot conceive of anything more idyllic than this setting for a school.
20 Aug 2007
And so it begins...
...the very first day of school here in Norway. We came along for the ride, even though kids most often go to school unaccompanied in these areas. Christopher had not slept all that well, and was a little nervous this morning. I don't blame him. Going into grade 5 as a new kid can't be easy. I changed schools a few times myself growing up, and I clearly remember that sinking feeling in your gut as you walk into a classroom and feel like everyone is staring, assessing you and what you're worth. Yuk. Of course, Christopher also had to deal with a new language and a school system he is completely unfamiliar with.
The things we do to our kids!
Benjamin was, in his own words "scared, excited and nervous", but while Christopher was dragging his feet a bit, making the 2 minute walk to school twice as long (yes, a full 4 minutes), Benjamin trodded along seemingly without a care. Funny, I always figure B boy to be the one who needs my guidance and support, whereas Christopher usually lands with his feet on the ground. Today, however, I have to say that I was so proud of my baby boy. Even though he speaks next to no Norwegian, he walked into that classroom as if he had done so a million times before. He sat down in the middle of a bench, with new kids all around him and clearly tried to follow what the teacher said. I was amazed.
We left the kids at the school for the school day, which turned out to be only three hours long. It was a type of orientation day. As we returned at noon, Christopher was waiting for us, excited to tell us that he had made a new friend, and wanted to know what our address was. Apparently, he had been asked where he lives and realized he has no idea! Bad mommy! He also requested a cell phone ASAP, so he can call us next time he is going to stay after school to play soccer with the other kids. Music to my ears. We'll have to see about that cell phone, though...
Benjamin rated the school a 9 out of 10. His class of 23 students has a blueberry picking trip scheduled for Wednesday, which he is excited about. The only problem is that he doesn't like blueberries. I guess he'll have to learn.
All in all, a successful day. Christopher was not the only one who did not sleep well last night, and I dare say most of us will be sleeping soundly tonight!
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