So, today my 14-year old daughter announced, "Mom, I just finished my grammar curriculum. And I only have one lesson left in my French book. And, don't forget that I'm turning 15 on Sunday."
Wow.
Then, my 12-year old daughter said, "I just have four lessons left in math."
The subject that has been the cause of daily tears, angst, and occasional curse words.
And I looked through all of our curriculum and realized, we are almost finished! A whole school year, almost complete!
Now, for all of you lifelong teachers, this is most likely second-nature for you. Of course, after a whole year of lessons, labs, demonstrations and tests, it is of course time to wave goodbye to the past school year and begin planning for the next. But for me, the freshman homeschool mom who decided that being a music teacher qualified me to teach my own middle and high school children, this is a monumental day. After a year of high hopes that often dwindled to thoughts of, "Well, at least she is young for her age...if she ends up having to repeat a grade level, no one will even know..." this is a great day. We are actually completing some things. And while I didn't always work in the applicable field trip at the right time ("What??? We're already to the Rise of Rome and we never made it to the Ancient Egypt exhibition at the museum??) I can also see that we've actually made...dare I say it...progress.
We know a lot more about Shakespeare. And fractions. Predicate adjectives, and complex sentences. And while it might not have been on our standardized tests, we've also figured out how to transfer to the express subway train when it makes sense. And when to stay put on the local because the crowds are so bad, you might get squished to death. We know our way around Central Park. And we know a lot, LOT, more about each other.
Progress is a funny word. Defined as, "movement, development or growth," I realize that we have, indeed, made a lot of progress over this first year of homeschooling, despite all of my shortcomings as a teacher. I will never forget these days of learning, both inside our little apartment walls, and within the wide boundaries of this great, great city.
My Abby will be leaving next year, to make her way at LaGuardia Arts High School. I will miss her greatly, and admire the independent learner she has become.
My Emma will remain with me at least another year, and I am extremely happy about this. I think Piper, our puppy, would have emotional distress if both girls went away to school at once. (OK, it's me that would have the emotional distress.)
Off to plan how to get through those final four math lessons...
Here's to progress. Cheers.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Never Say Never
I've never been much of a pet person. Growing up, that was my sister's job. I am not exaggerating when I say that she would gladly throw herself in front of a bus if it meant saving a fuzzy, four-legged creature. At any given time in our home, you might find hamsters, cats, dogs, rabbits, guinea pigs, and during one season, a cage full of tiny white mice, crawling all over each other. My sister was rarely seen without a dog sleeping next to her, or a cat draped around her neck, or a rodent scurrying up her arm. She was clearly born with the animal-loving gene, and I decided early on that I was not.
My husband was even more animal-averse than I, so when we married in 1991, we jointly declared that our residences from that point forward would be animal-free. Don't get me wrong-we would pet furry friends along the way, and thought they were really cute...but we could never comprehend why you would voluntarily sign up for cleaning shedding hair off your new sofa, finding sticky accidents on your lovely wood floors, and paying for shots and food and medical check-ups...wasn't it hard enough to do those things for the humans in the home? I remember friends agonizing over the decision of whether or not to have their pets put to sleep when they were old, or ill, and watching the pain they endured after losing their dear companions. I wondered why anyone would subject themselves to such trauma-was it really that worth it to have an adoring fan who would greet you at the door each day?
These were some of the arguments I gave when Cameron first brought up the puppy possibility. Along with the fact that I would, without question, end up being the one to remember to feed it and walk it and clean up the messes. And what happened to you, anyway? You were with me every time the girls approached the idea...when did you turn to the dark side? Remember how we failed miserably during our two brief pet attempts? The fish who catapulted itself out of the bowl and the rabbit whose skiddish claws scared our daughters so much that they wouldn't take him out of the cage? When did you decide that this family was fit to train and raise a living, breathing puppy?
But in the still of night, when the snow plows were so loud I couldn't sleep, I began to think about the soft fur of a baby puppy. I remembered watching our Texas neighbors out in the front yard with their brand new Lab puppy, rolling balls and playing fetch, spending hours becoming life-long companions. I began to google youtube clips of every imaginable breed, reading up on which ones do well in apartments, get along with kids, are easier to housebreak...I was becoming obsessed.
And then, one afternoon, Cameron had the audacity to email this to me.
These were some of the arguments I gave when Cameron first brought up the puppy possibility. Along with the fact that I would, without question, end up being the one to remember to feed it and walk it and clean up the messes. And what happened to you, anyway? You were with me every time the girls approached the idea...when did you turn to the dark side? Remember how we failed miserably during our two brief pet attempts? The fish who catapulted itself out of the bowl and the rabbit whose skiddish claws scared our daughters so much that they wouldn't take him out of the cage? When did you decide that this family was fit to train and raise a living, breathing puppy?
But in the still of night, when the snow plows were so loud I couldn't sleep, I began to think about the soft fur of a baby puppy. I remembered watching our Texas neighbors out in the front yard with their brand new Lab puppy, rolling balls and playing fetch, spending hours becoming life-long companions. I began to google youtube clips of every imaginable breed, reading up on which ones do well in apartments, get along with kids, are easier to housebreak...I was becoming obsessed.
And then, one afternoon, Cameron had the audacity to email this to me.
A picture from the breeder. A tiny little maltese girl with an Alfalfa-esque sprig of hair that still, to this day, will not lay all the way down. And that was all she wrote. This was our new baby. Little Piper. The sweet bundle of tomboy and princess all rolled up into one precious ball of fluff. The tiny tongue that kisses you like you're the greatest person God ever created. The proud prancer who carries her teething bones across the room like they're made of 14-karat gold. The sweet little friend that loves all four of us in completely different ways. We've had her for two months now, and we already can't remember what life before Piper was like.
I never dreamed we would have wee-wee pads, crates and exercise pens taking up so much real estate in our little apartment. I never dreamed my girls would actually get up in the middle of the night to take a puppy to the bathroom. I never dreamed I could love a dog so much.
But as I'm learning more and more the older I get, never say never.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Blink
My mom used to tell me, "Just wait. You'll blink your eyes and decades will have passed. You'll look up and see your grown kids having kids of their own, and you'll have no idea how so much happened so fast."
I wanted to believe her when I was in Jr. High-I hated those years. But every time I blinked, things looked exactly the same...I was chubby, the boy I had a crush on was still dating the head cheerleader, and being the first-chair flute player in the band equalled zero points on the popularity meter. In fact, I think it actually caused my meter to dip down into the negatives.
I wanted to believe her when my second daughter was colicky and cried without ceasing for months on end. But even when I blinked as slowly as I possibly could, she was still howling, whether in her carseat on top of the dryer, in her bouncy chair in front of a running shower, or any of the other mythical colic-relieving places my "What to Expect" book talked about.
I especially wanted to believe her when my oldest would come home from grade school with hurt feelings and a broken heart. How I wanted to fast forward to better days, when differences would be valued instead of becoming fodder for cruel teasing. But blink after blink, her little head remained buried in the pillow, sobbing and wishing to be anyone else but herself.
Today, however, I believe what my mother said. When I looked at the date this morning and realized that it's been SIX months since the day we waved goodbye to Texas and said hello to NYC, I could hardly believe it. Whether it's my ripe old age or just the effect of living in a fast-paced city, there's no denying that all that's happened in this half of a calendar year truly feels like a blink.
Because it would take too long to neatly list out all that's transpired in our new adventure, and in honor of the Christmas holiday, I've decided to condense the highlights of the past six months into a song, a la "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I will, however, cut the length in half in case you truly want to sing aloud. So, without further ado, I give you "The Six Months of City Life."
I wanted to believe her when I was in Jr. High-I hated those years. But every time I blinked, things looked exactly the same...I was chubby, the boy I had a crush on was still dating the head cheerleader, and being the first-chair flute player in the band equalled zero points on the popularity meter. In fact, I think it actually caused my meter to dip down into the negatives.
I wanted to believe her when my second daughter was colicky and cried without ceasing for months on end. But even when I blinked as slowly as I possibly could, she was still howling, whether in her carseat on top of the dryer, in her bouncy chair in front of a running shower, or any of the other mythical colic-relieving places my "What to Expect" book talked about.
I especially wanted to believe her when my oldest would come home from grade school with hurt feelings and a broken heart. How I wanted to fast forward to better days, when differences would be valued instead of becoming fodder for cruel teasing. But blink after blink, her little head remained buried in the pillow, sobbing and wishing to be anyone else but herself.
Today, however, I believe what my mother said. When I looked at the date this morning and realized that it's been SIX months since the day we waved goodbye to Texas and said hello to NYC, I could hardly believe it. Whether it's my ripe old age or just the effect of living in a fast-paced city, there's no denying that all that's happened in this half of a calendar year truly feels like a blink.
Because it would take too long to neatly list out all that's transpired in our new adventure, and in honor of the Christmas holiday, I've decided to condense the highlights of the past six months into a song, a la "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I will, however, cut the length in half in case you truly want to sing aloud. So, without further ado, I give you "The Six Months of City Life."
In the first month of city life NYC gave to us
The best park in this whole wide world
 |
| Central Park, summer 2010 |
In the second month of city life NYC gave to us
A crash course in Shakespeare
 |
| Monologues from Shakespeare's "A Winter's Tale" August 2010 |
And the best park in this whole wide world
In the third month of city life NYC gave to us
Concerts and shows
 |
| Billy Elliot |
 |
| Rock of Ages |
 |
| Mumford and Sons |
 |
| Sarah Jarosz |
 |
| Improv for Kids |
 |
| Improv for Kids |
 |
| Emma in "The Wind in the Willows" Fall 2010 |
 |
| Abby in "The Wind in the Willows" Fall 2010 |
A crash course in Shakespeare
And the best park in this whole wide world
In the fourth month of city life NYC gave to us
Lots and lots of visitors
Concerts and shows
A crash course in Shakespeare
And the best park in this whole wide world
In the fifth month of city life NYC gave to us
A truly amazing parade!!
 |
| Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 2010 |
Lots and lots of visitors
Concerts and shows
A crash course in Shakespeare
And the best park in this whole wide world
In the sixth month of city life NYC gave to us
A Christmas like no other
A truly amazing parade!!
Lots and lots of visitors
Concerts and shows
A crash course in Shakespeare
And the best park in this whole wide world
Hope you enjoyed the song. We really do love it here in NYC.
And, just so you know, I think my husband is much cuter than my Jr. High crush, and I'm thankful that my musical abilities have translated into a very meaningful life. My youngest daughter, who is now 12, sleeps through the night with nary a cry. And my oldest, now 14, has more friends than ever and thanks God every night for her uniqueness.
Things do change. Life should never be taken for granted. Every moment counts. Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Acoustic Junkie
I am a junkie. I'll admit it. I need my fix...singer-songwriters who sit on stools and play old beat-up guitars and pour out their heart stories through beautiful, intimate lyrics that come to them in the middle of the night, set to melodies that are haunting and lovely. Deep down I long to be in their club. But alas, at least at this point in my life, I am not. My best attempts at song-writing have ended in staff paper torn to shreds, usually beside an empty glass of wine.
I do, however, trust my ability to know musical brilliance when I hear it. Take, for instance, the first time I heard a David Wilcox song. That baritone voice, those incredible lyrics...I was an instant convert. There's Beth Wood...the voice that is somehow a mix of every female singer I've ever admired, so beautifully summing up the human experience in her poignant lyrics...ahhhh. And my sweet friends, Kari and Jared Dobbs. I will never tire of hearing my "Mosey" favorites.
A few weekends ago, a new acoustic wonder entered my personal Hall of Fame. The difference for this singer, however, is the number of years she's been on the planet Earth. At the ripe old age of 19, Sarah Jarosz has penned words and melodies that you would swear came from the soul of a well-traveled, road-weary, experience-rich musician, well beyond ages I would consider "middle." (I am, sadly, firmly in that club). I had heard recordings, but when I saw this Wimberley, TX native singing live in a tiny park next to the 72nd Street Subway Station, I knew that I was witnessing something special. This girl is going to make a mark that lasts for a long, long time. And I got a fix that still hasn't worn off.
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