What Does This Mean?

Yes. I have, or am shortly about to, lose my mind completely.

Introducing: Red.

Jump

At Lego Club, XX was concerned that not everyone knew each other's names. When the organizing mother asked if XX would like to emcee and make sure all the kids introduced themselves, XX jumped at the chance. She went in a circle, asked each child his or her name, said hello to them, then asked them to talk about their structure and led the applause. I'm afraid my bossy girl will always want this job.

There were birthday parties both days this past weekend. Lots of old friends, lots of bouncy houses.

We had Mandarin at the zoo this week. XX loves animals so picked up new vocabulary immediately. Her conversational skills improve as well.

There was Trampoline Day with the homeschoolers.

She started a class in ASL with other homeschoolers. She's starting late in the semester, but didn't let that bother her. She jumped right in and paid close attention. Because she knew a great deal to start with, I think she's caught up already. She enjoys using the signs while saying the Mandarin. It's all fun for her.

And in between, we're working on Christmas. The tree is getting trimmed slowly. She had a grand time with the tinsel. It never reached higher than the height of her head, but she danced and circled the tree with her glop of silver.

We had our first attempt at wet felting this afternoon. After watching a short video, she worked like she was an expert. She loved it. (These are stars on her face, not some strange disease. Just strange.)

Our supervising teacher has now given us "assignments," so we'll have to be a little more structured in our academics. While this doesn't bother XX in the least, it has me somewhat panicked. Our learning so far has been more on the non-linear side. Staying on that line is not going to be easy.

I'll have to take the lead from XX on this: much is possible if you just leap.

Full

It's only been a month since we started homeschooling.

Previously, my idea of homeschooling a five-year old was more play, more practical life than academics. Less structured than “school,” for sure.

As XX has been in “regular school" for what amounts (with no summers or even vacation days off) to two years, she has expectations. For her, homeschooling means there is no end to the school day. Lessons can and should happen all day, up until bedtime if possible. Every day.

And so while our days are not regimented, they are full.

I've been thinking about this post for days, how to get all we've done, all I've thought, into one post. I can't do it.

So, here simplified, is a sampling:

Once a week, we meet a Mandarin tutor in a local art studio where she and XX play in moon sand or paint or draw while they chat. It's not the same as hearing Chinese every day, but already I see XX's conversational skills are growing. She pushes herself to speak in Mandarin as much as possible during the "lesson."

There is penmanship (does this word/skill still exist in this digitized world?).

Sometimes she "teaches" penmanship to her "kids."

We joined a local homeschooling group and have had a couple of outings with them. It looks like we'll be meeting up regularly, once or twice a week. XX made friends immediately and all the kids all get along. It's wonderful to see them having so much fun. With them we:

... learned about an apple orchard ...

... and of course, this meant we made applesauce afterward ...

... and sliced apples to freeze for a winter pie ...

... we also played and learned about symmetry at homeschool Lego Club ...

... and went to homeschool Park Day and worked on Thanksgiving crafts.

We went back to her old school for one morning so she could have her "good-bye circle." It's a "moving up" ceremony of sorts and I think it gave XX a sense of closure. There were hugs from the kids and a planting of a tree.

XX is taking a class on "Great Artists." This past week, she learned about Van Gogh and then got to paint "in his style."

Homeschooling means we can take long walks at any time. We watched queen ants emerge on the warm afternoon. Later, XX danced under a huge tree as she said it was playing a lullaby when the wind blew through the leaves.

A walk to the river and collecting rocks led to more questions. Our geologist neighbors generously shared some of their Sunday morning to give XX a lesson on igneous and metamorphic rocks. She is now on the lookout for sedimentary rocks.

Violin lessons can happen in mornings now, rather than after school when XX is tired. Any activity, whether academic or play, is better when you can devote yourself to it.

She begged for a lesson on how to scrub the toilets. I now see her in the bathrooms regularly doing a job I am pleased to pass along.

She wrote a letter to the manager of Whole Foods in regards to their packaged lunches for kids that contained applesauce that did not say organic or unsweetened (so we assumed neither was true), cookies, boxed juice and a sandwich on white bread. All with tons of packaging. Our recent trip to the aquarium taught her extra packaging is damaging to the environment (the stress was on how the fish and seagulls were affected). At the beach the next day, she saw a dead gull, wrapped in wire, so the lesson hit home.

She asked to speak to a manager and handed her the letter. (I exaggerate when I say “letter.” She wrote “Please take care of the children of the world. XiaoXiao”) The woman listened and responded to XX as if she were an adult. She showed her that the packaging was done to keep the food fresh, but agreed that they could have carrots or broccoli or an apple instead of the other choices. She said she would certainly suggest a change.

And so XX walked out feeling really pretty good. On a recent trip to the store, she checked the lunchboxes. The packing problems and processed food choices remained, but she saw only wheat bread sandwiches. "Did I do that?"

Perhaps the white bread sandwiches sold out first. Or perhaps she really did make a change. But her eyes saw a result from speaking out and that was amazing for her. Me, too. My mom would have been proud.

She performed for us the other night. Payback time. My sisters and I used to do this to our parents, singing and dancing, even adding in commercials for products Dad would bring home from pharmaceutical salespeople. After I grew up, I wondered how they sat through these “shows” and hoped I never had to do it. No such luck.

But XX's dancing was beautiful. She devours space, and if she can't yet sing well, as a dancer she is learning to breathe music. John and I both got teary.

Then she said she'd give us autographs and the moment passed. But even these were given out seriously. She works hard, even at diva-ship.

There are eggplant penguins.

Play can happen any time. If she wants to be a “camellia cat” at 10 am, that is fine. (A “camellia cat” is rainbow colored but turns clear if Boris comes around so he won't eat her – aka “chameleon.”)

When we work on money and math, there is also science as she watches copper oxide come off the pennies in vinegar and salt. Cleaning tasks are always satisfying.

She is learning to sew on a machine. I worried that she would not be able to reach the foot pedal and she said sweetly, “I'll just stand.” And so she does.

This pic is for Suzie who gave us this wonderful sewing cabinet. Our machines can sit side-by-side. We love sewing together.

There were lovely flaxseed yeast rolls, made by hand for Thanksgiving dinner. She's an expert kneader and was patient enough to allow the rolls to rise three times. It took the better part of an afternoon, but well worth the effort. I think we will have to make this a regular practice.

The best part about this past month though, is that XX is bonding with John. This is a two-way street. They are both working on speaking to each other without yelling, without bossing. It's tough for both of them, but it is paying off for the whole family.

She's now sleeping in her own bed, a mattress next to our bed. When we moved and she started school, she planted herself firmly in our (thankfully) extra large bed. The day we said we would be homeschooling, she went into her own bed of her own accord. If I am not as warm without that little body pressed up against me, I am much more rested.

Of course, there are the nights she wakes at 2, talking, tossing, turning and kicking for an hour. When I ask her to go to sleep or at the very least, be quiet, she whispers to me that she is thinking of a project to do the next day. It might be making a book, cover, title page and all, or it might be looking at how rubber bands can go into different shapes.

Perhaps most telling is that she's stopped asking me constantly if I love her, how much I love her, for how long will I love her and most heartbreaking, why I love her. If she feels the need for reassurance, it comes in the form of a big bear hug accompanied by, “You LOOOOOVVVE me forever!”

On these “needy” days, it is a gift to be able to work on math lying on the carpet side by side, or talk about what's inside bones as she sits in my lap. It is easier to fill the intellectual needs when you are emotionally sated.

The unsavory tics, language and behaviors that came from the other kids at school are thankfully disappearing. I see and hear my daughter again rather than the influential kids she so easily falls prey to.

There are the usual glitches in behavior, as with any child, but they do not seem more than any five-year old, in fact, I think they are far less. We have grace and courtesy lessons/games and she immediately exercises these new skills. This is unlike what I was told happened at school. Once we removed the classroom from her life, she seems able to move ahead in all areas again.

A spot just opened up for us in the local homeschooling charter school. I'm a bit apprehensive as I see I should be keeping better (or any) records, and have lesson plans. Lesson plans? I have a general idea of what we need to get through by the end of the year, but math every day at 9:00 to 9:25? Writing from 9:30 to 10:00? Not even close. What happens daily is reading because it naturally does as she works on whatever it is for the day, some sort of art work, music and playtime. If she wants to work on math, it might be for 90 minutes two days in a row, and then not again for four days. Geography might happen once a week for two hours. It's all unpredictable, but when she's chosen the lesson, she focuses in and learns quickly. When she's tired, we stop.

Perhaps this would have all happened had we kept her in school a little longer. We can't know, it doesn't matter. She is thriving and our family is glowing.

This Thanksgiving, we give much thanks.

Hope you, too, filled up on family, food, and love ... and maybe even some whipped cream!

The Line

Where is it?

You know the one I'm talking about. You want your child to fit in, but not blend in. Where is the line?

You want her to stand out, but not alone. Where is the line?

I don't think we'll ever have to worry about XiaoXiao blending in. She can't. Even in China, even as a tiny baby, she drew the attention of the grannies walking on the street. They told me she was small, they told me she was beautiful (this is the first Chinese word I learned I heard it so often). She yelled so loudly at the consulate appointment, every head turned and she stopped the ceremony.

As a 15 month old baby just learning to walk, she pulled her hat over her head and bobbled around laughing at a party. Every eye was on her and she knew it. She loved it.

The child knows how to draw the eye. And while it's funny and wonderful, I also see in that, survival skills learned at an early age. “Look at me.”

XiaoXiao is wacky and outgoing, but she also figured out that even as young baby, she had to take care of herself. She couldn't depend on constancy, especially in people.

She's amazingly pliant: travel, moving, death, any change is dealt with as, “Oh well.” XiaoXiao laughs it off so it won't hurt. She won't allow herself to feel pain, either physical or worse, emotional.

It's a worrisome problem when you see your child has no ability to empathize with others, does not feel remorse. How can she learn to treat others with kindness if she doesn't care how anyone else treats her? Is this her or is this her circumstance? Will she outgrow this? Will she learn? How will I know? Where is the line of “okay?”

There has always been a tendency to lash out with meanness. She pushes away before someone can leave. While she doesn't do this to me any more, she still goes after John on occasion. Is she a mean person? Is she a hurt person? That line. It blurs.

The thing is, she knows how to treat me. She worries about how I feel, what I want, what I need. She reads me perfectly. Not to excess, but as you'd want your child to know how to treat others. If she can do it with me, she can do it with everyone eventually.

We've always seen that she can distinguish “acceptable” and “not acceptable” behavior. She judges others, she even judges herself. It's odd to see such a young child tell you what she did and didn't manage to do at school, but yet be unable to control when she feels the urge to disrupt the entire class. So in control sometimes, so out of control at others.

And while it seems natural that anyone should have their moments, XX's are so disparate that has hindered her ability to move forward at school in the classroom. This is somehow a place that sets off much in her and she loses herself. As much as she loves school, she cannot do well there.

The school requested we get some expert opinions. We did. The opinion was that XX has had some early deprivation so is playing catchup with her emotions, but that she will get there. The expert opinion was also that this school was most definitely not the place for her. We've felt this, but had a hard time acknowledging our own feelings because of those other fuzzy lines. The ones between the schooling you wished you had for yourself, the school you think will be best for your child and the schooling that actually is best for your child. They might be the same, they probably aren't.

They tell me at school that now, she should learn to control herself. That's part of the problem as I see it. She's always tried to control herself and her emotions. So much so that she can hardly feel.

What XX actually needs to learn (in my unprofessional opinion) is to not be in control. She needs to feel the security of being part of a family, know that we love her unconditionally, that it is okay to be angry, sad, afraid or embarrassed. We are glad she's so happy all the time, but the other feelings are no less valid.

I kind of feel she'll always be happy and show that side. She's a happy person. But knowing what the rest feels like and gaining control over that? That will make her strong. Suppressing what you don't know? That's scary.

And so we reluctantly came to the decision to pull XX out of school for now. No one, especially not a five year old needs to feel judged daily. We'll homeschool to allow her the time she needs to catch up with her emotions. At home, in the stores, in ballet, in the parks, she's a well-behaved, though spirited child. She should revel in her natural joy, not use it to cover up shame for what she cannot yet manage. Her present school is not nurturing what she needs. We've seen that.

I'm seeing something else now, though.

She notices when others do her a kindness. I see compassion. When she says something nice, she's feeling it, not just mimicking. Her apologies don't come immediately, but when they do, unbidden, they are from her heart.

I see sadness. I'm starting to see anger. Better yet, it's sadness or anger, then voicing what's made her feel that way, and moving on, without pointing fingers, without regret.

We will do that, too.

And that line? I've got it. I'm holding on for dear life even as it moves, curves and loops. It is that mythical red thread, the line between our hearts.

Happy Halloween!