Cold Spaghetti

The New Year is upon us, which means the families of New Orleans are gearing up for two seasons: Mardi Gras and School-finding.  Schools have their application deadlines about now, along with lotteries for selection into charter schools and deposits to hold places in prospective elementary (and in some cases pre-k) schools.  It’s a big game in these parts, a system built on payment and privilege from start to finish.  For many schools, families are required to shell out big bucks (think, $300+ per kid) for an “evaluation” of their 3 or 4 or 5 year old child’s “intelligence” in the hopes that if he or she is granted a “gifted” distinction that would allow them eligibility.  For the private schools, it’s yet-another-hurdle to cross.  For the public-schools-gone-charter, it’s a way to keep some screening in place.  (Plus, schools get extra funding if they provide services to a “special needs” population — meaning that programs to fill the needs of the “gifted” 5-year old are abundant in New Orleans.)

As you can tell from my liberal use of quotations, I think the whole system is sick.  The measure of gifted-ness by our local evaluators are, at best, an assessment of how much time a parent or other caring adult has spent nurturing that particular child’s creativity and spirit.  In reality?  Well, children that go to the paid evaluation service have a much greater likelihood of walking away with an intelligence label than children who go to the school system’s service.  We all know it is ridiculous; no one I know actually takes any of these tests seriously.  It’s just one more stupid hoop we have to jump through to navigate our families through the murky and dangerous waters of New Orleans education.  You do it because you have to and then you move on.

One of my largest frustrations is that I have absolutely no idea how I could even begin to advocate for any type of change.  I do believe that personal is political — but that doesn’t mean I’m simply going to send my kids to the public school down the street.  How can I advocate for change when I am using every bit of privilege we have — economic, social, racial — to see that our own children are given the best opportunities we can provide?

These are my frustrations with our local schools.  That they are structured, specifically, to enforce class barriers and continue to be successful in their intent.  It forces me to consider dark and ugly realities of our world and consciously decide where I want to put my children within them.

*****

Even before our kids were born, we knew that early immersion in a second language was our absolute, number one priority for our children.  One of the reasons we love being in New Orleans is that we are able to give our children that gift of immersion right here… in immersion schools.  New Orleans has a number of schools, both private and charter (public) that run language immersion programs.  Each one runs a bit differently, but the bottom line is this: from pre-school through 5th grade, students are taught in a language other than English for every lesson.

Our children have attended a French immersion school for the past 1 1/2 school years.  Our school is private.  The application did not require intelligence testing or extensive observation, focusing instead on questions designed to assess the family’s level of commitment to immersion education.  Other immersion programs run as charter schools through the public school system.  They have yearly lotteries which take in various demographics of applications to ensure diversity in each class.  For Paul and I, immersion schools are the programs of choice.  These are the educational experiences that make life here unique and special.  We believe it’s worth living here to take advantage of those opportunities.

There are scientific reasons.  Language development is time-sensitive in the brain.  It’s easier to learn languages at younger ages because of how the brain develops.  Over time, various doors of opportunity close.  For example, the ability to acquire the sounds and accents of a native speaker ceases around age 6.  In short, if you want to give your child the gift of language — then the earlier you immerse them in it, the better.

Plus, there are other benefits.  Child education and development literature talk about strides in cognitive development in immersion kids compared to English-only education — stuff like more flexible thinking and greater ability to handle nonverbal problem-solving.  Also, there are three decades of solid evidence that immersion kids perform better in both standardized math and language tests administered in English.  Yes, yes, it’s true: putting your kid in a school that teaches him all day in a language OTHER than English will, in fact, improve their English more than if they were in a school that spoke English to them all day.

In short, hearing a second language on a regular basis from a live human being is a great thing for kids.

But.  Being part of an immersion program takes a big leap of faith for an English-speaking parent.  For one, teachers are not necessarily fully fluent in English.  This can be a little unsettling for parents, naturally, because communicating with your kid’s teacher about complex behaviors and assignments and who-knows-what-else is pretty darn important.  But is it a deal-breaker?

Well, Paul and I speak Spanish.  We’ve lived in Latin America over extended time periods (though never longer than 10 weeks) and know what it feels like to work to understand and be understood.  We’re not native speakers nor are we fluent — in short, we’re not unlike many of our kids teachers.  Having been in the hot-seat ourselves (so to speak) we do have a good sense of what they feel when they try to talk to us and we know how that the in-ability to find the “right” word in English does not mean that they don’t understand us, the problem, or our child.  It takes a leap of faith on our part that they are competent in ways that we won’t necessarily see: in their work, in their nurturing of our kids, in the curriculum.  Within many aspects of the school-child-teacher interaction, there are cultural and linguistic factors to consider.

That said, last year, it was Will’s teacher who suggested that Will was having trouble hearing.  (She was 100% correct.)  This year, his new teacher continued to help us with Will’s hearing problems, as well as with his particular learning style.  When we have had a question or a concern, cultural and linguistic differences did not matter.

For us, we have found it exciting and educational to learn some French.  Will and Kate participate in French holidays, learns French songs, sees French cartoons, reads classic French tales, and cooks French foods.  Each and every one of these have been different from the early education experiences had by Paul and me; but we are enjoying each opportunity.  It is a big leap of faith for parents, because it is so different: school performances aren’t of Row, Row, Row Your Boat — but of Le Petits Poissons.  I admit that I feel some relief when Will spontaneously sings Down By the Bay, or Jingle Bells, because I want him to know these songs, too.

It is both exciting and scary that he is learning things I cannot teach him.  Even more, he is learning things that I, myself, don’t know.  That, I think, is the greatest sacrifice a parent makes within these programs — you have to trust someone else so much that you are willing to let them teach your child things that you, yourself, don’t understand.  It’s sort of scary to suddenly not have total control and awareness.  It requires a big leap of faith.

Even with that uncertainty, we love the immersion experience.  Will’s enthusiasm for French is inspiring.  We are impressed at Kate’s sophistication regarding language, her clear comprehension of the many ways there are the communicate, and how many words exist to describe the same thing.  It was no small feat to trust in a system completely new to us and we can confidently say that we are thrilled: our children love their school and embrace the culture and language it teaches.  We enthusiastically recommend immersion education and are grateful to be a part of our school.

*****

But then there is the here and now.  Rising tuition is forcing the questions of schools, which forces me to the harsh reality that the quality of schooling my kids are getting is not commonplace.  ALL kids should have access to education that fosters their creativity, imagination, and spirits — that gives them new skills and confidence.  And I feel badly that I am better positioned than others to fight for my child’s right to that experience, and guilty that I am weighing financial considerations into the equation.  Will we find a more affordable immersion experience?  Will we be able to afford another year where we are?  Is there a clear “right” choice in there that we are missing?

Here’s where we’re at, January 1st, 2010.

1. Christmas tree is still up.

2. 300 pages in to American Gods.

3. Wearing a size smaller pants, not that this means anything.

4. Getting ready to go to a friend’s birthday party.

5. Friends from Michigan en route to NOLA.

6. Eating leftover red beans for dinner.

7. Kate in a Cinderella dress and vintage glass Mardi Gras bead necklace.

8. Me in necklace and earrings made by Will.

9. Paul feeling better than yesterday, but still rough.

10. Happy to be healthy and happy in New Orleans!

… “Eat Yer GUMBO!” — Kate.

Happy New Year!

Like last year, I am doing a post round-up by listing the first sentences from the first post from each month in 2009.

Looking back on that post, I see that I made a few blog-related resolutions.  Things I would do, or finish, or whatever.  Predictably, I did none of them.  Resolutions are not my strong-suit.

But wait!  I may be redeemed… were any of my first sentences improvements on those from last year??

January: “You will not believe what I am about to tell you.”

February: “Remember the back of our house?”

March: “We’d been discussing it for years, when would be the best time?”

April: ““Stand by Me” performed by musicians around the world”

May: “I took these last fall in Boston — my continued obsession with shutter speed.”

June: “Did that belly dancing class make us uppity?”

July: “Surprise!”

August: “The last two days have been a bit of a daze, punctuated by periodic conversations that go something like this, “where the heck are we?””

September: “I wrote each name and order of comment on a little slip of paper, folded them up, and stuck them in bowls — one for new friends and one for the old friends.”

October: “On the can.”

November: “Will had his second ear surgery on Friday.”

December: “Try as I may, I just can’t get the job of independently wealthy woman of leisure.”

Maybe half-credit?  Good enough.

Have you ever made a resolution and saw it to the end?

And, do you have favorite things you read on a blog this year?  Looking for inspiration to bring in the New Year!

Kate wants to kiss a frog. Because she thinks it will turn her into one. And she really likes to pretend to be a frog.

We saw The Princess and the Frog the day before Christmas. The movie is big talk around these parts, where there is an acute sensitivity towards how this city and us, the people who live within it, are characterized. Let’s just say that we’re accustomed to disappointment and leave it at that.

With this movie? Our peanut gallery was not disappointed.

Okay, YES. Cajuns are stereotyped to be backwards fools with few teeth, which was not a surprise. It’s a cartoon. There has to be someone for good-humored slapstick conflict and in a film based in the South, it’s not a surprise where the buffoon character is going to come from. (And in all honesty, it could have been much worse.) Besides, the main Cajun representation of the film, beloved ole’ Ray, is the hero of the story. (Plus, he’s hilariously funny. “I’m from far, far away…” “Oh, y’all in from Shreveport?”)

All in all, the beautiful pictures of New Orleans — so delicately and thoughtfully portrayed — were as authentic as they come. In terms of the food, I was all ready to give an eye-roll over all the talk about gumbo and beignets, as if that’s all we eat around here. But then just last night we made that very same movie tableau. There we were, sharing in on a friends gumbo pot, talking and laughing while the kids ran around collecting fallen magnolia leaves and singing Louisiana songs. So, yes, there is a lot of gumbo-talk and eating and all that. But for the record, we do eat other things, too.

We loved the bands in the street, the bright colors of each setting, the subtle hints to local lore and tradition (Evangeline, as the best example).

In the minefield of race and representations, I found the movie respectful. Are Tiana and her family too much the happy servant? I’m sure this is already out there in spades. But it’s a fairytale following the fairytale story line — poor girl turned princess. I thought that French-speaking, penniless Prince Naveen was made somewhat racially ambiguous on purpose. Class and race are tied together in uncomfortable ways not just in New Orleans but all through the United States — the movie didn’t betray this reality. Unlike many other classic Disney animation films, I feel very comfortable showing this to my kids without having to apply revisionist history. (Having conversations about what Cinderella majors in when she goes to college, as an example.)

Have others seen The Princess and the Frog? Tell me then, y’all — did it make you fall in love, even a little bit, with our beautiful city and wonderful State?

Lesson One: Using the Potty.
First, refuse to use it. Even if your knees are pressed together to prevent an accident. Then, insist on being in the bathroom alone. Once everyone has sufficiently made some distance between themselves and the bathroom, call for help. You can’t open that toilet seat yourself… it’s too heavy, it’s wet, you suddenly hate the color white… use whatever works. Insist on being lifted to the toilet. Threaten an accident, this will make them work faster. Insist that you can wipe yourself and remove half a roll of toilet paper before feigning dramatic failure.

Lesson Two: Bathtime.
First, refuse a bath. Then work towards negotiation. What extra treats and privileges will getting a bath give you? Be creative. Once a contract has been established, be cooperative to the point of entering the bathing area. Then promptly get lost in your clothes and go hysterical. The more you can get your clothes twisted, turned inside-out, and stretched — the better. Perch on the edge of the tub and insist that the water is too hot. Then insist that it is too cold. Keep up these extremes until you are thrown into the water. Once in, find every toy you can to make the biggest possible splashes. Extra points if you can get your bath towel soaked or cause Mommy to submerge her sleeves into the water. Once out of the tub, hug Mommy as many times as you can before you are dry. Be sure to insist on evaluating at least 3 sets of pajamas before going for a fourth to wear.



Lesson Three: Bedtime.
First, refuse bedtime. Insist on your alertness, even if it means pinching yourself to stay awake. When you have run out of options, go boneless. You’re too tired to walk, you can’t move. Drag yourself, in your clean pajamas, along the floor — this makes for great impact. Once you’re in your room, perk up enough to take a pile of at least 12 books for bedtime reading. Negotiate down to no less than 8, making sure you’ve picked the longest ones. Note page numbers and make sure every sentence on every page is read thoroughly. Stall everywhere. There are monsters in your closet, under your bed, and even some inside your pillowcase. You are hungry, thirsty, and cold. Also, you’re hot and your tummy hurts. Once you have been left alone in your room for sleep, get out of bed and drag your pillow and blankets into the hallway, it sends the message that you are still in charge. Set up your own sleep space there. If they don’t notice you, take a few minutes to erase your chore chart before settling into your chosen restful spot. Then curl up in the hallway and settle in for sleep. If you happen to wake up a few minutes later in your own bed, promptly pee. If necessary, remove your pull-up to ensure your blankets are wet. Then cry out for Mommy. If you do this enough, she’ll run out of laundry and have to bring you to her bed by default. Once you are in Mommy’s bed, kick, curl, cuddle, and lay on her all through the night. You want her nice and exhausted in the morning — it will make the your lessons much more effective tomorrow.

Boy child learns to ride bicycle in under fifteen minutes;
Lance Armstrong loses endorsements to the young protege

Woman finishes His Dark Materials series;
Declares DUST to be part of life’s joy and refuses to clean again

Inside of washing machine coated in GOLD!
It only took one wash of daughter’s Belle princess dress, says Mom

Parents alerted when rouge animals eat household pet!
Kids’ imaginations create compelling Lego story, but family cat remained unharmed

Husband goes 24 hours without viewing an Episode of Mythbusters
He’s not ill, he’s just playing Mario Kart

Sometime late in the day on Christmas Eve, Paul and I started discussing what we were going to do regarding food the following day. Would he care for pot roast, I asked him, or maybe chicken? Or, hey what the heck, a turkey if you want. Turkey? Really? He asks. Sure! I say, why not, it IS Christmas.

And also? I figure, like me, he’s thinking turkey breasts ’cause they are easy to cook.

He wasn’t.

So he brought home an 11 lb bird. Frozen. For the record, my kitchen does *NOT* include any of the following items: roasting pan, meat thermometer, cotton string, basting brush, baster, roasting rack, or meat carving utensils.

In other words, we were completely ready to make a turkey.

The first order of business was to thaw the thing, so we spent more than four hours soaking the bird in cold water that we changed every half hour.

We didn’t brine it. The thawed bird spent the night in the pot (sans water) in the fridge. When morning came, we got out the neck and giblets (after watching a youtube video which showed the technique), rinsed off the thing and rubbed it down with butter and whatever random spices were hanging around. (I believe this amounted to salt, pepper, and rosemary.) Along with the flour, which is recommended to prevent bag explosion, I threw in onions, carrots and celery. I filled the inside with these veggies as well, just because it seemed to make sense to me to do so. The turkey went into the bag and into the aluminum pan — upside down — at Kitty’s brilliant suggestion.

After 3 or so hours at 350, we flipped the bird (wow, that was messy) cooked it a little longer, and then took it out.

The thing was just falling apart. It certainly looked done and based on the whole “clear liquid” thing we determined it was done. I did my best to put together a gravy. (Though Paul liked it, I thought it needed more flavor.) But the turkey? It was good! The darn thing was moist, too!

Paul “carved” it right into containers for freezing/storage. No picture perfect roasted turkey for dinner table carving, but that wasn’t our intent anyway. We were just shooting for a night that didn’t include food poisoning.

We brought a big collection of turkey sandwiches to the park today for a big impromptu playdate — no one was ill and two seasons cooks praised the meat. Take that, holiday cooking! You’re not so big and scary afterall.

Though next year? It’s worth it to pre-order a bird from someone else — or change the menu to a more New Orleans fare!

Wow. We told the kids that they could not dive into the holiday bounty until we gave the go ahead… and they listened.

(Please forgive the unfinished touches of the room. Have a mentioned that we’re in year 5 of renovation on our 100+ year old house… wait, I have? Well, don’t I get to use that excuse for at least a decade or so? Or at least get some reprieve because it’s Christmas?)

Paul and I were exhausted. Presents had been stock-piled far away from child eyes for weeks — Will has developed an “exploration” habit — because we couldn’t risk a security breach. So, it was a last minute effort to pull it all together. The effort would have come off without a hitch, had Kate’s tea cart come with both a right side and a left side. Instead, it was equipped with two left sides and a nice note on the receipt asking buyers to please return the items by December 15th if there were problems. The item? It’s no longer available on the seller’s website.

This is yet another reason why doing Christmas shopping early is SO OVER-RATED. Next year, I am totally waiting until the last minute.

Here’s another behavioral surprise for the day: the kids also took turns giving out gifts and watching others open them. (With constant reminders, but still.)

I did manage a few surprises for Paul, despite his finding out about his Very Special Surprise, which I had worked for months to acquire. (By months, I mean reading a few internet articles and wiki forums.) So when he opened the awesome astronomy binoculars I researched and planned for, he was underwhelmed.

Wait. Why did I work so hard for weeks in advance?

BUT. I did surprise him with this little cutie. A piece by a local folk artist:

It says:

“I loves you once
I loves you twice
I loves you more than
beans and rice”

Yea, you rite!

Kate loved her surprises. A Belle dress from Will, dress-up box and Fancy-Nancy book from Nana, princess puzzle & bracelet from friends Dave, Shelly & Zoe, cute socks from Aunt Deb & Uncle Gary, games from Uncle Skip & Aunt Emily, toys from cousins Brayden & Maggie…. and CINDERELLA’S CASTLE from Santa.

At it’s opening, I was expecting an ear-splitting scream, followed by a fainting episode. This didn’t quite happen, though she was definitely excited. Who wouldn’t be? The castle lights up. And plays music.

Really, we were all enthralled.

Will’s interest in it was a bit different. He was looking closely for things to push later on, for the purposes of driving his sister crazy. A skill he is VERY adept at using.

Also? There were one of a kind hand-made gifts!

Nana made a BEAUTIFUL matching sweater and hat!

Gwen made felt SUPERHERO capes!

Super Will…. with his pants unbuttoned.

And Super Kate, too.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Beautiful double rainbow, this afternoon, from our house to yours!

Merry, Merry!