When Jesus can’t convince them, throw some marshmallows on top.

September 14, 2011

I’m quickly realizing that Harrison (8) is an easy child. He has never given us a problem at school, preschool, or church, knows how to speak the local language without any difficulties, and does not wet his pants.

I love that kid.

As for the rest of them, I think fate was trying to trick us into this parenting business and yesterday I felt like a big fat failure.

June has been doing great at preschool–until this week. I went in yesterday and the poor teachers were beside themselves with frustration. Having lived with June for over three years now, I know that there are moments when I would rather stick my head in the toilet and give myself a swirlie than deal with all her strength and willpower. One Two Three Try Not To Kill Her seems to be the method that works best around here.

This sudden burst of bad behavior has come as a total shock to her teachers. She’s eating puzzle pieces and throwing the game boards around the room, refusing to listen to anything and wreaking havoc on anyone and everyone. It’s bad, and the language barrier doesn’t help.

The thing is, I know what’s wrong with her, but I have no idea how to fix it.

Last week June came home and started telling me that one of the little girls in her class won’t play with her. She loves this little girl, she wants to be friends with this little girl, but this little girl has suddenly decided that she no longer wants to play with June, she wants to play with someone else.

Honestly, my daughter is three. Do we really have to start in on the little girl drama this early?

I know she’s acting out because she wants this little girl to pay attention to her, but she isn’t old enough to realize that this kind of behavior isn’t going to win her anyone’s friendship. She thinks she’s being funny and silly to the other kids.

I stood there yesterday and listened to the laundry list of her misdeeds, feeling red in the face and embarrassed to have created such a little beast. I could feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes like a thousand hot little needles; can’t these kids do anything right in the German schools? What am I doing wrong here?

I assured the teachers that I understand better than anyone just how difficult she can be, and told them I wouldn’t bring her back. I think they were expecting me to argue with them on her behalf, because they got much nicer once I offered to keep her away (also all the stupid tears probably made them think I’m a big ninny who could use some outside help, which is right). They insisted I bring her back every day, that we would work on it.

After talking with my neighbor (who is smart and wise and wonderful), I think I’ve got a plan. Today June only gets to go to school for two hours. I am taking in a big bag of marshmallows and a small empty container. Every time she is good, she gets a marshmallow in the jar. At the end of the day, she can eat her earned marshmallows in the car.

I also told her this morning that the only person who matters is Jesus, but she looked at me like I’m some kind of idiot who knows nothing about playing princess. I guess that lecture doesn’t hold as much weight when you’re three. Maybe next time I’ll throw Jesus and Santa in together and see if it makes more sense.

Filed Under: children, discipline, german schools, germany, Jesus, June, kids, kindergarten, parenting

I hate this post

August 31, 2011

We were driving in the car yesterday evening talking about our day when Rex quietly said from the back seat, “Mommy, the kids at school were mean to me today. They were kickin’ and pinchin’ me…and well…they were not very nice kids.”

I almost had to pull the car over and vomit. This is my worst nightmare for Rex. I know he’s quirky and different and has the most massive imagination in the universe, and I know those qualities don’t usually win a kid the “most popular” vote. He’s not interested in soccer or sports, is a very young 6-year-old who still wants to build houses for his animals all day long.

I tried to press him for more information but he’s not good with this kind of verbal communication. He just changes the subject to things like snipes or frogs. I did ask if he told his teacher. “Yes,” he said, “but she didn’t understand me because she only speaks German.”

I feel like bulldozing my way into the school today and throwing a few little German kids around. My first thought was yank him; if kids are being mean to him he’s out of there. It’s one thing when a kid deals with a bully and has the power to tell an adult, but when the adults have NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SAYING it’s a totally different ball game.

Unfortunately, he can’t live here in my house and hide from real life. He’s got to learn how to make a place for himself in this stupid world and get along with other kids. If I didn’t love him so much I would home school him until he was twenty.

Lucky for me he got a rash on his face last night and we called the neighbor (a good friend and pediatrician) for a quick consult. A little cream and I put Rex to bed, then decided perhaps we should ask the doctor for a little advice.

I am so, so glad we asked. First he wanted to know if we’re seeing any effects from school in his home life–regression, violence, major melt downs, overreactions or bed wetting etc. So far Rex has been really happy here and we haven’t seen any kind of outbursts. That gave me great peace of mind. Then we talked about kids in the quirky category.

According to our doctor, if you got 100 6-year-olds together you’d find that a good 20% of them are at Rex’s bus stop on the route to maturity. We talked about how much childhood has changed just in one or two generations, how quick we are to expect children to put down their toys and grow up. Our society has high expectations and demands more emotional maturity than many kids are ready for. I hate that about society.

His best friends are Harrison and June, they love each other and play constantly, especially he and Junie bug. I wish you could see what Rex can do with scissors and an old box, or with a silly piece of string. He comes home from school and explodes creativity all over my house every single day.

For the record, creativity is super messy.

How do I help my boy? I am going into the school today to talk/pantomime to his teacher to see if she has any suggestions. German or American schools, he’s going to come up against this regardless.

When he said his morning prayers today and actually prayed that the kids at school would be nice to him I almost cried. He usually just prays for his animals. Perhaps this is the Lord’s way of teaching Rex to ask for help with his problems. Oh, the refiner’s fire is so uncomfortable.

Heaven help me help him.

 

Filed Under: bullying, childhood, children, kindergarten, parenting, Rex, school, Uncategorized

His First Day

September 2, 2008

Today was Harrison’s first day of school.

I remember the first day of kindergarten. I sat by Teresa Greene and thought she was the coolest girl ever. She had hair that went almost to her behind, it was so long. I was heavily impressed. We stayed friends for the next 13 years and sat together at graduation. Sometimes we underestimate the importance of “first days”. She and I still keep in touch and get together with our children.

I remember a lot of things from Kindergarten. Carleen Stewart throwing up in her pink dress, Sheri Ulgray wetting her pants periodically throughout the year. The smell of the Hot Lunch cart, Mr. M and his Munchy Mouth. I remember being worried about my broken arm and sad that I couldn’t wear all my new school clothes. I remember my blue button up blouse with the red bow tie.

My teacher died half-way through the school year. She got sick and passed away at 44. I remember my mom getting the phone call. She was standing in the kitchen by the Boot Room and I knew what was happening. But when you’re five, death is not a big deal, at least it wasn’t to me. I could see my mother was emotional and so I decided I had better be emotional too. So I cried. It was fake, but I remember thinking about people in the movies and trying to be like them.

Our substitute was Mr. Schneider. He’s still there, in that same classroom. Back in Elma I bump into him on occasion. Later in the year a little boy in my class was killed in a car accident. Mr Schneider always talks to me about it. He says that I was adamant that they were both up in Heaven together and that we didn’t need to be sad because they were with Jesus.

And so, as I send my son off today, part of me knows that he’s beginning the rest of his life. Part of me understands that new people and places are going to impact him, and his memories and influences are now out of my control.

When I took him to the bus stop with all those big kids, he hugged me and let me kiss him, then quickly wiped his cheek off in embarrassment. I had to smile, he’s so old and so cool. I didn’t hover, I turned around and walked away, leaving my son at the hands of the world. Will he remember Jesus today? Will he be kind to kids who have no friends? Will he be honest and happy and safe? Have I done enough? I wonder. I will always wonder.

Let me say, it was a long and lonely walk up that hill without him.

Filed Under: Harrison, kindergarten

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