You are looking at a finely tuned “ Dr. Seuss Percussion Plane”. It makes noise or shall I call it music? A week ago, out of the school folder came a new project sheet. My heart rate rose and I cringed knowing the implications it may have on my immediate future. Immediately, I was transported back in time to 5th grade when I too was responsible for the creation of an innovative musical instrument. To this day, I remember my father slicing pieces of bamboo at an angle and nailing them together to create “my” one of a kind project. I had little to do with any of its creation and it looked so realistic, it could have been used as an authentic prop for the movie, “The Mission”. The project sheet would sit on the fridge for a week, awaiting its number to come up. It would be filed in front of the dreaded group project that would soon follow it. At least this project had half a chance, as it would cater to my son’s introverted learning style. With my childhood instrument debacle swirling in my head I would make a vow that this would be purely his creation. I would not be completing it long after his bedtime. Despite this vow, I spent my day contemplating things that make noise just in case he dropped the ball on this one. He would come off the bus grab a snack out of the fridge and pull his project sheet from under a magnet. Had my son thought of this project at all despite the bold reminder of it every time he opened the fridge? Any slacker worries were abated as he tore apart the garage, and the kitchen cabinets for noise making treasure. He would look to the Mecca location for project toppers in the junk drawer for the instrument’s finishing touches. The drum would start to take shape, equally as inane as it was noisy. Dr Suess would be proud of the chaotic design and I would chuckle as it came to fruition. My son’s chaos filled head was in full creation mode and I stood by to assist with a hammer, a box cutter and duct tape. The instrument would serve as a table centerpiece and the dinner conversation would ponder whether there really is any difference between pitch and frequency. I still couldn’t tell but perhaps this instrument holds the truth. Once again, fifth grade has brought us together. This creation may beckon the Lorax, but consider it today’s ordinary miracle.
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At 2:16 pm today, my daughter burst into the room, tears in her eyes… "Mom I have a detention." I look at her crookedly and she goes on about the offenses that leads one to detention these days. “Now, don’t leave your book in your locker from now on, when it should be at your desk,” I tell her. Her lesson has clearly been learned as she wipes the tears from her eyes. It’s 2:46. The house is unusually quiet at time when I usually hear Peter burst through the door. He quietly sulks around the corner, shoulders low…"Mom, I have a detention.” Wondering if I have entered the Twilight Zone, I think to myself…that’s weird, two in one day. I compose myself before I speak. My blood pressure has bubbled up and I do my best to keep it together. Our shadow puppets are trying to bring us on a wild goose chase and the three of us are in the hunt. While it’s eerily quiet for the next hours, the kids do their penance by hitting the books in their rooms. I feel their failure as I gaze at my own. My desk is a mess and I realize my lack of organization is also theirs. The 27 inch screen in front of me beckons. I type into Yahoo Answers, “How to become a good student”. Sure enough, Yahoo knows the answer as it list obvious strategies. “Know it all”, I grunt to myself. On paper, it sounds so easy, but logistically, it’s not. We all have some work to do but each needs to find our way on our own terms. Teaching kids without hovering is a delicate skill, one that less and less parents seem to master these days. Kids need to realize that lessons need to be learned and absorbed the hard way. I can’t soften the blow and if I do, they’ll be worst off for it. So tomorrow is a new day. The kids will serve their hard time and I am going to clean off my desk. I’d rather go to detention.
A view of gigantus (Miles) from the grass. Finishing the Hunger Games in a nick of time.7th grade stress relief The grass may be short on the loft and lushness of summer but I have found myself taking some time to lie in its' imperfect bed. When the temperature raises enough to have my arms bared, nothing feels as good as laying in grass and watching the world go by and feeling time pass. Although the business of spring beckons, so does my unwillingness to yield to it. And why should I when everything I need blooms and breathes all around me? With my ears alert to springs sounds, my camera rest in grass along side me. The kids rediscover the outside surroundings and the dog relishes in his pack being close by. Nature is three weeks ahead of schedule. Mother nature must be feeling impatient this year but at the moment, no one seems to mind. As I stay low to the ground, life seems more interesting from down here. The camera clearly likes this angle and I come to understand why a toddler enjoys so much wonder from this level. I hope you have found a patch of grass this week. It may change your angle on things.
And the title goes to...Coginchaug! MANY more photos for viewing on my new website! |
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