My oldest niece is attending her first school. It is a private school and it is connected with the church that my sister and her family attend. As such, my niece was immediately comfortable with the idea of going there each day. She understood, however, that there would be a review by a board before she was allowed to attend.
Earlier this Summer, my sister explained this process to her daughter (as much as it makes sense to explain a "board review" to a child) in order to help soften the blow if the application was not accepted. My sister used words and phrases that her daughter would understand. It was difficult for my sister, a business executive, to avoid any language that would be lost on a four and a half year old, but she felt she had succeeded. The situation seemed to be understood by all.
Weeks passed and then, one happy day, my sister returned from the mailbox with a letter addressed to her daughter. It was from the board review, inviting her to begin her educational journey this Fall. My niece looked up at my sister and said "wow, so I'm in then?" and my sister said "of course you are, Hunny. You were a shoe-in." They went for ice cream to celebrate.
My sister and my niece went to the school office last week, prior to school starting, to turn in a few final bits of paperwork. My niece sat quietly in her seat, hands nicely in her lap (as my sister had coached her to do) and the administrator was impressed with her behavior. At the end of the process, she turned to my niece and said "Well my dear, were you surprised to learn you'd be going to school here?"
And my niece very politely responded, in the most grown-up voice her little body could muster, "oh not really. I was a shoe-in."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
"S/He Was Such a Quiet Person"
Yesterday a youth went to a local high school, with no fewer than 10 explosive devices, a chain saw and a sword with a 2-foot long blade because he was unhappy with his educational experience at this same school. He had, apparently, been expelled last year.
He managed to detonate 2 of the explosive devices before teachers and the principal ran towards him (yeah, that's not a typo - they ran TOWARDS him) and wrapped themselves around him, got him on the ground, and held him there until the authorities arrived.
And it didn't take any more than four hours for someone to utter the phrase we've heard in situations like this so many times in post-incident interviews ... "he was a quiet boy. Kept to himself mostly. Didn't seem to have many friends. Don't know that I saw him smile much."
From what the reports are saying, the plan of the "quiet boy" was to have all 10 explosives go off and then use the sword or the chainsaw on whomever tried to leave the building alive. He built the devices himself - purchasing items for "model rockets" (as he told his family) over the web since March of this year. They didn't question him because they were happy to see he had a new hobby. They hoped it would get him out in the fresh air - maybe he'd make some friends. But no, they didn't talk to him about it.
The first teacher that grabbed the kid is being called (rightfully, in my opinion) a hero. This guy (the teacher) is all of 34 years old, married with a small kid at home and, in interview after interview, he's waiving off the "hero" title, saying that he didn't have time to debate his actions - it just was what he knew was right. In fact, just now, he said that the only hero he knows is his brother, who is serving in Iraq currently.
It's sad that this youth felt that the proper response to his feelings was to try to take so many lives. It's amazing that no one was seriously hurt. It's incredible that it takes activities like this for us to call teachers "heroes". It's tragic that some parents will fail to use this experience as a doorway to talk to their sullen teenager.
The school was closed today, to allow for a security review of the facility and to let teachers and parents respond and recover. It's due to be back in session tomorrow.
*sigh* High school life in 2009. While I enjoyed my years back in the 80's, ya' couldn't PAY me to go back today.
He managed to detonate 2 of the explosive devices before teachers and the principal ran towards him (yeah, that's not a typo - they ran TOWARDS him) and wrapped themselves around him, got him on the ground, and held him there until the authorities arrived.
And it didn't take any more than four hours for someone to utter the phrase we've heard in situations like this so many times in post-incident interviews ... "he was a quiet boy. Kept to himself mostly. Didn't seem to have many friends. Don't know that I saw him smile much."
From what the reports are saying, the plan of the "quiet boy" was to have all 10 explosives go off and then use the sword or the chainsaw on whomever tried to leave the building alive. He built the devices himself - purchasing items for "model rockets" (as he told his family) over the web since March of this year. They didn't question him because they were happy to see he had a new hobby. They hoped it would get him out in the fresh air - maybe he'd make some friends. But no, they didn't talk to him about it.
The first teacher that grabbed the kid is being called (rightfully, in my opinion) a hero. This guy (the teacher) is all of 34 years old, married with a small kid at home and, in interview after interview, he's waiving off the "hero" title, saying that he didn't have time to debate his actions - it just was what he knew was right. In fact, just now, he said that the only hero he knows is his brother, who is serving in Iraq currently.
It's sad that this youth felt that the proper response to his feelings was to try to take so many lives. It's amazing that no one was seriously hurt. It's incredible that it takes activities like this for us to call teachers "heroes". It's tragic that some parents will fail to use this experience as a doorway to talk to their sullen teenager.
The school was closed today, to allow for a security review of the facility and to let teachers and parents respond and recover. It's due to be back in session tomorrow.
*sigh* High school life in 2009. While I enjoyed my years back in the 80's, ya' couldn't PAY me to go back today.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
If These Walls Could Talk
I am writing this from my bedroom ... well, it was my bedroom in the 80's, at least. It is still the same color scheme that I wanted it to be - and it looks pretty good, truth be told. But it is not my bedroom anymore. It hasn't been for ... my word, over 2 decades? Yow. That's wild to consider.
It seems that some of the rules that were active twenty plus years ago no longer apply. The "no holes in the walls" rule, for instance, is CLEARLY being violated by the posting of a calendar, a map of local fishing areas, various important receipts and licenses, and of course the fake Bill Clinton 3 dollar bill that my father thinks may be the funniest thing he's ever seen. There's a computer in here, too. It wasn't a rule that there couldn't be one in here, but computers back then were not in my vision at the time. I've noticed there isn't a phone, and that would have NEVER worked for me as a kid. (I was a teen-age girl - phones very much WERE in my vision.) The dogs are allowed not just inside the room but on the bed - unheard of back then.
This room has served me well. It has comforted me through sicknesses of the heart and the body, it has seen me recover from embarrassments and celebrate triumphs. I have slammed these doors as much as I've gazed from these windows. I've sat in this room to gather my courage as much as I've sat here regretting my boldness. I've cursed and prayed here. These walls have served as my prison and my protection.
I'll be creating a new version of my bedroom very shortly. While I won't be taking any of the material things that can be found here, the emotional lessons ... they are always with me. Hard-earned, at times - but more valuable than I'd ever dreamed they would be.
It seems that some of the rules that were active twenty plus years ago no longer apply. The "no holes in the walls" rule, for instance, is CLEARLY being violated by the posting of a calendar, a map of local fishing areas, various important receipts and licenses, and of course the fake Bill Clinton 3 dollar bill that my father thinks may be the funniest thing he's ever seen. There's a computer in here, too. It wasn't a rule that there couldn't be one in here, but computers back then were not in my vision at the time. I've noticed there isn't a phone, and that would have NEVER worked for me as a kid. (I was a teen-age girl - phones very much WERE in my vision.) The dogs are allowed not just inside the room but on the bed - unheard of back then.
This room has served me well. It has comforted me through sicknesses of the heart and the body, it has seen me recover from embarrassments and celebrate triumphs. I have slammed these doors as much as I've gazed from these windows. I've sat in this room to gather my courage as much as I've sat here regretting my boldness. I've cursed and prayed here. These walls have served as my prison and my protection.
I'll be creating a new version of my bedroom very shortly. While I won't be taking any of the material things that can be found here, the emotional lessons ... they are always with me. Hard-earned, at times - but more valuable than I'd ever dreamed they would be.
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