but that’s not FAIR

20 lousy pairs of scissors

by mayberry on June 23, 2008

Last fall I promised to take my BlogHer ads earnings for the academic year and donate them to a teacher through DonorsChoose. So it’s time for me to report back on the teacher I chose.

I searched the DonorsChoose site for projects in New Jersey (where my kids would have attended public schools if we hadn’t pulled up stakes and moved to Mayberry) in the amount I had to give. It’s not a lot, but that’s the idea behind DonorsChoose–individual donors supporting individual teachers in small efforts that make a big difference to students.

Possibilities included:

We have over 100 books in our classroom library. Unfortunately, we do not have a place to display those books. They are currently sitting in crates and boxes and my students have to sift through them to find the book or dictionary that they need. This is time consuming as well as damaging to the books.
My classroom is extremely noisy due to the old chairs squeaking on the floor. I’ve tried to minimize the noise by cutting up tennis balls and placing them on the feet of the old chairs, but it isn’t solving the problem. My students already have a disability in that they have difficulty processing oral language, and the noise just adds to this problem. I need a large carpet which would reduce noise and make a more conducive learning environment.
My kindergarten class is filled with 25 eager and excited learners! However, during literacy centers, their enthusiasm is starting to fade because of the lack of interactive materials that are available. I want to create a center where students can use a multi-sensory approach to phonics practice. At this center, my students would have fine-motor practice by rolling play dough into a thin layer. The children will then use uppercase and lowercase letter molds/cookie cutters to punch out letters to complete different tasks.
Our school started a wonderful reading program for students at home. We supply the books and the students read at home every night. However, it is becoming harder to supply the students with enough materials on their reading level. My students love to read and read at least 1-5 chapters per night. They are reading through all the books in our classroom.

In the end I decided to fund a project for Mrs. C’s classroom of 6th to 8th graders with special needs:

Since the first day of school this year my students have been complaining about
my canister full of ancient scissors. They are constantly asking to borrow the
“teacher scissors” which have mysteriously disappeared on more than one
occasion. If we had a class set of “teacher scissors” my students would be able
to really create the masterpieces I know they are capable of creating. We would
also love some tape to proudly display our work outside of the classroom.

Can you believe that? Scissors and tape. It’s so simple that I want to cry. I’m not going to get into the politics of education reform and funding, but can we all stop and think for a minute how ridiculous it is that a teacher has to beg for basic supplies like these?

Updated to add: My teacher already sent a lovely thank-you note this morning (Tuesday):

You would not believe how excited I was today when I opened my email and
found that my Scissors That Slice proposal had been funded. Even though it is
summer break I will see a few of my students at our Summer Book Club in a few
days and I will be able to share the good news. The students will be ecstatic to
hear that we are getting new supplies, just for us! Before school ended we would
check the Donors Choose website at the beginning of each day to see if anyone
else had sponsored us! I can’t wait until next fall to work with my students to
make beautiful projects with our new scissors and tape! Thank you so much for
your kindness and generosity! We really do appreciate it!

Updated to add again:

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Not without precedent

by mayberry on April 30, 2008

Rearing children: It’s like living with tiny Supreme Court justices.

“But yesterday you said … “
“But Daddy let me … “
“But my sister/brother/cousin/friend got to … “
“But another day we didn’t have to … “

My god. If it’s not enough that you have to anticipate every possible consequence of every single action, you must also be aware that if you allow it once, you are doomed to have to agree to it over and over again for as long as you live.

Consistency: It’s the hobgoblin of little minds. And parents.

This here is my 400th post, says Blogger. How on earth did that happen? Thanks for reading and commenting and just generally being fabulous in so many ways.

I didn’t eat any bugs (on purpose, but thanks to all of you for the lovely images you suggested, Heather). I tried the dryer sheet thing. No effect whatsoever.

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Haiku Friday: Meddling kids edition

by mayberry on April 18, 2008

Wake early, sneak down
Kids’ spidey senses trigger
Crush my workout groove

Seriously, I cannot catch a break from these two. Every other school day I drag them from their beds with barely enough time to dress and wolf down some breakfast. Turns out the secret to getting them up is for me to wake up early and try to squeeze in some exercise. Then they’re all over me like white on rice critiquing my posture (Jo, and I quote: “Mommy, you need to make your legs straight like his. … Mommy, that’s not how you do a warrior pose.”) and begging for a channel change.

Maybe I’d have better luck over at Johnny’s.

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Take two baby aspirin and call me in the morning

by mayberry on April 9, 2008

(You are sick to death of hearing about my kids’ birthdays by now, I know. If you need a break I recommend a visit to my friend GHD.)

Last week’s birthday festivities were kicking my ass. Then came this week: The Birthday Hangover. My god, these children are beastly. They are defiant, rude, and aggressive. Sent-to-the-principal (her), screamed-through-three-naptimes-in-a-row (him), hitting, throwing, tantrumming naughty.

Please tell me this is just a reaction to the excesses of last week. Please tell me my sweet children will be coming back, after a firm application of regular routines and discipline. I am hoping desperately.

The situation brings out an ~~argument~~ discussion I’ve been having with Jeff lately, which is that too much–too many treats, too many presents, too many desserts, whatever–is just as bad as none at all. If you get candy every day (or every hour, it feels like), then what’s special about candy? If you get gifts once a week, how long before you expect them once a day?

He thinks I am totally overreacting, but I worry. I really do. I realize all this is a problem of privilege, but I want my children to appreciate all they’ve been blessed with. I want them to know that the reason they receive so many gifts is that there are so many people who love them. Even when they are being total stinkers.

P.S. She does look cute in her TwirlyGirl dress, though.

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Wearing my Food Sheriff badge with ambivalence

by mayberry on August 29, 2007

I like to think I am moderate, erring toward healthy, when it comes to my diet and my kids’. I try to make sure we eat a variety of foods, whole grains (yay for whole-wheat Eggo waffles), fruits and veggies, yada yada. Luckily, the kids are not particularly picky. We don’t eat a lot of organic stuff because it’s not readily available where we live. (I could get it but I am a little too cheap and lazy to do so). But we shop at our farmer’s markets as often as we can. I let the kids have candy and other treats sometimes and about once a week or so I give in to their begging for a snow cone after school. Otherwise, I try to limit the amount of processed crapola that they consume and the use of food as a reward.

And I have to say that even this small set of rules is really tiring to enforce. I feel like I am being undermined at every turn. Every time Jo goes to play at one particular friend’s house, she has mac-and-cheese, juice, candy, and ice cream for dinner–no thought of any fruit or vegetables, ever.

My husband created the tradition of “cookies, Nukkies and bookies” when it’s time for bed. Gee, thanks. Now he’s giving out cookies every night regardless of whether the kids ate any dinner or how many other sweets they might have had the rest of the day. When we arrived at my mother-in-law’s a few weeks ago, there was a giant box of “fruit” gummies waiting to greet us. Her co-worker had given them to her because the kids were coming to visit (“I wasn’t sure if it would be OK, but I didn’t know what to do with them”–so displaying them prominently in the living room seemed wise??). I let them have a couple of packs a day but in this as in every scenario, I am forced to be the bad guy just to maintain some semblance of health. I have no problem at all saying no to the kids. I just resent being forced to do so because no one else is paying attention.

I can’t imagine trying to insist on a fully organic diet or cutting out processed foods altogether–because we don’t live in a bubble, we live in a community. We live with other people who have different beliefs and value systems about food, and since eating is a communal activity much of the time, we have to work this out. How do you do it?

Photo: Legends of America

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Flirting with disaster

by mayberry on August 6, 2007

In addition to my self-appointed efficiency expert mantle, I’ve decided that I (and all parents really) can also claim the title Incident Prevention Specialist.

At the end of every workday, rushing to finish one last thing before I put away my laptop and pick up the kids, I contemplate leaving the laptop plugged in and sitting on the table. Then the IPS corner of my brain starts shouting: What if someone trips over the cord and yanks the laptop onto the floor (notice I don’t care if any human sustains an injury; my only concern is for my precious rainbow-adorned laptop)? What if somebody spills milk into the keyboard? What if I have to spend a half-hour deflecting requests to “play a gaaaaaaaaaaame on the ca-puter, Mommy, pleeeeeeeeease?” I take the 48 seconds to unplug the laptop, move it to an out-of-sight, out-of-mind location, clear the junk off the table and leave. Incident, prevented.

Later, I notice with horror that there is only one more ice cream sandwich in the freezer. There are two children, and because the freezer is at floor level they can open it up anytime they want. I immediately eat the ice cream sandwich or at least hide it under a bag of frozen broccoli. Incident, prevented.

Preparing for an outing, I give the kids healthy snacks to eat in the car so I can stave off requests for unhealthy ones later (or I–oops!–neglect to bring any money so that I can’t buy any junk). I plan my route so I won’t pass the snow-cone place or the Dairy Queen or even the pool. I bring a stroller, aka traveling toddler cage. (Yes, I do know how to say “no.” Trust me, I do it often. But it’s nicer just avoiding the whinefests whenever possible.)

It’s like a chess game dealing with these wily kids. You always have to think at least 5 moves ahead. Or else there might be an Incident.

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Singing the show-tune blues

by mayberry on July 16, 2007

Last month we took the kids to see the touring production of The Lion King. We had bought the tickets nearly a year in advance, knowing that Opie would be barely two years old on the date of the performance. We figured we’d decide whether to take him or not once we had a better read on his behavior, and if we thought he couldn’t hack it, we’d leave him home with a sitter and sell or give away his ticket.

As the date approached, we decided that even though he is two and all boy, he might be trusted to behave during the performance. He loves music and is fascinated by live performance. He loves animals. He had done very well at his first movie matinee in April. The audience at the Lion King would be full of families and kids, and the venue even allowed snacks in the seats. If he did melt down, one of us would suck it up and take him out to the lobby.

We prepped both kids extensively. We listened to the soundtrack constantly (feel free to quiz me on which track is “Hakuna Matata” and which one is “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King”) and watched the movie several times. We drilled them on the rules (Opie informs you: “be KYE-it an’ sitinmyseat”). And we packed a few Nuks along with the snacks.

And he did it! (Am I leaving Jo out? It’s just that we never had a moment’s doubt about her, couch potato princess that she is.) For the first few minutes of the first act, he pointed at the exit and told me he wanted to “GO DERE” and “GO HOME,” but he soon settled into my lap with his hands primly folded and watched everything without another word. During the second act, he was a little more chatty, piping up occasionally with questions and comments, but overall, he was an exemplary little audience member.

Since that day, both kids are even more LK-obsessed than ever. We still listen to the soundtrack all day long: In the car. At naptime. At bedtime. During dinner. While playing outside. (You should hear Opie’s operatic rendition of “When I was a young wart-HOG!”) We “read” the souvenir program book just as often. Nearly daily, both kids ask when we are going to see Lion King again.

Which brings me, at long last, to my point. The tour is coming to a city a few hours’ drive from us in the fall. We thought it would be a fun treat to take the kids and spend the weekend. Last night I investigated ticketing options–until I came to this roadblock: “Patrons must be age four or over. No one under age four will be admitted.”

And in an instant the whole trip was off. Look, I totally understand that they don’t want screaming babies or disruptive toddlers to ruin the paying customers’s experience. But I’d like to be able to decide for myself whether my kid’s attendance is appropriate. I am, after all, the one who is shelling out $75 for his ticket. Or not, as the case ~~may be~~ is. I’m very disappointed that our whole family has to miss out because of this stupid rule. And I’m really angry at the clueless parents whose kids’ behavior must have prompted it. If they’d had the good sense to control their offspring in public–or remove them from the scene if necessary–my children wouldn’t have to miss out.

The tour is coming back our way (to another, closer city) early next year. Maybe we’ll try again then. If that theater doesn’t allow nearly-3-year-olds, I may spring for a fake ID for my show-tune lovin’ tot.

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Certainly no need to check the calendar today

by mayberry on March 12, 2007

Moms unite against Daylight Savings Time! Who’s with me?

After a nearly 30-minute struggle to drag (literally and figuratively) my children from their beds this morning, I finally get them to school. As I’m changing Opie into his slippers I spot a police car through the side door. “Look kids, a police car!” “Why is there a police car at our school, Mommy?” “I don’t know…OK, time to take Opie into his class!”

You know what the police car was doing? Giving me a parking ticket. Directly in front of the school. Where I (and every other parent) have been parking every morning and afternoon for three solid years. Granted, right underneath a no parking sign, but I uh, guess I thought it didn’t apply to me or something. Also: this block contains the school on one side, and TWO houses on the other. What’s with the draconian parking laws?

Wanna know how much a parking ticket is in Mayberry?

$10.

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