Lessons
When the children were young, I drove them to school each day, a brief time we three had together free of other influences. Out of design, I would engage them in conversation about one thing or another with the hope it might pass on some point about the joy of learning something new or about getting along in life. Even though I was often sad, I enjoyed making it fun. We dealt in humor, irony, science, trivial bits of literature, honesty and feelings. They seemed to enjoy being accepted as if adults and, if they didn't appreciate the time, they played along because I enjoyed the moments.
Often on the drives, I had some message I wanted to convey. On the first day of school each year, it was the same one. There would be new kids in their classes and they should be sure to talk to each one because they wouldn't know anyone and would be afraid. On the second day, I would tell the kids that the easiest way to get good grades was to start the year working hard and showing lots of interest in class. This would fool the teachers into thinking they were good students and lead to better grades. I was honest about the risk that they might actually get interested and continue to learn because they enjoyed it, but that was a risk worth taking.
Kids, at least today, understand irony and can respond in kind. By the second grade, Courtney had dubbed that lesson, "Lecture 1" and enjoyed cutting me off before I had begun with just those two words.
All of that is to say that Courtney's latest post on her travel journal at http://www.getjealous.com/getjealous.php?go=Corchita7 is a stream of semiconsciousness on a most unfortunate lesson she learned this week in Peru. I won't give it away, but when she called to tell me about it, she began with that line parents hate to hear (no, not "Dad, can you send money") but "First, I just want you to know that I'm OK."
When I sent Debbie to read her post, her response was, "It sounds like lecture 40,235." I'm pretty sure I never taught that lesson on the way to school.
Let's see. And in other news, we have a firm contract on the house in Midtown, close on April 28 and move on April 12. Unfortunately, that is Passover, but it doesn't actually start until sundown. There is a Jewish tradition derived from the Passover story in which you place a decorative container containing a small scroll on your door frame as a sign, this time of welcome. We will get to move ours to our new home on Passover.
There is a lesson in there somewhere.
Often on the drives, I had some message I wanted to convey. On the first day of school each year, it was the same one. There would be new kids in their classes and they should be sure to talk to each one because they wouldn't know anyone and would be afraid. On the second day, I would tell the kids that the easiest way to get good grades was to start the year working hard and showing lots of interest in class. This would fool the teachers into thinking they were good students and lead to better grades. I was honest about the risk that they might actually get interested and continue to learn because they enjoyed it, but that was a risk worth taking.
Kids, at least today, understand irony and can respond in kind. By the second grade, Courtney had dubbed that lesson, "Lecture 1" and enjoyed cutting me off before I had begun with just those two words.
All of that is to say that Courtney's latest post on her travel journal at http://www.getjealous.com/getjealous.php?go=Corchita7 is a stream of semiconsciousness on a most unfortunate lesson she learned this week in Peru. I won't give it away, but when she called to tell me about it, she began with that line parents hate to hear (no, not "Dad, can you send money") but "First, I just want you to know that I'm OK."
When I sent Debbie to read her post, her response was, "It sounds like lecture 40,235." I'm pretty sure I never taught that lesson on the way to school.
Let's see. And in other news, we have a firm contract on the house in Midtown, close on April 28 and move on April 12. Unfortunately, that is Passover, but it doesn't actually start until sundown. There is a Jewish tradition derived from the Passover story in which you place a decorative container containing a small scroll on your door frame as a sign, this time of welcome. We will get to move ours to our new home on Passover.
There is a lesson in there somewhere.
