Gratifying

I've had more difficulties with my bus route this year than I did as a new driver last year. The main reason is that I very much butt heads with the principal of this new school.

There are times, however, when I feel rewarded for trying to go the extra mile. And today was one of them.

I had two new students start bussing last week that were unable to speak any English at all. I found out they were from Colombia, South America and spoke only Spanish. When the dad brought them to the bus stop the first morning we were unable to communicate and I only hoped that I was taking these kids to the correct school. Fortunately, it turned out okay.

On the second day they rode, I went to pick up the kids after school. I drop off some students North of the school on my first round and then return for my second load of students to drop off South of the school. On the first day my new students rode, they got on the bus on the second round (like they are supposed to), so I thought they somehow understood this was when they were to get on. However, on the second day on my return to the school to pick up the second group of kids, the vice principal told me that this girl (grade five) was crying quite hard because she thought she missed the bus. She could not be consoled.

I did my best to comfort this girl in whatever way you comfort people using only body language, and dropped her off at her stop - much troubled. This is one of the most difficult parts of this job I have had this year. There have been many communication problems because of the language barrier, but nothing troubles me more than having a child cry in misunderstanding.

I pondered the problem on the way home. Then I had a "moment". Sometimes the answer is so obvious it stares you in the face. Here I am on the computer daily, hooked up to the internet, and I realized that......duh......I could probably find a website that translated English to Spanish.

And I did. The only consolation I have is that the school - the great educational system - did not have the brains to think of this either, because the vice principal was telling me that they could not communicate with this family at all because they did not have a translator.

I came home and typed a letter to this family, introducing myself by giving my name, explaining everything they needed to know about the bus, especially the "second round" that their children would be on after school. I said that I hoped this would comfort their daughter, welcomed them to Canada, and then told them how they could get onto this website to communicate if they could get access to the internet (though a library, or something). I gave this letter to the dad yesterday morning when I picked up his children.

And herein is my reward:

This morning when I picked up his children, he came up to the steps and said - with a huge smile on his face,

"Good morning, Darla," in broken English.

Such a little thing, really, but one that brought tears to my eyes, for it made me realize that he did, indeed, understand what I tried to say. And he was gratefully conveying this to me as best as he knew how.

And I am gratified this morning.

My Brilliant Teacher

Okay. I have to give credit where credit is due. The fact is my husband is a brilliant teacher. I have no doubt that if I worked full time (and part time, like he does), and he homeschooled the kids, that they would be brilliant scholars.

I do alright at homeschooling. I am diligent and make sure they do not slip behind. In fact, I try to keep them ahead, but that's mainly because it frees up days where we don't have to do any school at all. But I am no great teacher.

And I do NOT have an inordinate amount of patience.

Yes, if Dave was home all day with them, I suspect he would lack in the patience area as well, like I do. However, he is in his element when he is teaching and if there is any time he has extraordinary amounts of patience, it is when he is teaching.

I had a tough morning with my son with mostly behavioural issues. On the bus this morning, since the weather has turned suddenly very cold, there were more kids riding, causing the kids to be packed like sardines. That meant that Hannah and Seth had to share their seat with another kid, which meant that it gave Seth an even greater opportunity to torment his sister, who was sandwiched beside him. He was the worst behaved kid on the bus. And that began our wonderful morning.

And to be perfectly honest, when my patience is tried first thing with my son, I'm hard pressed to regain it before we start school.

We were doing math, and like Hannah did at this stage, Seth has a problem with the number 0. He is finally understanding that 5 + 0 = 5, and not 6. And he finally understands that 6 - 0 = 6. However, if you switch it around (like 6 + __ = 6) he could not grasp that the answer was 0. I tried every visual thing I could think of to help him and I still could not help him to understand.

And then God heard my prayer and his dad came home unexpectedly for lunch.

With an exceeding amount of patience - because Seth did not grasp it immediately, even with his brilliant technique - he visually led him through this problem. I watched the master, trying to pick up some tricks. Truthfully, I don't have the patience (big surprise there) to explain how he so masterfully accomplished this, but I will say that part of it was because of healthy amounts of patience added to his teaching skill.

Smiling as he ate his lunch - he really does enjoy this and should have been a teacher, in my opinion - I tried to defend my inability by explaining our less than perfect morning. And although that is partly true, I know beyond a doubt that I cannot hold a candle to my husband's natural ability to teach.

I will end this post with one last brag about him. He has taken four correspondence courses in the last couple of years (things like technology, real estate, etc., all management-type courses) with the goal of readying himself to qualify for civic management positions. There will be some people retiring within a couple of years and positions opening up. Which means a significant increase in pay and ONE job instead of TWO.

Anyway, my husband has mastered the art of studying (and it IS an art, believe me) so well, that the lowest mark he has received in his four courses is 95 percent. He has gotten one 100 percent, and two 99 percents.

Pretty impressive for a 48-year-old......ancient......man.:)

Questions of the Day

From Seth, first thing this morning before my eyelids were even open:

"Mom, how do goats kiss?"

For which I had no coherent answer to (or even enough brain cells to wonder where on earth that question came from), and then,

"Mom, is Jesus God's second name?"

I told him that no, Jesus was God's first name. He then asked:

"Then, is God Jesus' second name?"

And my question? Why can't he wait until I'm awake before he starts the million questions?

Stupid, "Special" Parent

Again today, for the 376th time this year, there was a vehicle parked in the bus zone this morning. I'm finding my spirit sorely tested every time this happens (and pray to God this isn't WHY this keeps happening), so, ticked off, I got off the bus to let the special parent know (as he was just getting back in his vehicle) that he was in the bus zone and that he now must WAIT.

Picture the scenario: I am pulled beside this vehicle. I tried to box the vehicle in so he couldn't move until I was done unloading the kids. The kids have to walk IN FRONT OF this vehicle to exit, now that the dumb, bone-headed special parent took my spot. I open the doors to start letting the kids off.

THIS MORON PARENT STARTS TO DRIVE.

I freak. Literally. I yelled at the top of my lungs to this parent who was coming between me and the bus door (with window down) to:

"WAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAIT! YOU CAN'T MOVE!"

This stupid, dumb, moronic, special parent yells back at me,

"RELAX, LADY! I DIDN'T SEE THE SIGN!"

Relax? Relax? NOW WHY DID HE THINK THAT I SHOULD RELAX? I yell again,

"WAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAIT!"

He again tells me to relax. He then manages to squeak through the small opening with his vehicle and leave.

Now, several hours later, as you can see, I am still NOT RELAXED. Why? Because all day I've been picturing what could have happened. If I would have let one of those kids down, they would have been hit by that car.

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my days as a bus driver would have been over. Even if I would not have been at fault, I don't think I would be able to get over it if a kid was hit by a car on MY WATCH.

Dramatic Morning

This morning, Seth waited for me to finish doing my hair in my bedroom because he was afraid to walk by the bathroom alone.

"Did you see the scary hand that was in the bathroom?" he asked me.

"Uh, no," I replied.

So, together we ventured out to pass by the haunted bathroom. As we passed by (with him doing a half run), he again asked me if I saw that scary hand, to which I again replied that I had not.

All this from a kids' imagination. A kid whose scariest thing he ever sees is a ghost on a Freddi Fish CD. And the ghost has no hands.

That was my early morning and an omen of things to come.

While doing school, I got so excited at how well he answered a question that I grabbed him with the intention of giving him a big hug. I think he still had the scary hand on his brain, because he jumped back and hit his head on the wall. After many hugs and kisses to stop the tears, he went to go by me and I accidentally poked his eye. Again this required more kisses to stop the tears.

I was beginning to think his dramatics matched his sister's.

Immediately following the eye poking incident, he went into the living room and smashed his hand on the wall in his haste. Requiring more kisses.

This time he definitely surpassed his sister's natural ability to dramatize.

A couple of minutes passed by. Just as I was beginning to think that things were settling down, his sister came out of her bedroom where she had been doing her school work. She came out with a long pink and blue afghan draped around her neck like a cape. She had decided that she was Queen Esther this morning and was completing her school work as the Queen. On the long tail of her cape were several stuffed animals - her subjects, perhaps - trailing along behind her as subjects are wont to do.

This is when Seth decided he didn't like her subjects. What happened next is hard to tell because I didn't actually see it. What I think happened is that Seth grabbed one of the Queen's subjects and/or stepped on the Queen's cape. Queen Esther - to protect her subjects, of course - pulled her cape from the bandit, causing him to go flying. I think the bandit was partially on the cape because he ended up landing on his left knee.

And all previous dramatics were very mild in comparison.

"I'M PRETTY SURE THAT MY KNEE IS BROKEN!" he wailed.

I sent the Queen to her castle, along with her subjects. We would have a chat later. Meanwhile the little bandit wailed for about five minutes. I checked his knee and it was quite a bit......less than......broken. In fact, I could scarcely see a red mark, although the little bandit pointed out the HUGE RED MARK on his knee.

Amidst his wails he continued kept repeating,

"IF IT'S NOT BROKEN, I'M PRETTY SURE IT'S GONNA GET BROKEN YET!"

Now what is a mama to say to this? I mean a mama with any sense of humour at all? It was all I could do not to break down and laugh myself silly. As it was, a few chuckles escaped.

And so, with many kisses and hugs, a stern lecture or two, my very interesting morning ends.

Mixed Bag

It's been a rough week this week. I spent the first five days wondering where on earth I had gone wrong as a mother. It's not that things had really gotten worse, it's that I finally had enough. Every mother out there will know what I'm talking about.

When you realize that you do not have obedient (enough) children, you better slap yourself upside the head if you're the parent. Much of my week was spent re-evaluating my discipline methods; wondering when my own hearing loss began; and most of all - asking myself where lines really needed to be drawn and what really constituted a battle.

For example, should my children, more specifically - my son - be forced to sit perfectly still on a chair in a restaurant without wiggling and with very little talking? You may laugh, but this was really troublesome to me this week, particularly because that said son fell off his chair (because of his wiggling), causing his "neighbour" (a relative of mine) to spill their salad on themselves and partially on the floor. Apart from this catastrophe, it bothered nobody else in the restaurant.

Including his mother.

Whether this makes me a bad mother or not, I haven't yet decided, but throughout the week I have had to take stock of what is deemed appropriate public behaviour and truthfully, I still am not sure. I have a very "mixed bag" philosophy of parenting - largely traditional with discipline, and untraditional with behaviour. As a rule, I do not tolerate my children disrespecting adults, which is why the whole salad-on-the-floor incident troubled me; I wasn't troubled enough about it even though he disturbed an adult.

In short, here is what I've learned about myself:

1) I worry too much what others think;

2) I have too much stinkin' pride and realize that my children's misbehaviour sometimes bothers me because it's a reflection on my lack of parenting RATHER than their misbehaviour;

3) I probably won't know any more next week how to be a better parent.

I've also learned a couple more things, these during church tonight:

1) Not to look at my son while on the platform singing during song service, and;

2) Not to make eye contact with my sister after looking at my son during song service.

While I was earnestly trying to give God the glory in song, I made the mistake of looking at my son, only to find both of his fingers in his ears, eyes crossed, tongue sticking out, jumping up and down during the singing. I then observed my sister (whom he was with) stop his nonsense, only to look up at me, make eye contact, and start to laugh.

I challenge you to try to sing seriously at a time such as this.

Now, to complete my mixed bag post, I hope you enjoy pictures of the "art work" my son produced during church tonight. Some of it had me in stitches.

Title: "To Be Continued"

Title: "Seth David"

Title: "Castle On A Hill"


Title: "Happy Man"

AND MY FAVOURITE OF ALL:

Title: "Scary Mouse"
(Those teeth really do it for me)


Last, but not least, the chilluns' and I made a gingerbread house on Friday.




Hope y'all enjoyed my mixed bag post. Good night.

Lock-Down

Reason #50 (at least) of why I homeschool: My home is SAFE.

Today at the school I drive for, there was a school LOCK-DOWN. This is the same school that I would likely send my children to right by my house.

Apparently a child was making threats.

I really don't think anything else needs to be said.