Today begins a weeklong blog hiatus, where I desperately attempt to finish my last Montessori assignments, allowing me to go on vacation guilt-free.
It’s kind of like finals week, but instead of drinking or sleeping during my breaks, I take care of small children.
Today brought:
1. Much sightseeing.
2. The realization that we purchased tickets for the slow trolley.
3. Because of our trolley choice, a lot of walking in 90° heat.
4. Lots of feeding squirrels and birds.
5. The chance to recreate a photo from when Neko was just a few months old (the first is in 2003, the second in 2011).
6. A comparison between the Lincoln Memorial and the Lincoln on the penny.
7. The knowledge that the reflecting pool, which I told Neko was one of the most beautiful things in D.C. is, in fact, under construction and not even close to beautiful.
8. The thought that I need to smile more in photos.
9. A new-found love for the Metro by a certain eight-year-old.
I agreed to man the kids’ booth at the Farmer’s Market today. I created a scavenger hunt for the kids to do around the market—so very fun to see them scurrying about with their clipboards, intent on finding the next thing.
I also let kids roll their own oats from oat groats. I confess, I didn’t know what a groat was until my thirties. I hope we can raise a generation of children who are a bit more aware of where their food comes from. The kids got to take home their oats, and I suspect there were a whole lot of cookies baked this afternoon.
Because I clearly don’t have enough to do, I’ve embarked on a small summer social studies curriculum in these parts.
For me, social studies was always a challenge.
There were all these dates that I could never remember. And all these white guys named John, Sam, or George. And then, for much of history, there were no photographs, which made it extra intangible.
Anyway, I thought this summer would be a good opportunity to do some hands-on learning about our world.
This week: Native Americans!
We read a whole slew of books, watched a few DVDs, and then, to cap off the week, I took Neko to see an outdoor drama about Tecumseh.
I made sure to get tickets to the backstage show, where they explained in detail about the guns that don’t shoot bullets, and how they pretend to fight and fall off cliffs. (Did you know most fake blood is made out of shampoo because it cleans easily out of clothing and hair? Fact of the day—check!)
I thought for sure that would take the edge off.
But I was wrong.
However, I did discover that no one really uses the “crying room” for evening performances. And it’s an excellent place to go to muffle the noises of gunshots and to discuss how the Settlers moving into Native American land is a lot like if some other family showed up at our door and told us they were now going to live in our house. So it wasn’t all bad.
Next week: Pioneers! (Where we’ll try not to hold a grudge, and just get excited about Laura Ingalls Wilder.)
Today Tom gave me the greatest Mother’s Day gift of all.
Believe me, I like a day of pampering as much as the next girl. And I’m not one for jewelry, but you can win my heart with yarn, fabric, or a gift certificate to the Container Store.
But what I really wanted was time in this house, all by myself—to purge.
The house has come last on the list for some time now. Cleaning has meant shoving things on the closest available shelf, or building a precarious stack so there’s room to attend to the crisis at hand. If the door closes on cabinets and closets, it’s good enough. And when I do try to get rid of things, someone inevitably wails, “But I neeeeeed that!”
But, today, when Tom took the kids away for six hours, I got down to business. By the time I heard little feet again, I had thrown out three huge bags of trash and filled two boxes to donate. Shelves were holding just enough, some even had some room to spare. I even eked out some space for summer projects.
It seems wrong to be this elated about a day of cleaning, but I am ECSTATIC. Jubilant. Walking on air.
Somewhere in the midst of it all I stumbled upon this queen driving an excavator, which made me laugh out loud, as it seemed quite symbolic of my whole Mother’s Day.
(Wishing a very Happy Mother’s Day to my own, incredible mother. I love you!)
No, not that sort of outing! Tom and I are just fine. And I’m not pregnant. So let’s just get those things out of your head right away.
But there are some big changes afoot.
When you stay at home with your children and your babies suddenly aren’t babies anymore, you begin to think about what’s next. I had always assumed that my role in the business would ramp up. I would go back to creative endeavors while sipping coffee, which sounded delightful.
Except it also kinda didn’t. We all know any job has its hiccups and paperwork and angry clients and blahblahblah. So there’s that. But above all else, I realized that after eight years of being immersed in the world of children, I couldn’t imagine that not being a part of my life.
This is a common thread in my life.
When filling out college applications, I spent hours agonizing about whether to check the box for graphic design or early childhood education.
In my early twenties, when I found myself deeply in debt, I got a part-time job working with children in a residential facility.
Before I got pregnant, I completed half of a Master’s Degree in Art Education (sadly, the seven year rule declares all this work moot).
So I started thinking about Life After Babies. And very quietly I thought to myself that maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be a preschool teacher.
I started researching my options and the different methodologies. Ultimately, I decided to begin a distance learning program, training in Montessori for ages 3-6. It would be a one year program of intensive work, and by the end of it, I felt I would know whether or not teaching preschool seemed like something I would like to do.
And I loved it.
I was fascinated by the science and the theory and all of the ideas which just made so much sense. But more than anything, it all felt so familiar. This is how my own parents raised me, in an environment full of amazing choices, all of which served to support my growth.
I began this program last year, and am due to wrap up in the next few months. It has been such an amazing experience, and, more than anything, has validated what I always thought the preschool years should be.
But none of you knew about this, because I told almost no one. Why? There are a few reasons. The first is, quite simply, because I began the process as an exploration. I wasn’t quite sure if it was what I wanted to do, and while I was exploring it, I wasn’t quite ready to share. A bit like a caterpillar in the chrysalis stage, I just needed a little quiet time to think things through.
The other reason is because I live in a small town. And like a tight family, everyone knows everyone else’s business. I mostly love this, but I also knew the immediate question everyone would ask is, “So what are you going to do with the degree? Where are you going to teach?” I didn’t have an answer to those questions, and I didn’t want them to be left open for speculation.
But I have some answers now.
I adore preschoolers. I love who they are, and am amazed at how they think. I feel they are capable of huge things, far more than much of our culture often gives them credit for.
This fall I will be teaching the first Montessori preschool class at my children’s school. It is a bit sooner than I anticipated going back to work, but when an opportunity presents itself, sometimes you have to take the leap.
I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it. I can’t wait to see what this next leg of the journey holds.
(Pictured is the iconic Pink Tower.)
