Picasso

As we talk on the way home from school, daily I question Anna to find out about her day. Interrogate may be a more accurate description. I'm dying to know everything.

Her first answers this week were what she hated. On Monday she hated the school because she spilled her water during lunch, was scolded (maybe), and the kids laughed.

On Tuesday she hated the first graders. Really hated the first graders. This took a while to understand. I couldn't figure out how a small group of cute six year olds could incur Anna's wrath. Through a great deal of questioning on my part, I discovered the source of the conflict-- her class doesn't eat lunch until  1 pm because the first graders go before them. And Anna was hungry that day. She's eaten a good breakfast every morning since. She's frying up bacon to add to her regular fare to make it through (we're working on the kids learning more kitchen skills). And they have a mid-morning snack.

No school on Wednesday,  though next week she will try the Mini Club that the school runs.

Yesterday, she didn't hate anything. This was progress.

As I questioned her about her day, she recounted a long story (she drew it out because she knew it was dramatic and worth telling well) of how one of the school cooks cut her forehead while the third graders were eating lunch. This was told with lots of pantomime of how the cutting may have happened  and  completed with example of the kid' facial expressions and reactions to the yell of the cook. This was clearly the most memorable event of the day.

Using my advanced interrogation skills, we stopped at the Italian gelateria, where I bought her a single scoop cone, hoping to glean some more information. We sat down on the bench outside next to an older French woman.  I asked Anna again about her day, and the French lady asked me in English if I was American. I said yes, whereupon she embraced me, kissed me on the cheek, and thanked me for coming to France's aid during World War 2.

I'm not kidding. Anna and I didn't get much talking done on the bench.

It wasn't until 8:30 that Anna filled us in on the best part of her day. Her class of sixteen had been split in two so they could do art and music in smaller groups.

Instead of telling me about music, she walks over to the piano (a used digital piano that we bought for Justin's piano lessons last year), and with correct finger positioning (as far as I can tell), shows me fa sol la ti do while naming the notes. Then she takes a notebook and draws the treble clef and shows where fa is. And then she says some Italian words because the music teacher is Italian. And the class takes place in Italian. Too cool.

Then we move on to art. Miss Helen showed the class works of art by three artists. The children  chose one of the artists and drew their own picture in that artists' style.
Here's what is cool and what led Anna to say, "God is really taking care of me."

Several days ago Anna pulled a book off our shelves that we had never read together. It's a picture book that tells about Pablo Picasso's childhood. Pablito drew pictures on walls, painted his sister's face with egg yolk, and engaged in other inappropriate artistic behaviors until his father, an amateur artist, saw one of his drawings in the sand and turned over his art materials so his kid could draw and paint on more appropriate surfaces. Anna identifies with little Pablo being misunderstood and feeling frustrated. So she had me read it twice, and we decided that we would visit the Picasso museum Saturday to celebrate the end of the first week of school.

So, of course this Thursday,  one of the three artists was Pablo Picasso, and though I don't know what she drew at school, at home she drew four line drawings of his work as she told me about it.