Blog
Inventions
There are other things going on in our lives besides Anna's new school. Some are worthy of a blog post--like Justin playing on a basketball team this year (first practice was last night). Others not so much. For example, my battle this week against the tartar build-up in our toilet and the replacement of the toilet seat (it looks so much better already) are a part of my daily life and could lead to sharing of anti-tartar build-up suggestions and other helpful house cleaning tips.
But for today, the post once again is about the new school.
Here's what happened last Thursday.
Anna had briefly met the French teacher and seen the school last June, but I wanted her to meet her English teacher and have time to look around.
Scott called to set it up since I was sure they would say no since teachers are busy and of course don't have time for this kind of thing two days before school.
It was a yes, come anytime.
So, we headed down to the school Thursday morning. As she road her bike beside me, Anna started asking about inventions. She loves science. In fact, she loves it so much that she burst into tears last night when she saw Justin's lab coat that he needed for chemistry. We'll be making one for her.
Her birthday party this year had a science theme. The kids created their own robots out of boxes, buttons, bottle tops and lots of aluminum foil. We mixed up cornstarch and water and made a huge, lovely mess on the outside table. The kids formed it into to balls, dropped them on the table, and watched the ball turn to liquid. It was a very cool birthday party.
Anyway, back to Thursday, she said she wanted to invent something and happily prattled on about it. She wanted to know if inventing something is hard and decided that she wants to make her own invention.
We arrived at the school and went up to the classroom with Miss Helen, who started to tell us about what they'll be studying this year--grammar, the human body, etc. Then she enthusiastically said that the big project that the class will be working on throughout the year will be--inventions.
Within the context of what Anna went through with school last year and both of our jitters about the beginning of school this year, this felt like way more than a happy coincidence. It felt like a large, beautifully wrapped, hand-delivered gift from God to Anna.
The class has started already by working together on an invention this week. As Anna tells it, it's a robot that is supposed take ones' glasses off. They are hoping to be able to make it talk. It was missing two large nails that someone is bringing in today.
Justin, who is definitely a product of the French school system, doesn't quite believe her. He can imagine no scenario in which this kind of activity could occur in the first week of school. Then again, sailing is a part of his physical education curriculum this year. And he gets to wear a cool lab coat on Fridays.
Day Two
Anna rode her bike to school today as I tried my best to keep up. It takes twenty minutes if we hit all the green lights.
As she was v e r y s l o w l y getting ready this morning, Anna said several times that she hated her new school. But, knowing that this is the child who has spoken in superlatives since she first began to communicate, I choose to believe that, " I hate my new school," really means, "I'm pretty tired this morning and would rather stay in bed." Which was how I felt this morning too.
Why the new school?
She is at this small, bilingual school because I came along to a class picnic three and a half months ago. During the month of May, 1st and 2nd graders spend a day in an olive grove in the city, and each class performs a traditional Nicois dance. It's supposed to be fun.
There are hundreds and hundreds of kids; and in my experience, it is either extremely hot or rainy. As I remember, Justin got the rain for both years.
Anna got super hot. When I arrived around eleven a.m., the kids were either sitting in a small strip of shade along the stone wall or playing in another small piece of shade under a nearby olive tree. The children up playing were eventually instructed to come and sit in the shade strip because it was too hot.
So they sat. Their performance was scheduled for 3pm. It wasn't time for lunch yet. The teacher went off to get their class portion of socca, a traditional Niçois chick pea pancake thing. It took about forty-five minutes. The kids were hot, bored, and hungry. They were supposed to wait. They weren't allowed to play.
You get the picture.
It wasn't really fun for anyone. Some parents eventually rebelled and allowed the kids in their charge to start in on their lunches. Our shade strip was getting smaller, so we moved to a large olive tree where the kids sat. Some played card games. Then it was time to change for the dance. Which the kids did under the olive tree. We walked over to our stage and waited in line while the fifteen classes still ahead of us took their turns. It was all behind schedule.
So, within the context of this day that wasn't very pleasant or fun for anyone, Anna was quietly miserable. Perhaps not more than anyone else in terms of comfort or expectations vs. reality. But I saw how socially ostracized she was and saw what her interactions were like with her classmates and how she is perceived by others. I suddenly switched from thinking that with lots of support, Anna can make it in the French school system to realizing that she could never thrive in this system.
This last year was incredibly difficult for her at school. She showed increasing signs of stress from the very first days. Her only friends were in the grade above her. She struggled with the work.
Now that we have a diagnosis of sensory processing disorder, we know the causes of her struggles with school work. But I am also very sure that the small bilingual school is a place where she will be happy and cared for in a way that she wasn't in a large school where the emphasis was on children adapting to the system instead of teachers adapting to the child.
Even with a good teacher, which she did have last year, it just didn't work.
As I said to Anna, the new school is not magic. It will not all be perfect and easy. But it will be a better fit for her.
Next post...Inventions.
La Rentrée
This is not an amazing back to school picture. I was in a hurry, the light was bad, and I think I moved as I took it. But it is amazing because Anna is excited and happy to be starting at her new bilingual school. Some of you know the story. I will tell it here soon, but I need to go pick her up now so there is no time.
But I will say that I am grateful for new starts. I am thankful for lovely friends who have supported her, encouraged her, and prayed for her. For her French teacher who smiled and said that Anna seemed to have grown since she met her last Thursday (it's the new haircut which ended up being a lot shorter than expected). And for her very kind new British teacher, Miss Helen, who took her hand and led her up into the building this morning.
Amen.
Story Time
A couple weeks ago, Anna, in the second grade, had several photocopied pages to read for homework. She was less than enthusiastic, but we settled onto the couch and began reading.
Here's a summary:
Mister Seguin had a beautiful little white goat. He made sure she had everything she needed. The goat wanted to go into the mountains. Mister Seguin said that it wasn't safe, that last year Renaude, another of his goats, had gone to the mountain. She had fought off a wolf through the night, and it ate her in the morning.
The beautiful white goat insists that she wants to go, so Mister Seguin locks the goat in the barn, but forgets to close the window. The beautiful white goat escapes.
She spends a lovely day frolicking in the mountains.
The beautiful white goat is happy. Really, really happy.
Night falls, she hears Mister Seguin calling for her. She hears a wolf. She chooses to stay on the mountain.
At this point in the story, I have a bad feeling about this. Anna is getting teary-eyed. I skim ahead. Anna is right.
The goat fights off the wolf all night. Morning is coming, and the beautiful white goat lays down, covered in blood, and the wolf eats her.
Really.
Is that not the worst bedtime story you have ever heard?
I don't think Disney will be making this into an animated feature anytime soon.
I know there are plenty of disturbing stories out there for kids. Hansel and Gretel comes to mind. Little Red Riding Hood. But the witch doesn't get to eat the kids. Little Red Riding Hood, even in its most gory version, gets cut out of the wolf's stomach and has a nice lunch with Grandma.
Poor Anna. To put salt on the wound, she had to memorize a poem on the goat as well. At least it was the happy part about her frolicking in the mountains, but still...
Rainy Day
I stood and prayed in the rain as a life came to an end yesterday.
An elderly woman had attempted to cross the street several meters away from the cross walk. The driver of the van ran over her. I read today in the paper that the emergency workers had to extract her from under the vehicle.
I watched as they administered c.p.r. under a shiny, metallic tarp and transferred her to the ambulance. I prayed for her family and for the driver.
The paper said she was eighty years old and that the driver was taken to a hospital in a state of shock.
Bonhoeffer
I've been reading this biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer this month. Scott got it for me for Christmas. I read the Cost of Discipleship years ago and had a general idea of Bonhoeffer's life.
I'm having a hard time with it though. Not because it isn't extremely well-written. Not because Bonhoeffer isn't fascinating. And not because his story isn't gripping. It's because Bonhoeffer was executed for his role in a plot to assassinate Hitler weeks before Hitler's suicide. Because Bonhoeffer was engaged. Last night I had to put the book down because he and his fiancé are fully expecting his release from prison and are writing each other about wedding plans.
The problem is that I like my endings happy.
This is hard because I also love reading autobiographies and biographies. And because most of them are about people who died. This isn't a criticism of the biography/autobiography industry. Just a statistical reality.
Malcom X's autobiography sat on my shelf for two years before I could read it. Joan of Arc (burned alive) took a while to get to as well.
Seriously though, it is hard to read about evil. And hard to see evil triumph in the short term. It drives me to pray for countries where oppressive regimes destroy lives. And helps me to understand the psalmists' pleas for justice and peace.
Saturday Morning Kitchen Stories
Scott took to the task, and his waffles were much prettier than mine. I think waffle making as the guys' thing on Saturday mornings is a wonderful idea.
Aren't they pretty?
I decided to make granola with some leftover walnuts and coconut from Christmas baking and came across a recipe that includes applesauce. I haven't made granola for years, but it sounds yummy.
Our home group met on Wednesday evening. I prepared a galette des rois to share, but then Jean-Pierre brought lovely bakery treats, and Daniel and Febe brought this panettone. I put the galette to the side, we'll eat the panettone at our next meeting, and the bakery treats were amazing. Probably time to come up with some kind of who brings what schedule.
I had also made a batch of chili for home group. Unfortunately, I used a new batch of chili powder from the Asian food store that was ridiculously hot. I couldn't serve it, so Scott and I have been dousing it with yogurt to cool it down enough to eat for lunch everyday. It took us four days to eat (I had made a large batch), but we did it. 
Bought these clementines Friday. There were a lot in here. This is how many were left at 11am Saturday. Two were left on Saturday night. I don't even have teenagers in the house.
This is for the pizza dough that I was going to make Friday night. I put the dry ingredients together so that I could get started when I got back from dropping off Justin at church. Instead of dropping him off and leaving, I stayed and chatted. We had pizza on Saturday night.Narcissism
I overheard the kids playing in the living room the other day. Something to do with arranging blankets and making a tent. At one point, Anna complained about her hair getting messed up, and Justin responded with, "That's o.k., you're a mommy."
I thought this was strange at first, but then figured it had to do with the general state of my hair. I try to keep it combed and presentable, but my standards aren't high. I have untagged myself in Facebook photos where it looked particularly unkempt.
My hair looked really good for three days in August. I got it cut while we were in Bogotà, and some magical combination of hair product and the fifteen minute blow dry turned it into what Justin referred to as a helmet. But it was a lovely, sleek, shiny helmet.
The following photo will be my Facebook profile picture forever. It was taken the day of the cut.
Sideview. Anna's do is from the same place. The ribbon was braided into her hair.
Day two and it was still looking good as we went to a children's festival.
Day three, still couldn't bring myself to wash it and bring it all to an end.
Alas, I finally washed it. For a few weeks I tried to blow dry and style it. But my arm gets tired of holding up the blow dryer. And I'll just have to wash it again and start over in a few days.
Oh, and I realized that Justin said, mummy, not mommy. They were pretending that Anna was an Egyptian mummy. So the hair didn't matter as I guess it just mostly disintegrates over the millenia anyway.
Airport Bookstore Shopping
I think it was in Miami International Airport that we had extra time to browse in a large bookstore. Anna was interested in this pop-up book. I was willing to consider it since it was on sale and actually a good value.
However, even the cover was a give-a-way that this was not a well-conceived children's book. Pop-ups are usually for young children, and pop-ups on frightening things could lead to nightmares, right?
Then again, these seem to be classical kinds of monsters, and since I'm exposing the kids to Shakespeare's tragedies already (through the Shakespeare for Kids series), why not throw in Medusa for good measure?
The griffin seemed harmless enough and quite classical (thus, acceptable).
But then we flipped to this, which is just gross. There were more like this, but I was shy about photographing the whole book without buying it. And I certainly didn't want to buy it. Anna agreed.
The griffin seemed harmless enough and quite classical (thus, acceptable).But then we flipped to this, which is just gross. There were more like this, but I was shy about photographing the whole book without buying it. And I certainly didn't want to buy it. Anna agreed.
Some poor child probably received this from a traveling relative who picked it up while rushing through the airport thinking they got a good buy on a last-minute gift.
Comfort Zone...Where are you?
So, a friend at church mentioned months ago the idea of getting people together to prepare a worship/concert event. A few people from various churches had started meeting together in August to plan and practice. I came along in September to a practice to check it out and see if I could help--thinking that it would be low key and that I may join in on a couple songs.
Well, there were musicians and microphones and a very few singers. Two sopranos, two altos (including me), and two guys. The microphones totally freaked me out. I am not a terribly outwardly emotive person in daily life, but I am extremely self-conscious singing in front of people. Not to mention my past history of almost panic attacks. I once had shooting pains down my left arm when speaking in front of a crowd. That was over twenty years ago, but still...
It was immediately assumed that I was a permanent part of the group, and when it comes down to it, I do enjoy the work of putting this all together...working out harmonies, brainstorming arrangements, even the hours and hours of practices.
Several of the group members are from our church, so we tried out some of the songs at our church retreat last weekend. By the way, I haven't gained twenty pounds, just wearing a big shirt of Scott's to celebrate the newly fallen snow outside the retreat center. Scott filmed us, and I am working on how not to look quite so awkward when singing at our concert. I figure some rhythmic instrument in my hand is of immense help. Now how to get over the deer in the head lights expression that my face falls into...
Fortunately, the concert is not until the 21st of November. I'll do my part the best I can and just enjoy the process of working with an amazing team.
Expanding Horizons
This is a poster that went up at school last week during the annual "Week of Taste". Parents were invited to bring in food--in particular regional or international dishes. This poster is from Anna's class. It says, "Today, Mexico. We tasted tortillas and Mexican chips. We found that it was a little spicy and salty. Some thought that it was potatoes and meat, which was not the case. There was cheese, red beans, onions, garlic, tomatoes and cumin."
So, I was the one who brought in burritos and chips and salsa. I did specify that this was Tex/Mex, but labeling it all as Mexican was probably easier for little French first graders to wrap their minds around. The kids all had a piece of bean burrito and then the teacher had them guess what was in them as she wrote their responses on the board. It was extremely entertaining. Over half of them liked it, which I was impressed with.
After the burrito guesswork, I went around with chips and salsa. I had warned them that the salsa was a little spicy (although I did tone it down), but they were so afraid to taste it that I had Anna demonstrate the proper piling on of salsa on a chip. She was happy to do it.
Parents aren't generally as active in French classrooms as they are in American classrooms. So, it was nice for me to be able to see the class and interact with the kids. And it was delightful to see how the teacher gathered the kids responses and artwork together to celebrate the experience.
Parents aren't generally as active in French classrooms as they are in American classrooms. So, it was nice for me to be able to see the class and interact with the kids. And it was delightful to see how the teacher gathered the kids responses and artwork together to celebrate the experience. Exciting Piglet Chasing Footage
The second video is longer. Listen for Anna cheering Justin on. Then listen to the parents laughing as our children ran away from the Mama Pig. This was excellent entertainment for all involved.
And no one caught a piglet.
A Day at the Farm
It took a while to find a pair for Anna. She wasn't happy about the fit and of course wanted a pink pair. We eventually found some, but she didn't like them. I put my right foot into a pair that looked about my size, only to pull it out wet and covered in bog mud. Ick. This did not bode well. I was already cold, which is just a strange sensation to have in August, and now I was to traipse around a farm for three hours with a soggy foot. The things we do for our children...
It was decided that we would head over to try pig catching first. The young guide took the wrong way around, which, unfortunately, led us by a very dead sheep lying in the mud. I told Anna that the sheep was just sick, and she bought it. Whew. I mentioned the dead sheep days later to Scott. He hadn't even noticed. He and Justin must have been too focused on the pig catching ahead. In the picture the dead sheep is behind the living one, in the shed.
Several kids got in the pig pen and quickly showed us all that no one would be catching a piglet. The mama pig was remarkably calm, but nonetheless, stood her ground. We all laughed really hard.
To be continued...
Dvblinia
On our first full day in Ireland, we took the bus into Dublin and visited Dvblinia, a hands-on museum showing Viking and medieval life in Dublin.
We took the requisite photo before entering the museum. There was only space for one female child though, so we snapped two versions of the medieval Harris family.
The kids pretended to play with dirty, plastic medieval kids,
and tried on all manner of Viking and medieval head gear.
This one is truly frightening, sorry.
Anna's look is of intense concentration as she endeavors to keep the heavy, slippery chain mail balanced on her head.
Oops, a little big.
They bought a sword and axe with their vacation spending money.
Day two will be at the zoo.
Welcome
Thought I would blog about our ten days in Ireland. We're doing a house swap for the first time ever. The kids love the three cats and the trampoline.
Welcome
Ireland greeted us graciously with a double rainbow when we stepped out of the airport to wait for our bus. She wasn’t done though. We were advised to take the bus to the center of town and then take a train to get to our place. A bus at that point might hit all the traffic in the area of town where U2 was playing the last of their three Dublin concerts. The train slowed down as we approached Croke Park, the concert venue. And then it stopped and stayed there as the band began their next song, Pride. The train didn’t budge for the length of the song. Lovely Ireland. Lovely welcome.
Church
I was at church this afternoon. Every Tuesday since November, our pastor's wife gets together with women in the neighborhood to knit, chat, and drink coffee. Most of the women are from north Africa.
I was invited to bring the kids and come along for a baking day (I would have had to refuse knitting). School is out for two weeks here--most everyone's least favorite school holiday of the year. It's not a good time of year for outside activities.
Not too many ladies came--just two at the beginning. Then a couple more. Sometimes there are as many as ten. A young French student came in who had set up to talk with Scott about the Christian faith, so he waited while we peeled and cored apples for the apple crumble. Scott arrived with Anna, who worked on the topping for the apple crumble.
A French woman came in with her toddler son. She had made an appointment to receive a parcel of food. While she was waiting, she had coffee.
While she was waiting, another woman came in with a shy teenager. I assumed this was her daughter, though she talked about her coming to get help. It turns out that the girl is homeless and has been since being kicked out of the house a few years ago. She's only nineteen. She had coffee and oatmeal squares and apple crumble. And they spent time with our pastor talking about next steps.
Somewhere in there Scott and the young student came back from their chat. Both had apple crumble. Did I mention there was creme anglaise on the side? Scott headed home and the young student stayed and chatted until evening.
We cleaned up while the kids played. A very down and out man barged in exclaiming that he was cold and needed coffee. He had coffee with our pastor and the man in charge of the church's social services. He came into the kitchen to give us his cup before going back out.
The Great Harris Flood of 2009
Ahhh, vacation days. Monday was a holiday here and Scott was due to return from his trip to Strasbourg. Picnic with friends planned for later in the day. The kids and I slept in...
Anna and I were the first to get up and discovered water pooled throughout most of the apartment. Adrenalin is a very effective stimulant, btw.
So, here are three irritating things that happened between 8:50 and 9am:
1. Ummm, my house had turned into a pond.
2. I gathered up the soaked-through area rug from the living room, slipped (cartoon-style), and fell flat on my back into the pond. Then put on my crocs which served me well throughout the morning.
3. Quickly worked to sop up water in the hallway by wringing towels out into a wastebasket (it was within reach), lifted the very full of water wastebasket to dump it into the bathtub, and the bottom fell off. My own little waterfall. Lovely.
And three things for which I was grateful:
1. The water was not coming from the toilet. Very grateful as this happened to a neighbor last Christmas and the sight of sewage in our pond would have sent me way over the edge.
2. The water was not coming from a faucet, which meant this was not due to any overt stupidity. Phew.
3. Scott was due home from the train station in half an hour.
So, I put the kids to work. Anna was actually quite enthusiastic (maybe a little too enthusiastic). And when Justin said he couldn't help anymore, I let him know that not helping was not an option (although I wasn't that polite about it). I did let them take a break for breakfast.
The problem is the water heater. A plumber is coming late this afternoon, but for now we're heating water on the stove when we need it. Nothing is ruined.
And yesterday was a stunningly beautiful day. We made it to a lovely picnic with friends from church.
I took this picture of the port.
There was plenty of food,
time to play,
and time to laugh (Dina makes me laugh).
Here are the ruins of an 11th/12th century church. I love picnics in Europe.
And some well-earned napping time (Anna is just pretending).
The Annual Harris Snow Day
We tried to get to the mountains in January for a day of sledding, but the roads were closed due to bad weather and avalanches. We were actually on the train waiting for the departure to Casterino when Snow Train hostess came and told us that the trip was cancelled. The kids were devestated, and we ended up redeeming the day with a model for Justin, and a fake Barbie veterinarian set for Anna. We were desperate. It was an expensive day.
The Snow Train only runs until mid-March (actually a combination train/bus trip), so last weekend,we caught the bus at the train station, loaded our gear, and paid a euro each to go up to Isola 2000, a ski station built in the 70s . This is something I love about Nice, by the way. Where else can you pay a euro for a three hour bus ride? Before leaving Nice, the bus driver even kindly offered complementary vomit bags. Gross, but practical.
It was raining as we left, and rained as we got further up into the mountains. Eventually, we saw traces of dirty drifted snow as we climbed into the mountains, but it didn't look too promising. Then, we rounded a curve, and the rain morphed into huge, fluffy snowflakes. Lots of oohs and aahs on the bus. And it was winter. Just like that.
It was not only winter, but snowy, windy, and cold all day. Really snowy. We were cold, and at first a little shell shocked until we found the indoor commercial center. We ordered some sandwiches, and did some serious bundling up before attempting the outdoors. 
The kids had a blast. We all did some sledding. Justin and Scott sledded wayyyyyy down the hill and hopefully had excellent father/son bonding time as they trekked wayyyyyyyy back up the hill. Anna and I attempted a snowman, but it fell apart when we tried to accessorize, so we finally gave up and went inside for a snack.
The way back on the bus was mostly calm. The rest of the family slept while I tried to forget that I was on a bus careening down a mountain and wondering if I should have taken one of the bags at the beginning of the trip. Then it happened. I smelled the unmistakeable smell of vomit. A child two seats ahead of me. I thought about offering my supply of kleenexes but decided my wisest course of action would be to bury my face in my sweater. Which I did. After a few minutes, the cleaning up sounds stopped. I ventured out of my sweater. And I have to say, I will be forever grateful to these parents for bringing air freshener with them on the trip.
Once home, the kids had a quick dinner while we did a lot of stirring of the cheese fondue. I had experimented with my recipe by adding a third cheese, so it never did reach the perfect consistency, but it was still yummy.
Anna is a big fondue fan. It is cheese, after all.
Justin is actually only pretending to eat this. He eats a little more every time we make it, so I'm thinking in another three years, he'll be on board. He's convincing though, isn't he?
Christmas in Nice
We've had a busy holiday season with good friends visiting, lots of food, and much fun with our friends' new Wii. All those years of step classes finally paid off as I achieved the highest score on the Wii Fit step activity. Never mind that I was competing against children under the age of ten. It still counts, especially as they beat me in EVERYTHING else. Oh, except hula hoop. I did pretty well there too. Not the highest scorer, but close. Unfortunately, the Wii departed with our friends. We miss the Wii. A lot. Oh, and our friends too.
So here's a picture of the living nativity scene in the center of Vieux Nice. We all bundled up to go see this one afternoon. There were live animals, but the old store mannequins dressed in crop pants and leg warmers were umm, just weird.
