Aspirations

We were discussing my cousin’s son’s martial arts pictures. He wore a gi that my boys’ sensei would be annoyed with. But Sensei has the right to his opinions and judgements. He’s the top kung fu martial artist in our fair city. And he’s a great teacher. So what if he perfers the gis to be traditional.

My mom: So he doesn’t do what your boys do?

Me: No. My boys do karate and kung fu. I don’t know what our little cousin does. It doesn’t look like either.

My mom: How many martial arts are there?

Me: A dozen? Two dozen? Let me google it. (Pause. Search. Shock) Wikipedia lists 150 different types. Wow!

Tornado A: Looks like I’ll be getting 150 black belts.

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Hobbies

“Certified Zombie Hunter”

Me: (I looked up from my wallet) Yeah…?

Cashier: That’s a good one. I like it. That’ll be $8.51

Me: (handing her the money, still slightly confused) Yeah…. Thank … you….

Then I looked at my purse as I was putting my wallet away. I had thrown it on the counter to get my money. It’s an olive green messenger bag with all kinds of pockets, including a clear plastic one for IDs. I had a Certified Zombie Hunter badge there. To match the bio hazard symbol patch on the front.

I nodded, said thank you, and took my groceries.

One of my friends gave me a “Walking Dead” shirt for my birthday, even though I’ve never seen the show. People assume. And it’s a cool shirt. Almost as cool as my “Keep Calm and Kill Zombies” shirt or my favorite “This is my Killing Zombies” shirt.

Another friend gave me a magnet zombie ribbon for my car. It will probably clash with my Zombie Response Team sign.

All this zombie stuff people give me is weird. It’s not like I’m obsessed with zombies. Not like I am about vampires, faeries, fantasy, fairy tales, ass-kicking warrior women. I only have like 3 or 4 books about zombies. I did tell one of the new English teachers that she should totally read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it’s hilarious and she just finished teaching Pride and Prejudice.

I just don’t know why people associate me with zombies. I don’t watch any of the zombie shows. I just don’t have the time. Or the movies. But you should see Zombieland. I’m so excited about the sequel. But if you see Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, don’t compare it to the book. Two wildly different story lines, but I love how they deliver the back story.

Then the other day, my dad teased me for my lack of hobbies. Apparently reading, blogging, writing novels and poetry, and smashing the patriarchy aren’t enough.

Tornado A: She does! She kills zombies!

Tornado S: And she’s a vampire!

Tornado E: And a witch!

See, I have hobbies.

(Also dibs on the vampire killing zombies story.)

Glimpses into my Childhood

When I was a kid, I loved DuckTales. I watched it every day. 4:30, Weekdays, The Disney Channel. I would race into the room, turn on the TV, sing the intro song. I did a dance that matched the intro song. Yes, I’ve been a huge, overly-excited nerd all my life. I had a poster in my bedroom. My brothers and I dreamed of being on that show. With an uncle as rich as Scrooge McDuck, he wouldn’t mind adding three more to his brood. And the vault.

So when I learned that there was a reboot and an actual money pit modeled after Scrooge McDuck’s vault, I was as excited as a kid. When I told my brothers about the pit, they answered the same way, “Where? And when are we going?” Alas, we could not afford to go to the Disney Expo, so we languish on.

This weekend the boys found the reboot of DuckTales playing on TV. The intro song came back to me, and I sang it to the giggles of my boys. We watched the cartoon together. I think they did a great job. I liked the changes. And Webby! My beloved Webby is a full member of the cast. I should go find my Webbigail toy. The boys are intrigued. Not enough to record it (Thank God because they record enough shows. Honestly, guys, it’s like almost a dozen, and they never have time to watch them.), but it’s enough to watch it when it’s on.

Then this Monday the boys watched Young Sheldon. They adore The Big Bang Theory. They love Sheldon. Tornado E went as Sheldon for Halloween one year. They have been looking forward to Young Sheldon for months. Then the thing that hooked their hearts. Sheldon is my age. The boys were excited to learn that Sheldon and I were born the same year, which means watching Young Sheldon is a peek at my childhood. They were so excited to hear that Sheldon’s sister wanted to watch DuckTales just like Mama at their age.

Then I told my mom.

My Mom: You were never like Sheldon.

Me: I know. But this is cute. They watch DuckTales.

My Mom: His sister does. He watches Dr. Proton.

Tornado E: Mama, did you watch Dr. Proton?

Me: No. That’s a made up show for the TV show. We watched Mr. Wizard. And he was cool.

My Mom: You didn’t watch science shows.

Me: Yes, we did. It came on at 6am on Nickelodeon. So we watched it if we were up early. You were too tired and drinking coffee.

Tornado E: Was he as cool as Dr. Proton?

Me: Hell, yes.

Identifying Leadership

There we were with dozens of hundreds of Cub Scouts. At least a hundred of them were Wolves. Like my little guys. When they put on the uniform, they start to blend into the sea of navy blue. They put on their hats. Good luck.

From the back, I can only distinguish two of our Wolf cubs. My boy and his best friend. Tornado A has his head nearly shaved. His best friend has the long 1970’s boy hair cut. Everyone else has similar cuts and lengths.

At lunch, we had sat on a field, on of the few large open spaces of grass. Within twenty minutes, the boys were done and chasing each other. First my den, then the others started joining in. Then slowly my parents started moving out of the field to the wall. I, in my stubbornness decided to stay put. Until even I decided I chose life over pride.

So I stood watching 50 or more Cub Scouts running around.

Me: Hey, guys, what do you say if next year I get a can of washable hair dye and just spray their heads so we can pick them out?

A mom: Like yellow or florescent orange?

The parents all looked at me.

Me: (glancing around at all the parents and back on the field where more boys had joined the chaos) Yeah. Or we can color coordinate. Bears are light blue.

A dad: We could give it a shot.

The other parents murmured in agreement.

I’m a hell of a leader.

Meetings and Dreams

I made it. The last parent-teacher conference. Friday. After having a night of a dozen for my students. Then Tornado E’s. Then Tornado A’s. Finally Friday Tornado S’s.

And I had a plan.

Like the other two, I rushed out of school and drove as fast as I legally could to get to the boys’ school. I would make it with mere minutes to spare, meeting my mom and Tornado S. Tornado S and I would have our meeting. My parents would drop off the other two boys on their way to the football game. The boys and I would have delicious BBQ before going back to the school for the Book Fair/Dance/Chili Cook Off. Then books, soda, friends.

Brilliant!

Except Tornado S and I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

I texted my mom to let her know the issue.

30 minutes later. The parent-teacher conference before us ended. Awesome. And I asked the secretary if Tornado E and Tornado A could wait in the lobby if they were dropped off before we were done.

And it goes like I expected. Tornado S is a sweet kid. He’s bright and oh-so-smart. She tells me how she can see it in his face when he’s following her, when he’s thinking, when comprehension dawns on him. We discuss his testing results. She already has plans for him.

Me: Has he told you what he wants to do when he grows up? The science stuff?

The Teacher (The official science teacher of 5th grade): Why! No! Tornado S, what do you want to do when you grow up?

Tornado S: I want to study Tesla’s work. I think I can finish his work and make electricity from his (looks at me for the word but I just smile) things. I’m going to make electricity out of the air and give it away. Like Tesla.

The Teacher looked at me, surprised. I smiled and shrugged.

The Teacher: You’ll have to tell me when you do that.

Me: Are you kidding? The world will know.

Tornado S beamed.

Accommodations and Tornado S

Yesterday I met with the neuro-psychologist about Tornado S’s evaluation. Three years of fighting, finally, I had results. Drum-roll. Please.

Tornado S has a reading disability. We sat there for three heartbeats.

What? But he reads find. I mean, ok. He could do better. But his comprehension. Sure, he skips words. But. What?

So apparently, Tornado S is crazy bright and has been fooling everyone all these years on how well he reads.

Well, ok, then.

But he needs more testing. By a neurologist. Something is up with his fine motor skills.

Let the battle for referrals begin.

Tornado S has a crossword puzzle to do that corresponded to the map of the United States. He had to correctly spell the state name in tiny squares of a crossword puzzle. Too tiny for Tornado S to write legibly. I stared at it. I pondered it. I studied it.

My Mom: Fae! Are you going to help your son or not?

Me: (still looking at the crossword puzzle and then the map) Yeah. I just need to figure out how to accommodate Tornado S. (pause) (pause) I got it. I need a map. Or a book with the states’ names.

I got out an atlas and got Tornado S to the table. I opened the atlas to the United States. I gave him the worksheet of a map of the United States with numbers labeling the states.

Me: Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to find the state we need to write on the crossword puzzle, and then you’re going to spell at me while I write it.

Tornado S: Why can’t you just write it?

Me: Because you’re suppose to be writing it. You’re suppose to be practicing writing the states’ names. Since you’re not writing them, you’re spelling them out loud. Go.

Tornado S: Mama, what is “accommodate?”

Me: It’s. It’s. It’s accommodations…?

Tornado S stared at me. I looked around the room. Then I jumped off my chair and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the kitchen. I grabbed the bag of chips off the fridge.

Me: See how easy that was for me? (I put the bag of chips on the top of the fridge) Now you get it.

He tried and failed. And then jumped and grunted, acting like a cartoon.

Me: So accommodations is giving you a tool to do the work I can. If I handed you the bag, that is not an accommodation. I did the work for you. But if I (I ran into the other room and grabbed the stool. I opened it up in front of him) give you a tool to help you do the work, then I’m giving you an accommodation. Now get the bag.

He scampered up the stool and grabbed the bag. He gave me a big smile and held his arms out for victory.

Me: So an accommodation is helping you do the work you should do.

Tornado S: YEA!

Me: Let’s go get that homework done.

Just the Way He Thinks

It was a parent-teacher conference for Tornado E. And even the principal was there. Apparently I’m gaining some sort of reputation. Sure, I’ve advocated in the past, but I’m not unreasonable. It’s just that I’m a teacher too, so I have read the studies on kids who are held back, and I have read the articles on testing. So you better be ready to present your data when you make an educational decision about my kid that I do not agree with.

The last battle they agreed to retest Tornado E, and they received the same results, not ready for advanced math, but by that time, he was earning a C in regular math already. I was near losing it. But it turns out he got a C on his first test, two days in the new math class, and the teacher was impressed and kept the grade. I was less than impressed.

So that brings us back to the conference with the principal and two of Tornado E’s teachers. Since they cannot have ever teacher attend ever conference, two teachers attend; while, the others write notes. Today’s teachers were the language arts teacher and the art teacher, who Tornado E has for 3 classes. The language arts teacher ran the meeting.

LAT: We just love Tornado E. He is so smart. He asks questions. He provides great answers. He’s sharp.

AT: He’s so creative.

LAT: Let’s look at his grades. Oh, A’s in everything but math. Huh. Let’s see what he wrote for his self-reflection. He enjoys language arts. (Wait. My scientist, math-kid?!) But for his weaknesses, he says he isn’t doing well in math and he doesn’t know why. Can you enlighten us?

Most, certainly. You listening, big guy?

Me: Tornado E is a math person, a numbers person. He has always prided himself on his math skills. But then he took the math test and was taken out of the advanced math class and put into a regular math class. He was given a test the second day in, and his teacher told me she would have tossed the grade if it had been bad. But he got a C with only a review and no instruction. She was quite impressed. I am not. Tornado E is capable of more, and so he has been without video games since. At least, at my house. I think he’s struggling because this has been a blow to his ego. He is also a creature of habit and does not do well with change. This whole thing has knocked him off kilter. But thank you for retesting him.

LAT: Oh, thank you (makes some typing notes). This is good to know. Can you shed any more light?

So I went on the usual explanation. The differences in the two households. The stress it puts on Tornado E and his brothers. The actions I’m taking on my end to even things out.

LAT: You’re proactive. That’s great.

The principal: That’s a lot of stress on a kid….

LAT: Let’s go on. (Enter all the good things the teachers have to say. Like he’s a good student and he’s so smart and he’s funny.) Here it is again. Tornado E interprets instructions differently from others.

AT: He interprets instructions in a very creative way.

LAT (rescanning notes): It looks like we have all seen the same issue. It’s not a bad thing. It’s-

AT: He just sees the world different. In a unique way. I think it’s a positive. I can’t wait to see what he does this year.

LAT: I just make sure he understands something clearly. He’s very good at asking for clarification.

AT: I just make sure the block is the correct way or whatever else he’s working on. It’s just…. a Tornado E thing.

A unique thinking. Doesn’t interprets things like everyone else. Where have I heard that before?

“Fae, you just don’t think like everyone else,” said my exasperated boss as he looked over my completed task. Then he pointed where there needed to be changes to match the rest of the population’s understanding of the world. I nodded, took the work, and returned to my desk to make corrections. As I was leaving for the day, my boss called out to me, “Fae, I like how you think. That’s why I want you as an artist and a writer on the website. We need more of you. Have a good night.” I yelled thanks and ran down the stairs to catch the cafeteria before it closed.

So Tornado E inherited more from me than just my hairs and blond hair.