11/21/2017

The Tobin Times #75

Filed under: — Aprille @ 2:06 pm

Dear Tobin,

Last month I wrote about how you were driving us crazy, how you were presenting such frustrating behavior that we were about to lose our minds.  I’d be lying if I said that had completely disappeared, since we’ve had some challenging moments, but I do think you’re finding a better way.  Maybe it’s adjusting to kindergarten, maybe it’s the increased restrictions we’ve put on your screentime, or maybe it was just a phase, and you’re on your way out of it.  Regardless, I’m very happy to have had more frequent glimpses of the sunshine-face who joined our family over six years ago.

Your dad and I went to your first parent-teacher conferences of your elementary school career, and they truly couldn’t have gone better.  Your teachers had nothing but praise for your skills both academic and social.  I was proud to know you’ve become good friends with many of your classmates, and you are kind and friendly to everyone (except your brothers).  You brought home a paper turkey craft, with each tail feather labeled with something you’re thankful to have in your life.  Each feather showed a different friend’s name.  You and Miles are planning an elaborate group playdate that involves a snowball fight, and once we have snow on the ground, you’re going to have a hard time choosing which friends to invite.

Your teachers told me that one thing they appreciate about you is your sense of humor.  One teacher said it’s so refreshing to have someone laugh at her jokes.  It reminded me of the time I was a Spanish TA for beginner students, and one semester I happened to get a Mexican American kid in my class.  He understood Spanish well but wanted to improve his reading and writing, since his education had all been in the U.S.  I had become accustomed to my jokes (in Spanish) all disappearing into the ether, but I kept making them if only to entertain myself.  All of a sudden, when I made a joke, I heard laughter.  It was simultaneously refreshing and disconcerting to know that someone was actually listening.  I know you keep your teachers on their toes that way too.

Your teachers seem to be doing a good job finding appropriate challenges for you while keeping you part of the regular team, too.  You and your friend Kit, who is in another kindergarten class and also has strong math skills, have a special time on Wednesdays when you play math-based games together.  You have been enjoying that, and ever since you learned to play Top It (the card game we used to call War), we’ve been playing it a lot.

You’re also learning to read, much to Miles’s consternation.  He’d gotten used to being the only literate kid in the family, but our old trick of spelling out words with him doesn’t work to keep secrets from you anymore.  You certainly feel proud of yourself, though.  You might do well to not blurt things out, though, because sometimes it’s valuable to keep things secret from Callum, our last remaining non-reader.

That too reminds me of my teaching and learning experiences.  I used to get so frustrated with my students when I would spend five minutes on a circumlocution to try to get them to understand a word without telling them the English equivalent.  I got so frustrated when people would blurt out the English word, because translation at that level is represents very superficial learning.  I spent all that time on circumlocution because it was course policy, but also because I have a very clear memory of Mrs. Mickelson, my high school Spanish teacher, doing something similar.  The class had learned the meaning “to make” of the verb hacer, and she was holding up a picture of a man at an airport and saying “¿Qué hace?”  Everybody was trying to figure out what he was making—he wasn’t cooking or knitting or anything obvious like that.  Finally, after more prompting, it dawned on me that hacer also means “to do.”  I’m not sure why she never told us that, as it’s a more common usage than “to make,” but I remember everything about the experience.  That’s the most concrete example I have of the tenet that people need to figure things out for themselves.

What I’m getting at, Tobin, is that I think you may be figuring things out for yourself.  Your dad and I have tried in every way we can think of to communicate with you—from calm discussion (always the starting point) to trying to get to the bottom of the causes of your rudeness to yelling (almost always the ending point, because options A and B rarely get anywhere).  Maybe what you need is just to figure things out for yourself.  Telling you to stop dancing around like a maniac and sit down and eat your dinner is like telling you that hacer means “to do.”  It’s not a worthless thing to do, and I don’t see us not trying to correct your behavior in the short term.  But you’re going to have to figure out that tormenting your brothers makes them angry at you, which leads to slammed doors and pinched fingers and tears.  I think you’re getting there, or at least you’re headed there.

I’m very glad that school is going so well and that you feel secure enough in our love that you can let your guard down at home.  I’m glad you laugh at jokes and are thankful for your many friends.  I’m thankful for your bright smiles and the fact that you’ve been giving them to me more often.

By the way, what the man in the picture was doing was esperando un avión.  Esperar can mean both “to wait for” and “to hope.”  We’ll do both, because you’re worth it.

Love,

Mommy

 

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