Tag-Archive for » childhood «

Write on Wednesday – I remember…

22
Jun 2011
By

Inspired by the beautiful words I have been reading as part of this challenge, I have decided to make the leap myself. Check out Write on Wednesday’s other bloggers here at inkpaperpen.

Write On Wednesdays

 

I remember her smile. Lipstick red when she was going out – shopping or to the club to play cards with her ladies. She was a good card player. The Major from Fawlty Towers was right. I remember sitting opposite her at the dining table, each of us playing patience. She stuck her tongue out a little bit when she concentrated. We all do that. Dad, then me and now the boy. Funny how it goes.

I remember her fingernails. Long. Manicured. Red or pink polish. She taught me to do them for her when the Parkinson’s became too much. One stripe of colour to the middle then one to each side. “Just three times, like so.”

I remember her voice – her almost perfect English. Not Strine. She was a Dame. Dahm-eh. The German kind. A lady. But I reckon she was a dame too. A classy dame. Well mannered. Brought up right, but with a sense of fun that suited this country that she called home. More Aussie than German in the long run.

I remember how her eyes danced when ever we walked into her house. How she clung to us on arrival, with calls of “Bussi’ge’m! Bussi’ge’m!” Give me a kiss. Even if we’d seen her last week or on the weekend or just yesterday. She smothered us in love. We’d push her away laughing. Enough! Enough! Secure that we were her favourites. Her everything. She spoiled us with food, with gifts and always always with love.

I remember my Oma.

Category: Thinking with my Heart  5 Comments  Tags: , , ,

Sources of Comfort – Old and New

23
Mar 2011
By

My son is away at camp at the moment. I am missing him a lot but I’m sure he’s having a great time. He’s a big kid, happy in his own skin, and surrounded by some great mates. Still big as he is, I did wonder when he didn’t pack his favourite teddy, Godfrey Bear. Perhaps, I thought, ten is too old for teddies. Not quite. When asked, he replied that Godfrey (a gift from my late grandfather about eight years ago) was far too special to take in case he got lost. Instead he took TB – yep – a lime green tuberculosis molecule, who was a big hit with the boys in his cabin last year.

Photobomb!

I guess you’re never too old for a special friend. My daughter is almost 13, but still has a pile of soft toys on her bed, and none is more special than her first teddy bear.  Like millions of others around the world he is just known as Teddy.

Older still is Sergeant Major Edward Bear, who belongs to my husband. Sergeant Major Edward Bear was his first teddy bear as well, a gift from his dad who was in the army at the time. Which means, like my husband, he will be 40 years old next week! Sergeant Major Edward Bear has many stitched up joints, from years of being carted about by a small boy. He’s scratchy and hard, but always the dapper gentleman. Our kids sort of share him – he moves between their rooms with ease, occasionally placed back on my husband’s pillow when they think of it.

As for me – well, my earliest and most treasured love is my well-worn copy of The Cat in the Hat. Coverless and well-thumbed, it might not be as cuddly as the bears of my childhood, but since I am still never more content than when I am curled up with a good book, I think it has earned its place beside other special childhood friends.

Do you still have a treasured toy or teddy bear from your childhood?

Category: Thinking with my Heart  2 Comments  Tags: ,

Had Enough of Homework?

16
Mar 2011
By

Over at Sunny Days last week, editor Jayne Kearney pondered the relevance of homework. I did leave a brief comment, but since I wrote it in Russian and kept mentioning viagra, it seems to have disappeared into the ether of the Wonderful World of Web. I have however been ruminating over the whole homework topic this week, so now a mere comment wont suffice – you get a blog. Aren’t you lucky?

I reckon teachers are kind of stuck when it comes to homework. It seems that half the parents want it, and half despise it. The half that want it, perhaps feel that the world these days is moving pretty quickly and kids are thrust into success or failure a lot earlier than previous generations. Nobody wants to feel that their child is being left behind because of a lack of effort on their part. I have noticed that as children come closer to high school, there are more parents worrying that their children wont be prepared, and that perhaps getting into a good study routine beforehand will help.

The argument against homework is possibly promoted by the battles that parents have to wage on several fronts in order to get it done – battles against time, resources and, of course, unwilling participants.  Even if a worksheet should only take five minutes to complete, there is the half-hour of arguing beforehand that needs to be factored in! Many people also believe that six hours of sitting still and learning is plenty for kids in early primary school, when play is still so incredibly important to their overall development.

Personally I feel that as with most parenting and educational practises, there is no one-size-fits-all model for homework. Some kids crave learning and/or routine, and will approach a homework task with zeal. Other kids just occasionally need a little bit of extra practise to get those dratted times tables or spelling words to stick. Some kids of course need a lot of extra help to get them up to a functional level of literacy and numeracy. Homework is not the only solution in this case, but it can be one more opportunity for parents to work with their kids.

So what can schools do to cater to all kids? My kids’ primary school has a “home learning  (note the name change) is optional” policy. Home learning is sent home in the form of a home reading in the early years, then works its way up to a weekly times tables sheet and perhaps some spelling list practise. In the later years there is also a small activity – which could range from doing a “random act of kindness” to finding five facts about a  topic they are studying at school. There is no punishment for not doing it. No reward for excellent work. Not by the school at least, because it is home learning. Of course parents can reward (or punish) at home if that is their thing.

So how has this worked for us? My daughter was never keen on homework. She was the kid who was always straight back outside the minute she got home. I was thrilled not to have to fight the homework battle.  I left it entirely up to her. If she got bored, I would suggest she look at her home learning. She would occasionally play Mathletics or Spelling City online (through her school). When she struggled with remembering her times tables, we’d get out the practise sheets.  Sometimes a topic would grab her interest – she made an awesome powerpoint presentation about penguins, made several posters and wrote a hilarious speech for public speaking. She played netball and had flute and piano lessons as she was in the school band. But most afternoons she did nothing but ride her skateboard, annoy the cats or play with the kids across the road.

What about high school? It can seem a big leap from ‘all play’ to the more rigorous demands of  secondary education. Personally I think assessments and assignments are fantastic things. Much better than a single test at the end of each semester to give a final mark in a subject. I’m pleased to say that so far, despite the distinct lack of formal homework in late primary school, my daughter seems to be handling the juggle of assignments quite well. She can budget her time and activities with only a few “gentle reminders” from mum. Also she wants to do well for herself.  She has already, just three months in, learned that it is satisfying to get a decent result on an essay for one subject, to put together a good brochure for another. And best of all, she still fits in the skateboard and plays with other kids, and the cats are still well and truly annoyed.

How do you feel about homework? Would you like to see a “home learning is optional” policy at your kids’ school?

Category: Deep Thinks  One Comment  Tags: , , , , ,

Bedtime Stories

08
Nov 2010
By

397px-William-Adolphe_Bouguereau_(1825-1905)_-_The_Difficult_Lesson_(1884)When my daughter was a wee one she hated going to sleep. We had a great bedtime routine, and she always went off to bed happily, but just couldn’t make that step from awake to lying quietly to asleep.  We always had a story in the routine, but I found that picture books just kept her sitting up and awake and turning pages. For a while I would read a couple of picture books and then sing to her until she started nodding. They had to be long songs too. No cute little lullabies, or she would just end up demanding “MORE!” We’re talking Stairway to Heaven and American Pie here. To my surprise she has turned out quite musical. I would have thought only someone completely tone deaf could tolerate my singing for any length of time. As an aside – my son, who is really not into music at all, would cover my mouth when I tried to warble to him. I think “Don’t sing Mummy!” may have been his first complete sentence.

Finally after about a year of dubious renditions of rock ballads, I decided enough was enough, and hit upon the idea of reading some novels aloud to my daughter. We started with some Blyton, but they were a little too interesting and not conducive to sleep.  I delved further back into the classics and we read Little Women together, quickly followed by Anne of Green Gables. The beauty of the older stories is that they have a lot of descriptive passages. What better way to nod off than by listening to the Anne-girl waxing lyrical about the countryside around Avonlea.

It was also a lovely way to share books that I thought may not appeal to her by the time she was old enough to read them by herself. Together we read Black Beauty, The Secret Garden, Peter Pan and even R.M. Ballantyne’s The Coral Island. As she got older, we continued with modern tales like Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. Now she is twelve, we are enjoying teen fiction with themes we can discuss together.  We recently finished The Hunger Games and have started Tomorrow When the War Began, and have come full circle – once again she is sitting up excited, wanting to hear “just a little bit more”.

For parents who want to kindle a love of reading in their children beyond the picture book age, I suggest taking some time to read novels together.  There’s a real sense of intimacy when sharing a story. Even on the nights when I just want to send them off to bed while I curl up with a glass of wine, to look up and see their eyes mirroring my own tears as I read a poignant scene, or smiling with delight at a hero’s moment of glory makes it all worth it.

Which of your favourite books are you looking forward to sharing with your kids? Which have you shared already?

Category: Booky Thinks  7 Comments  Tags: , , , ,

Retro-styled

21
Sep 2010
By

My Dad has recently had a bit of a clear out at home, and decided it was time to trawl through the boxes and boxes of slides he had in the cupboard. We have had a lovely few weeks of going through them all and culled them down to about a hundred that we would like to have on CD for posterity. Mostly family snaps from when my brother and I were little ones. Apart from awwwing over how much our children resemble our youthful selves, a particular highlight has been checking out the fashions of the day.

The early 1970s were a fabulous time for style, as this photo of my mother shows:Grgas079

Seriously chic, right? Just the right amount of colour, awesome paisley and other shots show that the dress was very fashionably mini.

So how did the daughter of someone with such taste and eye for beauty manage to end up in this ensemble? Grgas052 Terry towelling pants, rabbits knitted into jumper pattern and oh yes, I appear to be wearing a handknitted bonnet of some kind. All in the brightest of red and white. I was a massive St George fan (or the brainwashed child of a St George fan) so it is highly likely that I selected these clothes myself. If so, it seems the apple fell far far from the tree.

Oh wait – here’s a shot of Dad around the same time: Grgas088

Genetics: they never work quite the way you want them to…(sorry Dad, but that photo is too good not to share with a wider audience.)

I can’t be the only one with such a brightly hued skeleton in her closet, so I’m laying down a challenge. What was the worst fashion faux pas of your childhood? Post it on your blog and link it here! Come on! Don’t leave me (and Henry the VIIIth in fishnets) here on our own!

Category: Thinking with my Heart  9 Comments  Tags: ,

Superfriends

29
Aug 2010
By

SuperfriendsMy daughter has been having some friend problems lately. To be honest, I think we are lucky to have come right through to Year 6 with this being our first real issue. It is nothing major (although I’m sure it seems that way to her) and she is mostly a happy resilient kid, so I am not marching out to champion her cause. Not yet, anyway.

What I am doing is listening. Listening to her feelings, hugging her while she cries, listening to the things she isn’t saying, but is showing. I’m trying not to do too much talking, because she needs to come to some realisations herself. But one thing I did have to let her know. Next year – at high school -  it all changes. I think we focus so much on the negatives of the high school years and our own experiences, that we feed into the fears that kids have. “It’s so big.” “The teachers aren’t as patient.” “The work is hard.” “We’ll be the youngest kids instead of the oldest.” What I wanted my daughter to understand going in to high school, is that next year is an opportunity to make wonderful friendships. Yes, there are a lot more kids, but that increases your chance of finding the few true friends who you just click with. She seemed a little skeptical, so I told her my own story.

I walked into the local catholic high school with only two other kids from my public primary school, neither of whom I knew particularly well and ended up in a class where I knew nobody. So I stuck with my primary school acquaintances for a while, making the odd new friend here and there, but never really anyone that I clicked with. Slowly over the first few months I got to know more of my classmates and as we got to know each other better, particular girls began to stand out. Girls who always lifted me up and never let me down. Girls who I understood and who understood me.  Then I named three names to my daughter.  Three women who she knows so well because they are like family to her. She has heard me sit and laugh for hours with each of them whenever we get together – whether it is once a week, once a month or once a year. I saw her eyes widen, as she realised how long we have been friends.  And I think she got it. She was certainly a lot more confident and hopeful about her own problems.

So once again my friends have come to my aid. This time without even knowing. Thanks guys! (You know who you are.)

Category: Deep Thinks, Thinking with my Heart  5 Comments  Tags: , , ,

The Mysterious Case of the Avid Childhood Reader

19
Jul 2010
By

Last week I had a couple of those random twitter experiences that get your mind working. First Susan at Reading Upside Down outed me as the intrepid children’s book sleuth when Rebecca Newman (@_boobook_ ) was hunting for a book she had read as a child. (You can read about how we did here at her blog. )  I do possess mad googling skillz, and was one of those kids who read every book in the library, so this was a labour of love. Susan knew about my fondness for such pursuits when I helped her sister rediscover the Green Knowe series. Like Rebecca, she could only recall certain aspects of the book – a boy called Tolly, ghosts of children and an old mansion. Her description rang a bell, and we were both excited to find the books and reread them.

Then I had a lovely chat with several folks about the Australian childrens’ books Bottersnikes and Gumbles. It was fun to see how many of us Australians (of a certain age) recalled such details about a series that never reached the dizzying heights of renown as Snugglepot & Cuddlepie or Blinky Bill. They obviously made an impact on us in our young reading years.

So here are a few more books from my childhood that I recall with incredible fondness, yet aren’t often listed in the classics that we ensure we set aside for our own children.

hitlerpinkrabbitWhen Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit – Judith Kerr

I think I read this as my brother was reading it in his class a year ahead. The story of a young Jewish girl (the author herself) who fled Nazi Germany with her family, it was my first real introduction to the Holocaust and the history of World War 2. Before then Hitler was just a name of a bad guy that sometimes got thrown my way at school because my family came from Germany.  Since that first reading at around ten years of age, I have sought out many books on the subject, both fiction and non-fiction. My own daughter has just finished Morris Gleitzman’s beautiful Once and Then, which like When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is told from the perspective of a child.

thecayThe Cay – Theodore Taylor

I remember the feel and the cover of this book (not the one pictured) quite strongly for some reason. The edition I read seemed quite new – although at the time (around 1982) it was already over twelve years since it’s publication. It’s possible that it just wasn’t one of those books that kids are drawn to, but it has stayed with me, although I haven’t read it since. I remember the cat and the eventual friendship between Phillip and Timothy, and how they looked after eachother when stranded on the Cay.

island_blue_dolphinsIsland of the Blue Dolphins – Scott O’Dell

I must have been going through a “stranded on an island” phase, because I’m sure I read this around the same time as I read The Cay. Actually, now that I think about it, we may have been doing a theme of that kind in our library lessons that year, and I was always the good girl who read every book! Animals always featured strongly in the books that I loved, and I remember crying as I read about Rontu the dog (wolf?) in this story.

phantomtollboothThe Phantom Tollbooth - Norton Juster

Now here’s a great story, that people just look at me strangely when I tell them about it. I have no idea why it isn’t better known because it is so much fun to read.  My brother and I had a copy, which I first read at a very young age, when I was probably too young to understand all the clever puns and wordplays. I read it recently with my ten-year-old son, and he delighted in the story of Milo, who travels through the Phantom Tollbooth to the magical lands of Dictionopolis and Digitopolis to rescue the princesses Rhyme and Reason.

bush maidA Little Bush Maid – Mary Grant Bruce

If one side of my heritage led me to reading holocaust and world war two fiction, the other side has given me a deep and abiding love for stories set in the Australian bush. Although idyllised and very much a product of their time with regards to the representation of aboriginal and chinese Australians (and I understand they have since been edited to change this), the Billabong series of books were captivating stories for a young city girl who thought living on horseback and camping out under the stars was a wonderful life indeed. It was also fun to read classic books with a female protagonist that were still ‘ripping yarns’ and full of adventure.

Do any of these books ring a bell with you? What other less-commonly-known children’s books do you recall from your own childhood? Or do you have a book mystery you’d like me to try and solve?

Category: Booky Thinks  15 Comments  Tags: ,

Guest Blog: There’s a Bear in There

22
Jun 2010
By

My twelve year old daughter wrote the following for her school’s public speaking competition, after we were talking about the Bear Grylls in Newcastle hashtag on Twitter. I thought it was pretty funny, so would like to share it with you all. Apart  from removing names and the lovely all-caps and rainbow colours she had going on, all words are her own. I hope you enjoy it:

teddyI was watching a TV show called Man vs Wild the other night. If you haven’t seen it – you’re not living!

In Man vs Wild there’s this guy called Bear Grylls, right? He goes to some of the harshest places on earth, but he doesn’t take a plane like any normal person. He’s Bear Grylls! He has to jump out of a helicopter.  Then he puts himself in the position of a lost hiker or tourist and shows you how to survive. Like all tourists he only takes a few things with him –

  • a water bottle,
  • a pocket knife,
  • his clothes
  • … and a camera crew!

Some of the adventures Bear Grylls attempts include

  • Jumping off a waterfall in the amazon
  • chasing rhinos across the savannah
  • eating a sheep’s eye in Alaska
  • and jumping into quicksand to show you how to get out.

What can I say? This guy’s mental!

Anyway while I was watching Man vs Wild the other day I thought how would Bear Grylls cope being stranded in the wilds of my school?  Well for starters he’d jump out of a plane and parachute onto the library roof. He’d then abseil down the building and CRASH! He’s through the principal’s window. There’s glass everywhere but there’s no time to pick the pieces out from his skin because someone’s coming! Quick! It’s the principal! Bear Grylls drops to the ground. He knows what he must do. He commando crawls out of the principal’s office and past the EVIL OFFICE LADIES!

All right, he could get in easily enough – but how would he survive? If you have ever watched the show you would know that water is essential for survival. That should be easy enough in a school playground – there’s bubblers right? But Bear always prepares for the worst. He would probably pee into his Wiggles drink bottle in case he gets dehydrated and can’t make it to the bubblers. How disgusting is that?!

Next problem is what would he eat? Well he could raid the canteen but he would have to fight off the canteen lady first. And even though he is an SAS commando and has trained in the airforce I reckon she could take him on. Looks like he would have to raid the garbage bin for the last half-chewed chicken chippy. But wait a minute – that sounds a bit boring for Bear Grylls. He’d probably go down to the creek and catch one of those red belly black snakes for his lunch – YUM!

As night falls, the air gets colder, and Bear knows that he has to build a shelter – and fast! He usually finds tree branches, bamboo and palm leaves to make a cover for his bed. But everybody knows it’s an immediate yellow card if you start ripping down the trees!  He could get supplies from the work shed. Hey – he could even sleep in the shed!

Oh well – no one said he was smart.

After a hard night’s sleep out in the cold, Bear thinks he has primary school sussed. He has found food and a water source, but then – the lunch bell rings. It takes all Bear’s survival skills to avoid the herd of stampeding kindies on their way to the sandpit. There are kids everywhere – he has to get out! NOW!!

Finally Bear has an idea. He creeps into one of the classrooms and grabs a desk and a meter ruler. With the desk upside down and using the ruler as a paddle, he rafts down the creek then crawls across the scorching earth of the local soccer grounds to finally make it to civilisation – BI LO!

With all his skills and training, Bear Grylls has conquered some of the world’s most deadly terrains. But I reckon my school would be his toughest challenge yet!

Category: Thinking with my Heart  9 Comments  Tags: , , ,

About a Boy

20
May 2010
By

JuneJuly08 012

My son is not your average lad. When people talk about boys being more assertive, more physical or just generally more boisterous than girls, I know they haven’t met Davo, whose boofy family nickname belies his gentle personality. He’s an enigma at times. Incredibly bright, but not particularly enamoured with academic success. Awards and certificates don’t inspire him. He just gets in and does the job. He’d rather sit quietly in the back corner, and yet I’m told he speaks confidently when called on in class. He plays soccer the same way, watching mostly from the side, but running in and having a go when he feels confident.

Davo  seems happiest being a bystander, an observer. He’d make a great writer, except he hates to actually write. His  face sums up his personality so well – big limpid blue eyes, massive eyes, hiding behind a mop of sandy brown hair that is begging for a cut, but he prefers unkempt. (He’s not much into appearances.) Mouth curved into a small smile. He doesn’t say much.

Oh but when Davo does speak – everyone should sit up and listen. For underneath the quiet exterior is a funny and thoughtful young man. He measures his thoughts and his words carefully, and often sees details that go unnoticed by the rest of us. He is not completely averse to silliness of course, he’s still a kid. And there is nobody better at pushing his sister’s buttons – the one time he uses his superpowers for evil rather than good. But the rest of the time there is a stillness about him, that is incredibly soothing and highly uncommon in nearly ten year old boys. Davo and I can sit together for ages, just reading or watching TV and talking to each other about everything and nothing. I hope we can continue this for as long as possible as I watch my gentle boy grow up into a gentle man and a gentleman.

Related Post: About a Girl

Category: Thinking with my Heart  5 Comments  Tags: , ,

About a Girl

02
May 2010
By

motherMy girl is so beautiful that I swell with pride when I look at her.  I suppose it is entirely possible that she is quite ordinary-looking, but I only see beauty. Perhaps it is because of what I see.

When I see her legs, long and colt-like, I picture her running onto a netball court on wintry Saturdays. She is always bubbling with enthusiasm – not because of a particular love of the game, but because she is surrounded by friends. She is part of a team. With this group of girls she has experienced highs and lows.  This team, that suffered humiliating defeat after defeat followed by a season that surely could only belong in a clichéd feel-good sports movie, could teach many adults about sportsmanship and friendship.

When I see her hands, long fingers and large knuckles like her father, I hear a flute playing. First the piercing squeaks of the early learner, followed by the monotony of major and minor scales and finally the soaring notes as the pieces become more polished.  I marvel that her hands, with their dirty, gnawed nails and ink-marked fingers, can produce such beautiful music.

When I see her hair, no longer the blonde of her infancy, I see the tangles and knots that I have smoothed over the years. Knots gained from tree branches and bike helmets. Tangles from expeditions to the creek, from hanging upside down while watching TV. Every morning I tease them out (not always carefully) and arrange her mane into a tidy ponytail or plait. Every afternoon she comes home, looking like she has been “dragged through a hedge backwards”.  Always beaming with the adventures of her day.

When I see her eyes, long-lashed and shining blue, I see her brow furrow as she sees some unfairness in the world.  From an unkind word from a classmate, to stories of animal cruelty, to the larger social injustices she sees on the news. She doesn’t understand hate, and cannot bear intolerance. She is still learning about speaking up for others, about standing up for her beliefs, but she is trying. I know she will when it counts.

When I see her smile, I hear her laughing. From the hearty belly laughs of her baby-self to the secretive giggles of a pre-teen with her friends. The squeals of delight as she wrestles with her beloved ginger cat and the wry chuckles as she sits beside us and watches Fawlty Towers or Seinfeld, finally old enough to share the jokes.

My girl is beautiful.

Related Post: About a Boy

Category: Thinking with my Heart  5 Comments  Tags: , ,
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