A Canadian Dare

Shrieks and laughter fill the air. Children run screaming past one another without a care in the world. Backpacks are scattered on the ground, forgotten until the bell's call to summon them back. It's that magical time between the weekend and the official start to the school week. The kids take full advantage of these last precious moments and run for all they are worth.

Newly fallen snow makes a perfect home for tumbling bodies to fling themselves with abandon down the waiting hill. Pencils will soon be clutched in stubborn fingers, but right now it is all about the best that winter has to offer - snow; light and fluffy snow.

"I dare you!" rings out a voice.

Why is it that boys cannot resist a dare? How is it that manhood rears it's ugly head on the grounds of the primary school yard so early? And yet it does. And every year this ritual gets repeated on school yards across the northern hemisphere.

"I double-dog dare you!" Things are getting serious.

More shrieks fill the air, but the peal of the morning bell cuts playtime short for these youngsters. It is time for school to begin.

Another cry fills the air. This one is a little more distressed; a little less happy in tone. And that is when a woman's stricken face streaks past shouting for help. Her arm points backwards towards a few lone figures still standing by the fence at the bottom of the hill.

The metal fence.

At least the boy wasn't left alone to attempt to rip his tongue off the frozen fence. Nothing that a little warm water won't solve, but terror is not the way to start the week off for any young soul. I suppose he won't do that again. The watching parents that slowly wander away shake their heads at the morning's antics. The boy has been freed. No harm has been done. But his moment of captivity, with soft, fleshy tongue stuck to a rusty metal pole in the dead of winter has been enough to shoot all these laughing adults back in time to when they too stood stuck to their own poles in a Canadian winter.

As who can resist the deadly triple-dog dare.

Friday the 13th

With a siren in the not too far distance, the school bell rang. I thought nothing of it, although the bell seemed to be early. A quick look at my watch confirmed this, but the children were gone by the time I looked up. All of them. With doors swinging shut behind them. Firmly. Only tracks remained in the fresh snow to urge me to get on with the day before it got too sloppy to drive in.

An hour later and I was glued to the radio. I desperately scanned the local twitter feed for news.

"Code Yellow - School is on holding pattern"

     ~LOCKDOWN~

and my babies inside

my life! my God.

"40-something year old male, possibly armed, over a dozen police vehicles surrounding the scene. Refusing to communicate."

This scene so close to my babies' school that they are locked in for safety. But what safety did I have from the panic that threatened to overwhelm? Tears, friends and prayer. For several excruciating hours. Walking round, and round, and round again, wearing grooves in the floor. Leaving a trail of fear behind me, only to stumble upon it on my next tour around the kitchen.

"Have a tea for your nerves."

"Breathe"

Distractions that didn't work, because I didn't want them to. All I wanted was for it to end. And end now.

And it did. Safely and without harm to anyone, aside from 600 some-odd parent's nerves, plus teachers and their loved ones. Ten hours worth of stand-off. This on Friday the 13th. This after 5 bank robberies in a single day this week, a Hell's Angel biker shot (and 3 others injured), plus several rub 'n tugs torched. This after a full moon that has obviously made my part of the world go a lot too crazy.

Is it Friday yet? Can I call it a day? Can I sign out on life for this week?

My babies lie in their beds sleeping, unruffled by the events of the day. They were curious why I showed up early to sign them out. And why other kids were leaving too. They wondered why I cried all the way home and hugged them fierce once the door was locked. They thought it was a hoot to start the weekend early. Movies, popcorn, pizza and a fire? Sweet!

Sweet; the feel of my life blood tucked under my arms, as we snuggled in our blanket cocoon with blinds drawn to keep out the world.

Breathe. Remember to breathe. Remember that tomorrow is a new day and this one is now done.

No Chamba, No Marriage, Just School

Now though, I sat in front of hundreds of nervous pupils as they received their marks. I was at the end of a line of  the school’s twelve teachers, and tried to follow the proceedings as best I could. I was able to get the gist of the fact that they were reading out all the students marks from recent testing, and the results were not good. New testing formats had been implemented and it would seem that the majority of the students had failed. I silently wondered at the practice of reading grades aloud, so that everyone could hear how well or poorly one did, but then remembered their lack of supplies. They could not spare the paper to write down individual student's marks.

Once the dismal results had been read, speeches began.  I was lucky to get a quiet English synopsis of the speeches that the teachers addressed to the students. There was an announcement that a new junior primary school was to be opened the next term. It would only be for Standards one through three, but it would help to reduce the walk that some of the children had to make, and the hope was that the school could be expanded later. I was shocked to learn that some of the students had to walk upwards of four-and-a-half kilometers to school every day. The reality of that would be that many of those children would just not bother to make it all the way to school on many a day.

The Head Master continued and spoke of the ills of “chamba” or marijuana. I looked out at the children in front of me and was saddened that this was a reality that needed to be spoken, but glad to hear that the issue was being addressed. Another teacher spoke against the practice of early marriages. It would seem that many families married off their children young, so that there were fewer mouths to feed. The problem with that though, was that it only served to create new young mouths to feed.  When children begin having children at age 14 or 15, there was time enough to have quite a few babies.

I processed the experience the best I could through my translator, trying not to disrupt the proceedings. My head swam with the details and my heart ached at this very real picture of life in Malawi. All of these smiling faces in front of me held such beautiful promise, but their odds of success in the school system and later in life were bleak. Some of these children would continue on to high school. Even less would be able to attend university. As the ramifications threatened to overwhelm me, a young girl crept over and tugged at my skirt, reaching for my hand to touch. With a smile I returned to the present, and promised myself that I would not forget this day or the lessons that these genuine people offered me. The warm heart of Africa had stolen mine. 

A Drop in the Bucket

Somehow I ended up sitting at the head table with all of the teachers, and Head Master. A sea of little black faces looked towards me, listening intently to the speeches being poured forth by teachers, Head Master and Deputy Head-Master. The only white face out there was Brett, almost invisible though he was, swamped by the hordes of little boys that fawned over him with his magical camera slung around his neck once again.

As we walked to school that morning, our entourage of children had grown from one or two, to a large contingency by the time we reached the Mwaya Beach Public School. Children danced and skipped, hooted and hollered, as we walked along. When we neared the building, our group merged with the other students that milled about, and Brett and I found ourselves under the wing of an adult now. The Deputy Head Master at that!

I felt like an honoured guest, as we were treated to a tour of a class room and the main office. The Deputy Head Master had a running commentary of life for the students in his community, as he showed us the sparsely decorated class room. There was a chalk board in the simple rectangular room, but not a chair or desk to be seen. In fact, most of the lessons were done outside in the open air, as it made little difference if they were inside or out, except for on rainy days. Supplies were almost non-existent and the chalkboards could not even sport chalk to illustrate points on a good day. The beleaguered teachers had classes that numbered in the hundreds. How could one person teach effectively to a class of over 300 pupils? And why would they want to, when their pay was poor and usually late?

This was a far cry from the schooling that I had gone through back in Canada. I could not help but think that the teachers there had nothing to complain about in comparison.

A tour of the cramped office was a little better, but still dismal in its breadth. Stacks of books sat on the floor and on shelves, but when compared to the numbers of pupils, it was a far cry from the necessary needs. There were 1096 registered students at Mwaya Beach, and the stacks of books I saw numbered at most close to a hundred; probably less. When the Deputy Head Master learned I was from Canada, he picked up a book and handed it to me with the cover open. My national pride fluttered, as I read that it had been donated by the Canadian government. It would seem that they had sent several text and workbooks. It helped, but looking out at the sea of students, I knew it was just a drop in the bucket. 

Tuesday Torrents

I have been having a bit of a mental block recently. I have opened my blog up, looked at it blankly and moved onto checking emails, FB, work, etc. Creativity = nada. zilch, nil, nothing. Last night I did some laps in blogland, hoping that perhaps inspiration would hit me, but around about eleven I gave up and shut the computer down. Done like dinner.

You see my brain has been swarming all over the kid's school and the issues that ensued there last week. I have had well-meaning advice from many parties and have been trying to figure out what direction I should proceed in. I don't think that anything will happen again, but I also think that something should be noted on file somewhere. Of course I also worry about stirring the pot and having myself and my children blacklisted as "problems" in our first week of school at the start of a potentially long stretch of learning there. It makes me antsy, itchy, irritated and stressed. Not where I wanted to be; AT ALL. Too bad though, I have to deal with it or let it go unfettered to the wind. 

sigh...

grumble, grumble, grumble

Maybe I should just go and read my book again tonight. The story "We Need to Talk About Kevin" is not quite uplifting, but it is first up for book club this year. It is an interesting novel about the Mother of a teenager that opens fire at his high school killing several people. She is writing letters to the boys Father and recounting their life leading up to the "incident". Good fodder for anyone feeling bad about not wanting to have children and also makes you feel better about any of your own bad parenting days, but I am not sure if I am going to get a feel-good ending out of it. I will keep you posted.

Oh, and I got my bathroom re-painted and it looks FAB-u-Lous! Still working on ironing my shower curtain (Yeah, you should really know by now that I am not that much of a freak - it is cotton [ie. wrinkly] and there is a vinyl shower curtain between it and the water hence an iron IS necessary. No worries; I do have one & even know how to use it despite my Mother's lack of training in that department. For shame, for shame!). Now the rest of the house is absolutely embarrassing beyond belief with the lack of attention it has received since bath renos began. After I re-attach my banister that T ripped out of the wall on the weekend I promise to see if I can find the vacuum. Maybe I will find the floor or even a cat or two? Who know? For now, my book is calling and I bid you adieu. Be well my minions. Go well.

Day 2

I really shouldn't delve into this again. It will probably just get my feathers all rustled again, but... In blogland people often share tidbits about their day right? Yes, so;


wakeup to child crawling into bed with me
dry pants, so all good
alarm will go off in ten minutes
sigh...
awake now.

Breakfast
coffee, coffee
upper bathroom not clean yet, so still heading to basement to get clean
get clean
NO!! Don't run the water!!! You will scald Mommy! AhHHHHhhheeee
towel dry
brush teeth to prevent bad words from falling out of my lips
get dressed in my finest painting garb,
now turned to pants with the instantaneous change in seasons since Labour Day

Look at children
Look at clock
with 45 minutes before we have to leave to walk to bus
they have on rubber boots and coats
ready to go
waiting for tardy ole me
with 43 minutes before we have to leave
sigh...
a little excited they are indeed.

drag out hair drying, shoe finding, my lunch packing
leave 20 minutes early
offer home-made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to the handy neighbour (yes, very yummy!)
slowly amble towards bus stop with 17 minutes to spare
wait, wait, wait
see bus approaching and mist up a bit
watch 60 some-odd kids push and shove onto bus, with the littlest ones inching on last
my two
seperate seats
driving away

I stay strong
go to work
leave work to pick up children

between my house and the bus stop my cell phone rings
"Are you R. L.'s Mom?"
my baby
"yes"
"She's not on the bus"
heart racing "WHAT?"
at the school, but daughter number 1 shall be arriving momentarily via the bus
"WHAT!!"
"A slight mix up"
"WHAT!!!!!"

Frantic Mother Bear flies into rage
collects eldest in vise-like grip sprinting home to the van
races to school mindful of other little feet on the road
finds evidence of daughter
eventually finds daughter with help of Vice Principal
NOT Happy Mommy
They can tell
I make sure

after the shaking subsides
I make dinner
safe in our bastion of care
meal not eaten to spite
yet again
nothing exciting or new for them
except gym class

phone lines were burned up with my venting
to safe spaces
to figure out what went wrong with today
and how I can make tomorrow a better day
a better new day

letting go...

I am so spent.

gritty eyes not willing 

to look forth into

 the day any more.

how many years

 until I can do the fist pump

to the bus stop on

the first day of school?

Not today, yet.

Nor tomorrow at my guess,

but perhaps I will

by the last day of class.

^^^

Hey, what the heck. This Haiku-esque poem counts as enough for the night.  Both my babies started school for the first time today. My little white lie was that I was excited for them and that was why moisture was dripping off my chin. They don't need to know that this is another stop on the grief journey for me,

but I will survive...

I have already.

The school bus brought them home at the end of the day.

Together.

It will take them to school on their next day

and the day after that

and after that...

Labour Day

Tis Monday; Monday September 6th or Labour Day in North America. One day before Tuesday September 7th or the first day of school for my babies. Both of them. ACK! Oh, I know that most of you lovely people have been there and done that. Knowing that you all survived does help me to keep myself together today. I have to admit that I have been flitting around pretty constant though. We made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies this morning. I have chicken thighs in the crock pot. I have a roast beef in the oven for dinner tonight. I also have more chicken marinating for dinner later in the week. Yesterday I made spaghetti sauce and meat loaf. The spaghetti sauce will be going to my friend's house  who is recovering from her surgery last week (a little has been saved for us for a meal as well). I have cleaned lunch bags, counters and done several loads of laundry today. Can you tell that I am a little anxious? Nah!

I have double checked bus routes and schedules. I plan to drive the kids to school tomorrow, but just might let them come home on the bus. I am comfortable enough with my nervousness to rebuff all the suggestions that I should relax and put the kids on the bus right off. Not going to do it. Nope. With three school amalgamating into one, I just don't think that Day 1 of school will be 100% smooth. We did  have a brief stop and visit to their class rooms on Friday, meeting T's teacher en route. I feel better, but I don't think it will hurt for me to take them tomorrow. Because realistically you know it is all about me. Yes, I realize that my darling children will be the ones attending school. I am the one that is releasing care of my most precious possessions to complete strangers though. No, I do not think of them as possessions, but they are my life. I am their only parent and I think that I am just having a hard time releasing care. I am used to being the be all and end all of their worlds. This is a bigger step into the wide world of their life outside of mine. Yes, that is it. They are growing up. sigh...

Right now though I am still needed. Elbow pads are requested for a bit of bike riding so I must go. My babies still need me today. I need them more than they realize, so must go.

Saturday Segways

   I have just come across  from my writing course. I am taking a digital  writing course that offers suggestions as to how to promote myself in the digital age. It is an online course with approximately 15 people in the class. This week has been my workshop week. I submitted an early section  from a biography piece I am working on about my cancer journey with Brad. I debated whether I should use this piece, but thought that if I hope to have my words go further into the ethers at any stage, this might be a good forum to introduce it. As I noted to a classmate that gave me comment, they are anonymous for the most part, as I shall probably not meet any of them.  I can read their comments and either take them or run from them as I see fit. They do not have to worry about offending someone that they have vested interest in. I hoped that would elicit honesty. While it is a heavy subject that people have noted and are somewhat leery of cutting apart, I think that I was correct in my assumptions. I have had some good points offered, that has led to some editing. I even offered the same section, plus more to a friend for some critiquing. Before now all these thousands of words have just been mine to play around with. I am beginning the process of changing that. I think that my positive comments from my African tale have helped with that. Thank you to all of you readers out in blog-land!

    While more thoughts could have puttered out there in regards to this, distraction has floundered the writing machine. Grandma and Grandpa have arrived with gifts in tow for two little girls. So alas, I must leave you my dear readers. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember if there was point in what I was about to say. I leave you with thank yous for giving me the confidence to be here every day. Be well. Sunshine wishes to you all.

Wednesday Wanderings

   The day winds down and it was good. Somewhat a surprise, as there was not a huge game plan in place at the beginning of the day. Even more especially as I was awake at 4 in the morning pleading with my brain to go back to sleep. That is the second night this week I have looked at the clock to see 4:00 burning into my brain. A quick trip to the bathroom did not coax my thoughts back to dream land and away from such nasty thoughts as a full bladder. I know that some of you do this too, but I just do not enjoy trying to shut down my brain and knowing that the clock is ticking off minutes into hours. I know that the morning will see me grumpy and moving slower, but somehow I cannot convince the ole bod to win out over consciousness. Perhaps sleep will win over tonight. Fingers crossed and toes too!

   So why was my day a good one, you ask? Well, it proved to be productive again. While I love to relax, I find it hard not feeling guilty when I am not keeping busy. Being a single Mother there is only one adult in my household to accomplish all the tasks set before me. Yes, some are the mundane laundry, meal prep, clean the toilet bowls, etc, but there are other things that stretch my abilities. What you ask? I do not enjoy mopping floors, but the children force this issue with spilled milk on a regular basis. My kitchen counters are my dumping grounds for paperwork and I just cannot seem to ever get to the bottom of those piles. I know that you have some little corner of your home that is just as bad as mine, if not worse. Well, maybe it isn't that bad, but I have seen some of your clutter piles and they aren't pretty! hmmph.

   Ok, off topic. What was I talking about? Hmmm... Oh, my day! Geez, it must have been real exciting if I can still get myself worked up over my weak points. Oh well, perhaps you might still have a wee bit of interest waning. Shopping! I love to shop. Not all days, but often household purchases put a smile on my face. Today I conquered the wet world at my door step and met it head on. I could not take the wet socks any more.I  broke down and   bought a little mat for the back door. Hurray!

   Wait! Come back! I did more! I bought mitts, paint and a lamp. I replaced the hat I lost last week and decided that the rug at Home Sense just had to be tried out in my living room. I even bought a birthday present for T's birthday next month. I picked up a prescription and gas. Wow, this all sounds just sooo exciting. Don't you think? Me too! With the satisfaction come from some of my new house finds, I even took the sacrificial first step into my next home renovation project. I started pulling down some of the wallpaper in the hallway! There is no going back now (it is an atrocious gray blue, green and peach underneath). You shall find me bitching about this upcoming project next week, I'm sure. I still have to pick a colour and buy paint, but I am almost there.

   Give me one more minute, because the best is yet to come! No patience today, I swear! Well, today was Wednesday and that is generally my favourite day of the week, as it is my yoga day. We had been on a break for the last two weeks, so I got to see all my favourite yoginis today and gather up some smiles and hugs. That put a bigger smile on my face and reminded me that I had in fact come up with a plan at around 4:30 for my day. Oops, well there was still time. I headed the car into a parking space on the street and went inside the former Galleria Mall. It has now been converted into a variety of schools and businesses, with a few shops to boot. My destination was the continuing education department of Western University. Perhaps my tale today will have some of you shaking your heads at my decision, but I have signed up for a creative writing class "Writing in the Digital Age". It is an online class starting next week. I am excited to see what it might offer and want to send a little shout out to a certain friend for inspiring me yet again. I think you know who you are.

   So there, that is my icing on the cake moment. Yes, a long and convoluted way of coming out with a wee bit of newsy bits, but that is just the mood I am in! And with that, I think I will trundle off to bed in hopes that I will sleep the night through. Be well my friends.