Without further delay…I mean it is almost Halloween (oops!)
I feel compelled to describe a moment that has, at least momentarily, brought so much meaning to my life in this trying and tiresome time.
Jackson made something at school. It was in a brown paper bag, emblazoned with glittery stickers, and he was really excited about it. As soon as he climbed into the car, he told me that he had a present. For Jacob! He couldn’t wait to pick his brother up from school and have him open it up.
Inside, Jacob pulls out a clear ball ornament on which Jackson has made a white-painted handprint, and turned each finger into a snowman with markers. Jacob smiles sweetly and tells his brother how wonderful this ornament is. “I made the snowmans all by myself!” Jackson proclaims.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give this to mommy?” Jacob asks.
“No. I made it for you because you’re the best brother.”
My heart swelling with pride and affection I watch as this love-fest continues; Jacob praising Jackson’s artistic talent, and Jackson telling Jacob how much he deserves the gift. It’s really cute, and I am reflecting on the fact that I get to enjoy this ornament on my own Christmas tree, with its darling little finger-prints, as Jacob decides he will place it on said tree so we can al enjoy it.
He takes a couple of steps and something happens. The ornament slips from his hand and explodes on the brick floor, turning almost to dust in an instant. Jacob immediately starts wailing with sadness and anger. Jackson freezes, looks at the broken glass and his crying brother, and runs up the stairs in tears. I hear anguished sobs coming from the direction of his room. My heart breaks for each of them at the same time. Oh and the ornament. It’s destroyed. Three tiny pieces remain on which you can see the hand drawn faces of the “snowmans.”
I take Jacob into my arms, but he cannot be consoled. “I am the worst brother!” He yelps. “I don’t deserve to be given nice things! He made this for me! Out of love! And I BROKE IT!” He cries until his face is bright red, veins protruding from either side of his neck, so much like his father when he is angry. I call Jackson down and ask him why he is crying. Is it because the ornament is broken? “No!” He cries, followed by an unintelligible cluster of words. “What?” I ask.
“I’m. Sad. Because I. Have emotions. For other people!” He spits out, sad and frustrated. This is the big reveal. He’s not sad that the ornament is broken, his work gone and his kind gesture spread in pieces on the floor. He is simply sad because his brother is sad and cannot be consoled. His brother is sad and he can’t make him feel better, can’t do anything about it. All he wants from life right now is for Jacob not to be sad.
“I’ll stay at school as late as I have to and make you another one!” He promises.
I sit with Jacob. I explain to him that his brother isn’t disappointed in him, or angry that he dropped the gift, just experiencing empathy in a beautiful and pure way. His description of empathy is perfect for a five-year-old: he has emotions for other people, and right now, he feels the sadness and anger that Jacob is experiencing, and he wants to make it better. I tell him that the reason the ornament was special wasn’t because the object itself was special; it was made special by the love of the maker for him. The ornament is just a thing, just a symbol of the love that made you view it as precious. The love of a little boy for his big brother. And that little boy is crying quietly over there, so badly wanting you to be okay, and I think what he needs is for you to sit with him, and tell him that everything will be alright, whether or not you feel that way right now.
Because it will be, of course. Jackson is still here, he can still take his little hand and coat it in white paint and make another set of snowmans. And even if that one was to break, we have our memory of it, and the knowledge of that love and excitement, and that is what really matters. We still have that, and always will.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t think wistfully of my own brother, or my sister-in-law, and the things I wish I had, from them, to hold on to. Sometimes things are all you have left that are tangible, and that makes them precious. You feel the need to touch and hold something to reassure yourself that it is real. As I swept up the tiny shards of glass I thought about that compulsion to hold something in one’s hand and feel reassured by the solid physicality of it. How unnecessary that is, when all that matters can be felt and remembered, even if no part of it can be seen or felt.
We have, inside of us all, the mementos and treasures of a million special moments. With this story, I have added one more.
The next day at school pickup, Jackson came to the car with another brown bag. This one had two ornaments he had made that day. I hung one on the tree and tucked the other away for safekeeping. Apparently I don’t trust the faulty computer hard drive of my memory. I just want to know that, if I need to, I can hold that ornament in my hand and remember the beauty of this moment in time. I don’t need the thing, but I want it just the same.
Here are the back to school (at home) photos from this year:
We are back to school, or back to school at home, and it has been ROUGH. Let me explain. Jacob has the same teacher that he did last year. I requested her, because she was amazing for him. He was in a 2/3 combo class, which I initially didn’t like the idea of at all, but once I went to Back to School Night, I was intrigued, and by October, I was completely on board. Rather than splitting her time in half, Jacob’s wonderful teacher has all of the students at their own individual levels in each subject. She splits them into small groups and does a lot of individual teaching. This lets the students stay on topics that they need more assistance with for as long as they need, and also to accelerate forward as far as they can and want to go. Jacob did so amazingly well last year. He gained confidence and ability by leaps and bounds. He loves his teacher. I would say her style of teaching really works well for Jacob! He is online now with her from 8:10-1:30 with two ten-minute breaks and one 40-minute lunch break. I like the one-on-one time with his teacher (who is alone in their classroom), but the very short breaks and lunch don’t leave much time for exercise (also hard to do during this heat), and we have a lot of pent-up energy over here. He is very independent and can handle the day mostly on his own, barring any computer or internet issues.
Now for Jackson. During parent-teacher conferences last year, Jackson’s Pre-K teacher told me that he was definitely not ready to start Kindergarten next year. She suggested TK or Transitional Kindergarten. The problem was that the school district has a birth date cutoff for TK, and it’s June 29. Jackson’s birthday is on June 30. He is a perfectly smart and well-behaved boy, but he is emotionally not ready to learn certain concepts. Letters and numbers fly into one ear and out the other. He seemed to stall out last year. In preschool, he could count to 13. In Pre-K, he started to struggle to make it to ten. He can recite the Lord’s Prayer from memory, but he just doesn’t seem to care about those little squiggles that mean numbers. Or letters. He can maybe recognize four uppercase letters. By the end of the school year, as I was seeing firsthand during distance learning, the rest of the class was onto lowercase, and we were still struggling to know any of the uppercase letters. I had him screened for learning difficulties in February, and he seems to be developmentally “on track” for his age. He is just…well, he just doesn’t care to learn things he doesn’t care about. He doesn’t show signs of dyslexia or hearing/vision problems, so it comes down to maturity.
I started early on my quest to get Jackson into the appropriate class this year. After the assessment, I enrolled him on day 1 of enrollment for our district’s TK. I figured they would see his birthday on the form and contact me. Instead, they just pushed him into kindergarten. I called the district enrollment person, and the TK coordinator, and I was getting nowhere. Then the pandemic hit, and everything changed. It was hard to make plans for a future that was so uncertain. Once the district had a plan in place, I had him assessed by the kindergarten teacher. She strongly suggested that he wait one year before entering kinder. With this, I called the district again. Eventually, they offered Jackson TK at a group of schools, none of which I could reach if school goes back into the classroom, which I hope it does. Jacob’s school does not offer TK. I have to get two kids to two schools at 8am, and I have to walk Jackson into the classroom. Looking into other options, I found that the state offers a homeschool program for free, and I called to see if I could get Jackson into their TK. “Of course!” the representative told me. He can learn at his own pace, and have a teacher, so I would be in the role of “teaching coach.” I hadn’t been interested in homeschooling because of the time it would take; I have a lot to do! The role of learning coach was to be available to your student around 4 hours a day. No problem! I figured that, given we were all going to be at home anyway, a teacher who knows how to teach over the Internet is a better choice than a regular classroom teacher, struggling to engage 30 small children. Oh, but there’s a catch. The homeschool program also enrolled him in kindergarten due to his age. So after all of my hard work and effort, I’m back to where I started: a class I don’t think he is ready for, and my fears that he will get frustrated and dislike school, which is an issue when you’re only 5!
We are now on day 5 of homeschool. It’s been tough. He has around 10 modules/subjects a day. The lessons take between fifteen and fifty minutes each. Our first days started with math and ended with art and learning the continents. It was a LOT of work, and Jackson needs my assistance the entire time. He can’t read, which makes it difficult for him to operate a computer, and the activities are online and then offline, with the myriad textbooks and activity books provided by the program. If Jacob were in this, I know he would love doing science experiments, and being challenged with art, but Jackson has a much shorter attention span. He is easily frustrated by the lessons, which are often way over his head. I am frustrated with crouching over his little workspace and reading his assignments, and answering his constant questions about when he can be done, and how much longer? He is frustrated and exhausted, and so am I. So we are working on how to balance the day, and mommy is prioritizing which lessons she feels are most important to focus on before we totally lose him for the day.
Pray for us, friends. We need to find guidance and balance, and a better-working system here. Thursday and Friday we worked on school on and off from 8 am until about 4 pm. That’s one tired and grumpy five-year-old, and an even grumpier 36-year-old. Also, with the prospect of schools reopening, I am really questioning this homeschool decision.