Just different

October spring is different (and beautiful)

Many (hm...yikes...23, to be exact) years ago, I was getting ready to head to England on a study abroad program. The semester before we left, all of the London-bound students had a series of culture/history/politics prep classes. At the first session, our director (the beloved Dr. S) started with this: "Repeat after me: different isn't necessarily bad. It's just different." 

We chanted it together then for the first of many times and came to use those words as a mantra for the next six+ months. I remember thinking, "it's England, we speak the same language, how different can it be?" Dr. S knew that our very human tendency--not just to notice differences but to judge them against our comfort settings--might become a barrier to understanding and enjoying our new surroundings. The mantra helped reset our automatic responses, replacing judgment with curiosity.

My poor kids. They've been subjected to this phrase ad nauseum. Don't get me wrong: we love noticing differences. We're just working hard on not automatically deciding they're wrong/bad/silly but instead to be curious and appreciate the novelty for what it is: different.

. . .

With that preamble, here are a few things we've noticed that are different in Oz, school edition:

~ They have recess! Even through senior school (years 7-12) they have two classes, then a 20-minute outdoor recess (for snacking, playing soccer & other games, running around, chatting with friends), then two classes, then a break for lunch, then two classes, then after school activities. Quite nice, I think.

~ Hats are a way of life. Because of Australia's placement on the planet, Australians are particularly prone to sun cancer (and I think it's interesting they call it "sun cancer" rather than skin cancer, don't you?) and they take their sun protection seriously. Hats are a part of the school uniform at both schools and the penalty for being caught outside without them is to go sit in the shade for a certain amount of time or write a paper on sun cancer. 

~ Yesterday when we were talking about the school day and how the transition is going, Sam said "I keep forgetting to stay standing at the beginning of class." I had no idea! He went on to note that all of the students stand next to their desks at the start of each class until the teacher comes in and invites them to sit. So interesting! I wonder if they see a difference in attitude with that simple but different start?

~ Participation in a co-curricular sport each season is required at the boys' school and strongly urged at the girls'. After weighing several fun options (cricket? tennis? netball? mountain biking? basketball?), both kids decided to take up completely new sports this term that would put them on the water during the hot months: Maddy is doing Dragonboats, which is similar to but different from crew--they use paddles rather than oars and face front rather than back. In competitions the boats are decorated with dragon heads and tails in a nod to the Chinese roots of the sport. Sam is doing Sailing, first learning on a little solo boat with the other newbies and then he'll move on to race in teams. 

~ Not much homework. A couple of other American parents told me not to be surprised if the kids didn't have much homework every night. The curriculum is more oriented around exams and projects so the students do some reading and project work on an incremental basis but not much daily worksheet-type work. 

~ Likewise, I was warned that grading here is strict and on the true curve. This means most students really do get Cs for doing well, performing at the level that's expected. If you've done extra work or above and beyond you get a B, and if you've done extraordinarily excellent work (very rare) you get an A. No grade inflation here! We'll have to adjust our expectations, I think, but it's just different.

Putting it all on the table

 

(A belated response to a conversation that has had me thinking. One of those I wish I would have said kind of things.)

Yes, I am a feminist.  I know that some people are turned off by the word or the label but I have a hard time believing that most people don't want opportunities and options for both their daughters and their sons. As Anna Quindlen said, "(Feminism is) the expectations that parents have for their daughters and their sons, too. It's the way we talk about and treat one another." As a mother of two daughters and a son, I want them each to have a full range of options to choose from,  to develop the capacity to discern which options are best for them and to firmly support and encourage others to be able to do the same. I want them to know this:

1. I believe that men and women, boys and girls, should both have the same kinds of options on the table. No one should say--"well, now, I'm sorry but that's not really an option for your kind." I believe in leaving the choices up to individuals, who will select a different array of options & sequences to shape a life according to the dictates of their own consciences--sometimes those choices might trend along gender lines, sometimes not--but the table should be full of options for all. I chose early marriage and motherhood along with different seasons and combinations of full-time motherhood, part-time or full-time employment, and graduate schooling. I own those choices; they were mine and I made them. I'm grateful I could affirmatively choose my course and that it was not thrust upon me without my say. 

2. it's not for us to second guess or judge each other's choices. Every life is essentially constructed from a series of choices, with both benefits and costs. Own yours. Be secure in them.  Be the captain of your own ship but don't look around and assume your route is the only way for others to navigate the seas (see, now I've mixed tables and ships for metaphors. You get the picture.)

I cheered when my church recently adjusted the guidelines for serving volunteer missions so that young women can go at 19 rather than 21. It represented a move toward that kind of open table thinking that I hope for and embrace and it seemed to encourage individuals to figure out the whethers and whens of their lives instead of leaning on formulaic timing.  Lauren (remember, she's newly 19?) emailed and called that weekend, giddy with the additional heady choices that were suddenly hers.  

After a few days of reflection Lauren realized that she had been getting caught up in the flurry of excitement and that she had been looking to go not because she knew it was right for her but because she could. To her credit, after more contemplation and prayer, Lauren decided that what was right for her was to wait a bit longer to prepare and to continue on the course she had already set.  She's grateful for the opportunity--for having it on the table--and is thrilled for her friends who are going right away but is opting to choose a direction and timing that feels right to her. As her mother, I'm pleased--not just for the particulars of the choice (because either way would be wonderful) but especially for the discerning process of the choosing.  

Multiply that by countless decisions throughout a life. Now that's feminism. 

. . .

Having said all that, it's clear that everything is not on the table for every girl around the globe.  We know that by educating girls, we can change the world: change their communities, their lives, and their families for the better. I'm happy to see so many great organizations coming together to try to make it a reality for more girls. Here are some things we can do to help girls get to the table. Plus, there's a fantastic documentary coming soon:

The 36-hour birthday

How to have a 43rd birthday a month after arriving in Australia:

Send the kids to their first day of school. Watch one or maybe both fighting tears as they get out of the car and make the long solo walk to their new starts. Feel simultaneously proud and powerless.

Go home and have a little empathic (and probably birthday crash) meltdown. Cry in your bed a little. 

Get up and go to a movie with your love, who has taken the day off  (and who patiently waited for the carthartic tearstorm to blow over). Have lunch. Go shopping. 

Get an ipad. Officially and enthusiastically join that fan club.

Happily chat with parents via phone, who have lovingly ushered you through 43 years since that noon birth in New York City in 1969. 

Pick up the kids from school. Feast on their stories and observations and--especially!--the knowledge that everything will work out. Remind each other that friendships and new lives are not made in one day. Or one month.

Walk into your favorite Italian restaurant for dinner.  Hear the waitress say "Oh! Welcome back! So nice to see you again!" Mentally give yourself a high five.

Go home and decide we're all too full to have birthday pie. Offically extend birthday celebrations to the next day.

Wake up to heart-filling facebook messages and birthday emails. Relish and savor each little word morsel and maybe revisit them a couple of times throughout the morning.

Exchange chat and gossip and affection with Lauren via the phone.

Do some laundry. Go on a walk. Look forward to pie tonight.

Enough. Now go and embrace the year ahead.

Busy detox

In the month we've been here (already a month!) we have been living in basically an empty house. Before we arrived, G rented a few pieces to hold us over--a table and chairs, two sofas, and comfy beds--but really we've been a bare bones operation around here. Also, after the rushrushrush of selling the house, packing up, driving across the country, and booking visits with as many friends and family as we could...suddenly we had empty calendars. 

For the first few days, it was novel. We were tired and spent the time filling up on some rest and getting that fuzzy travel feeling out of our heads. But after that we had to go through a kind of busy de-tox.  My internal odometer was at odds with our new peaceful pace. It took a while to get it out of my system.  I had this vague feeling I should be somewhere and that we should be doing things, filling our days with errands and motion to justify our existence. The kids seemed to feel it, too, and got cranky and flopped around, sighing about being bored.

And then. We came out on the other side. It has felt really good. Different things grow in this kind of space--a different kind of listening and creativity, time to really pay attention, think, and look. A different kind of self discipline. It's a lovely change. I stumbled on this Maira Kalman quote today: "Wonderful things happen when your brain is empty." (Or schedule. Or house. Or life.)

I know our lives will naturally rev up, especially when M&S start school on Monday and we begin to fill up our calendar with good things: lessons and studying and practices and volunteering. We are looking forward to becoming part of the community and connecting with people. But I just want to remember that it's possible now and then to wake up to your internal clock and follow its ticking all day long.  I want to remember the time when just four basics (plus our new library cards) kept M&S busy for weeks with various combinations and invented games:

I guess like any other kind of detox/rehab, there's a point when you take what you learned in isolation and bring it into the real world! Here's hoping the peace remains even as the pace cranks up.  

Having said all that, we were super excited when this was delivered today: 

And there was rejoicing in the land when we heard that our belongings arrived in Sydney this weekend and will be here in another week or two after customs and quarantine. 

Uniformly speaking

School starts in a couple of weeks (see below for more about that) so it was time to get the kids fitted out with uniforms. Say what you will about uniforms, they certainly make being the new kids a heck of a lot easier. No wondering what the cool clothes will be and whether your clothes are okay. Everyone wears the same thing, no worries, no exceptions. 

The girls' summer uniform is a cotton dress, blue wide-brimmed hat, white cotton anklets, and black shoes with a green blazer. Oh, and hair up and no (noticable) make-up. There's a p.e. uniform, too: shorts, shirt, jacket, rugby shirt, swim cap, and swim suit. Not all at the same time. We hope.

Ha! Sam threw his hat across the room just as I clicked this

Maddy's swim cap says "Deakin" for her house (yep, kinda like Griffindor and Slytherin)

Sam in his rugby uni, Maddy in swim cap and track jacket.

These two have been nothing short of heroic in their gameness to jump right in with enthusiasm. They have each toured their campuses, met their house masters and tutor group teachers, met with student buddies and been assigned classes.

In fact, when Sam toured his school they mentioned the school musical auditions were that week and invited him to try out. And he did!  I'm not sure I would have the wherewithal to show up at an audition at a school I didn't yet attend. But he decided to jump right in and went for it by himself, even though it was completely outside of his comfort zone.

Maddy pretty much took my breath away with her poise and positivity and confidence as she interviewed and chatted with all of the requisite people at her school. I could practically feel the ptwing of a few apron springs springing free.

Sly mompaparazzi shot of M's school tour

It's not all sunshine and bliss, let me quickly add. Of course there are teary times and nostalgia for what we left behind. The kids are at times a bit bonkers with all of this free time, no school yet, and none of our belongings here. Sometimes new isn't adventurous and exciting, it's just hard and unfamiliar. Sometimes the ketchup tastes different or our uber-togetherness sours to irritation or starting from scratch with finding friends feels overwhelming.  As Sam said last night, "Sometimes I just don't want to be the new guy anymore." 

But time will take care of most of it. One day we won't be the new guys anymore and it will all feel like home. In the meantime, we're in this rare, mostly blessed, in-between time, dwelling in possibility.

. . .

I've had a lot of questions about the kids' schooling here. The shortish answer is that they are starting up on October 15 with the 4th term of the school year, Sam at a boys' Anglican grammar school and Maddy at the girls' Anglican grammar school (though the two schools collaborate on music and theatre and other clubs so it isn't completely segregated all the time). While there isn't an international school here, these were the schools that were highly recommended to us by both Australians and expats; the studentbody is mostly Australian students with a bunch of international kids mixed in. Both schools offer the fantastic IB diploma program for years 11 and 12, which Maddy will begin at the start of next school year.

After this upcoming term they'll have another summer holiday! Since the seasons here are basically reversed from where we were (we are just heading into spring here as Concord heads into fall) the school summer holidays are in December-January and the students all move up to their new school year afterwards in February.  

That meant we had to decide whether to skip our kids forward 3/4 of a grade or back 1/4 of a year.  After lots of consideration and deliberation we all decided that they would repeat the last term of the year they just ended in June. This way they get to have that term to get used to life here, meet friends, get involved in activities and not have the pressure to zoom forward in all of their subjects. On top of all the other changes, why jolt them like that, you know?