My Kids Make Me Sick (Or Ryan's Riding Lessons)

August 2006, Holzgerlingen

I'm actually not thinking about the deep vein thrombosis I got when I was 28 weeks pregnant with Ryan.  That was due to Leiden V Factor deficiency and possible APLS (Antiphospholipid Syndrome), stuff in my genes that affects how I clot, or not, depending on the pregnancy.  With the twins, I was hospitalized for NOT having clotting factors at 35 weeks. 

But I'll blame that on heredity. Gotta blame the parents for SOMETHING, right?!

Funny how it's all in the bleeding though.

November 2006, First Ribbon, Holzgerlingen

Because what I do remember is the beginnings of an essay I had back when we were living in France, before I had a blog, before I was writing regularly or had even joined a writers' group.  I had just read one of the Harry Potters.  Whatever was out when in December 2002.  And I was crossing the park towards home with a huge bag of Christmas toys I had bought for the kids.  (In retrospect, how much could a 9 month old an almost 3 year old possibly NEED?!)

I remember having spent what I considered to be a huge amount of money, considering our financial situation, living on the outskirts of one of the most expensive cities in the world (Geneva) with Damon on an intern's salary.  (Having now seen people spend THOUSANDS on their two toddlers at the pre-Christmas sales here, the couple hundred I had spent was minsiscule in comparison.)

August, 2007, Tripsdrill Animal Park

But it hurt.  The money hurt.  And I remember feeling as if I was hemorrhaging money that I couldn't really afford to lose.  I was bleeding for my children. 

But that that was not only okay, but the way it should be.  That a parent SHOULD bleed for their children, and do so happily.  Because that's what being a parent was.  Just like Harry Potter's mother had given her life for Harry, her sacrifice ( and somehow her blood?) protecing him from Voldemort.

It all made great sense.  And I have it written down on a napkin packed up in a cardboard moving box somewhere downstairs.

June 2008, Holzgerlingen

Let me get back to you on that though.

Because this time I am vomiting.

Really.

I was physically ill for over a week after we went to Ryan's new riding stable.  Still am if I allow myself to think about it too much.

She was bouncing around in the seat next to me, radiant and chattering about her new riding program.

I was trying to hide the tears I had streaming down my face.

June 2008, Holzgerlingen

There is no possible way we can afford this riding program for her. 

None at all.

And yet she started this weekend.  The outrageous lesson fees.  The course guides.  The required lesson texts.  New boots and chaps.  Stirrups to follow.  Barn polo shirt and sun hat.  Safety vest optional.  Formal attire and show fees still on the far horizon, but there none the less.  Not to mention 45 minutes each way to get her there.

The 9 seater van we were looking at has turned into a 7 seater second-hand model.  I guess my new glasses and contact lens prescription can wait.  And I saw a dentist in Germany so I'm good.  I'll just line up behind the kids the next time Damon is cutting hair.  And I can get used to sandwiches and homemade pizza.  Even have the kids convinced that homemade fries and chicken nuggets are an acceptable alternative to take-out.

June 2011, The Gap (Brisbane), First Lesson

But it's dull, not having ANY extras AT ALL.  (Would LOVE to see that last Harry Potter!) And a lot of hard work cooking without ANY chance of a night off.  The other kids have sports activities too.  But Andrew's agreed to wait on the hip-hop dance lessons until 2012.  (He's still got soccer.)The twins can swim in the pool so that they don't need formal lessons.  And goodness, looks like replacing that old couch can wait until the kids go to college after all.

We're not living in poverty.

But we have had to make some serious choices about lifestyle - mostly about Damon and I giving one up - in order to get Ryan those riding lessons.  (They were 15 Euros a week in Germany.  Here, all we could find was a nationally certified dressage and show jumping training program, with internationally competing coaches.  All of which is well worth the money, just a lot more than we were counting on.  Kids don't take casual lessons here.  They either have a horse in their backyard or Mum and Dad are wealthy enough to allow them to compete at an international level.)

The horses are getting bigger!

Even as I bleed - and vomit and cry - for Ryan's riding lessons, I don't regret them for a moment.  This week, when I returned to pick her up after three hours, the other girls - all 4 to 5 years older - told me how amazed they were at her riding abilities.

"She stayed on Ace," they told me.  "And he's not so easy to stay on."

We've gone form Welsh and Shetland ponies to Thoroughbreds.

And they threw a couple of jumps at her to see what she can do.  "Um. They didn't jump in Germany"  I told the coach.  Ryan just rolled her eyes and told him she could do it. 

Brave new world.  Jumping.

Then did.  "She'll have no problems getting right into the program." her coach reassured me.

"She's REALLY good." said another girl.  "Wish I could have trained in Germany!"  (And I really gotta credit Stefan Lange's program in Holzgerlingen.  Fantastic foundation.  15 Euros a week.)

Ryan's stepping higher again since she started riding.  She's back in her element.  Calm, centered, focused, balanced, confident. 

She belongs on a horse.

They don't call it 'Wattle Creek' Riding for nothing.  Look at those trees!

And if I have to lose blood to put her there, yeah well, it's not like it's good for much else.  Anitbodies to things I need.  Clotting when it shouldn't.  Not clotting when it should. 

It's all I have to give.  And I look back on that time in France, a time when I was just beginning to understand that a parent would give more than her life for her children...

And shudder to think of how easy I had it then.  And what might still lie ahead! 

(Barf.)

Ryan Emerging

It's so much fun watching Ryan come alive.  She's still often overshadowed by Andrew's accomplishments and by the needs of her whirling dervish twin brothers, but she is quietly making her own mark too.

Ryan brings home her flute after her first lesson at school.

You just have to take the time to look for it.

She's discovering music, encouraged through the Glee Club, which meets on Fridays to listen to popular dance tunes. (Think Justin Bieber, Katy Perry and Miley Cyrus)  Classical training it is not, but the kids get to sing and dance along.  Have fun with their peers.  Enjoy themselves.  And isn't that what music has always been about?  (Remember, Mozart was the Mick Jagger of HIS day!) 

Ryan gets to belong just by being herself.  How great is that?!

She has done a Power Point presentation for her German class on our move from Germany to Australia.  And some other work on the computer at school that I've only heard about.  One was about saving the wolves in the western USA and one about saving the koalas here.

She is being encouraged to write about what she enjoys.  And the work isn't coming back crossed out in red pen, the mistakes she's made overshadowing the joy of the ideas she put into it.

And look what's coming back!

Hanging in the school foyer, Ms Valley's grade 4/5 class designed their own personal flags.

Her work is improving on it's own.  Without third drafts and red ink.  They're just letting her WRITE!

She gets to write about herself too.  Define herself.  And have pride in who she is.

It looked as if Ryan could have written FOREVER!

And look.  The artwork is FREE-FORM!  THANK GOODNESS she's been allowed to put away that DAMN ruler - in ART CLASS!  And been allowed to explore her creativity instead of being graded on her straight lines and neatness.  She took first place in a classroom coloring competition because her entry looked DIFFERENT from everyone else's!  DIFFERENT?  She would have had to redo the assignment - properly, like everyone else's - in her old school.

Not enough room on the paper for all that she is!

Ryan's class in Germany did a project where the kids had to find two things that everyone in the class did well.  It was meant as a form of encouragement.  But Ryan was known for two things - all four years - she spoke English well and she loved to ride horses.

That was Ryan.  Summed up and neatly packaged, ready for delivery to Hauptschule.

Here she speaks English funny (although better than her parents who still don't know how to pronounce 'tomato') but German well.  But that doesn't define her.  We've got kids in the school from Africa, Japan, the Phillipines, Thailand, New Zealand, indigenous Australia, England, Ireland, Scotland, France, even another American whose Mommy speaks in proper southern dialect to distinguish herself from the Canadians WE sound like.

Everyone is encouraged to be proud of where they came from.  But it doesn't define them.  Neither do their accomplishments.  Or weaknesses.

The reality is, here like everywhere else, that kids from different socio-economic backgrounds or living situations, will realistically have different opportunities and futures. 

But here at least we can dream.  (Just like in the USA where the disparities in opportunities are more glaringly obvious, at least the DREAM is that every child CAN grow up to be president!)

No government-sanctioned labelling and sorting.  Germany, we do NOT need to be 'realistic' about our childrens' futures.  If we don't let ALL of them reach for the stars, there is no chance for them to get there.

Trying on a new role for size.

And, while it is easy to bask in the light of brilliant stars, or to embrace the sweetest children, it's the kids that DON'T shine on their own that need and deserve our attention and encouragement.  It's the kids that are hardest to love that we need to love the most.  (Easier said as a part-time volunteer mother than a full-time teacher, I admit!)

The best part about kids is that they continue to surprise us.

Let them out of the box, and let's see what they can do!



Ryan's Turn

First day homeschooling.  Iglersreuth, Germany,early October.

There's kids that shine.  You know'em.  Bright as stars, fast as a comet.  They light up a room.  They are easy to love, a joy to teach, and you know they'll go far.

And then there's Ryan.

God bless her, the kid's got class.

Unfortunately class isn't something that's appreciated in a 10 year old.  Or even noticed.  Not when there's a couple comets flying about and a star brother eclipsing her.

And here's another reason I love Lawnton State School and all the teachers and parents there.

They give Ryan room to shine.

Treasure-hunting at Playmobilland. 

Ryan got another Value Award two weeks ago.  This one 'for consistently completing her classwork with effort."  Every Friday morning the entire school - and more than a handful of addicted parents - gathers to sing the national anthem, discuss the week's successes and celebrate individual effort.  How fantastic to watch individual children, some of who have been struggling with behaviour and/or academic problems, be rewarded for their efforts. 

Everyone leaves with heads held high.  Proud to be Australian, proud to be at Lawnton State School, and proud of who they are individually.
The most amazing thing is that this isn't at all fake.  I still cry when I hear those kids singing.  And I clap loudly for each and every one of them.

Ryan is valued here in a way she never could be in Germany.  She is valued for being herself, for being a good kid, for doing her best.  Her best was never good enough at her previous school.  She was too slow.  She was too quiet.  She day-dreamed. 

Here she is being given a chance to shine.

And she is. 

In the kitchen in Iglersreuth.

"Ryan loves to read." said her teacher to us on parents' night.  "Come again?" asked Damon.  "She's got a book open every minute of her spare time." 

And she's reading LITERATURE.  The Wizard of Oz, borrowed from the school library.

Could it be that, number one, there IS a school library and that number two, the classroom is better managed than her previous classroom so that she can feel comfortable opening up a book?

Ryan's in a class of 25.  17 of them are boys.  Just like her previous four years.  Her teacher said she felt bad for her, and her two best girlfriends, who are always sitting in a row, books opened, listening and ready for the lesson while the boys jump around the classroom. 

Uh.  No sweat there.  Ryan's been slumming it among spoiled little princes up to this point.

Really.  Ryan spent FOUR years among a class of boys who were bright and quick but also unruly and unmanageable.  Or in a system that refused to manage them.

CONSEQUENT?  That's a big German word for 'are you following through on your discipline at home?'   But there was NO discipline in school.  (Not much at homes either, from the behaviour the children- and spoiled parents - showed.  Even teachers agreed with me on this.)  The teachers spent four years yelling at these children, trying to get them to behave.  But there was no attempt at discipline.  Oh.  That red mark next to your name on the board.  Like that bothers anyone. 

Parents would have whined and screamed worse than the kids if the school had told them their children were less than perfect. 

HORSES!  At Playmobilland.

Here, every class follows a set of rules for discipline.  Even the twins know it already. 
1.  First you get the look.
2.  Then the teacher asks you to stop your disruptive behaviour.
3.  Next you are asked to sit on the 'reflection chair' and think about why your behaviour is inappropriate.  Was it safe?  Was it respectful?  Was it learning? 
4.  If that doesn't work you need to go see the principal and sit in the reflection room.  (Some classes have an 'exit chair' before this step, I believe.)
5.  Physical contact goes straight to the principal. 
6.  Parents are informed.

And the thing is, they really DO this!  So that sure, kids still misbehave, but they are held to the consequences of their actions.  And the teacher doesn't spend all of her time screaming and yelling at a class that never really has the incentive to settle down. 

And, whatever it is, it works.  The kids we have met here, at Lawnton State School and all around the Brisbane area, are respectful, polite and helpful.  It is unbelievable. It is such a joy.

So that the ADULTS here are respectful, polite and helpful.

So that I still don't know if the education system represents the values of the society or the values of the society reflect what is taught in the education system, but I strongly suspect the former.  (Can you even IMAGINE a German school where physical contact was punished with a trip to the principal?!  My God, the kids are told to work it out themselves.  And they do.  Punching and kicking and ganging up on eachother.  The principal would be WAY too important to get involved with the students.  And anyway, kids will be kids.  Fighting is normal, isn't it?)

And I don't care.  This is about Ryan.  This is about having room to shine, about having space to grow and about the RIGHT to feel safe being yourself.  Even proud to be yourself. 

How was she ever going to get anywhere sitting quietly in a corner, her needs unmet, her every effort marked as unsatisfactory?

Everything here is geared towards helping every child reach their full potential.  Not labelling them and sorting them.  I don't know.  Maybe the German system DOES get better in the fifth grade.  Do the smart kids get a library and computers?  Do the smart kids finally learn some manners?  (Big sighs here from the international community!!!)

Bike-riding in Iglersreuth. 

Ryan is reading.  Ryan is remembering her multiplication tables.  She has volunteered to mentor younger children in the morning reading program.  She's joined the Glee Club.  And wants to play the flute.  A child who was withering away before my eyes is now a child who matters, someone who WANTS to contribute and be a part of her school, because her school values her.

When the child psychologist I took her to in Germany said he thought it was all that traveling that was affecting her (even though we'd lived at the same address for six out of her ten years!) I thought back on when I had really lost her.

I began to lose her when we moved to Germany.  The kindergarten was wild.  And, in retrospect, the system doesn't reinforce the values that we personally have at home.

Respect for others.  Sharing with others.  Being kind to others.

They are a recipe for disaster in system that really only emphasizes taking care of yourself. 

I am not strong enough, and neither was Ryan, to live in a society so at odds with my personal beliefs.

But I am strong enough to fight for my children.  ALL of them.

And lucky enough to be somewhere where I don't have to anymore.

Ryan, with her two best friends,  receiving awards for consistently showing the school values of safety, respect and learning.  How can I not love a country that loves my daughter?

I Do Believe in Fairies

Today, she cried.

I've been trying to cover up my frustration - and frankly, my disappointment - in her since I got back from Florida.

She has no friends over, isn't invited anywhere else and has been to a total of two birthday parties the entire school year. She has dropped all activities except for horse back riding, doesn't want to practice the guitar, and doesn't leave the house unless I drag her. All she wants to do is watch H20 (Australia's answer to the High School Musical crowd) and well...watch anything at all as she sits comatose on the couch.

Until today I thought she was lazy and disinterested. Now I know that not only is she aware of her isolation at school, but that it is tearing her up inside.

It's only now, as I list them, that I recognize the hallmark signs of depression.

Forgive me Ryan. You are only ten years old. How could I have failed you already?

In the story of Peter Pan, a fairy dies every time a child says they don't believe in them.

I feel like I'm killing my fairy every day I send her into a classroom I know is no good for her.

I did speak to her teacher this evening, and, since I mentioned depression and a meeting with the principal, she is taking this seriously. What pisses me off is that this classroom situation has been a horrible one for close to four years now, that it has been horrible for almost every child in this class and that is has gone largely unacknowledged this entire time. What kind of a system puts children together for four years? Look at what happens when that group doesn't get along. And, since this same system ranks the kids as early as it does, this class dynamic (or lack of it) could potentially affect these kids for the rest of their lives. It's unforgiveable. I feel sorry for all the kids that are stuck here.

I'm more pissed off at myself for trusting the damn system, having faith that they were doing what was best for my child.

Seems like the only one who really gives a shit about your child is you.

The good news on fairies is that they apparently come to life again as soon as you believe in them.

I've just gotta get her outta here before it's too late.

Third Grade Math Part Four: Accepting Ryan

She's the child the fairies sent me. You can see it in her eyes and in her shy, quiet, crooked smile. If the slight build isn't a tip-off, I notice it when she steps back, withdraws from the action, or self-consciously stays in the action, knowing she isn't fitting in, aware she doesn't quite fit in, but not knowing what she can do about it. It's as if she's here on borrowed time, just slightly out of focus, not entirely here with the rest of us.

It's not that I'm afraid to lose her; I'm scared we never truly have her here with us at all.

This week I'm fending it off from her well-intentioned teacher. She too senses that Ryan's thoughts aren't always here with us on earth. She calls it lack of focus. Is there even a phrase for "flights of fancy" in German? Fantasy. Imagination. They have no place in a focused German grade school. Even the stories are judged - and graded - on how believeable they are, not how imaginative or creative. And of course, grammar counts way more than story line.

But my anger at the system - and although there IS plenty to be angry about, it's another essay entirely - is only an excuse for the fact that it simply has no place for someone like my Ryan. You either have it - focus, intelligence, maturity - or you don't. And this is decided for you in the first four grades, before you hit the age of 11.

Despite assurances from many friends, German and American, including a musician and two physicians, that they didn't "come into their own" until after the age of 12 or 13, I'm afraid they may be missing the point. The assurance is that everything will be okay. The assupmtion is that she will come into her own.

What if she's already there?

To be perfectly honest, I don't know that Ryan's imagination is, well, imaginative enough for long flights of fancy. It's more a lack of interest in what's going on around her. If she's decided it's irrelevant, nothing will convince her to pay attention. And if it doesn't have to do with horse, it's obviously irrelevant.

Instead of assuring myself that she WILL BE okay, I am becoming more and more convinced that she's just fine the way she is NOW.

It's a lot easier to do after watching her ride on a Saturday afternoon. Her lithe figure on top of a white pony, her total concentration and ease of movement, the comfort and self-assurance, the CONFIDENCE, she has on a horse - it's the only time I see her truly in the moment, the only time she truly is herself. I don't need to close my eyes to see her riding her unicorn across a field of flowers to the castle in her native fairyland.

Of course the Germans grade everything - if you can't rank it, then it isn't worth doing - and there is an accreditation system in place for riding just as for everything else (swimming, running, judo, cycling etc.). But my guess is that this won't hurt Ryan, that this is one grading system she'll do well in (as she did in swimming) but more importantly, that she's never really let the grades bother her up until now anyway.

Not to care what others think; this child has a courage I have yet to learn.

Of course her teacher sees it differently. And she means well. A child of this world does need to learn to read, and write (preferably intelligeably), and presumably do a modicum of arthimetic (really?).

But it's up to me to make sure that she doesn't forget how to ride a unicorn.