Those Golden Days of Yore
September 25, 2006 09:00
Remember when we were young and the world was full of promise? Remember? Got a good picture in your mind? Now, do you remember volleyball? Well, if you share any genetic stock with us, these are not happy memories, to put it mildly. Eli had his encounter with the demons of what passes for physical education (and why they need a PE class when they already have two recesses a day is beyond me, but then again, that probably explains why I never exactly earned a varsity letter).
Eli doing his homework today
I feel like I could be telling my story, which made it harder to keep my temper as I listened to Eli tell it. Trying to teach them how to throw the ball (yes, not even real volleyball, but that entry-level torture they used to call, and perhaps still do, Newcomb) over the net by palming it. Eli, predictably, couldn’t get the hang of it, and kept dropping it. But being of good cheer and feeling safe with his friends (who are the kindest most generous group of boys an unathletic young man could hope for), he kept trying valiantly, dropping the ball again and again. Uncertain how to account for Eli’s good humor while (in the eyes of a gym teacher) embarrassing himself mightily, his teacher decided he was doing it on purpose, and when he repeated his error she had him do laps as compensation. I can only suppose that, insecure that Eli was not looking sufficiently publicly humiliated, she felt the need to ensure his humiliation by making a spectacle of him for the class. Always a class move. Which is why, I suppose, god invented gym teachers.
Beth wondered if we could take the kids who can’t scan a line of poetry to save their lives and make them have to perform a dramatic reading of 400 lines of The Tempest as punishment. I think it is a grand idea.
In the meantime, Eli, always a class act, is doing great, although for the first time in his life he is dreading gym next Monday. Ah yes, I remember it well.
Eli doing his homework today
I feel like I could be telling my story, which made it harder to keep my temper as I listened to Eli tell it. Trying to teach them how to throw the ball (yes, not even real volleyball, but that entry-level torture they used to call, and perhaps still do, Newcomb) over the net by palming it. Eli, predictably, couldn’t get the hang of it, and kept dropping it. But being of good cheer and feeling safe with his friends (who are the kindest most generous group of boys an unathletic young man could hope for), he kept trying valiantly, dropping the ball again and again. Uncertain how to account for Eli’s good humor while (in the eyes of a gym teacher) embarrassing himself mightily, his teacher decided he was doing it on purpose, and when he repeated his error she had him do laps as compensation. I can only suppose that, insecure that Eli was not looking sufficiently publicly humiliated, she felt the need to ensure his humiliation by making a spectacle of him for the class. Always a class move. Which is why, I suppose, god invented gym teachers.
Beth wondered if we could take the kids who can’t scan a line of poetry to save their lives and make them have to perform a dramatic reading of 400 lines of The Tempest as punishment. I think it is a grand idea.
In the meantime, Eli, always a class act, is doing great, although for the first time in his life he is dreading gym next Monday. Ah yes, I remember it well.
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The Babysitter's Club
September 24, 2006 09:00
Gideon & Hop on Pop
Eli summoned all kinds of courage on Thursday night and made his first foray into baby-sitting when he watched his brother so that we could head to his school for back-to-school night. The plan was to watch Sky High and eat snacks (which, of course would have been our choice as well); but technology failed him causing several teary phone calls. But he bravely refused to call us home and, consequentially, we can call the event a success. Although we returned to a very sweaty and exhausted Eli--“It’s very tiring to babysit, because you have to be anxious about a lot of thing,” he declared--Gideon gave him high marks: “He’s always my best friend.” Eli, meanwhile, is very proud of his accomplishment (not to mention the remuneration for the event), and he is also delighted with Gideon’s own triumph as documented in the above photograph. We felt likewise when we learned that Gideon had read the book aloud to his class! It was a welcome antidote to the fever that always accompanies the first week of classes.
Panics & Apples
September 17, 2006 09:00
Gid and Roma in the Orchards
Despite the loss of voice (Beth) and throat pain (Jared), we had a fabulous weekend in what was once called Indian Summer. Gideon had his first soccer game. No photos since much of it involved a full-blown panic attack: heart-a-racing, Gideon stood stock still in the middle of the field, appearing for all the world as if he was going to vomit. But trooper that he is, he rallied to a 3rd quarter showing (until a crash with a fellow United brought him to his knees.)
These hijinks were followed by a birthday dinner for Violet who showed us all her one-year old pizzazz. And then a trip to the apple orchards with Sandra, Luke and little Roma, where we collectively picked 40 lbs of apples (in about 4 minutes flat). Now it’s time to discover uses for said apples.
One more thing: Gideon is reading!!
Shaking
September 10, 2006 09:00
We had a great weekend with Michael and Stephen in the Bluegrass State, exploring defunct communitarian experiments in celibacy, paddling down rivers, eating amazing food at
Gid and Michael on the Kentucky River
the ClassyHouse Cafe, buying bourbon and sipping the prettiest of wines. We learned: the Shakers were not vegetarians and they appreciated both coffee and technology. It also turns out that Eli and Gideon are truly the fruits of our loins, and they love living history as much as their nerdy parents (and not quite so nerdy godparents). A last festive hurrah before a return to schedules that don’t meander so leisurely as the Kentucky.
Gid and Michael on the Kentucky River
the ClassyHouse Cafe, buying bourbon and sipping the prettiest of wines. We learned: the Shakers were not vegetarians and they appreciated both coffee and technology. It also turns out that Eli and Gideon are truly the fruits of our loins, and they love living history as much as their nerdy parents (and not quite so nerdy godparents). A last festive hurrah before a return to schedules that don’t meander so leisurely as the Kentucky.
Soccer
September 5, 2006 09:00
Gideon's Game Face
Gideon had his first practice for the Whetstone Tiny Tots soccer league (above he is modeling his new United uniform and his new angry face), and he loves it. We were so proud: even when he got kicked in the face (of course on the very first day) he bounced back and got right back in the game.
Eli, who did not take to the cruelties of 4-5 year old soccer, beamed the whole time like a proud papa. “This brings me back to my soccer days,” he said, as he sat by his mom on the sideline. “Yes,” she replied, “as I recall you were sitting in precisely the same position 5 years ago while your teammates played.” “You stink,” he retorted, and returned to cheering on his brother.
A lovely time was had by all. The first game (against those dastardly Dolphins) will be on Saturday the 16th
Fourth Grade
September 1, 2006 09:00
Back to school
Eli started his first week as a fourth-grader at Clintonville Academy. So far it looks like it is going to be a tremendous year, and he is bouncing off the walls with excitement. Our only (collective) anxiety: his new teacher cares an awful lot about handwriting.
