Pretty little girls

This article  has really got me thinking. Has really got me evaluating my responses, looking at my values once more and thinking more about the sort of world I would like my daughter to grow up in. Rebecca Adlington, the most successful British swimmer at the moment, has been hounded for her appearance: for her strong body and for her big nose. She does not conform to the "ideal" and that is worthy of all sorts of criticism, it seems.

It is becoming more and more obvious to me that you are not successful as a woman, in the eyes of the media at least, unless you are pretty. Or rather, you can be successful, like Rebecca Adlington is, no doubt, only for people to talk about how you are not pretty, like all other successful women should be. 

It makes me so angry! It makes me angry that in 2014 we still judge women not only by their achievements, but by the way they look. And it makes me angry that as a society we still value pretty women above sporty women, above clever women, above talented women. 

As a teacher, I find myself falling into this trap occasionally, so deeply ingrained it is. I spoke about it on my post The World of Little Girls and I do find myself complementing girls on their shoes, or their hair, although I often catch myself and make a point of giving "equal" comments to all. 

How do we show our girls that being pretty is not the be-all and end-all of life? How do we show them that we value them as athletes, as musicians, as writers, as lawyers, regardless of how they look? How do we bolster their self esteem so they know that whatever their age, whatever their skin colour, whether their hair is straight or curly or kinky-to-the-point-of-being-unruly, that's ok, they can be smart and polite, they can be talented and the world won't care?

I am not sure - I am yet to find out. Suggestions always welcome! But I dream of a world where successful women do not get taunted about their looks, but are celebrated and respected the way they should be. 

The Road to Simplicity - losing the books?

When we moved to Greece almost six years ago we came with 26 boxes. 26 small boxes, altogether about a 1.5 cubic metres. Oh, and 5 of those boxes were bicycles.

We had very little, as we gave a lot of stuff away, sold some more stuff and donated to charity. We felt light and moveable. It felt liberating not to be weighed down by stuff. It hadn't been a long process either - it came quite naturally to both of us and felt a little like a game: how small could we get our baggage into our new life to be?

I even overcame my aversion to giving away books and donated several boxes full to our local charity shop*. It felt good. I have hardly ever missed one of those books. 

In this moment in our life, during the wait, we have made the decision to re-simplify. To declutter once more. Greece has marked a change in us, we consume a lot less than we ever did in London. That's partly attributed to "having gone off grid a little" and I did notice last time I was in the UK how everyone around me seemed to be wearing new clothes - my clothes looked tatty and old (and they are only 4 or 5 years old). 

My intentions to simplify were bolstered by this post and this blog. It all made sense. It was just what we needed and as our life is about to get more complicated in other ways, well, it made quite a bit of sense to simplify in others. 

I looked at the books, currently proud residents of what will hopefully become the "kids'" bedroom. 

These are my books: the books I have collected over several years of reading, studying, university. The books that people have given me as presents, I have bought for myself, I have looked for in second-hand bookshops. I have cracked their spines and read them - I have enjoyed their company.

These are our books too - the ones we bought together as a couple, the ones we have read and discussed. How could I get rid of them?

I am still not sure what to do. The reality of the matter is I very rarely re-read a book. I love reading them the first time round, relish their company, dive into the content. Yet I don't like to go back - unless looking for a reference and rarely re-read a whole book. 

And then of course there is my Kindle. And that too is full of books, electronic ones. And part of the reason I bought it is because it is much easier to buy English books in Greece in electronic form, but the other reason is that I was slowly becoming aware of the book-crisis in our house... We were running our of space!

And so I sit and contemplate and wonder if any of the advice in that article is useful to me. I make bargains (if I simplify our kitchen, then surely I can keep the books). I think of ways to get rid of them, but to also keep them (we have a big storage spot in our attic). I think how, one day, our kids might weant to read this book - in a way it is a legacy to all we have ever read, to all we have thought important. 

I have not made a decision about the books yet. I keep them there, look at them, consider carefully what their future holds. And to date, I have not thrown a single one away!

*The decision is all the more complicate because there are no charity shops to donate these books and so I would have to throw them away. And there is a big part of me that feels that books should never ever be thrown away! Hmmm... I think we are doomed to live in a library! 

Duality

(or why life is not always black or white)

I am not a physicist, but I love science. There is much comfort in the certainty, the replicability of it all. There is a semblance of knowledge, an inkling of control, that very much appeals to my inner control-freak. 

I was listening to a podcast the other day, that discussed wave-particle duality and it really resonated with me. 

We are brought up to believe in dualities, in false dichotomies: it is either A or B. Children are taught to think that way, because, in reality, at a younger age that's all our brains might be able to understand. 

I find myself doing that a lot when teaching: at that age (7-9) the moral code has to be dual for most children, it is difficult to explain to children than life can be... well... different shades of grey. In the same way, we want to believe that things are either A, or B and it is difficult for us, conceptually, I guess to see that the same thing could simultaneously be both A and B (and C and D and many things beside).

Yet some of us never grow out of this dual nature of life. We judge people absolutely: he is either good or bad. It is either black or white. We make these judhements daily (OK, I make such judgements daily) and it is difficult when we are confronted with evidence to the contrary. 

A lof of what I have been thinking, a lot of my ramblings, are linked to adoption, actually. And how some people want to see it as simply good, or simply bad. Experience keeps teaching me more and more that life is way more complicated than that and the simple pigeon holes we make for big ideas (adoption included, but also democracy, the free market, globalisation etc) are only there to fulfil our wish for duality. 

Life seems to be a lot more complicated than that... 

(Sorry for the philosophical post. It's been brewing awhile. Also, if you are a physicist and can explain this wave-particle duality to me in more depth, I'd love to hear from you!)

Into the Woods

Adoption can be dark. We often forget the "before" and concentrate on the "after". But adoption is just as much about the "before" as it is about what follows. It is about the how and why our children get to us, as much as what happens when they are here. In fact, the one affects the other so much, that they cannot help but be interconnected. 

We owe it to our future kids to be committed, we owe it to them to have done our homework. To be ready to fight for them, to be ready to parent in ways that we might not have considered before. 

International adoption is even harder, in many ways. It is frought with dangers, corruption, difficulties. We need to go into it with our eyes wide-open. I feel we have and we continue on our journey, in the woods, firmly on the lookout. 

International adoption is an imperfect solution, in an imperfect world. We know this, we don't pretend that being adopted by us is the best thing that could have happened to anyone... Not because we are bad people, but because, first families come first. Extended families come second. A home in their country of origin comes next. International adoption is the imperfect solution, in the imperfect world where none of the above solutions are possible. 

Adoption is a leap of faith. Parenthood is a leap of faith. An irreversible change of fortune, for better or worse. I easily get scared, worry about what it will be like. In the books I've read, in the blogs I've followed, there are examples of less-than-happy ever afters, just as much as there are success stories. Nobody knows how it will go. We only know that we are committed. For better, or worse...

Limbo

As we had a week off last week, it was our plan to start re-organising our home for the arrival of the little ones. 

A bit of background. We were matched back in late September. We visited them in late October. He was 4 months, she was around 3 years old. We fell in love. 

Local offices closed, preventing new referrals from moving onto court dates. Then local offices opened. Then MOWA (the Minsitry of Women's Affairs) changed several bits of the process of adoption, making the process less prone to corruption. Great! Also longer. Not so great. 

We have been waiting for a court date. Others who got referrals around the same time had their court dates last week. Turns out there's a discrepancy between what MOWA wanted on one of the papers and what the local authorities wrote. More waiting. And more uncertainty. 

We are tired. We are worried about both of them. Yes, we know that adoption is never predictable, but the last five months of not knowing what to expect have been tough. I am not sure what I should be doing, and what I shouldn't. 

Should I start getting their room ready? Should I be buying things, borrowing from friends (who keep offering)? How much of my reluctance to prepare is simply my own fear, the deep part of my brain that remains superstitious, that keeps connecting unconnected events and reads causality in random happenings? 

We did nothing. The room that will become their bedroom is still our office. A million books still occupy it. (It really does feel like a million books...) I keep asking myself daily whether we should be moving them, whether I should get the cot from this friend, whether I should start child-proofing the house. 

Yet I don't. We wait...

The Joy of Slowing Down

I guess it is a lifestyle quite specific to teachers, the two-speed life, where for six weeks you live in a flurry of activity, working crazy hours and forgetting what your house and spouse look like, followed by the lull, a week or two of holidays, where you change down several gears, relax and recharge ready for the next six week cycle. 

It is a unique lifestyle and it leads to quite Jekyl-and-Hyde-esque behaviours. I find myself changing, the minute the holiday starts. I turn from a result-driven person (type A), to a more process driven alternative (mellow). 

We have just had one of these mellow weeks and I am coming to Sunday, looking ahead towards a full week with fear. I so love my life when it is simple, slow and we are given the time to enjoy it. Time to smell the flowers. Walk the dogs. Cook something that takes longer than 20 minutes to prepare. 

I know we, as teachers, are privileged to have this opportunity. But I do feel like term-time is not your normal kind of 9 to 5 job. I have spoken to many people  who have come into teaching from other professions and they too recognise that teaching gives them a new-kind of tired. That includes my husband, who used to regularly work 12 hour days in a demanding banking job in the City of London and who now teaches for 8-9 hours every day and is more tired than he could ever imagine. In the same way that parenting is a new-kind of tired, I guess. 

Let's see: children are involved in both of these... high energy individuals demanding your attention every minute of the day... Only in one of the two cases, your day is only 9 hours long - then you go home and unwind (do chores, mark homework, plan assignments and update the class website). 

I have loved the extra time, the luxury of long walks with the dogs, the chance to go for a coffee with a friend. I even liked the fact that I didn't have to get up before six in order to spend quality time with my husband, or have some time to write. 

Oh the luxury of time, how I will miss you!

10 things I love about teaching

I have now been a teacher for ten years. I never intended it to be my long-term career, I always thought it would be something I'd do for a while and then move on. That's partly because I knew that at some point, teaching tires you out. (There are notable exceptions to this, some of whom I have witnessed with my very own eyes - those people are simply born to be teachers!) I have seen it many times: the teacher that has gone past his/her sell-by-date. Weary and armed with little patience, they go through the motions, really wishing there were anywhere but in front of 20+ energetic 8 year olds. 

But I still do it and I still love it. Yes, I would love a change, relish it even, but when it comes to it, in the morning, when I stand in front of my class and start the day, I'm still happy to be there!

So here are the ten things I love about being a teacher:

1. No day is ever the same

One day you are on a trip to the zoo, the next you are eating pizza and teaching fractions. The day after that you might be dressed as a pirate, the next day you have Sports Day and you are in your tracksuit. No day is the same, yet there is a comforting routine to it too. 

2. The smiles

No matter how grumpy or tired you feel, no matter what has happened to you in the morning on the way to work, or last night, there are always smiles there to welcome you. And when you are looking at several smiley faces, you cannot help but smile back!

3. Making a difference

Ok, so I am not finding the cure of cancer, or saving lives in a hospital, but I know now, after ten years of teaching, that what I do does make a small difference to people's lives. I know that I have turned around children, who never liked school, into keen pupils, I know that because I have mums who tell me still, that I was the one to make their child like school. That's a difference I'm happy to make. 

4. The energy

This one really is a double edge sword. Sometimes I love it, it picks me up and carries me through the day. Sometimes I want to close my eyes and hide under my desk. Teaching is not a job that you can do if you are feeling under the weather. You cannot simply sit at your desk and type away, make a few phonecalls and then close your eyes and feel sorry for yourself. But more often than not, the children's energy will pick you up and carry you through (until you get home and collapse...)

5. Looking at things from a whole new perspective

It can be so refreshing to look at things for the first time. Children do that every day, usually with few biases and no preconceptions. If you let yourself, as a teacher, you too can experience the newness and wonder of the world. It is mesmerising!

6. The chance to see (and help) other succeed

If you are doing it well (which I would like to think I manage, at least half the time) you will be setting your children up for small successes every day. There is no satisfaction bigger than seeing children set goals and achieve them and you being part of the process. 

7. The cards and letters

As a teacher you do tend to have a bit of rock-star status. I get cards and letters daily, from children telling me just how much the enjoy having me as their teacher. I bet you there is no other job where you hear praise every working day!! 

8. The Holidays

Who am I kidding - I love working, but I also really really love decompressing after a long, hard term. 

9. The staffroom

I am lucky that I work in a school where the staffroom is the sanctuary, where teachers go for tea and biscuits and a shoulder to cry on, or a good chinwag. It doesn't happen often (maybe for 10 minutes each day) but it is like therapy!

10. The silliness

In what other job to people get to dress up and be silly. Maybe if you're a clown, but I love the fact that my job gives me a chance to sometime be plain old silly! I might wear a wig and moustache (those eyebrows are all mine) or don a PowerRanger suit for a play. If it's silly, bring it on!