family culture
March 3, 2016 § 5 Comments
It began with a sixth grade social studies assignment; innocent questions intended to create an intimate classroom discussion on culture. An exercise familiar across generations for the interpersonal research – facts shaped by stories. A heritage of self in family interviews.
Faith that infers belief, foods that speak to nationalities, traditions that honor sentiment. Easy questions tugged at difficult subjects. Not all family traditions are kind, some truths are more telling.
When I met my husband I imagined our children would inherit his family’s traditions. My childhood holidays were only consistent in their predictable inconsistencies. My mother was poor and my father was unburdened by an obligation to nurture superficial normalcies.
I was honored to accommodate my husband’s experiences; advent chocolates and Saint Nicholas day, an eccentric Easter tradition and a few family recipes. It was a more uncomfortable truth my children remember from the years before we found peace.
For my children there are only hints of heritage in holiday customs or hand-me-down stories. It was a history of substance abuse and greed that were written into the space of traditions. These are the markers that inform my children’s understanding of an entire ancestry of instability.
They are not the answers a teacher would expect and so this week I helped my daughter research a culture she never knew for a more predictable character of diversity. Learning pieces of a past that were impersonal for their irrelevance to our experiences.
Still, I am grateful for the innocent honesty of children. There is no shame to truth-telling; we are not bound to the choices of others. The geography of our experience is not a culture mapped by lines of latitude or longitude.
As a family I hope our faith is one of kindness; there is no denomination that informs the intentions behind our actions. Our food speaks less of heritage and more of health and community around the table. Our traditions are small, artifacts of a culture of playfulness and mindfulness – my favorite the intentional hugs at each goodbye.
These are the answers I hope echo in stories untold years from now when my children’s children fill in the spaces of self.
A legacy of love.
homework helper
September 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
A little over a week into the new school year and we are all passively protesting the routines like a new pair of shoes that are pinching and confining. We fuss over the discomfort, grumbling under our breath at the inconvenient newness while longing for the old, beloved, well-worn comforts of summer. Each child tumbles down the stairs half conscious for breakfast only to scramble each evening into bed exhausted and eager to cocoon among dreams. Behind the scenes, I too am begrudgingly adapting to a new school year.
Our mornings are busy with breakfast and simple acts of preparing for the day ahead. Evenings have lulled us into a false sense of normalcy; sunshine makes the hours after school dismissal seem longer and an absence of homework makes the new year feel deceptively, effortlessly manageable. I am mindful of evenings ahead centered at the dining room table as textbooks, paper, and sharpened pencils steal lazy evenings outdoors.
Homework has often signaled a power struggle between my children and my expectations. This year, I am hoping to change the dynamics of dreaded anticipation into an opportunity for accountability. I am attempting to empower my children to seek out the answers, by giving them room to find them. I fall too easily into the habit of coaching and editing; controlling under the guise of helping my very capable children through their work.
I began to step back from the homework table when my son was in 4th grade, giving him room to make mistakes. This year, I am trying to create an expectation of independence for both children. I am placing myself off to the side, waiting to see if they need me and willing to help if necessary; fostering a quiet faith in their ability.
Tomorrow will be a true test as we juggle our first school day with homework and evening activities. Fingers crossed, this is the week we settle into our after-school routines.
scribblechic 