Today is our last day in Cape Town and the girls’ last day at Auburn House School. It is hard to believe we have already been here three months and that our time in South Africa must end. We had lots of tears today at the school as we said goodbye and now at home it is sinking in that we really are leaving and the tears are flowing again. I asked one of the teachers today that if she knew ahead of time how painful it would be to say goodbye, would she have agreed to accept our girls in for the one term. She laughed and said “No!” and then went on to say how special they are and how wonderful it has been to have them be a part of the environment. I asked myself the same question this evening as I sat with each of my daughters comforting their tears. My emotional answer is ‘no’, I would rather avoid this difficult goodbye and protect my daughters from pain. The wise, balanced answer however, is ‘yes’. In spite of the pain they are feeling tonight, I would still enroll them in Auburn House School for the one term because if we had not, we would never have been a part of this wonderful, welcoming community of parents, kids and staff.
By the time our last month rolled around, the girls’ friendships were in full swing and each day at pickup time, more and more kids would ask us to arrange times with their parents for play dates. We knew we would never be able to coordinate each one in the short time we had left. This led us to the idea of hosting one big play date for all the kids in the Junior Primary (grades 1-3) who could make it to a park near the school on our last Saturday in town. In my experience, these things are typically hard to coordinate and often require more than two weeks notice, so I was blown away by how many parents and kids were able to come. I only wished we would have thought of this sooner because in that one afternoon we enjoyed easy conversations, made friends with the parents and understood why the girls so quickly fell in love with the community at Auburn House School.
I write this post tonight to say thank you to the principal and teachers for opening your doors and allowing the girls the opportunity to learn in an environment different from their own. They had a taste of two languages, Afrikaans and Xhosa (well three if you count the differences in terms between our English and the South African English). Perhaps you also saw the opportunity for learning and potential benefit of more diversity that a couple of girls from the United States could add to your classroom as well and for that, we are grateful.
We take our new friends with us in our hearts, the medicine of Table Mountain in our bodies and the warmth of community at Auburn House School in our spirits.
It is autumn here in South Africa. This season must be a secret Capetonians never tell. The Swallows have flown from their summer nests back to the UK and full time residents bask in the glow of the autumn sun. The Fynbos (shrub-land) of the Western Cape shows pops of bright colors from the fall blooms, renewing its claim to the name of Garden Route. The vineyards begin their metamorphosis from green to amber and finally to rust creating a quilt of colors on the hillsides. The ocean goes from frigid to freezing making feet ache when they touch the water.
The winds are always lurking here in Cape Town no matter the time of year but, as we have been told, are slightly calmer in autumn. When they do come, the Northeasterlys or Southwesterlys (I’ll learn the difference one day) rise up in a fury. Sometimes they bring sheets of rain that blow across the house in loud bursts. We woke one night to the powerful carwash noise of the rain surrounding the house, pulled the blankets to our chins, and stared up at the ceiling expecting the roof to go spinning off into the sky.
We were almost blown off the top of Signal Hill.
It is strange to go backwards in season from the end of winter to the end of summer. Instead of new buds and spring fever, we are watching the leaves change, sunlight wane, our kids go back to school; the flu bug sneaked into our bodies. Bed-time, dinner-time, and morning-time have become more strict and structured. We engage in conversations with other parents at school about the coming of the winter season and the enjoy-it-while-you-can talk of the present day’s warmth. It is so familiar a routine it is almost like we are at home. Almost, until someone comments on my American accent or I have a double take when the menu reads, “come take a squiz” (as far as I can tell squiz = look).
Autumn for me is a time to bring to light ideas, goals and changes that have been manifesting throughout the year. At this point on our journey it is hard to know which seeds have grown and which have just shriveled up and become part of the compost. Still, it is tempting to allow the harvest energy to work its way into my psyche, to root around and look for the changes in us that are ready to give nourishment. I laughed out loud this morning as I read an article from a fellow travel blogger who was lamenting her children’s lack of awareness and continued need for “stuff” to make their play exciting. Her kids failed to understand the issues of poverty and could only whine about boredom at the neighbor’s house due to the lack of toys. Whew, that was a validating read. I feel less disappointed in Quinn’s stomping, screaming, snot-flying temper tantrum in the parking garage after I told her she would need to wait to wear her new shoes. It had been a long day and she is just a kid after all and as the blogger concluded, how can I expect her to be at the same intellectual level as me? I’ll keep watering that seed, though.
At first, Mackenzie didn’t like the comments from her new classmates on the way she has “weird” names for things. She didn’t appreciate the giggles she heard when she said trashcan instead of bin and eraser instead of duster but I am elated at her experience of being different. I am grateful for the opportunity to help her learn and understand that her way of speaking is not better or worse than her new friends and vice versa. Jacob and I get to encourage her to have fun with the differences. Her assignment is to gather up the new terms she learns and teach them to us. The theme of oppression and power over groups of people due to differing religious beliefs, skin color, or desire to overtake the land has been poignant. I know these huge abstract concepts are marinating in her brain because she notices them and asks questions about them when we see the acts and effects of oppression depicted in artwork or alive in the shantytowns (which, are more like cities in some places). These are experiential opportunities for her continue to flourish in her understanding of how to be a human living in love and respect.
For Quinn, she is cultivating her sense of self and discovering her knack for humor. The Montessori environment was the exact thing she needed to feel safe and confident in returning to formal school. The shelves and materials had the familiarity of past experience; I could feel her sigh of relief on the day we toured the school. Her challenge, however, on her first day was to learn how to navigate the new social environment without her sister. Even though they are in the same classroom, Mackenzie wanted to make her own friends and play separately from her sister. Day one was a painful reality for Quinn that she has to make her own way but for me, it’s a valuable lesson toward self efficacy. Now, of course, she comes home with stories of bringing her new friends into “QuinnWorld (a world that is invisible to outsiders and you need a lollypop to enter).
I know it’s too early to fully realize all of the changes that are going on in each of us. We are still in the planting phase of this “gap year”. Our true harvest time will be when we return to the States at our projected time of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. I am aware that I have never been very patient with the working phase of project development, the extended tension of the in-between place, or the unknown. I want to see the results of my exercise now; the business to flourish before it is even launched; have the knowledge before the process of learning. I also know it is valuable to stop, lean on the rake, wipe the sweat, catch your breath and notice the pride you feel about the work that you have already accomplished.
…and so, here is another song lyric to guide your day and mine:
“Let it flow, let yourself go, slow and low that is the tempo” ~Beastie Boys
Whew or “Peweph” as Mackenzie pronounces it. The home school switch is proving to be a tricky transistion. Trying to get my daughters, mostly oldest, to buy that I can be mama and teacher. I am getting A LOT of flack. “uugh, I don’t want to do school” and “I don’t know how to write”. Man. How do we do this?
I am struggling today. Feeling irritable and trying to figure out what is going on. The girls would have started school today. We ran into the mother of one of Mackenzie’s friends from school. She had only supportive words to say, but reminded me that school started. My girls were rambunctious all the way through the store and have been picking at each other for the last few days. It feels like the end of summer. It is like they have an internal clock that says, “we are bored, time for school”. It happens every year at this time. Maybe it is me? Maybe I am bored; maybe I am ready for some space from the kids and they from each other. This makes be feel anxious about our trip. If they are sick of each other now, what are we going to do on the road? And then I think, we will have structure. We will do exercise in the morning followed by 2 hours of reading, writing and math. Here are a couple of the texts we are using to help guide our year, What Your Kindergartner Needs to Know
and What Your Third Grader Needs to Know.
We will have structured quiet, reflective time in the afternoon to draw pictures of our day or write about the adventures we had. I need to have faith that this will help us all feel more grounded, get along better. I know that part of my irritability is not enough exercise. I am naming the intention to make the daily structure, healthy eating and exercise happen. We all need it.
The other part of my irritability, I think, is the judgment that I am feeling from family and strangers today. The cashier in the grocery store gave me a look of displeasure when he saw me walk up to the line with my two kids. “didn’t they start school?” he says. “not yet” I said in a sing-song-ey voice, trying brush it off and skip to the part where I confirm I have found everything I need. “what school do they go to?” he continued. Uugh. I could lie and say the name of some random school but some how I feel obligated to explain why they aren’t in school yet and then proceed to have an awkward conversation about our trip and defend our “dangerous” and “crazy” decision to travel around the world for a year. To endure the lifted eyebrows of an older man who clearly does not understand what we are doing or why we would choose to travel with our kids in this dangerous, scary world. I don’t think this would have bothered me so much if I had not just spoken with my mother a few hours earlier who was sharing gossip about our extended family “gossiping” with each other about our decision with the same emotional tone. “dangerous” “risky” “Irresponsible”. It makes me think about the culture of fear in which Americans live and about our media’s talent of hooking our attention through catchy-fear based headlines. The trans-generational message that you must buy a house, have 2.5 kids, a dog, and follow gender roles that have been laid out before you by previous generations. I’m not saying this is a bad life. I have been living it. It is a beautiful life. I have found much happiness in watching my kids learn to ride their bikes in our street, in taking them to their first day of school. I am likely to return to this life AND I want to experience an adventure. I want to see the world, the different cultures that I am suppose to understand from reading about them in text books starting in kindergarten through graduate school. I want to live in different countries to really expand my understanding of what diversity means.
Believe me, I am not naïve about what we are doing. I understand the inherent risks. I also understand the amazing ways we are all going to change. Develop a better capacity for patience and adversity. Gel as a family in ways we could never do living this life of running from place to place, school drop off to school pick up to swimming practice to gymnastics to a quick dinner before homework and bed, only to do it all over again the next day, each of us working ourselves into little islands under the same roof. Just because we are making a choice in our lives that others view as different, does it make it “wrong”? I believe you make your own happiness and the only thing limiting you, is you. If you hate your job, who says you have to stick with your original job decision? I think it is only yourself, or some obscure cultural norm that you follow.
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