This is why I changed my flights for an earlier return: to be back for International Day at the older two kids' school today.
It happens only once every two years and we got notice just last month that they picked February 28th for it. Today. Snowdrop had begged for me to take part and Sparrow joined in the chorus: do Poland!
The school asks families to volunteer. You get a table (or two), and you display the country of your ancestry to the school community. Putting something interesting together is a huge commitment and it's no surprise that out of their school of several hundred students, only fourteen parents and two grandparents volunteered to do it. One of those grandparents was me. Poland will be presented, or else! -- I said this to myself even as I realized that the work for it would have to be done within that brief period of time when I found out the date (when I was in Chamonix) and when I left to meet up with my friends in Italy. If you were an Ocean reader then, you will have noticed that I spent days on this -- acquiring poster boards, books, thinking up fun facts, harassing my Polish friends to supply me with some postcards of the Warsaw mermaid, days upon days!
I was, in fact, ready, though I did have to miss the set up window yesterday early evening. I was still flying home then. My set up at the school would have to be this morning, which is a chore only because it is darn freezing this morning (think: 13f or -11c), and the presentations will be starting promptly at 8 a.m. I had to get there before the school even opened for business, so that I could unload the car and put up all my Polish loot.
So, up by 5, waiting in the Starbucks line for a mighty strong brew at 6, and at the school doors, unloading at 6:55. Actually I was there earlier, but no one else was, so I sat in the car sipping coffee and thinking how nice and warm the bed had been this morning.
The kids came by grades, forty minutes for each grade. 2nd, 1st, K, 3rd, and finally 4th. They were divided into small groups of 4 or 5 and volunteer parents or teachers lead them from one table to the next, where they would spend a few minutes admiring your country and listening to you do your spiel.
Effectively, that meant I had to do a presentation some ten times for each grade, or a total of 50 times. Enthusiastically.
(Sparrow, coming to listen!)
The day passed for me in a blur. I was so hyped for this that I ran on triple overdrive (and triple strength Starbucks!). I put all my energies into this. All my energies. I did everything but dance and sing. By the time the (more sophisticated) 3rd and 4th graders came around, I added jokes and zingers.
(Snowdrop, with her Polish gaga!)
In retrospect, I think I felt like I was on a voyage into my past. I was, prior to retirement, a teacher, of course, and teaching large classes was a bit of a performance. A more serious one, to be sure, than, say, drawing "talking pierogi" on a board and imitating different voices for the mushroom stuffed one and for the one with blueberries, but still, the goal is the same -- to get them to listen, to be engaged, and to walk away with a new perspective on the world.
Done! Packing it all up now, in a sleep-deprived daze!
From there, to the grocery store, where I spent a very relaxing hour grocery shopping. Only I must have put some foods into someone else's cart, because I came home without two packs of chicken and I swear I had carefully selected two such packs from the grocery shelf.
Lunch? Or was it breakfast? Finally, at 3 p.m., once I unpacked. I had coffee and a leftover cookie from my last restaurant in Florence.
It was one heck of a day.
In the evening I made soup. I just need a big pot of soup for this week. And some evenings on the couch, dozing off, with Ed.
And so much love...
