Dumpster Diving for Education

We didn't want you all to think that just because we bought the uniform and send Noah out the door each day that we've given up our interest in his education. Just now in P6 (his grade) they are looking at food sources and food technology in connection with their geography. Noah has Finland as his country (you're thinking potatoes, fish and strong drink?). Each person in the class has to bring in several food labels that have a different European country's label. Thank goodness the food doesn't have to come from Finland. We've found that Belfast doesn't seem to import much from Finland.

Anyway, in the preceding sequence of photos you will see Scott and Noah retrieving a Good Earth tea box (yes, it says Boulder, CO) because it has importers listed for
UK, Europe, Japan and someplace else (I don't remember...Finland?)

Do you know Scott will be going to India for about 10 days, leaving this Thursday? How in the world will I retrieve rubbish for school from the bins while he is away?

Here is a last interesting bit of dinner conversation from the household:

O: Mama, you have a poh-poh in your belly.
N: Do you mean a placenta??
O: Santa?!

What I have in my belly is an active being who spent most of Saturday night trying to reverse out of my body through my upper abdominal...muscles? or that spot, anatomically speaking, where one ought to have upper abs.

Tatie Update

In case you wonder what my love handles are looking like at 6 months pregnant while I despair over the state of the office room and my work, Octavia provides the above photo. You'll notice the right curtain is drawn which means that the day is less overcast HURRAY than it has been. We even had a walk by the Lagan yesterday to see some ducks frolicking in what we used to call Indian Summer in my girlhood.

The updates on this blog have been held up a bit because last week had its own adventure. I returned from Scotland on Monday to find that Octavia and Scott were enjoying a night away at Children's Hospital courtesy of Ms. Wheezy herself. I am pretending there were no drugs involved. Focus on the 'nutritious' lunch that O is enjoying. Yep. Jacket spud with cheese. That's it. Not a colour in sight. And as an accompaniment, blackcurrant 'juice' with no added sugar, just aspartame and saccharin. Have you ever eaten a blackcurrant? I have, because I love the kind of fruit that just about splits your gums down the middle with sourness. Kool-Aid powder tastes sweet compared to a blackcurrant. So, to make a juice for kids you need about 10 parts sugar to 1 part berry. I asked the head nurse last time we had a weekend get-away up there whether she had any pure juice and she laughed. "Sure, that'd be far too dear!" said she. Thank goodness Octavia prefers short breaks to long vacations on the ward.

Anyway, Noah is not the only person to have entered formal education this month. O heads up to "Mrs. Mac's" (Mrs. McAleer) 2 mornings a week with her best friend, Alex. This playgroup (pre-school) is laughably different to the Stiener kindergarted Noah attended. First there is the more reasonable cost, but let's not be so crass as to discuss that. Second, Mrs. Mac seems fond of straight lines and right angles. No trimming corners off paper here. Paint is just paint--thick, gloppy, tempera in wildly bright and unnatural colours. You get an incident report if your nearly-3-year old wets her pants. And, last but not least, everyone is special but they are instructed to colour the lips on their self-portrait red like everyone else. Or so Octavia says. [see above]. And, no, O did not draw the outline! I don't mean to give the impression that Mrs. Mac is not wholesome: she makes her own playdough and is very happy to share the recipe, warning that if you follow it without reducing you will get enough dough for 30 children.

We know a few of the other children from before. Alex, O and another guy from Baby Dance are there. I can't recall but think his name is Reese. One of my doula babies is in her second year and gives me a shy acknowledgement when we see one another at the door. It is a 15...20...25 minute walk depending how pregnant one is and how often O decides to climb in and out of the buggy. Let's just say we get our fill of fumes in the time it takes us to get up there along the busy Ormeau/Saintfield route. Still, it beats driving 9 miles each way to the Steiner kindergarten. I do envy Noah is 5-minute walk to school, though.

Wondering?

Everyone wonders how the lad gets on. He was a dedicated home-edder. He is a completely zealous convert to the schoolroom 'education'. However, only 6 days into the adventure, how can we tell what will come of the new enthusiasm?

A few things Mr. N has done:

Some addition of 'huge' numbers, e.g. 3,175,216 + 300.
Physical education class: the backward rolls look promising for a future volleyball career.
Reading 6 chapters of The Amber Spyglass for homework.
Aced a spelling test with words like 'coast' and 'tomatoes'.
Labeling the Danube on a map of Europe with the help of a pocket atlas.

Thus far is appears that our homegrown home-ed lesson plans have not let him down. But Mrs. Lewis might just be waiting to spring something really wild one of these days. Tomorrow is swimming. Yes, we have written our permission into the homework book. Yes, I have the £3.50 ready in an envelope.

But I am wondering:

Is he fibbing about needing shin guards for playing football at school because once someone broke a leg because a ball was kicked so hard and the kid wasn't wearing guards?