Last week of term

I'm amazed at how fast it seems to arrived this year. Mind you, bunging a holiday into the middle of June probably didn't help me be any more organised than I usually am, but sure.

With the last week of term comes the usual panic about what to get for the teachers. I've loved Chloe's teachers this year and I mean love them. You can only really appreciate what it is to have a truly wonderful teacher in your life when you've suffered a not so great one and we've been there.

But this year has been great and we want to say thank you to her teachers, but what to get.

Nothing too big obviously, there's only so many presents a house can hold and I'm sure our wonderful teachers have houses crammed to the rafters by now. Nothing too clichéd like pens and books and what have you.

Chloe really wanted to give them bracelets to match the necklaces we brought home from her holiday for them and so I obliged and made them to match but jewellery, as lovely as it is, doesn't really scream "you're a fandabbydozy teacher and I love you".

So I went trawling t'interwebs for some inspirations and found this gorgeous set of flash cards over at Urban Bliss.

As luck would have it I also happened to have some magnetic printer paper handy, so a little bit of resizing later and we have three sets of cracking little fridge magnets for our absolutely brilliant teachers.


I really hope they like them.

Ding Ding - Round One

I've now had my first proper run in with Chloe's teacher.

Before the Halloween school break I went to the parent teacher meeting with a load of other mums and dads and amongst other things we were told that our kids would do PE on Wednesdays. Always Wednesdays! We were told that it would always be on a Wednesday so that we could plan ahead and know to dress our kids in something that they wouldn't have any trouble changing out of and into their PE kits. Fair enough.

We arrived at the school this morning and as we passed by the classroom door and into the cloakroom Chloe pointed out that all the PE bags were on their desks. Alright, I mean its not the end of the world. Yes, Chloe was wearing tights and her pinafore and her polo shirt with the buttons done up and her sweatshirt on over the top so not exactly the easiest outfit in the world to change out of but she can manage it, it just takes her a few more minutes.

We hung up her coat and put her bag away and as we were walking into the classroom one of the other kids arrived behind us with his dad. We walked into the classroom to see the four kids who had already arrived at school in the process of getting changed and, honestly I didn't imagine it, you've never seen four more uncomfortable looking kids in all your life.

The next thing I knew the teacher was clapping her hands and cheerfully telling all the kids, including Chloe, to go to their desks and start getting changed for PE.

My little girl wandered over to her desk and for a second looked at me before glancing at the dad now coming in the door behind me closely followed by someone from daycare dropping four kids off at school.

It takes a lot to phase Chloe and even without her being a bit upset by the whole scenario, it pissed me off greatly.

I clapped my hands loudly too. I'm nothing if not a fast learner and this is clearly the way to get attention in a classroom and told Chloe to go to her desk and wait until the bell rang, all the other boys and girls had arrived and her teacher had had a chance to close the door and draw the blinds before she was to get changed. Chloe looked grateful and the dad behind me and the girl from daycare immediately echoed my instructions to their own kids.

Once I was satisfied that Chloe was happy that she could wait until the parents of the other 20 or so kids still to arrive and anywhere in the region of 60 or so kids and their parents passing by the windows had all been and gone and she could dressed, I stood to leave and you could have knocked me over with a feather, I caught a glare from her teacher.

I've never been a shrinking violet so I glared back with a look that I think adequately conveyed the phrase "Try me sweetheart!" and then just to make sure I got my message across I walked over to her and very quietly told her that I was surprised that we hadn't been told yesterday that the day for PE had changed and that if we had been told we could have put our kids in their usual PE day clothes which they could change out of much more easily thereby negating the need for their teacher to try and get 15 minutes ahead of herself by publicly humiliating our children. I finished by saying that I'd be mortified and I'm sure she would too at the thought of having to strip to her pants in a wide open room with complete strangers wandering in and out and that while the children might only be four years old, they deserved the same respect and privacy that we would demand for ourselves.

She apologised and explained that it had slipped her mind that repairs were being carried out in the PE hall on Wednesday and her day had been moved forward. She realised that the children would take longer to change but hadn't foreseen any cause for concern at the children starting to change as they arrived.

Now I ask you. Are my standards really that high? Am I honestly asking too much when I ask that my daughter at least be allowed to change out of the gaze of a couple of dozen complete strangers? Surely not.

I think if our standards on the level of respect our children deserve while getting changed has differed to much on this matter I doubt this will be my last run in with her teacher.

War

This probably isn't a post that I should linger over for any great amount of time, because my understanding of war is very limited.

The fact that I'm against war in general isn't really the problem. The problem is that I have no interest in war. Nothing about it all grabs my attention. It should, but I've always avoided it where possible. Even in school we spent the first three years of history lessons studying civilisation without broaching the subject of wars and when, given the choice and realising that we would cover both world wars in the next two years of lessons, I chose geography instead and spent many a happy hour counting pebbles per square metre at Murlough Bay.

War simply held no attraction for me.

Lately though, Toots has been showing some interest. More of a natural curiosity really and I, I'm ashamed to admit, have been dodging the subject and distracting her with something like a woman demented.

We spent an hour or so at Ward Park in Bangor on Tuesday afternoon. The sun peaked his head out for a little while, we jumped in the car and were off.

In my mind the afternoon would be spent playing in the adventure playground, having a look at the peacocks (mating season again, what is it with birds and my timing to go see them) and then a stroll around the lake before heading home.

However all bets were off when she set eyes on this;




In my complete ignorance, either I have never noticed the huge cannon dominating the centre of the park before or I simply forgot it was there.

She ran to it, high pitched excited shrieks trailing behind her.

"Wow, mommy what is it?"
"It's a cannon sweetie"
"What's a cannon"
"It's a big gun"
"You said guns were bad"
"Yes, they are bad sweetie"
"Then why is it in a park?"

Um, that stumped me for a second. It's a kids park. The big almighty weapon is parked right beside and within clear view of the playground.

So why, is a hulking great killing machine parked in the middle of a kid's park. A kid's park with a large sign clearly stating that the park is for under 12s.

I tried to explain that it was there to help us remember the people who gave their lives (world war 2 gun and I'm not sure too many of those people willingly gave their lives, but) and to help us learn from mistakes which were made.

And then I stopped.

She seemed satisfied, although I know the subject will come up again (I love to take her to the cenotaph in Ards because its such a peaceful place and she'll get that it isn't a park eventually). She ran off for a few quick laps of the "big gun" before heading to the playground as planned.

My point is that I stopped because I was getting into dangerous territory. I came very close to trying to explain something which I don't understand myself.

I know that a lot of good men, women and children died both fighting wars and at home and I don't want to undermine that fact. I also know that there were a hell of a lot of absolute atrocities which no person walking this earth today should feel proud off and those are the things which stick in mind.

In my opinion she's far, far too young to know or be expected to understand any of that, but is it possible to give a four year old an unbiased opinion of war if your own opinion is biased.

Is it possible to give an unbiased opinion on anything for that matter.

Don't get me wrong I want her to learn some of my opinions and values, bigotry and racism = very bad for example, but shouldn't I allow her to make up her own mind too.

Sometimes I think that it's much to early to concern myself with issues like these, but then I remember that she'll be starting school in less than five months and the thought of somebody's opinion being stamped on my impressionable little girl terrifies me.

I happen to know a hardened racist. Her only complaint about travelling abroad are all the foreigners (and trust me, I've been a hell of a lot more PC in my description). She was brought up with her father's opinion. She has a daughter the same age as Toots and can see no problem with her racist views. So my concern is that where there is one, there is another, and another, and so on.

What would you do? Is she too young yet? Maybe some of these subjects have already came up with your own kids, how did you deal with them.

Is there an "Idiot's Guide" that I haven't been able to find on Amazon.