Night and Day

This morning after dropping off Raphaela at Gan, another mother approached me, a parent of one of the "doctors" from yesterday's incident.  She could barely look me in the eye and explained that she had had a long talk with her son, that she understood from him that the game had been done in the spirit of innocence and with consent from all the kids involved.  She apologized profusely, and I told her while I was quite shocked by the appearance of Raphaela's stomach, I certainly didn't blame her or her child for any sort of uncontrolled or malicious behaviour.

We hugged, and we both agreed that we trusted the management of the nursery school to properly handle the lessons that could be gained from this experience.  The manager told me that they have already conducted an extensive review of the safety of the play space outside, and the Head Teacher will be performing a play with puppets for the children, entitled, "My Private Body."

In my head, I compare my feelings to last year, when I defended my daughter from one of the boys in her previous Gan, a child who all year bullied and tortured his classmates.  At the previous Montessori educational institution, not only did I get blamed and in fact get banned; not only did the manager of the Gan continually ignore my pleas and the concerns of other parents regarding the state of perpetual violence;  the parents of this boy certainly did not apologize, unless you count them threatening to report me (!) to the police.

Night and day...

You mean THIS scratch?

When I picked up Raphaela today from Gan, she seemed her usual self, happy to see me and tell me about her day as we walked home.  I happened to notice a new small scratch on her nose, and asked (without leading) how she had gotten scratched.

Her response?  She lifted up her shirt and said, "Oh, do you mean THIS scratch?"  Across her entire  stomach were three large red inflamed scratches, as if she had been side-swiped by a lion, no exaggeration.

In shock, and knowing that it couldn't wait until tomorrow, we turned around and returned to the nursery school, whereupon I showed the wound to the manager of the Gan.  She immediately called over Raphaela's teacher, and we all did a "walk through" of the play area where the event took place.  After much searching, Raphaela picked up a thin piece of bamboo from the sand box, and explained that she and two other boys had been "playing Doctor," the two boys were the doctors and she was the patient and they "fixed her."  (Some vague illusion to the Chiropractic adjustment?)

It did not calm me at all to know that at some point my child may have been unsupervised, or that she felt it was normal to get scratched as long as it was part of a game they were all enjoying.  General apologies abounded, and Raphaela and I went home because I did not want to put her through any more stress regarding this story.  At home I sterilized the area and rubbed in anti-biotic cream, and hopefully her bath will make it better as well.

I am feeling various emotions at the moment, angry because the scratch under Raphaela's eye seems to be disappearing too slowly for my taste, and may even scar; this took place over two months ago by another girl in the class known as The Scratcher, which implies a certain level of lack of control and malice.   I don't want my daughter to have any further battle markings from nursery school, no matter how "acceptable" it is within the Israeli school system to experience base line violence.

And yet I give her Gan credit, within the past hour I have gotten calls from both her teachers and from the manager herself, all of them sounding quite perturbed, all of them swearing to clarify the situation and rectify it as much as possible.  The Head Teacher plans on having a talk tomorrow with all the children in the class, defining clearly the boundaries of play, and reinforcing the fact that no one has the right to touch our bodies in inappropriate ways.

Good News/Bad News

Bad News?  We are down to two fish in the tank, three goldfish brothers (sisters?) have passed on.
Good News?  Raphaela does not seem to notice the dwindling numbers, which gives me time to go to the pet store and get replacements.

As Jerusalem heats up - they are expecting temperatures of 37 degrees Celsius on Friday - I took Raphaela to our local favorite Jerusalem bakery today after Gan.  I ordered my usual, an ice coffee, and Raphaela chose her favorite, passion fruit ices and two chocolate chip cookies.

As we walked home, Raphaela asked me, "Mommy, isn't it true that it is good to share?"  I answered in the enthusiastic affirmative, at which point Raphaela gave me "the look," IE hand over the ice coffee before someone gets hurt.

I walked right into that one. who says that children don't know how to work the system?

Your Wish is My Command

Now that the streak of Jewish holidays has ended until the Fall more or less, the teachers at Raphaela's Gan have introduced a unit on expressing feelings.  First they dealt with fear and now have moved onto happiness. According to a TED lecture that I watched recently, our perception of happiness depends upon our memory of an event, rather than the actual experience at the time; and while money cannot buy happiness, lack of funds will most definitely decrease life satisfaction.  The TED lesson concluded that the most important factor determining happiness is social interactions with loving and supportive people.

(I have become a TED.com addict, it expands my mind and challenges me intellectually for the first time since I attended Barnard College.)

 They took a Nursery Gallup Poll, asking each of the children what made them happy, and Raphaela answered, "I love when my Mommy takes me to the zoo."

The zoo makes me happy as well!  Inspired, after Gan we spontaneously drove to the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo, despite the fact that I had not done my usual preparations of snacks and a picnic dinner.  We even got a kick ass parking spot right at the entrance.

When we returned home, a stimulated Raphaela had a hard time falling asleep;  she sat in bed and talked to herself, occasionally shouting to ask if I could come and keep her company. I finally convinced Raphaela to close her eyes, and before I got into bed, crept into her room and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  Practically snoring one minute, my magical kiss woke the princess out of her sleep.  With a huge smile and sparkling eyes, her curls bouncing, she said, "Mommy, you took a long time coming to bed!  I was waiting for you for such a long time so I took a small nap.  But now I am all rested and we can talk and play!" 

Groan...not what I wanted to hear, and yet so hard to resist her joyfulness. It took another hour for Raphaela to settle in for the evening.

As a side note, I was particularly amused by some of the responses of the other children in Raphaela's class, my favorite? The little girl who said it would make her happy if her parents took her to the doctor's office. 

The Next Generation

This morning at her usual hour of 5:30, Raphaela woke up and in a state of semi-delirium said, "Where's the ipad?"

I looked at her and said, "Really?  First thing out of your mouth? How about 'Good morning' or 'Hello Mommy' or even 'What can I have for breakfast'?"

Raphaela shrugged a bit and explained, "But I have to say good morning to Bob the Builder!"

I fear for the Tech Generation.

Close Encounters

For my normal weekly grocery shop I drive to the Industrial Area in Talpiyot (Jerusalem), because it is cheaper overall.  But yesterday we found ourselves at the local overpriced supermarket, picking up a few random food stuffs.  As Raphaela and I canvased the aisles, we encountered her former (negligent ) Nursery Teacher from the Montessori Gan.

The woman broke out in a smile, hugged Raphaela and babbled for about five minutes, "Oh my, how much you've grown, it's amazing! Are you still taking swimming lessons? Do you like this supermarket?" Etc.  Then she extended an odd invitation for Raphaela to come visit her old Gan anytime she likes, that they all miss her so much and would be happy to see the new and improved IE talkative/happier/thriving version of my daughter.

("S" in obvious denial of our negative experience by her hands...)

Raphaela retreated, hugged my leg and quietly asked me, "Who is this woman?"