Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Learning

Children Need To Take It Outside (and Us Too)

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On January 22, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood

(Originally published as a column in the AM News on January 16, 2015) 

The good thing about sleeping in an igloo is that when you get up you’re already dressed for the day. In our case, that helped even more since we slept in and woke up at 8am and school was to start half an hour later. We made it though.

Lunches had been packed the night before, so with simple breakfast and a quick fixing of the igloo morning hair, we were on the go soon after, pondering contently over our sleeping in and under the snow.

My youngest wanted to see that happen two years ago when we built the first igloo in the back yard. Back then, we had hot chocolate one night under the snow magic cupola with candles on and that was good, but not enough. We postponed the sleeping in the igloo until it got too late and the said construction was used for impromptu sledding and one-of-a-kind games. Fun but not enough.

Last year’s winter had too little snow to build an igloo, but that changed radically this year with the arrival of truckloads of snow that fell as we made our way into the new year. The igloo had to happen and it did.

A few days later and still in time before any flurries or, God forbid, rain, we decided to make it happen. So we waddled our way in the way penguins do, on our tummies, wiggling all the way in, and became privy to a night sleep like no other.

Yes, the floor did get a bit icy in the meantime, hence less soft than that of a newly built igloo, but many wool blankets and good sleeping bags helped us through. We had a couple of additional breathing holes – no such thing in the arctic where the outside temperatures are less lenient than here – and with all the snuggling in the world, the four of us drifted off to sleep. Hats on, of course.

Stepping outside of one’s comfort zone is always a journey of discovery. Around the dinner table or during other times too, we often talk about the ways of the past. We read about the way people used to live (some still do) and the contrast with today’s comfortable lifestyle bursting at the seams with needed and less needed, or plain useless amenities is truly shocking.

With the everyday journey through life here and now, we want the boys to be mindful of the world around them not in an entitled way, but in a grateful and awe-inspired one. We want them to see the nature not as a medium they have to conquer, dominate and tame so that they are safe, but as an environment that offers protection and enables life by the sheer design of it, and is worth of respect. Moreover, children should be guided by us adults, in harbouring respect for the past and the people of the old who lived in nature, with nature and with knowing that they cannot ruin it, lest their lives will be ruined as well.

We have nowadays apps telling us how whether we are walking fast enough, whether we are sleeping enough and they guide us through the process of buying and cooking our food. We have books and instructions and workshops for everything, and somehow over the course of many generations, we have learned that being inside the walls and having access to a lot keeps us safe and happy. We have become contained.

Comfortable homes and decent living conditions are a great gift of today’s world- albeit not for everyone on the planet unfortunately. Trouble is, if it is not intertwined with reverence towards the living world that is the ultimate and primordial provider of building blocks that allow us to make it happen, we fall, and our children follow swiftly, into the trap of believing we are the masters of it all.

Connecting with nature in ways that allow for contemplation and awe help us trace our steps back and in turn, we help our children understand which way they should go if they want to make the world last. We have to achieve respect for nature, and no, it is not optional, not if we mean for our children to have a planet to live on. Respect and gratitude for life are big yet easy to ignore concepts.

You do not have to be a dedicated environmentalist to realize that our natural world is out of balance, nor do you have to be a parent to think and worry of what lies ahead for today’s children and for all of us who will still be around for a few good decades.

Simplifying our lifestyle short or long term by taking ourselves out of the comfort cradle we have become so accustomed to, helps us revive concepts and instincts that are not gone but merely asleep. Putting ourselves in situations that deprive us of the usual comfort may just be the catalyst for that. Sleeping in the igloo was not the most comfortable in some ways, but it was a revealing experience in all ways.

With no new year resolutions in place still, and through waking up in the middle of the sleeping outside night with the feel of fresh cold air stuck to my face, I realized that I should just stick to the one resolution I try to make every day and often forget, but get reminded of through something like igloo sleeping: to be grateful for the simple things within reach that I need to survive, and immensely grateful for everything else on top of it.

Sunny Sides Up – An Update

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On January 15, 2015

In Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories

This is all, folks!It was just one magpie to start with. When you’re used to mice running around (in your living room, that is) a magpie is a festival of beauty. In black and white, of course. It would sit in the majestic, wide-crowned have-yet-to-identify tree in the front yard, wobbling front and back but regaining balance thanks to the long black tail. Everything has a purpose, I do believe that.

We left the mouse manor behind on the last day of December and settled in yet another house on the hill, mouse-free (so far) and bright as can be. Plumbing woes were also left behind as our new home has a brand new bathroom, which to no toilet/laundry/shower hardcore dwellers like us is a well-deserved relief. Not an ounce of bitterness, but gratitude still, after the long month of all the above mentioned deprivations. A game changer as they say.

My desk is still by a large window; no view of the winding steel colour water or of the ‘moving dots’ on the occasionally sun-drenched north shore – that is how we referred to the dogs we would spot from our previous house. The imagery was fascinating and even more so, the reality of not being able to spot more than a dot, in case of the smaller dogs. Size humour can brighten one’s day, regardless of circumstances; it sure brightened mine during the days of mice galore and bubbling toilets.

Nowadays it is the magpie that catches my eyes. A second one came by two days ago and today I counted six. The tree is becoming popular. I also noticed a blue jay and a bird I could not name until I did what every able body who owns a computer does. Yep, Google. It was a northern flicker, a type of woodpecker. A lover of wildlife I am, but birdwatching has never caught my interest to this degree. A wide window and a few curious magpies, plus their sudden interest in a particular patch of snow in the front yard can do that.

So a new chapter begins. New house, brightness, views of snow-enveloped Kenna Cartwright hills and the mountains stretching far into the north, birds with beady eyes and curious behaviour, the next door grandpa walking his pug and waving as he notices me at my desk, a new road is contouring as I write this.

If you add some good sledding in the front yard, a newly built igloo in the back and a return to our evening walks with the boys, plus a good supply of new birds to look at (a small ‘what-could-it-be?’ just landed in the tree) we are about to get busy.

The magpie is back, smug as can be in the big tree as a whole bunch of unidentified small birds crowd the top of a much smaller tree across the street. Inequality reigns supreme in nature.

Today might be the day when I’ll coax the boys into creating some bird feeders for the many feathered guests, and even a bird house or two down the road. That might just erase the somewhat bad memory of the two bird houses we built a while ago that served no bird, but instead became wasp nests. Yes, we do seem to have a thing for pests. Or rather they do for us. No one said nature’s ways are easy to understand; they are sure fascinating though.

 

Things I’ve Learned In The Year We Bid Goodbye To

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On January 4, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement

(Originally published as a column on December 26th, 2014 in the AM News)

It’s always a good thing, to draw the line and sum it all up; good and bad, all that was thrown our way to learn from.

You’re never done learning, that much I know and there is a subtle irony that hides behind every ‘I know enough’ that comes out of hiding as soon as you utter the very words. Some sort of a divine punishment if you will, an extra measure of humbling which we all benefit from.

December came to us with the said measure and more, as the main drain pipe in our house broke open and thus created a different kind of hot springs right in our basement. Not only that, the entire mouse population seemed to take shelter from the cold weather right in the house.

We sailed through some challenging weeks of no toilet close by, no shower or laundry on the premises with as much dignity as we could muster. Mouse traps kept on doing their thing while we pondered upon the simple things that were out of each at that time, such as a running toilet need. Too easy to forget and too unfair to do so, given the continual reliance on it.

As the month ended we took off to the coast to spend Christmas with family and friends, not before stopping for a few days on one of the Southern Gulf islands where we left time at the ferry terminal and all we took with us to the small cabin tucked in the woods was a collection of snuggles and lazy mornings to use as we saw fit.

It reminded me of what’s truly precious: time with our loved ones. It’s easy to forget, because life tumbles fast over our heads and spins thoughts into a mound of worries and milestones and things to do that becomes hard to manage and a time thief of its own kind that prevents us from noticing simple joy.

I was reminded of this most precious gift of time and love as my father passed away this summer, after a long suffering that lasted eight years. Memories of my parents – both passed away now – abounded in the last months and pushed me more towards witnessing my own boys’ journey through life, not letting a day go by without acknowledging the wonder of it all.

My oldest is saying goodbye to childhood and entering teenagehood. There is much to see and know about the world for him, and as for me, this is yet another opportunity to witness all of that alongside him and his younger brother, who is becoming an older child.

I was there for all the steps that take a child from reading out letter after letter to reading sentences and then books. It still charms me to see him curled on the sofa with a book much bigger for his hands to hold but not big enough for his mind to open up to…

We discuss matters of large worldly importance and the oscillation between acting all grown up and still clinging to being a young child is not in the least annoying though it is puzzling. I’ve learned to see all of that with a mind that understands the inexorability of time.

If I can think of one think that this year has taught me that would be that it all goes away in a blink. That time and the consequences of our actions, in how we spend our time, in how we earn and spend our money, in how we give and receive – everything from love to time to a listening ear when needed, it all happens in a blink.

This year I’ve learned to never take things or people for granted. You could say I added it to my previous belief that I shouldn’t. But life has it in such a way that we forget.

Nothing is as permanent as we want it to be. Nothing stays the same, but evolves, and often not in ways that are predictable or that fit with our plans. Life doesn’t wait, and if you’ve come to see it once, you may forget but you will be easier reminded of it all once you stop for a moment to observe life’s tumbles.

May that we all do in the year to come, may that we all come to know that what matters is what we have the least of nowadays, and that is time with those who fill our hearts with joy, and a world that we can breathe and exist without fear of skies darkened by our own reckless actions.

May we be aware that we will have, once again, 365 chances to make it count, and we have the power to choose to make it so. Happy New Year!

The Plumber Rings Twice (Episode II Of ‘Life In An Old House’)

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On December 3, 2014

In Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories

So there are no more mice, or so it seems. Perhaps they got flooded during the partial flooding of the basement. We don’t call it flooding for now though; we refer to it as ‘the puddle’. It sounds almost friendly. We know it’s not. It is not a case of sheer delusion, but rather holding down the fort until repairs can be done.

It’s complicated. The plumber came once to assess and then an hour later to take a few more photos. It is that good.

As of now, all water that gets used in the bathroom trickles into ‘the puddle’ due to a breaking in one of the pipes. Yes, we wish we knew of that one before moving. Please do not say the word hindsight, we know it and we know it well. It stings at the moment, so use with care.

So those most curious of you will ask about all those hidden things one does behind the bathroom door. The short answer is ‘we’ve seen better’. The long one goes as follows: we are becoming more knowledgeable of the restrooms around town like ever before, we shower at friends’ houses and we are becoming even more environmentally friendly than we’ve ever been (and trust me, we really are) by conserving water because we know its wicked presently broken ways into the basement and its ardent desire to join ‘the puddle.’

Yes, we’re learning. A curve so steep it hurts your eyes to look up. so we won’t and take the step by step approach instead. It works better that way.

We occasionally see tip-toeing boys around the yard, giggling as snow and cold make them shudder, and feeling a bit naughty for peeing by the tree in the yard. The snow covers it overnight and then they’re at it again. Since Tony is studying medieval history, we can consider this a practicum of some sort. Play always makes it better for children. This will be no exception.

As of now we have the following: a missing landlord (vacation and no reception), no working toilet, no mice but nine of them clouding our otherwise clear conscience, ‘the puddle’, and a willing plumber and a mental map of all the working public toilets in the area. Just ask.

Oh, and a beautiful view of the river and its beautiful white snow-laced shores, and a whole lot of hills enveloped by beautiful cold mist in early morning.

It could be worse, that’s what we keep repeating. Surprisingly enough such adventures make us more grateful rather than resentful. It’s what you make of it, some say, and I am ready to believe they are right…

To be continued….

 

Are We Afraid Of Learning For The Love Of It? We Shouldn’t Be

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On November 20, 2014

In Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

It is almost 10.30 pm, way past bedtime and the big boy has finally been peeled off his book and is now sleeping. Unless his mind races for a while, ruminating the stuff he’s been reading about… Ancient Greek history, today’s reading, complementing part of our history class today. Perhaps calling it ‘class’ is a tad forced now that it’s the two of us.

A month into it, we still love it, the learning together. Not a tinge of discomfort. I love the enthusiasm and wide eyes, he loves the multitude of things he learns every day and the challenges I carefully prepare for our daily journey.

There is no resentment over too much work. I do not do it on purpose, you see, I am not piling topics up just for the sake of it. I take cues. What can complement this and why add one more subject to the roster… which one? If there are questions about certain things during our dinner conversations, I make a mental note: to be added somehow to the learning.

Knowledge is a wonderful thing. A treasure and a privilege to acquire as we go. There is a lot to be acquired, a lot of dots to connects, a lot of connections to be made between bits that have been collected over the years… ‘Mom, did you know that so many words came from the Greeks?’ The meaning of this word and the next, once you know where they come from you know what they reveal, you can understand, not just memorize.

You can ask why and you learn to delight in finding the answers. It will not be easy all the time, but that’s where the beauty and the challenge lies. In carrying on for the love of it.

That is the gift I intend for my sons.

Yet once I step out of the home learning bubble, the world turns a few degrees colder at times, with what has now become the most often asked question about our homeschooling adventure.

‘Do you follow the school curriculum?’

When I say I do not, eyes grow big and uneasiness settles in like a dark cloud.

I tell of the wonder of learning based on what interests him, I tell of my wonder of seeing it all. I could tell of the slight apprehension that all worthy adventures have attached to them, whether you’re the guide or the guided (and these roles switch constantly, as I have come to know during my earlier teaching experiences), the humble nature of the guiding process itself when you immerse yourself in it fully, the expanse of all that learning-to-be. There is much to tell but many people stop at the school curriculum.

Guiding ourselves based on a curriculum can only take us so far and our children not so far, I believe. If they start losing interest because, as you and I know, a curriculum is a ‘one size fits all’ when learning is everything but, then what? Can we revive it every time and are we aware of it flopping?

There is nothing wrong with guidelines, and there is nothing wrong with curricula if they work for some children.  We have to be honest though, and apply critical thinking: do they truly work? I believe in seeing the spark in a child’s eye, curiosity satisfied and primed for more at the same time; I’d hold onto that for guidance, rather than hold onto a curriculum that might give me the feeling of a job done, when what I should be after is a job well done. Not just by my standards, mind you, but by of the ones who learn.

I am but a guide, grateful and humble and awed, all at once, by the steps children take to learn, by their joy of prying open the world with their minds… I am not sure if curriculum has any recommendations on that….

Thoughts?

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