What all the hubbub, Bub?

Poland’s educational system is undergoing a reform. According to the new regulations, the age for starting compulsory education will be lowered from age 7 to age 6 for first-graders.
The result is that 5-year-olds will begin their education in zerówka, so-called zero class (like kindergarten in the US) and 6 year-olds will start 1st grade. The 3-year reform will, in September, be in its second year. So this September, parents still have a choice to send their 6-year-old to 1st grade or wait until next September and send their 7-year-old. After that, all 6-year-olds will compulsorily enter the 1st grade.
So what’s all the hubbub, Bub?
Parents against the reform want to return to the pre-reform status concerning the age of kids starting school and also the curriculum for teaching them. They feel that the new program is too ambitious for this age group and that the children are unprepared. Those parents feel that their freedom of choice has been taken away from them in the issue most important to them – their children. Those supporting the campaign “Ratuj Maluchy” (Save the little ones) have delivered their petition signed by more than 330,000 parents to the government.
Let’s get down to it…
Your child being ready for school and the school being ready for your child are two different things. I think many of the parents who claim that their kids are not ready actually mean that the kids are not ready for 1st grade as it existed before the reform and many fear that the schools haven’t made the necessary changes to accommodate these youngest pupils.
I understand that. Nobody wants their kid to be a guinea pig, me either, but I also don’t want my 19-year-old to still be in high school.
As I listened to my talk radio on this subject yesterday almost every caller’s complaint boiled down to this -the Polish inferiority complex and fear of change (sorry, but  normal people rarely call in). Reform? No way! No how! For sure the government will screw it up somehow. My kid? Go to school early? No way! No how! The government is stealing our children’s childhood. We cannot allow it! The government just wants money for books and able-bodied workers (one year earlier) working for their retirement. I went to first grade when I was 7 and my kid will too!!!!!
A little faith people.
By the same token, I can claim that I went to school at 6 (even at 5, actually) and everything worked out well for me. The difference being, I went to school in the US where every year five- and six-year-old kids started the 1st grade. The schools were ready for us. In addition, American schools have the same number of lessons for all grades each day. We all started at the same time and finished at the same time. There was no świetlica (after-school program) where we sat after only 2 or 3 lessons for the day. Maybe that is also a concern for the parents.
Roman Giertych, a Polish politician, claims to know the real reason behind the reform…to get parents to spend money on new textbooks. He calls the whole reform “idiotic”. This from the man who a few years ago spearheaded the school uniform campaign causing cost and confusing throughout the entire country.
From onet:
Cała ta reforma jest po to, by powstały nowe podręczniki, a rodzice musieli je kupić - mówił na antenie TVN 24 w programie "Fakty po Faktach" Roman Giertych. - Cofnąłbym całą reformę, bo jest idiotyczna - dodał.
What do the experts and the ministry of education say? I get the impression that they are surprised by the backlash. The Ministry reminds us that practically every civilized country operates on such an educational system. Opponents argue that 2 wrongs don’t make a right. The Ministry also points out that the children are under that same care as before, just housed in a different location (and sometimes in the same location). Opponents argue that primary schools are not able to take care of such little kids and protect them from the older kids. As far as the program goes, the Ministry and other experts claim that the new program is not too ambitious, but rather that the old program was not ambitious enough. Opponents disagree, but I think they’ve got a point there.
My first grade experience was a very pleasant one. It was quite similar to my kindergarten. We learned a bit more of course, but we had plenty of time to play and draw and run…and pray…it was a Catholic school. Misiu also remembers his first grade as a pleasant experience with a lot of playing and drawing and fun. The difference being, he was almost 8, the oldest in his class, and could already read and write. He was a real bookworm and insisted that his parents teach him (just like our Lizzie). Reading and writing were not skills that all his classmates had acquired at home. At that age, I was in the 3rd grade and already deep into my passion for books about Ramona Quimby…my favorite entitled, “Ramona Quimby, Age 8”. By the way, that’s exactly how I looked at age 8.
The worst, in my opinion, are the moms standing with kids in front of the TV camera, pleading “A moje dziecko nie da rady….” Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.
So what can I do? Nothing, my 6-year-old child will go to the 1st grade compulsorily in one year. I will send her and hope for the best. Unfortunately, my 6-year-old will enter 1st grade in the final year of the reform…meaning all the kids who were not sent this year will go next year by law. The classes will be packed. Through their whole educational life and future job search, this group of kids will struggle. Well, not my kid, she’s a superstar.

No worries

Rosie did not get into pre-school in Stage 2 of the recruitment process. I think that the principal and I have a different understanding of the phrase nie martw się (don’t worry).

When I asked about my Rosie in Stage 1 of recruitment, the principal replied nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Rosie will get in - her sister attends the school already for heaven’s sake. The principal understood nie martw się as go away and leave me alone, you stupid parents.

When I asked about Rosie in Stage 2 of recruitment, the principal replied nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Rosie will get in - there are 2 spots open for heaven’s sake and the principal has the final say. The principal understood nie martw się as bugger off, you stupid parents.

When the principal asked, one day before the class outing, if any parents could please, please, please come along as a chaperone (because they had one too few), I said nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. The principal understood nie martw się as Don’t worry. They’ll take care of it. And we did. Misiu showed up the next day bright and early and took the place of the absent teacher.

Hmm.

Pre-school, we have a problem.

Now that we are on the reserve list waiting for somebody to drop out from this pre-school and hoping that Rosie will be selected for that (so far non-existent) spot, I am really starting to worry.

Week in Review – Conjunctivitis, Dzień Dziecka and Pokaz

We’ve had quite an active week.

The week started with a return of conjunctivitis (zapalenie spojówek) for me. It keeps coming back which has me worried, despite the fact that I followed my treatment exactly as ordered and threw out all my cosmetics (3 times already). I visited a specialist and am now back on the antibiotic drops. Goodbye new MAC eye-shadows. How I will miss you.

I visited an eye clinic for a private visit. With a serious case of conjunctivitis, my only choice was to go the ER for free (and listen to them berate me for coming to the ER for a non-emergency) or pay for an immediate visit. As I am quite fond of my eyesight, I chose to shell out the 100 zloty. What I liked about this clinic is that the nurses took charge. There was no asking among the patients who was next and all that. When it was your turn, the doctor called you by name. I was a bit worried to see the doctor. It seemed she was shouting at everybody for no apparent reason. That’s when Misiu pointed out that all the other patients were elderly and probably hard of hearing. Shouting was a necessity. The doctor did not shout at me.

Next, it was June 1st, Children’s Day (Dzień Dziecka) in Poland. Here’s how we handled it in our home.

First of all, our children receive presents almost exclusively on holidays. Lizzie informed me recently that some kids get presents bez okazji (without any special occasion). She honestly thought that I was unaware of this possibility. Sweet.

A week before Children’s Day we visited Smyk, a popular toy/clothing store for children. We examined the selection carefully and the girls picked out some things that they wanted to receive. Later, I bought them the Ken dolls that they had picked out and hid them until Children’s Day (in the secret hiding place on top of the wardrobe). The dolls were waiting for the girls Wednesday morning when they woke up. Despite having chosen the Kens that they wanted, the girls immediately switched dolls.

For all those procrastinators who went to Smyk Wednesday, I sympathize with you (total chaos!!!) and implore you to think ahead next year.

On Friday, Lizzie’s class had a show (pokaz) for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. It was a lovely, little show in which different fairytale characters explained why Mom and Dad are so important to their children. Lizzie as Snow White, known for her parental conflicts, reminded us all that life without parents is just not the same. (Lizzie is on the right in the yellow skirt)

Jestem Śnieżka z bajki królewna

Przeżyłam ciężki czas

Bo zła macocha mnie wypędziła

Więc poszłam sobie w las

Tam krasnoludki domek otwarły

Dały mi jeść i pić,

Listkiem koniczyny łzy mi otarły

Kazały z sobą być.

Czary minęły, jestem na scenie

Mamusiom i tatusiom uśmiech ślę

Bo wiem jak wszystkim dzieciom na świecie

Jest bez rodziców żle*

The best part of the show, in my opinion, besides Lizzie’s performance was when the whole class sang a song in English!! The whole class! And they don’t all attend English lessons. It was awesome and brought a tear to my eye. Actually, the whole show made me a little teary. These kids are 4 and 5 years old and they song 4 songs (one in English) and delivered lines that seemed quite long and difficult for kids this age. I almost forgot about the dancing. They had partner dance steps to perform as well.

A big kiss, a big hug, a pink flower, the blue sky

A big kiss, a big hug, a pink flower, the blue sky

For you, for you, for you, for you

Mommy, Mommy

You’re like the sun

Mommy, Mommy

I love you Mom

Mommy, Mommy

You’re like the sun

Mommy, Mommy

I love you Mom

I am happy to report that the kids ate all the banana nut muffins that I brought.

Since we were at school anyway, we delivered our paper application for Rosie for pre-school. When a child is not accepted in the first stage of recruitment, parents can provide a paper application for the second stage in case a spot opens up. You should put the child’s personal data and your justifications of why your child should attend that school. We put the obvious that Lizzie already goes there, Rosie is ready to go and asks us everyday about it, etc. I couldn’t resist including as my last point that Rosie is super cute and very open and friendly to kids and teachers alike. I couldn’t help it. I had to write it. And anyhow, it’s true.

*I am Snow White from the fairytale. I have survived hard times because my Evil Stepmother exiled me. So I went on my way to the forest. There, the dwarves opened their home and gave me something to eat and drink. They wiped my tears with a clover leaf and told me to stay with them. The spell wore off and I’m here on the stage. I am sending a smile to Mommy and Daddy because I know, like all kids know, that without parents it is bad.

Communist Bastards

What a nice Mother’s Day I had. I received adorable wishes, cards and flowers from my girls (which was great) and information that Rosie did not pass through the first stage of pre-school recruitment (not so great).

We will take part in stage 2 of recruitment which means we put Rosie on the waiting list and hope that somebody drops out. Rosie, along with more than a thousand other 3-year-olds, didn’t get in so her chances of getting in are pretty slim.

I am not angry that I will have to pay for a nanny. I am not angry that I will have to enroll Rosie in a private pre-school which is well below the standard of Lizzie’s public pre-school. I am not angry that I will have to drop off my children to 2 completely different locations each morning and pick them up the same in the afternoon. No, I am angry at the educational opportunity for Rosie which is lost. I am angry that I will have to explain to Rosie why she cannot go to pre-school with her sister, why she cannot play in the playground with her sister, why she cannot go to the same lessons that her sister attends. That makes me furious.

Thank you commie bastards and your super duper polityka prorodzinna.

Lizzie says…

Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy. This is from the girl who was mistaken for a boy twice today. I suppose it is partly because of her manner of dress (a dinosaur t-shirt and khaki shorts) and partly her behavior (climbing to the top of the jungle gym and jumping off the top). A girl she definitely is, just not a typical one I guess. She’s her own person – unique. That’s pretty darn cool.

For the latest school play, Lizzie will play Snow White. We already reserved the dress from the costume shop because unlike many of the little girls in her class, we don’t have a ready supply of princess costumes at home…and the stores are all out until Halloween/Carnival time next school year. If only they needed a Spiderman for the play, we’d be all set. I am glad that the teacher chose her for a princess role though. Lizzie never would have chosen that role for herself. It’s good for her to try something new.

For the Christmas play, Lizzie was a sheep with a group of other girls…or as we like to call them “disco sheep” because in the middle of a very somber play about the birth of baby Jesus, the group of sheep burst out in song and danced a little disco number. They have totally cool teachers.

Lizzie, however, was not very excited about being a sheep, disco or otherwise. There was one role that she wanted very badly, so badly she learned all the lines just in case the other child unexpectedly fell ill. She practiced every evening and took her job as understudy seriously even though the teachers hadn’t asked her to do it. And what was that coveted role, you ask? Joseph, of course. He had a very cool stick. Even this weekend, as Lizzie stood on stage in a restaurant we visited, she recited Joseph’s lines and then took a bow…maybe next year sweetheart.

cool restaurant for kids

I almost forgot…Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy because you get to do more stuff and wear more kinds of clothes when you are a girl. You can play “boys” and “girls” games and wear “boys” and “girls” clothes, but boys kind of have to stick to the “boys” stuff or kids make fun of them.

An insightful little creature, isn’t she?

Some people have Jesus - Niektórzy mają Jezusa

We have Uszatek.

Lizzie’s pre-school class had Wigilia (Christmas Eve) last week. Jasełka (Christmas play) will be in January. As you can see in the picture, it was a full house.

salt dough painting time - malowanie masy solnej

one of the holiday bulletin boards with Santa and Frosty jedna z tablic z Mikołajem i Frostym

The children had prepared some poems and songs for us. We also made an arts and crafts project of salt dough angels. There was food too, of course. I am happy to report that my banana nut muffins disappeared like magic.

another holiday bulletin board featuring a snowy story and a baby Jesus story - kolejna tablica przedstawiająca śnieżną historyjkę oraz historyjkę o Jezusie

the view onto the playground from Lizzie’s classroom widok za okno z klasy Lizzie

Then the story of the birth of baby Jesus was read paragraph by paragraph by parents. Some parents declined to read. I’m not sure why. I declined to read because my paragraph was very long and in Polish and had the word “moon” in Polish in it which is impossible to say.

Lizzie having fun - Lizzie dobrze się bawi free time to play with friends - czas wolny na zabawę z kolegami

So, that evening Lizzie asked me about Jesus. We’ve talked about it a few times already, but this is the first time she was really interested in talking about it. I was planning to bring it up before the Christmas play anyhow.

I told her that some people believe that Jesus is the son of God. I explained that Christmas is not only when Santa visits us, but it is also a celebration of the birth of Jesus. Lizzie, of course, wanted to know what’s so special about Jesus as if being the son of God is not enough. I told her that there are a lot of stories about Jesus and that these stories teach us how to be a good person.

“Like Uszatek?” asked Lizzie.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, “Like Uszatek.”

In her own way, I think she is starting to understand.

Uszatek

PS I have to make a “baran” (ram) costume for the Christmas play. Help!

Niektórzy mają Jezusa

My mamy Uszatka.

Grupa przedszkolna Lizzie miała Wigilię w zeszłym tygodniu. W styczniu zaś będą Jasełka. Jak widać na zdjęciu, była pełna chata.

Dzieci przygotowały dla nas wierszyki i piosenki. Mieliśmy też zajęcia artystyczne i zrobiliśmy aniołki z masy solnej. Oczywiście było też jedzenie. Jestem szczęśliwa, iż mogę zakomunikować, że moje mufinki bananowe zniknęły w czarodziejski sposób.

Następnie historia o Jezusie została przeczytana przez rodziców akapit po akapicie. Niektórzy rodzice odmówili czytania. Nie jestem pewna dlaczego. Ja odmówiłam ponieważ mój akapit był bardzo długi i zawierał słowo KSIĘŻYC, które jest niemożliwe do wymówienia.

No i wieczorem Lizzie spytała mnie o Jezusa. Rozmawialiśmy już o tym wcześniej parę razy, ale tym razem to ona była zainteresowana rozmową na ten temat. I tak miałam zamiar podjąć ten temat przed Jasełkami.

Powiedziałam jej, że niektórzy ludzie wierzą, że Jezus jest synem Boga. Wyjaśniłam, że Święta Bożego Narodzenia to nie tylko wizyta Mikołaja ale też świętowanie narodzin Jezusa. Lizzie chciała oczywiście wiedzieć co jest takiego szczególnego jeśli chodzi o Jezusa – jak gdyby samo bycie synem Boga nie wystarczało. Powiedziałam jej, że jest dużo historii z życia Jezusa i historie te uczą nas jak być dobrym.

-Jak Uszatek? spytała Lizzie.

-Tak! wykrzyknęłam, Jak Uszatek!

Myślę, że – na swój spossób - zaczyna to rozumieć.

PS Muszę zrobić kostium BARANA na przedstawienie. Pomóżcie!

Santa who? Święty kto?

I could possibly be the worst parent in the world. Well, maybe not the world but the worst parent on my street this side of Żabka at least. I did not get my children anything for St. Nicholas Day…which is today in case you didn’t know.

And why? Am I once again staging a protest against American consumerism which is overtaking the planet? Naw, not really. I just forgot…because Lizzie was home sick from pre-school for one week and I was unplugged from the whole pre-school loop of information. Not to mention, the two car accidents and numerous visits to doctors last week. I should be grateful that I remember who I am let alone that Santa Claus is coming to town.

How did I not notice all the hoopla in the stores? I kind of thought it was just regular Christmas hoopla, I guess. I should have figured it out on Friday when I was visiting a new friend in her new apartment (without numbers on the apartment doors) and I rang at the wrong door. A little boy from inside was screaming that Mikolaj was ringing. That clue should have sunk in, but somehow it didn’t.

The fact that today is Santa Claus Day didn’t hit me until I dropped Lizzie off at pre-school this morning and I saw the big Santa sign for the Santa party today. And then I heard a little boy asking his father if he would get another present at the party. Oops.

Luckily, when I came home after the morning block of lessons (an evening block is still waiting for me), I saw that the Rosie’s nanny had not forgotten the girls on Santa Claus Day. Rosie has devoured almost all of her chocolates and is ringing her angel bell like crazy. Lizzie’s present is waiting for her under her pillow. Thank goodness for nanny!

PS We have the Snuggie in Poland. This particular Snuggie is available at Carrefour and can be yours for a mere 69. Polish zloty. I’m pretty sure this is one of the 7 Signs of the Apocalypse. Misiu just asked what the other 6 signs are. Hmmm, let’s think…

1. McDonald’s duo-locations. You know, when there are 2 McDonald’s each located on either side of the highway. Yep, we got that too in Poland. I just wish it came with more highway.
2. Starbuck’s in Wroclaw market square. Pizza Hut and McDonald’s I could deal with, but Starbuck’s is another story.
3. Misiu earns more in Poland than he did in America.
4. If I sold my house and my apartment in Poland, I could buy at least 3 houses in my hometown.
5. Misiu drives his dream American SUV in Poland. Ok, I crashed it a bit, but that is neither here nor there.
6. Joanna Krupa is in the house!
7. The Snuggie in Poland.

Święty kto?

Mogłabym być najgorszym rodzicem na świecie. No, może nie na świecie, ale najgorszym rodzicem na mojej ulicy co najmniej po tej stronie od Żabki. Nie dałam dzieciom nic na Mikołajki ... które są dzisiaj, w razie gdybyście nie wiedzieli.

A dlaczego? Czy po raz kolejny protestuję przeciwko amerykańskiemu konsumpcjonizmowi, który przejmuje całą planetę? Nie-e, niezupełnie. Po prostu zapomniałam ... bo w domu Lizzie chora i nie chodzi do przedszkola przez tydzień i byłam odłączona od całego obiegu przedszkolnych informacji. Nie wspominając o dwóch stłuczkach samochodowych i licznych wizytach u lekarzy w zeszłym tygodniu. Powinnam być wdzięczna, że pamiętam kim jestem, a tym bardziej, że Święty przybywa właśnie do miasta.

Jak ja nie zauważyłam tego całego zamieszania w sklepach? Pomyślałam tak jakby, że to było po prostu zwykłe zamieszanie bożonarodzeniowe, chyba. I powinnam była domyślić się w piątek, kiedy poszłam odwiedzić nową koleżankę w jej nowym mieszkaniu (bez numerów na drzwiach mieszkań) i zadzwoniłam do niewłaściwych drzwi. Mały chłopiec w środku krzyczał, że to Mikołaj dzwoni do drzwi. To też powinno było mi dać do myślenia, ale jakoś nie.

Fakt, że dzisiaj jest Dzień Świętego Mikołaja nie dotarł do mnie aż do momentu, kiedy odprowadzałam Lizzie do przedszkola dziś rano i zobaczyłem wielkie ogłoszenie o imprezie mikołajkowej. I wtedy usłyszałam jak mały chłopiec pyta ojca, czy nie mógłby dostać kolejnego prezentu na tej imprezie. Ups.

Na szczęście, gdy wróciłam do domu po bloku zajęć porannych (blok wieczorny wciąż czeka na mnie), zobaczyłam, że niania Rosie nie zapomniała o dziewczynkach na Mikołajki. Rosie pożarła prawie wszystkie czekoladki i dzwoni swoim dzwonkiem-aniołkiem jak szalona. Prezent Lizzie czeka na nią pod poduszką. Dziękuję Bogu za nianię!

PS Mamy Snuggie w Polsce. Ten szczególny Snuggie jest dostępny w Carrefourze i może być twój za jedyne 69 złotych polskich. Jestem całkiem pewna, że jest to jeden z 7 Znaków Apokalipsy. Misiu właśnie spytał, jakie są pozostałe 6 znaków. Hmmm, pomyślmy ...

1. Podwójna lokalizacja McDonald'sa. Wiecie, kiedy są 2 McDonaldy po obu stronach autostrady. Tak, już mamy to też w Polsce. Chciałabym tylko, żeby to pojawiło się też więcej autostrad.

2. Starbuck's we Wrocławiu na placu rynku. A Pizza Hut i McDonaldem mogę sobie poradzić, ale Starbuck's to już inna historia.

3. Misiu zarabia więcej w Polsce, niż w Ameryce.

4. Gdybym sprzedała mój dom i moje mieszkanie w Polsce, mogłabym kupić co najmniej 3 domy w moim rodzinnym mieście.

5. Misiu jeździ swoim wymarzonym amerykańskim SUV-em w Polsce. Ok, trochę go obiłam, ale to ani tu ani tam.

6. Joanna Krupa jest w domu!

7. Snuggie w Polsce.

Our Halloween in Poland – The Positives and The Negatives

Halloween has come and gone. I wonder how long we can leave up our Halloween decorations before someone complains. I’ll give it until Wednesday.

Halloween, if I am well-informed, started as a pagan holiday in Europe and pre-dates Christianity. The original purpose of Halloween was to scare off bad spirits and ghosts. This holiday is celebrated in quite a few countries around the world and travelled to America with immigrants from Europe. Of course, now it is just fun and games with kids dressing up and going door-to-door collecting candy.

This is my take on Halloween in Poland. It is not a Polish holiday. I have no desire to Halloween-ize Poland. We celebrate Halloween in our family because I want to share a little bit of my American childhood with my children. Some people in Poland like Halloween and have started celebrating it with their children. It  is usually a dress-up party without the trick-or-treating part. For adults, bars and restaurants have themed parties starting as much as one week before Halloween. A lot of people are indifferent to the whole thing and some others are against the idea of Halloween in Poland. Maybe it it because of Halloween’s  proximity to the holiday of All Saints Day.

My opinion is that these two holidays can live side-by-side. I went to Catholic school in the States and we still had a Halloween party every year at school. OK, Halloween is one day before All Saints Day. So what? That doesn’t make Halloween any less fun nor does it make All Saints Day any less sincere. Please excuse my bluntness but sitting solemnly at home or at graveside does not make your loved ones any less dead and having a dress-up party with kids doesn’t make them any more dead.

Halloween is not the enemy.

First, the positives -

We gave a lovely lesson about Halloween to Lizzie’s Pre-school class. We asked the kids what they knew about Halloween which was quite a lot actually. They even knew how to say “trick or treat” in English. We explained that we celebrate this holiday in our family because it is an American tradition and that I am American. Then Misiu read a book about Corduroy Bear and the best Halloween ever or something like that. The kids were enthralled. At the end of the lesson, we decorated paper plates as little jack-o’-lanterns. The best and most unexpected part for us was that the kids and teachers dressed up just for our lesson. There were a lot of princesses, ghosts, witches, a batman, a pumpkin and only one rock star (our Lizzie).

We also had a Halloween party at home. We decorated and cooked and dressed up and like last year informed the neighbors of our trick-or-treating plans. And just like last year only a few neighbors decided to participate (many people were out of town as well) and those that did participate really rocked. Thank you neighbors!!! The kids had a lot of fun, and I could feel almost like at home. This morning our little sweeties keep checking what they’ve got in their trick-or-treat bags. It is so cute.

We have a rock star (Lizzie), a butterfly (Rosie), Scooby Doo (a guest) and a Knight (that’s me).

Now, the negatives –

All went as planned at our party, but unfortunately some of our friends got sick and couldn’t come to our Halloween party. I got sick too, but that’s beside the point. The show must go on!

Regarding our lesson at school, all went as planned there too, but unfortunately not everyone liked the idea of our Halloween lesson. It wasn’t our idea to teach a lesson at school. Parents were asked by the classroom teachers to volunteer some time this year. Lizzie was thrilled when we decided to come to her class. Now the negative…Despite the fact that our presentation of Halloween at Pre-school was prefaced with the information that we wanted to present something from our culture (I guess I should say my culture), one family decided to remove their child from school for our lesson with the statement that “we do not celebrate such a holiday”.  Now, come on. If my kid has to sit under your crucifix all day long, your kid can survive one Halloween arts and crafts project. Jeeezzzzz! Lighten up!

PS1 Kielbasa Stories has some new followers. Welcome janiluap and porcelanowy blog. Thanks for joining us and thanks for reading!

PS2 When you buy a new fridge the week before Halloween, you have a lot of material for making Halloween decorations.

BOO!

That’s So Polish: I hate spinach and “milk soup”! To takie polskie - Nienawidzę szpinaku i "zupy mlecznej"!

Polish folks may disagree on many things - politics, religion, who should win Dancing with the Stars, but there is one thing that unites them- their distaste for spinach and “milk soup”.

First of all, what is milk soup? That’s what I asked when for the 4th, 5th, 6th, 27th time I heard from an adult about the horrors of milk soup. Milk soup is made from milk, obviously, but the actual contents change from person to person. It can be oatmeal, cream of wheat, cream of rice or milk with some homemade noodles. The common element to all of these milk soups, besides milk, is that they are yucky. Or so the Polish folks say.

The same goes for spinach. When my adult students describe being forced as children to eat spinach in pre-school, I almost want to laugh at them, but their disgust is real.

I actually kind of like “milk soup” and I also like spinach. What’s up with the Polish taste buds? For heaven’s sake, Polish people eat tripe. That’s way worse than milk soup. That’s way worse than spinach. That’s way worse than milk soup mixed with spinach.

Ok, that’s what I thought, until the first time I had the pleasure of spending a week in a Polish hospital. Unfortunately, I’ve had this pleasure many times. I’ve learned many things from my stays in Polish hospitals - bring your own TP and cutlery, for example, but I have also learned the origin of the Polish prejudice against 2 quite innocent foods.

Institutional milk soup and institutional spinach.

Institutional milk soup and institutional spinach are quite different from the same milk soup or spinach you would eat at home. They resemble in practically no way milk, soup, or spinach…and the smell…is horrible and that is saying something because hospitals (and pre-schools) are full of bad smells.

The first time I was served milk soup in hospital, I asked what it was. The nurse informed me (the strange foreign lady) that it was milk soup. That, I could see, but the taste didn’t agree with the description, and I said so. With a huff, the nurse informed me that maybe it was because it was made from last night’s chicken soup and powdered milk. Gulp.

Ok, that’s not the worst thing I was served in hospital. Once I was served chicken hearts and lost 4 kilos in one week (without having a baby), but that’s another story.

Back to the spinach…I didn’t bother to ask the nurse what was on my plate this time. That’s what my numerous hospital roommates were for. The lady next to me (suffering quite obviously from anorexia, but diagnosed with “nerwica”) said that it was spinach. No? Spinach? It couldn’t be. First of all, it was completely liquid. Second of all, it was brown, not green or green-brown, not brown-green, just brown. And third of all, it smelled like something found in a child’s diaper. Scratch that, it smelled worse than something found in a child’s diaper.

And now I understand why Polish folks are not very fond of milk soup and spinach. After my experiences, I too can “be Polish” and commiserate about the awfulness of it all.

Smacznego!

PS Kielbasa Stories has a new follower. Welcome Magdalena! Thanks for joining us and thanks for reading.

To takie polskie - Nienawidzę szpinaku i "zupy mlecznej"

Polacy może nie zgadzają się w wielu rzeczach - polityka, religia, kto powinien wygrać Taniec z Gwiazdami, ale jest jedna rzecz, która ich łączy - ich niechęć do szpinaku i "zupy mlecznej".

Przede wszystkim, co to jest zupa mleczna? To właśnie pytanie zadałam, kiedy po raz czwarty, piąty, szósty, 27-my usłyszałam od dorosłych o okropnościach zupy mlecznej. Zupa mleczna jest zrobiona z mleka, oczywiście, ale rzeczywista zawartość zmienia się z osoby na osobę. Mogą to być płatki owsiane, kasza manna, krem z ryżu lub mleka z domowym makaronem. Wspólnym elementem wszystkich tych zup mlecznych, obok mleka, jest to, że są bardzo paskudne. Przynajmniej Polacy tak mówią.

To samo dotyczy szpinaku. Kiedy moi dorośli uczniowie opisują jak byli zmuszani jako dzieci do jedzenia szpinaku w przedszkolu, prawie chce mi się śmiać z nich, ale ich obrzydzenie jest prawdziwe.

Mi tak naprawdę smakuje "zupa mleczna" i szpinak też. Co jest nie tak z polskimi kubkami smakowymi? Na miłość boską, Polacy jedzą flaki. Flaki są dużo gorsze od zupy mlecznej. Flaki są dużo gorsze niż szpinak. Flaki są nawet gorsze niż zupa mleczna wymieszana ze szpinakiem.

Ok, tak myślałam, dopóki nie miałem przyjemność spędzić tydzień w polskim szpitalu. Niestety, miałam tę przyjemność wiele razy. Nauczyłam się wielu rzeczy podczas moich pobytów w polskich szpitalach-zabrać za sobą papier toaletowy i sztućce, na przykład, ale również nauczyłam się pochodzenia polskiego uprzedzenia wobec 2 całkiem niewinnych produktów żywnościowych.

Instytucjonalna zupa mleczna i instytucjonalny szpinaku.

Instytucjonalne zupa mleczna i szpinak są dość różne od tej zupy mlecznej lub szpinaku, który jemy w domu. Nie przypominają ani trochę mleka, zupy lub szpinaku ... i zapach ... jest straszny i to właśnie dużo mówi, ponieważ szpitale (i przedszkola) są pełne brzydkich zapachów.

Po raz pierwszy jak zaserwowano mi mleczną zupę w szpitalu, spytałam co to było. Pielęgniarka poinformowała mnie (dziwną zagraniczną panią), że to zupa mleczna. To widziałam, ale smak nie zgadzał się z opisem i tak też powiedziałam. Z irytacją, pielęgniarka poinformowała mnie, że może to dlatego, że to było robione z wczorajszego rosołu i mleka w proszku. Łyk.

Ok, to nie jest najgorsza rzecz, którą dostałam w szpitalu. Kiedyś dostałam serca kurczaka i straciłam 4 kg w ciągu tygodnia (bez urodzenia dziecka), ale to inna historia

Wracając do szpinaku ... nie pofatygowałam się, aby spytać pielęgniarki, co było na talerzu tym razem. Po co miałam moich licznych współlokatorów w pokoju. Pani obok mnie (oczywiście chora na anoreksję, ale u niej napisano "nerwica") powiedziała, że to szpinak. Nie? Szpinak? Nie może być. Przede wszystkim, to było całkowicie płynne. Po drugie, było brązowe, a nie zielone lub zielono-brązowe, a nie brązowo-zielone, tylko brązowe. I po trzecie, pachniało jak coś z dziecięcej pieluchy. Wymazuję to, pachniało gorzej niż coś z dziecięcej pieluchy.

I teraz rozumiem, dlaczego Polacy nie za bardzo lubią zupę mleczną i szpinak. Po moich doświadczeniach ja też mogę "być Polką" i marudzić o okropnościach tego wszystkiego.

Smacznego!

When your child starts school…

When your child starts school, well, Pre-school in our case, everybody tells you to expect at least a year of sick kid. What they forget to tell you is, that also means a year of sick mom.

Since Lizzie started Pre-school in Autumn I have had bronchitis twice (the 1st episode being the first in my life), 2 sinus infections, numerous colds and coughs and most recently the stomach flu. Rosie has also been the victim of these nasty illnesses, excluding the stomach flu. Maybe that’s because Rosie is vaccinated against the stomach flu.

If you accept anecdotal evidence as evidence, then I can tell you that the rotavirus vaccination works. We have had the stomach flu 3 times since Rosie’s vaccination (Ok, the 1st of the 3 times was directly caused by her vaccination. I hope it was from kissing her. Yuck!), and Rosie has been problem free. It cost something like 800 złoty and with the other vaccinations Rosie was getting at the time, it totaled more than a thousand, but what could we do?

Lizzie did not receive the rotavirus vaccination because it was not available at the time she was born. I really wish she had received it. It is not because after cleaning the inside of the Jeep and her car seat, we discovered 2 days later that the cup dispenser was full of vomit. Nope, that’s not why. It’s not because in this land of no dryers, one bout of stomach flu can easily use up all of your clean and dry sheets. Nope, it’s not that. It’s that poor little face with dark circles under her eyes who doesn’t want to eat or drink and has no energy or will to do anything. And that’s if the illness is the light version. More serious attacks of rotavirus can land a child in the hospital with dehydration. Fortunately, we have never come close to that.

And to keep on an optimistic note, I am just that much closer to my Spring diet goal.

Thanks stomach flu!

Pasowanie na Przedszkolaka

Lizzie is officially a Pre-schooler. This Thursday, she took her preschooler oath (Ślubuje…) and was dubbed a Pre-schooler by the Principal. The children presented themselves in front of the Principal who tapped each child on the shoulder with a fairy wand. It was all very serious and very exciting!

Lizzie’s class dressed up as butterflies while another class dressed up as teddy bears. Thank goodness for H&M butterfly wings. We weren’t the only parents who paid a visit to H&M ;) Each class recited poems and sang songs for all the proud parents to see. There was the usual shuffle of parents trying to get the perfect shot of their little one. Our camera battery died on the way to school, but I knew that I could depend on my bestest friendka and neighbor to take fantastic pictures from her place in the front row. Now, if I could only get the CD to her to save the pictures.

Lizzie, in this picture, is the butterfly in the middle in the pink skirt (also borrowed from friendka) reciting her poem:

Motylek mnie rozwesela

Humor mi się jego udziela

Cieszymy się oboje

On i oczy moje…

The kids received a present of Domino Logopedyczyne Ż(RZ)-Z. Maybe I will practice some sounds, too.

And of course a diploma.

And more excitement from the Pre-school front – Tennis lessons AND English lessons start on Monday!

Our 1st Wywiadówka

Today, I went to the 1st wywiadówka of Lizzie’s school career and the 1st in my mothering career. The turn-out was sad, only 2 parents made an appointment with the teacher out of the whole class, but so what, my appointment was great and it was all in Polish!

It reminded me of my 1st parent/teacher conference as a teacher in the US . I was all prepared, and I lined up some chairs outside of the room just in case some parents had to wait to speak to me, the all-important educator of their precious children. I had more than 120 students and was a little nervous that I wouldn’t be able to meet with as many parents as I wanted to. Another teacher walking down the hall observing me and my chairs said, “You know no one is coming, right?” “What d’ya mean?” “No parents come to parent/teacher conferences in this school.” “Oh,” I said and went back into my classroom where I slumped down in my chair and waited and waited and waited. My first parent appeared and gave me his name which didn’t sound familiar. I couldn’t find that surname on my list. He then gave me his child’s name and we were rolling. I felt so teachery and after he left, I checked the hall for others waiting. No one was there. After more waiting, one of my students arrived with his grandfather who said that he now knew why his grandson was so interested in history. The poor boy was terribly embarrassed, but that’s what grandpa’s are for. After another hour of waiting, I decided to pack it in. 2 visits and not even of the problem students. 2 visits from 120 students.

Anyhow, back to Lizzie’s conference, Pre-school Parent/Teacher Conference, no less. I think it was her teacher’s 1st wywiadówka as well, so I went easy on her ;) I learned that Lizzie is a quiet and very well-behaved child, even too well-behaved. She likes to stick with her best friend and almost exclusively chooses cars and trucks to play with and always puts them away when she’s done. She is an excellent painter and takes her art work quite seriously. All in all, she is developing well.

Together, we devised a plan to separate Lizzie a bit from her best friend in the class because those two girls are addicted to each other. They both need to learn to mingle with the other kids. In addition, to draw Lizzie out, I suggested giving her a role to play. She likes to hide a little behind a role and feels freer to be more outgoing when she is playing someone else. I asked her teacher to correct her Polish and to not worry about her English “r” in Polish words. When she says rowerek, it is so sweet. I also asked her to be aware that Lizzie is so in love with Pre-school that she wouldn’t tell the teachers if she got ill…probably until it was too late and words like vomit and carpet come into play.

I’m pleased with Lizzie’s Pre-school. I don’t really have anything to compare it with. I didn’t go to pre-school in America. The day is nicely structured. The children have a lot of free play, semi-structured play and structured play. Each day they focus on different areas of development. One day is music, another art, gymnastics, etc. Today was addition and subtraction. Each group has about 20-25 kids, but they are rarely all present. Each group also has 3 teachers (a morning teacher and an afternoon teacher with some overlap and an assistant for the whole day).

They have to feed the little buggers as well. They have breakfast, soup and dessert, and dinner and fruit. After years and years of American processed school lunch, I am impressed with the food my daughter receives at school (ok, minus the breakfast parówki). At about 8:30, the kids have cereal with milk or oatmeal/cream of wheat, a sandwich and a drink. Sometimes they even have inka which thrills Lizzie to no end because she says that she had coffee at school. At about 11:00, they have hot soup and a dessert such as a cookie or fruit gelatin or pudding. At about 1:30, they have dinner which can be anything from pierogi (known happily by the kids as “Pierogi Day!!!!”), a piece of meat, potatoes, a vegetable, or crepes or pasta. Juice, water and compote are served to drink. They also get a fresh piece of fruit after dinner which they actually eat. They eat in the classroom and 2 ladies bring a trolley with food from the kitchen. Sometimes I’d like to get a plateful of dinner, too. It smells so good!

It’s a public school, but that doesn’t mean that it is free. The tuition, food, supplies, parent’s committee and some other payments add up to about 350 zloty a month. Is that cheap or expensive? It depends on your vantage point. The monthly gross minimum wage in Poland is about 1,300 zloty with the net minimum wage working out to be about 980 zloty a month. That means the cost of Pre-school is 36% of the after-tax minimum wage.

The next big event on the Pre-school agenda is a presentation for Grandparents because Thursday this week is Dzień Babci (Jan 21st) and Friday is Dzień Dziadka (Jan 22nd) (Grandmother’s Day and Grandfather’s Day). Our Babcia will be there. Lizzie has made a laurka (card) and has been practicing her poem for the show. She can’t wait!

Wierszyk:

“Kocham was”

Kocham moją babcię, kocham mego dziadka.

Ale jak im o tym powiedzieć?

Może im zaspiewać, wtedy będą wiedzieć!

Na zakończenie:

Aby babcia i dziadek

w zdrowiu długo żyli

Aby uśmiech dla nas mieli

w każdej wolnej chwili

Sanki

With one car in use by Misiu and the other one at the mechanic, I empowered this morning another mode of transportation, our sanki. Sanki means sled, well actually it means sleds but it is referring to one sled only - you know like trousers or leggings.

Last year we totally missed out on the sanki thing because right after the first snow the stores were cleared out of sleds. This year, we received a second hand sled from our accountant. It is better than any sled I have seen in the shops. It is very solidly made and has got a back support which is important for us with 2 kids.

Lizzie loves to go on the sled. She loves being pulled around the neighborhood and sliding down hills. Rosie on the other hand hates the sled and I have no idea why. Knowing that Rosie hates the sled, I still decided to take Lizzie to Pre-school (with Rosie tagging along) on the sled. The Pre-school is about 3-4 blocks away and due to lax snow removal you can sled practically all the way there.

These pictures are not from today. They are from Babcia’s house where we made a kulig or parada of sleds as Lizzie calls it.

The morning started like this. We all got dressed and outside about 7:30 am. Packed the girls on the sled, Lizzie in the back, Rosie in the front with Lizzie’s bear (she calls him Dziś Miś) in the middle. Rosie is screaming. We set off for school. Rosie is crying and screaming for me to take her off. I do and we continue on with Lizzie and her bear on the sled and Mommy and Rosie on foot. Rosie decides she needs to be carried and as it is almost 8:00 now and we are not anywhere close to the school, I oblige, but I cannot then pull Lizzie on the sled. So that leaves Mommy carrying all 10+ kilograms of Rosie and Lizzie pulling Dziś Miś on the sled. We finally get to school after what seems like an eternity and as it was 8:20 it really was a long time for such a short walk.

Thankfully, Lizzie was on her way to her classroom with Pani Ela and Rosie and I were on our way back home on the sled. Except that Rosie wasn’t havin’ it. She screamed and cried but I managed to get her part of the way home on the sled until she had a fit. Her fit was so loud and dramatic that one older gentleman first beeped his car horn at us (as if that would help) and then stopped the car and got out to look at us (I’m totally serious). I had to carry Rosie in one hand and drag the empty sled home in the other and then carry Rosie up to the top floor of our apartment building. No amount of promising to watch Bolek i Lolek na Dzikim Zachodzie would appease her (Bolek & Lolek in the Wild West is the current top DVD in our house). I, by the way, was exhausted and covered in sweat. I’m sweating right now just thinking of the return trip to bring Lizzie back home.

Let’s look on the bright side. It could have been worse. It was neither snowing nor raining. No one pooed or vomited on the way there or back. We were on time. And I got some well needed exercise. Next time, I’m taking the stroller.

Religion lessons update

Let’s review the Pre-school Religion lesson situation:

Informed by Headmistress that we need to sign up our child for Religion. Not signing up means the child will not attend. We did not sign Lizzie up as we do not want her to attend.

Informed later by Headmistress that we need to write a declaration that we do not want our daughter to attend despite the fact that we did not sign her up. We caved and wrote the declaration for the Headmistress and additionally reminded the classroom teachers that Lizzie is not to attend.

At parent/teacher meeting, parents requested any information about the identity and qualifications of the Religion teacher and her curriculum for the year. We also had requested the same earlier from the Headmistress. The Headmistress, unfortunately, does not possess such information so she is unable to give it to the parents.

Requested by the classroom teacher that we write another declaration for the classroom teachers. I did not cave and informed them that one written declaration and one verbal declaration and the fact that I did not sign my daughter up for Religion lessons is sufficient.

Yesterday, requested to write a declaration for the Religion teacher that we do not wish Lizzie to attend Religion lessons. As I do not know the Religion teacher from Adam, I refused and strongly indicated that they are not to ask me again or I am going to lose it which would be very uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Seriously, yesterday when they asked me again to write another declaration, I got a very strange sinking feeling in my chest and stomach. I have never felt it before, but I think it was oppression, ok maybe not full out oppression. I don’t want to exaggerate so let’s call it oppression extra-light but it is still troublesome nonetheless.

Discrimination

I’ve never been over-sensitive to discrimination. I’m not one of those people to boo-hoo into my pillow at night because somebody has slighted me. I’m a big girl, I’ve got thick skin and even if something seemed to be unfair, I’ve always been able to shrug it off. Actually, I’ve only ever felt discriminated against a couple of times in my life.

The first time was at university. In a class where I had a 98% average, I was given back my exam by the professor with no comment. It was another A. What was there really to say anyhow? I was not expecting a pat on the back. C’mon it wasn’t kindergarten and my fellow college students were not so fond of the classmates with good grades.

I myself was very fond of good grades and collected a lot of them. For me, the university tuition was very expensive despite my attending a state university. I wanted to learn as much as I could for every dollar I had to spend especially because I earned those dollars measuring old men for suit trousers in a men’s clothing shop. (Inseam measurements were the worst, but the men seemed to enjoy the experience.) My classmates, it seemed, felt quite the opposite – about the knowledge-per-dollar thing, not the inseam-measuring thing. Many of them wanted to see how little they could learn for their money (or their parent’s money) and still graduate.

Anyhow my classmate Jeff, seated beside me, got his exam back. It was a C+ or a C-. I don’t remember exactly, but I do remember the big red C. Just the sight of it turned my stomach. Jeff’s results did get a comment out of our professor, “Good job, Jeff. You really pulled it out this time.” Pulled it out of where? I thought. Your ear? Your ass? I didn’t comment, but the professor must have read my mind because she looked at me and said, “Don’t be so smug. We can’t all be naturally smart.” That infuriated me because in fact I’m no genius. I’m just a hard worker whose hard work had just been negated by her professor, another female nonetheless. At the end of the class, the professor invited Jeff (who had not opened his mouth once in the whole 90 minutes) to consider graduate school because our profession needed men like him. Apparently, it already had enough women like me.

There was one other incident at university which just came to mind. I had forgotten about it I think because I did not feel threatened personally or academically in any way. I just didn’t feel discriminated against for some reason although I should have. I selected my university courses trying to balance what courses I needed to take, what courses I wanted to take, and what courses were offered during hours not conflicting with my job at the men’s shop. I rarely listened to other students’ recommendations or warnings about specific professors because through experience I had found them to be wildly exaggerated or just downright untrue. So when starting a new semester, I entered the classroom fresh with no opinion of the professor formed before entering. That’s how I got a big surprise with one professor new to me.

I sat down in a class that at first seemed normal. Then I noticed everyone was looking at me. My zipper was up. My blouse was buttoned. Nothing on my face. No toilet paper on my shoe. I checked my schedule and the number on the door. Everything seemed to jive, but then I noticed that I was the only woman in the class. Strange, but not impossible, I thought. Then the professor arrived and he began looking at me as well and then he started to speak to everyone in the room except to me. I will spare you the details but the gist of it was that women were of lower intellect (his wife, as he said, a prime example) and should not be allowed to operate motor vehicles let alone attend university. And then all was silent and everyone was looking at me. All I could do was laugh. And I did. But not a nice, sweet giggle but a deep belly laugh. I felt like on TV. All eyes were on me. After my brave laugh, I responded meekly (I don’t know why meekly after such a laugh), “You must be very sad.” My professor shouted, “Speak up! We can’t hear you!” I shouted from the back corner of the classroom, the seat closest to the door, “You must be very sad!” (in similar fashion the recent Obama “You lie!” shout) My professor responded, “Hmmm" and started our first lecture. The rest of the semester, women were never spared unkind and unfair remarks to which I either ignored or gave a chuckle. Really, only a sad person could behave as he did. Unlike other women who had taken his courses, I didn’t argue with him. I felt it was not my job to reform an asshole. Unlike other women who had taken his courses, I remained untouched personally by his remarks. I mean, he never commented on my intellect just all women as a group and those comments never even made a dent in my strong self-worth. No, that’s incorrect. Once he read 2 lines out of my exam essay for the class and said that their was a light at the end of womankind’s tunnel. I did not take his comm ent as a compliment because honestly, who cares what an asshole thinks about you. As it turned out, I think my assessment of him as sad was a correct one because a few years later he committed suicide by jumping in the Niagara Falls - ‘cause you gotta go out like a man.

The second time in my life I felt discriminated against was when I was applying for a job. I was very proud to be the only one of my classmates in education to have a job interview while still studying. I just knew that I would have a job locked in before graduation and all my loser classmates would still be flipping burgers or sponging off their parents for the next school year. As I sat in the school secretary’s office proudly awaiting my first real job interview, my bubble got burst by another teacher who had come to greet the principal before the school day got started. “Mornin’, mornin’ ,” he said to the principal followed by a firm handshake. “Have you hired the new wrestling coach yet?” he inquired. Eyeing me, the principal laughed and said, “We’ve got our first candidate right here. Come this way, little lady.” I was applying for the job of 11th grade US History teacher and all that was missing was a nice slap on the ass. I didn’t get the job, but I was interviewed 3 times and taught a lesson to be critiqued. Maybe the wrestling coach thing had nothing to do with it. I mean a woman could be a wrestling coach too, but I sure did feel like shyte and I felt discriminated against really for the first time in my life because a professor thinking that you are naturally smart or another professor thinking that you are naturally an imbecile is meaningless when you are facing the possibility of measuring men’s inseams for the rest of your life.

In Poland, I haven’t really had any similar situations. Maybe in my first job in the City in an American company, our boss made some comments that could constitute creating a hostile work environment for women. In one case, he said that a candidate for a secretarial position definitely wouldn’t win any Miss Poland contest and then proceeded to hire a woman who looked like she stepped out of a porn film. Later, he made a distasteful Monica Lewinsky/cigar joke to the new secretary. This boss was Polish/American and he wanted to be more American that Americans, so I told him that he couldn’t say those things in the home office in the US. He agreed, and I had peace and quiet for a long time after that.

Most recently, I’ve come to feel discriminated against in my daughter’s Pre-school of all places. You may have read about the Religion lessons at Pre-school which are in fact catechism lessons. I don’t want my daughter to attend. Here’s the kicker- I was brought up Catholic. I attended private Catholic school. I attended mass 6 days a week for my whole primary school education. I still don’t want my daughter to attend “Religia” at Pre-school. Religion lessons, in my opinion, are for private school or on the church grounds. I’m guess I’m just picky like that.

Parents were informed that kids would only go to Religion if we signed them up. I didn’t sign my daughter up. Next we were asked by the Headmistress to write a declaration that we DO NOT want our daughter to attend Religion lessons. We wrote it. Yesterday, we were asked by the classroom teacher to write another declaration that we do not want our daughter to attend. C’mon, I’m not one of those overprotective parents who complains about every slight of their child, but this is too much. We did not sign Lizzie up. I informed the classroom teacher verbally that I do not want Lizzie to attend. Misiu wrote a declaration for the Headmistress. That has to be sufficient. Why are they complicating our lives? Is it all because we don’t want to attend Religion? To single us out? Is it conscious or subconscious on their part? Is it just Polish school bureaucracy run wild? I don’t really care. I feel that they are strongly encroaching on our rights and on our privacy and I have to defend myself and my child. I inquired if the same procedure is going to be in place for English lessons. They answered that of course not, you must sign your child up for English lessons, not declare that you don’t want your child to attend. Interesting.

Religia

If you signed up for a university course entitled “Religion”, what would you suppose the course curriculum included? Perhaps an overview of religion and its influence on historical events? Perhaps a comparison of religions of the world and their belief systems? Perhaps a lecture on Jesus and how he as the son of God died on the cross to save our souls? NO? You were with me up until the last one, right?

In case you do not know, “Religion” is a subject taught at Polish public schools. Except that it shouldn’t be called “Religion”, but rather “Catholicism” as the course it taught either by a Catholic priest (yes, a real live priest) or a Catechism teacher. My teenage students say that it should be called “Bore me to death” Class, but in fact, they don’t have to attend if they don’t want to. High school students should now have the choice of Religion or Ethics…but if the school doesn’t employ a teacher of Ethics…You get the picture.

I was shocked the first time I found out Religion was taught at public school. It was the 1st day of school back in the day when I first came to Poland. I was scoping out all the teachers in the teachers’ lounge and I spotted a pretty hot looking guy. He was seated resting his elbows on the table with his fingers intertwined, his chin resting on his hands. I was staring at him plotting how to get myself seated next to him,when he stood up to let someone pass behind him and I saw it – his collar and his robes!!! And I didn’t think, “Oh no, my potential love is lost”, but rather, “There’s a priest at school!!! What the what?!?” Anyhow, I continued to pine after the hot priest the whole school year and secretly for years later…until I ran into him in the City at a shopping mall. He was in his civilian clothes and I didn’t find him even half as attractive as I found him before in his robes and I realized that I am a perverted bugger. BTW, my class of all girls interviewed the hot priest for the school newspaper. One question they asked was why the robes had so many buttons. The hot priest responded that there were 33 buttons one for each year of Christ’s life. The girls giggled that they thought it was so he had to think carefully before taking off the robes. Nice!

I have not had contact with Polish public schools for so long that I had pretty much forgotten about the lack of separation of church and state. We have decided to not baptize our children (I will discuss why in another post) and I thought that I had plenty of time to deal with the Religion class issue later. Unfortunately, we have had to deal with it sooner.

We were informed that Religion would be offered at Lizzie’s Pre-school, but to the children who were signed up only. So if you do not wish for your child to participate, you do not sign up your child and that’s it. Except that isn’t it. I discovered that my daughter would attend Religion class because we didn’t declare that we don’t want her to attend. And that in a nutshell sums up life in Poland. Life in Poland Rule #1: Tell somebody one thing. Do the opposite. Tell them another thing. Repeat. Life in Poland Rule #2: Provide something that somebody doesn’t want in the first place and require them to declare that they don’t want it. In the meantime, send them a bill for it :)

So now every Friday morning, my daughter and the Muslim girls and the Asian children and a few other Polish kids get a chance to play in another classroom. Lizzie is pleased because although her classroom has a killer toy kitchen, the other classroom has a top-notch wooden dollhouse. Add that to the fact that today was pierogi day at Pre-school and Lizzie was in 7th heaven.

PS We were told that the Pre-school Religion course is very general and full of fun and games for the children. We asked if we could see some lesson plans or curriculum for the year so we could see what they are teaching the kids and then decide for ourselves, but you cannot receive something which does not exist ;)

Lizzie goes to Pre-school

Lizzie started Pre-school this week.

You’d think that I’d have more time, but instead I have less.

Pobudka

Everybody washed, dressed and into the car.

Drive to school.

Unpack 2 kids and enter school.

Take off 2 kids’ jackets. Lizzie changes shoes to slippers. (I’ll get to the slippers later.)

Walk to classroom. Kiss and say goodbye.

Leave crying Lizzie. Drag happy Rosie out.

Put on Rosie’s coat and pack her into the car.

Drive back home. Unload Rosie.

Get ready for work and wait for the nanny.

Greet the nanny and go to work.

Work. Work. Work.

Pick up Lizzie either when the nanny is still with Rosie or take Rosie. Repeat packing and unpacking as above in reverse minus the tears and the good-byes.

It was Lizzie’s initiative to go to Pre-school. Poland has got a public Pre-school system albeit with a limited number of places and limited funds. I had heard of the “recruitment” process and knew that we would not have enough points to get in. Points are awarded based on different things like if you are a single parent or not, employed or unemployed, or take advantage of public benefits. They also consider the number of children in the family, proximity of your residence to the school, kind of car you drive, hair color, favorite hobbies…just kidding! I almost gotcha.

We are employed. We are married with 2 children. We live in close proximity to the school but our official permanent residence is elsewhere. There was no hope for us, but then I heard that the City was building a new Pre-school in our district. We filled out our forms last Spring and we got in. We still have to pay a small tuition, food and supplies, but it is still cheaper than a private daycare center and way cheaper than a nanny (which we also have). We were considering nursery school for Rosie. We even visited one center close to our home, but Rosie was so overwhelmed so she is staying with the nanny. Well, we could say that Rosie has a babysitter not a nanny. In Polish, many people use the word niania so we have just adopted the word nanny. The word nanny just sounds so pretentious in English as if she had her own wing in our house and vacationed with us on the Riviera. Our girls’ nanny is a very nice and active lady in her 50’s. We really like her and I think she likes us, too.

Now we have come to the end of our first week at pre-school and we already had one sick day. Let’s hope that next week goes smoothly.

Please check out the next post about slippers.

The curious case of Polish slippers

In my observation, Polish people are crazy about slippers. When you visit someone not only is it customary as a guest to remove your shoes, but it seems to be customary as a host to provide some slippers for your guest, often taken still warm from your feet. Maybe this stems from the idea that in Poland your guest is king or from the fact that your living room area rug has to last you a lifetime. Once a VP from a big leasing company invited me to have a lesson in his home. I think it was a holiday or something. Anyhow, it was snowing so I insisted on taking off my dirty shoes and he promptly presented me with slippers, the paputki kind which resembled something that Santa’s elves would wear. I felt strange enough sitting in this guy’s home but in these paputki I felt ridiculous. Then his wife came home and shouted, “Gdzie są moje paputki?!” Yikes!

Slippers not only play a major role at home, but also at work. I remember that I first became aware of the importance of slippers in Poland when I was working in a high school teaching English. I noticed that all administration staff and cleaning staff wore slippers at work (and let’s not forget the all too sexy fartuch) as well as some teachers. I remember exiting the school one day with an absent-minded teacher who had forgotten to change from his slippers back into his shoes. He discovered that just as he planted his foot in a big puddle. Ooops!

Once when starting a new contract in a software company, I stepped off the elevator and straight onto beautiful, lush wall-to-wall carpeting. Not the typical office carpeting but the kind that you sink into when you walk across it and the kind that leaves different colored paths when you run the vacuum across it. I noticed some IT guys walking around wearing their IT uniform, sweater, jeans, slippers. Nothing new. But then I saw the managers in suits, men and women alike, all in slippers. After they showed me the conference room, kitchen, bathroom, copy machine and introduced me to my students, I inquired if I should bring slippers. They looked at me strangely and said no, but c’mon I’m just saying…

On TVN Style, a TV channel with programs directed to ladies I think, I watched an interview/talk show program about child abuse vs spanking. A well-known politician (so well-known that I cannot remember who it was) admitted to having spanked his daughter because she once again was not wearing slippers at home. The interviewer asked him if those slippers were worth spanking his daughter. He replied that it had been worth it because not only had she disobeyed him, but also she had exposed her feet to the cold making her more susceptible to illness.

That brings us to the slipper-wearing customs in our family, or rather lack of. I started wearing slippers just a few years ago. I had to buy some kind of slippers (and a robe) when I went to the hospital. After that I just started wearing them I guess because I had them. My children don’t have slippers so it was a bit of a problem to introduce this habit to our daughter before going to Pre-school. We let her pick out her own pretty slippers and problem solved, except she wants to bring them back home from Pre-school each and every day. At least we found a use for her worek (school sack). Parents have to take off their shoes before entering classroom, too. It is a problem for me. Have you heard about my sock crisis?