Max fell out of the top bunk of the bed on September first and broke his arm - tragically in terms of sibling relationships, he was leaning down to show Katrina a picture in a book he was reading to her. That'll teach him to ever read his sister a story again (it might have been the first time he ever had). Doubly tragically, it was the first night that Mark and I had gone out without the kids, and we haven't managed it since (unless you count the information nights at the school, which I definitely don't). That event, combined with the start of school, left me so exhausted and bereft of hope about my parenting skills, that there was no possibility to send any kind of update. Basically, the kids spent the first two weeks of school screaming at us for the entire afternoon and evening about the cruelty and insensitivity of bringing them to Switzerland, interrupted by short breaks for Max to moan loudly about his arm itching. Two weeks after the initial break, the x-ray revealed that it wasn't healing straight enough, and after several days of frantic e-mailing of x-rays and conversing with doctors in Germany, the U.S. and Switzerland, we agreed to surgery a week ago to insert two pins.But, although they both miss Cleveland and their school there, they've adjusted, Max is feeling much better, and I'm revived enough to send another dispatch. They've been tougher to deal with than they are at home (and neither is exactly a mellow kid under any circumstances). Plus the school day here is shorter and starts earlier so we have long afternoons together. During one of Max's recent tirades about his homework, which is hard for him, I resorted to telling the old story of the guy in the overcrowded house who asked the rabbi for advice and was told to bring his cow, then goat, then chickens into the house, then found the house much less crowded upon their departure. They loved the story, but I don't think they caught any parable in it.But if they have been tough at times, we've also had at least one phenomenal moment of beauty or charm each day - finding a field of tiny ponies near our house, hiking in the mountains with friends from Shaker who were visiting, noticing cool bugs and lizards near our house, checking out a medieval festival complete with hundreds of costumed people in the streets near castle ruins, spending time showing off Geneva to friends visiting from Ohio and my parents.For me, the current highlight is a tiny farm we've discovered directly behind our house, hidden behind a big stand of trees. The farm has 2 ponies, 3 dog-sized miniature horses, 6 goats, tons of bunnies, ducks, geese, chickens and parakeets, a couple of kittens/cats, a yellow lab and a seemingly horse-sized Bernese Mountain Dog named Sally. The owner made it clear (in French) that we can come by any time and feed or pet the miniature horses and goats, which often wander free. Since finding it we've been back almost daily, and Sally always cheerfully came out to greet us. Earlier this week, when we went by, Sally did not come out of her little dog house, so Max peeked in and found 9 miniscule Bernese Mountain Dog puppies, looking like 9 little loaves of black rye bread. (We didn't count them ourselves - they're still in the dog house, nursing, but the farmer told us there were "neuf", which even Katrina understood.) Since one of the many ways in which my mothering pales in comparison to that of my own ever-patient mother is my failure to provide the kids with puppies to play with (our childhood dog had 6 puppies twice), I'm overjoyed about this. The kids are excited too, but I think not quite as excited.The kids have both had friends from school over several times, both prior to and since discovering the farm. They chatter away in German to their school friends in a way that is pretty cute - Katrina now finds my accent mortifying and tells me not to talk (although I can still say more than she can, lame accent or not). Much as she does in English, Katrina now belts out slightly wrong German song lyrics, giving Max an opportunity to loudly and indignantly correct her. Max and his friends play hide and seek on this expansive campus where we're living, and spy on the college students in the dorm across the way, or on the international meetings that are held here (Doctors without Borders, the UN, and other international groups often meet here at the center where we live, playing weird get-acquainted games or doing goofy trust-building exercises, much to all of our amusement.)The German, American, French and Swiss school systems are all pretty differnt I think. Our kids are going to a private German school here in Geneva. The languages (that I've heard about) spoken by the kids at home include French, Italian, Russian, Persian, Spanish, English, and, for the most part, German. Most of the kids have two German speaking parents (and many speak no French, which is the language here). Max's best friend in the class is from Columbus, Ohio (!) - both parents are German but the father is a physicist and teaches at Ohio State.The French school system, from all accounts, begins at 8 or 8:30 a.m., includes a 1.5 hour lunch, but ends at 4 or 4:30 p.m. Most people say that it involves lots of sitting still, rote memorization, and being seated in the corner for misbehavior. There's no school on Wednesdays. The Swiss system I think follows the French schedule here, but is more relaxed - one mother told us that her 6-year-old son had switched from French to French-Swiss schools and came home elated after one week to announce that he hadn't been sent to sit in the corner even once all week! The German school is from 7:50 a.m. (UGH) to 1:15 p.m., with tons of art, gym, drama, music, etc. They also get religion class once a week, to my slight horror as the opening ceremony included mention of the father, the son and the holy ghost (oh vey), but we asked Max's teacher about it and she said this year they were studying "courage" and "trust", with a focus on Ghandi and Martin Luther King. Mark met with the religion teacher to explain our agnostic, non-observant, Jewish, lefty religious training and see if they can incorporate that into the curriculum (ha!). The opening day for the first graders (two days after Max started) also included a play in hip hop verse which the fourth graders (which includes Max) performed for the first graders (Katrina). In the German system, letters are not taught at all until first grade so Katrina is a little annoyed that she is in year three (preschool, kindergarten and now here) of shaping clay into "M"s and "A"s. Things are taught in a very developmental way, with lots of discussion of different kids learning at different paces and that being ok. There's a lot of emphasis on kids being independent, parents not being over-involved, and it being fine if kids can't finish their homework. Both Max and Katrina have French 1, and the art and gym classes I guess are always taught in French. The French class involves a lot of singing and dialogues and games - I would say that it seems to be both of their favorite element, in part because everyone in the French 1 class is at the same point, whereas in almost every other class, they have the weakest German. The two "elternabends" (parent-evenings, one for each class) contained extensive discussion of the need for hausschue (slippers), which seemed to deeply concern the German parents. I couldn't entirely follow. There was also in-depth discussion of the notebooks - each kid has to carry, back and forth, every day, about 6 spiral notebooks, six transparent folders in assorted colors (and we bought the wrong colors, it seems), and several textbooks. The kids are supposed to know their schedules, and leave at home the books they don't expect to use that day, but our kids never know, so they just carry 15 pounds (6.82 kilos) of books around (or with Max's broken arm, we carry them). Notebooks seem to cost about 10 francs each (maybe $9), giving me an unexpected appreciation for Target or at least Costco. A final theme that got a lot of discussion in Katrina's class was a set of complaints about why the kids couldn't just be dropped off or picked up much later or earlier than school started or ended, for various reasons related to parental schedules. Most seemed to feel that an unsupervised 45 minutes in the schoolyard should be fine (the playground isn't finished yet, so they play soccer on the pavement), or that, conversely, they should be able to pick up before class was over. Several of the kids, including some first graders with older siblings, take public transportation home, including in some cases switching buses. In both classes, nobody wanted to be room parent - I finally volunteered to assist someone else in Katrina's class. In Max's class they went through this strange exercise of going around the room, demanding from each parent why they couldn't do it, arm-twisting three people into saying they would do it, then having a vote in which one of the people was voted out. Totally weird.I'm still managing to get my work done for the most part (although my co-workers might beg to differ), although it's a little challenging because people arrive at their offices in Ohio just after my kids are home for the rest of the day. But, if I have to make a call I put on German cartoons, and watching TV is one thing they both recognize as a great privilege about being here. Spongebob Squarepants is apparently just as funny in German. Policy Matters is thriving in my absence, bringing in new grants, getting tons of press, even having a new researcher start this week (I hired him before I left - a terrific person and longtime friend).It's nice to be away from Bush and to only be catching tidbits about OJ's arrest, Brittany's antics, and the race battles in the south. On the other hand, we feel closer to all of the international disasters covered in the Herald Tribune - but we don't always feel as responsible for those (tho of course the U.S. is responsible for some of the worst ones). I'm not working on my French nearly as much as I should be - my basketball has improved much more than my French has. But I can get by, can tell the farmer her puppies are cute, can make the endless doctor appointments for Max, and can let kids on the playground know that Katrina wants a turn on the swing. Given the arm break, I've decided that keeping up with a modicum of my Policy Matters work and keeping the kids happy is challenge enough. Mark managed to make it to the semi-finals of a local tennis tournament and I do get to run much more than in Cleveland -- my runs let me drink in views of the omnipresent mountains, the lake, and take me past cute cafes, wooded paths, frog-filled streams, donkeys, and golden fields. I sometimes wonder what the lifetime effect of living in a place of such beauty is but then I quickly repress those thoughts as I know I'm returning to the land of suburban sprawl and flat landscapes pretty soon. I tell the kids to take a mental picture of the views we're seeing to remember when we're staring at a strip mall and I try to do the same.
