Ahoj!

by Kate

Right. Almost three months later.

We're back home and finally feeling settled into our life in upstate New York. It took awhile -- re-entry was no picnic. I can speak only for myself: I was weighed down with sadness that our year had come to an end. And I anticipated that reverse culture shock would be harder to navigate than our initial adjustment abroad. Under the best of circumstances, returning home after a long absence is usually bumpy. That it was coupled with the recent death of Marti, our friend and neighbor, made it even more difficult.

I have numerous posts I want to write to wrap up our Prague experience. I have to get us back home (to Prague) from Croatia with thoughts on our time in Slovenia and Salzburg. I have pictures and notes from various city sites -- such as Vyšehrad, the National Monument, the National Theatre, the National Museum (now closed for a five-year renovation!), Charles Bridge, the Loreta -- and day trip destinations (Konopiště, Terezín, Český ráj).

But before that, a brief report on What We Did on Our Summer Holiday (or at least since we last checked in).

Last Days in Prague

In the midst of posting, packing, and purging our things, we tried to breathe the city in, to imprint it for the long haul. We retraced familiar routes to favorite Prague destinations.

One last trip to the Castle ~

The Singing Fountain at Letohrádek královny Anny (Queen Anne's Summer Palace,
or the Belvedere) in the Royal Garden

Now, where are my plimsolls?

Garrett is reading!

He likes it, too. Everyday he brings home a stage one book from school which he's to read to us. We don't have to ask him -- he's excited about this new skill. And proud of himself (as he should be!).

Riverside School is based on the British National Curriculum, and it's been interesting to note how it contrasts (from our limited parental experience with) the American system. There are obvious superficial differences. Garrett's class is "Year 1" rather than Kindergarten. Ben's in Year 3 -- next year he'll be in 3rd grade.

The depth of our exposure to the house system mostly came from Harry Potter, in which Hogwarts was divided in four houses (Harry, Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy in Slytherin, etc.). But that's standard fare for British schools. It derives from a time when children were in boarding schools and they were grouped, kind of like teams, by the houses in which they lived.

Riverside's houses are named for famous Czechs: Komenský, Hus, and Karel. In each year (grade), roughly a third of the students throughout the primary school are assigned to each house. The houses compete for points through academics, sports, and social behavior. Ben and Garrett are together in Komenský, thank goodness. They'll either both win or both lose at the end of the year.

Curriculum-wise, the biggest difference we've seen is what is emphasized in Year 1. As I mentioned, Garrett brings home reading books each night. He also has weekly spelling tests. There seems to be a little more emphasis on reading and a little less emphasis on writing. But then my perspective may be skewed. Ben entered kindergarten reading chapter books, so there was never an issue of him learning to read in school. But each morning (in both kindergarten and 1st grade), Ben had to write in his journal using the teacher's prompt for the class. Correct spelling was secondary to getting the kids to just write in their books. Ben didn't have spelling tests until part way into 1st grade. Garrett, on the other hand, doesn't have a daily writing expectation.

None of this is a concern for us. It's just interesting to note.

What's been fun is the British English. I confess to being a bit of an Anglophile. Riverside uses the Oxford Reading Tree books, stories loaded with British-isms about "Mum" and "chips" and people "having a go."

Obviously it's not just the books Garrett brings home, but in much of the interaction. The boys have noticed that some things are spelled the same, but pronounced differently. Brits say "Magellan" with a hard "g" instead of a soft one (which makes it sound a lot like a Saturday morning cartoon gorilla of my youth). Some things are pronounced the same but spelled differently (American: ton, British: tonne).

That may not be quite the same pronunciation, but pretty close.

And then there are the words that are spelled the same, pronounced the same, but mean something different. From the world of potatoes, "crisps" are chips and "chips" are fries. "Biscuits" are cookies, and a "torch" is a flashlight. A "jumper" is a sweater.

Got a scratch? The school nurse will clean it and apply a "plaster" (Band-aid). A British "tick" is a good thing -- a check, denoting an accomplished task. An American "tick"? Not so much. (Yes, I know there are British ticks, too.)

Some differences in usage are subtle enough that it's hard to put your finger on them. This "bit," that "bit," lots of "quite."

"Mom, Igor wasn't in school again today because he's ill!"

I'm pretty sure that if we were in Oneonta, Igor would be "sick," not ill.

Mathematics is shortened to maths (rather than math). Garrett brings home his "spellings" book (rather than spelling).

Ben's class is swimming this term for PE (physical education –- which is always called “PE,” never “gym”), and so he's instructed to bring his "swimming costume" each Tuesday. (We get a chuckle out of that, musing about the different costumes we might send. Perhaps the astronaut outfit? After all, John Glenn used a swimming pool for zero gravity training.)

It's all been very sweet. But the day I hear one of the boys announce:

Crikey, what a brilliant day with my blokes! I'm knackered. Mum, be a love and fix me a cuppa.

I'll be booking an early flight home.

The Explorers Museum

Have been waiting to get the okay from some parents before I posted these pictures. Enjoy!


Back at the beginning of winter term, Year 3 students were assigned an explorer to research for six weeks (from lists they submitted with their top three choices). They pored over books and the internet to learn the details of their explorers' lives and journeys. They turned in twice-weekly assignments on topics such as the explorer's childhood, preparation for his/her journey, the journey, the discovery, later life and/or death, and other interesting facts. They gathered materials and created costumes (with help from a lot of parents).

Finally, the students hosted an Explorers Museum and invited their parents and the Riverside community to stop by for a visit.

 

Ben Seeley IS John Glenn.

They dressed the parts, lined up patiently, and read their speeches to curious museum-goers (not easy for all of them -- a number of students do not speak English at home).

The explorer clusters were random, if Ben's group is any indication. Here we have Col. John Glenn, Sámuel Teleki, Amelia Earhart, and Annie Taylor.

Many other explorers showed up, including Hernán Cortés, Sally Ride, John Hanning Speke, and David Livingstone.

Sacajawea

Henry Hudson. He wore crocs, who knew? At least he didn't have to deal with that pesky escalator issue.

Roald Amundsen mushed in from the Northwest Passage.

At the beginning there was a swarm of parents, the principal, and other Riverside folks straining to hear individual explorers above the din. But that crowd thinned out, and some of the lower year classes came to visit the museum. "Col. Glenn" was a big hit among the young males of Years 1 and 2.

I thought this museum idea was ingenious. The explorers had numerous opportunities to recite their speeches, giving them a chance to hone presentation skills without the pressure of doing it just once in front of a huge audience. (And do I even need to note that we parents didn't have to sit through 75 minutes of explorer speeches? No, we got to mingle around and hear the speeches, take a moment for refreshments, chat with other parents, flip through the explorer reports that were also on hand. Genius, I tell you.)

Garrett's class (also Year 1) didn't do the field trip, so I extracted him to come hear Ben's spiel.

All the students did a fantastic job and enjoyed themselves, too. But I think they were ready to be done with it by the end of the afternoon. Here are some smiles of relief. How cute are these kids?

Very cute. Excellent job, Ben and friends!

I Dub Thee ...

Sir Benjamin and Sir Garrett

Last week, the boys' primary school celebrated Book Day, and everyone was invited to dress as a favorite book character. Double bonus! Not only did the boys get to go to school in costume (remember, we missed Halloween here), but they also got to ditch the school uniforms for a day.

Given that the boys got swords and helmets at the Medieval Christmas market in Munich -- plus the fact that costume pickings in our apartment are rather thin (have to say, it never occurred to me to pack costumes) -- Karl and I lobbied hard for the knight theme. Karl bought fabric for tunics and sashes. And the boys had to make their own coats of arms.

Garrett designed a dragon on his coat of arms, based on the one that's branded on the handle of his sword. Sir G wanted a shield, which Karl fashioned for him.

Ben had a different design in mind. He demonstrated his intent to defend the honor of T. Rexes everywhere. Sir Ben chose to display his coat of arms on his tunic, so I affixed it with a noble stapler.

Here's how a knight prepares himself for the journey to the shuttle bus: sword in backpack, shield in mittened hand, winter jacket over tunic. I pity the fool who asks these knights if they're wearing dresses.

Aside from the costume contest, Book Day activities included "curating" items for a Storybook Museum in the school's library. Some precious artifacts included Tinkerbell's fairy dust (Peter Pan), Puss's boots (Puss 'n Boots), Lucy's potion (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe), the Red Hen's watering can (The Little Red Hen), and the philosopher's stone with a note from Hermione (The Philosopher's Stone). Of course there was storytelling and big chunks of time just for reading.

Ben woke up that morning, threw back his blanket, shouting, "I'm so excited!!"

Yeah. He's enjoying Riverside.

(We felt rather pleased with the results of our last minute costume effort. "Book Day" was sprung on us with not a lot of lead time. On top of that, Ben's class had been working toward the final phase of their explorer projects, in which the students had to give a presentation in costume as their explorers. We are not costume people. But I think we did pretty well on both efforts. Results of Explorer Day, up next!)

Head to Head with Haggis

Rabbie Burns

Saturday night Karl and I got all dolled up to attend Burns Night sponsored by Riverside, the boys' school. Burns Night, a celebration of the Scottish poet Robert Burns, takes place on or near his birthday, January 25. Not surprisingly, Burns Suppers occur mostly in Scotland, but are presented by Scots clubs and Scottish expats all over the world.

I had the impression that Scots had a big presence at Riverside, but it turns out there are only about six native highlanders on staff. I think my inflated perspective stems from the fact that this small group includes Ben's teacher, Miss Logan, and the principal, Mr. Chisholm.

The Riverside Burns Night was conceived eight years ago when the Scottish contingent concocted the idea at Christmas dinner. Likely over whiskey. The PTA took the idea and ran with it. Five weeks later a few dozen staff, faculty, and parents sat down to poetry and haggis. Burns Night has become the social event of the Riverside School calendar, and this year 140 of us turned out with touch of tartan.

And me without my kilt.

We loved seeing so many Scots dressed in full regalia. 

Here's Mr. Chisholm, the school principal, modeling his outfit. He even shared what he had in his sporran -- cell phone, keys, and the money from the evening's raffle tickets. Basically, it's a fancy man purse.

Burns Nights follow a standard program.

A Welcoming Speech

The Immortal Memory
Mr. Haig (Year 2 teacher) gave a short speech on Burns, outlining his greatness and relevance today.

The Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat and canna eat,
and some wad eat that want it,
but we hae meat and we can eat,
and sae the Lord be thankit.

Toast to the Haggis
All guests stood to welcome the haggis procession, consisting of the piper and the chef carrying the delicacy. Below is a still from the video I took of the haggis being paraded around while the piper played "Scotland the Brave." (You might want to check that out, it's kind of fun.)

After the procession, an honored guest read "Address to a Haggis." You can find a translation (in standard English) for the poem plus a little cultural context on haggis here. Or, if you'd prefer the Czech translation, go here. (And who knew we would have so many haggis opportunities in Prague?)

Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut ye up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit!' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckess as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Tho' bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit.

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whistle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware,
That jaups in luggies;
But if ye wish her gratfu' prayer,
Gie her a Haggis! 

Mr. Clarke (religious ed teacher) waits for the appropriate moment to slice into the casing.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut ye up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich! 

 Ah! There it is!

I love the look on the chef's face, who may be in over his head here. DHL brought the haggis in from Scotland, so the most this guy did was warm it up. He's pretty obviously Czech, and (to our eyes) pretty obviously repulsed. "Gushing entrails," "warm-reekin' rich" indeed!

After the address, we were invited to partake of the banquet. Our table, at the top of the hall near the band, was called upon to start the queue. The next thing I knew, I was the first in line for haggis.

The menu included regular haggis (above), vegetarian haggis (are you kidding me? what could that possibly be!? the entrails of a soybean with oats?), beef stew (should ye be feeling unsure of the haggis), neeps (mashed turnips), tatties (mashed potatoes) and a whiskey cream sauce (which is on my plate between the neeps and the haggis). Everyone got his or her own wee dram of Johnnie Walker Black Label whiskey.

The verdict? Karl and I agreed: the haggis was fine, tasty actually! It was like meatloaf with steel-cut oats and some unusual herbs and spices. Once we put the whole entrails idea out of our heads, we were good to go. The only thing we didn't like was the neeps. But then we've never been big neep fans.

Selection of Poems and Songs
Following dinner, several duos and groups performed songs.

 

Included in this group are Mr. Coats (you can probably figure out who he is), the Information and Computer Technology teacher and leader of Ben's computer club, and Miss Logan (3rd from the right), Ben's teacher.

Toast to the Lassies
An address to the ladies in the audience -- but not really. Kind of a silly monologue detailing a man's idea of a woman's foibles.

Reply and Toast to the Laddies
Ditto above. Just reverse genders.

Auld Lang Syne
We're going to have to assume the crowd linked arms and belted out "Auld Lang Syne" at the evening's end (had forgotten Burns wrote that!), because we didn't make it that far. We left just after 11 as the tables were being pushed back for some dancing. I wish we could have stayed, but I was fighting the beginnings of a cold, and we already heard they were planning to go until 3 or 4am. And I Just Can't Do That Anymore. Unfortunately.

We were sort of on the fence about attending Burns Night, particularly the one of us lacking a Scotch-Irish background. But we had a delightful evening -- lively music, great company, strong whiskey (okay, not such a fan), and haggis! Wasn't expecting to be a convert. But there it is.

Should you find yourself invited to a Burns Night, let not the poetry of Monty Python, such as below, dissuade you.

Horace

Much to his Mum and Dad's dismay
Horace ate himself one day.
He didn't stop to say his grace,
He just sat down and ate his face.
"We can't have this his Dad declared,
"If that lad's ate, he should be shared."
But even as he spoke they saw
Horace eating more and more:
First his legs and then his thighs,
His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes...
"Stop him someone!" Mother cried
"Those eyeballs would be better fried!"
But all too late, for they were gone,
And he had started on his dong...
"Oh! foolish child!" the father mourns
"You could have deep-fried that with prawns,
Some parsley and some tartar sauce..."
But H. was on his second course:
His liver and his lights and lung,
His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue;
"To think I raised him from the cot
And now he's going to scoff the lot!"
His Mother cried: "What shall we do?
What's left won't even make a stew..."
And as she wept, her son was seen
To eat his head, his heart, his spleen.
And there he lay: a boy no more,
Just a stomach, on the floor...
None the less, since it was his
They ate it – that's what haggis is.

Haggis. Just needs a better PR rep.

Do dheagh shlàinte! (Your good health!)

Blague posts, revisited

And now, a moment to revisit old posts and provide further insight and updates.

Škoda!
Remember our mentioning that Škoda had undergone a transformation in the last decade, following Volkswagen's taking over the company? Karl read an article recently on Škoda's privatization, noting just how far Škoda had come in improving its image and quality. A German car magazine rated one Škoda model favorably against a comparable Volkswagen (possibly the Passat), a source of angst for VW's psyche. And an Austrian car magazine went so far as to choose a Škoda over a Mercedes-Benz! 

Škoda then

Škoda now

Hello, Ogilvy?
Karl and I had lunch at Argument recently, and it's actually a lovely restaurant. We shared mushroom soup, gnocchi with chicken and pesto, and brownie á la mode. Our only complaint was the music. What is it with the '80s soundtrack that's pumped through restaurants? We “enjoyed” Cyndi Lauper, Culture Club, Steve Winwood, and Phil Collins, among others.

Look, I went to high school and college in the '80s. I like a trip down memory lane as much as anyone. But the music was just that little bit too loud for a restaurant atmosphere. I didn't just want to have fun. I wanted to have lunch and maybe a little conversation with my husband. But my train of thought kept leaving the station.

I know. I'm old. But, hey, even Cyndi knew when it was time to give up the shtick and tone it down a bit.

Cyndi Lauper then

Cyndi Lauper now

As for the name "Argument?" Our server didn't have any good explanation.

"I don't know. Maybe because it comes at the beginning of the alphabet?" she suggested.

Well, sure. But so do Accordion, Aesthetic, Aubergine and Archipelago, all of which, in my opinion, make better nonsensical names for a restaurant. But what do I know?

Divoká Šárka
We have not gone geocaching since the weather turned colder but look forward to getting back to it with the spring thaw. Friends sent us a travel bug to place in a cache. We're going to give it a destination of Oneonta, New York, and see if it beats us home.  

Company!
Yippee! Today friends arrived from Oneonta for a visit. We were all eager for them to arrive. The boys resisted sleep last night, which may be just as well. Our visitors (which include two kids close to Ben and Garrett's ages) will be on east coast time for at least a few days, so they'll all be up late tonight, I fear. Perhaps the boys will sleep in a bit tomorrow? (HA!)

It may work out just fine, though. Garrett helpfully pointed out that C, the five-year-old boy, shouldn't be affected by the time change, because "he can't tell time yet."

Right.

Get Out the Vote
Karl is working on a post about Czech politics. It's got everything: scandal! corruption! audio tape! Prague sewage treatment plant remodel generates corruption. Environment minister out. Takes good and bad down the drain with him. 

Kuky se vrací
The family enjoyed the cinema experience of Kuky, and we gave the boys the DVD for Christmas. Thankfully it has English subtitles. Not sure if it's available on Netflix yet, but it's delightful and worth a viewing. Just know that Czechs are a little looser in their interpretation of language appropriate for a general audience. Just a touch.

Večerníček
We still enjoy a daily dose of Večerníček when schedules permit. My favorite series thus far has been Karlík Zlata rybka (Karl the Goldfish) about a magical fish who hops out of his pond, walks on his back fins, 

and grants wishes for two frogs, Señor and Amigo, in the local swamp.

Yes, it's a little odd. But it has a great theme song. Though it's no Eye of the Tiger it always got Garrett up and grooving.

December inspires tradition in everyone, and Večerníček is no exception. We enjoyed a week or more of Josef Lada stories, and then claymation Vánoční koledy (Christmas carols). The boys liked the Lada but were pleased to see the end of the carols. Last night we started Krteček (Little Mole), a classic Czech cartoon character.

 

Added bonus: much of Krteček is without words, so our guests this week will be able to follow along without any trouble.

Happy Halloween!
Thanks to all who entered the “What's Ben's pumpkin?” contest. Our budding paleontologist designed his pumpkin in the likeness of a triceratops.

Reality Table Manners
A popular post among parents! Our next reward restaurant has been identified: Vytopna Railway Restaurant. It comes with a personal recommendation and looks like loads of fun, especially for the railway enthusiasts among us. That should get them to straighten up and fly right.

The Final Installment
The boys love Riverside. They got swept right up in school-based Christmas activities (pageant, a mini-Christmas market, parties). Ben had a friend over for a play date right before break. (Which is three weeks long -- yikes!)

Both of them are excited about their winter after-school clubs. Ben is in the computer programming club, in which he will "discover how to create worlds, games, animations, and stories." He'll love that. Garrett will be doing the construction club, which will feature building paper airplanes, race car tracks, and Lego forts. That last bit hooked him. One of his teachers, Mr. Potter, will be a co-leader. When I spoke with Mr. Potter about the club, it was unclear who was more excited about it all, him or Garrett.

Food for thought: my sister-in-law Paula wonders if Mr. Potter, who is from England, has a broomstick and wand stashed behind the bookshelves. Hmm.

Mr. Potter at the Year 1 Christmas party. No obvious lightning bolt, but ...

Garrett the Great White
**Breaking news** One of Garrett's front baby teeth fell out this morning! We'll see what the Czech tooth fairy thinks about that tonight. He doesn't have much of a gap, given the two new ones already growing up behind the front row.



That's it for updates and insights.

One word regarding commenting on the blog. I've heard from a number of folks who've been unable to leave comments after posts. New at this blogging gig, I'd had my instructions set to accept comments only from those with accounts (at Google, I think). I've reset that and am hoping that more people will be able -- and will choose! -- to comment.

I'd love to hear from anyone reading this, whether I know you or not. Given the travel nature of some of the posts, the blog is getting traffic from all over the place. If you're so inclined, please leave a comment and let me know where you're from and what brought you here. Thanks!

The Final Installment

Part three, in a series. Part one here. Part two here.

A few have wondered if it would be possible to send the boys to different schools. Logistically it just wouldn't work. Riverside and Tusarova are in opposite directions from our door, and their start times would have us either early at one or late at the other. More to the point, though, is this: Garrett would not want to be at Tusarova without Ben. Garrett's display on Tuesday morning showed his anxiety in the moment about changing schools, but we knew it wouldn't last once he checked out Riverside. As I mentioned in a comment, Garrett may be losing something in this equation, but he's gaining a lot, too.

+ + + + + + + +

When last we left our heroes, Beaming Ben and Growling Garrett were en route to Riverside for their Look-See morning visit. Arriving in the school courtyard, we took in the scene: backpacks ditched at the side of the school, kids running around, throwing snowballs, laughing and yelling in English. Ben turned to me, eyes shining, and with quiet earnestness said, "I'm ready." No kidding, he was beaming. Ben let the principal, Mr. Chisholm, walk him to his classroom to settle in while I dealt with a fretful Garrett.

Garrett did his best to deflect any friendly overtures from the teacher, Mrs. Perie, and other students, but his resolve melted quickly as he was seduced into conversations in which he could function better than a toddler.

I was able to extract myself just after 10 o'clock (my Czech class started at 9:30, I got there at 11). When Karl came to pick up at noon, Garrett loped across the playground to him, exclaiming, "I made a friend!"

The battle, however, wasn't quite over. On the bus ride home, Garrett said Riverside was fine, but he wasn't going to go there right away.

We wanted to face this head on, but it's not always clear what the best approach is with G. Later that afternoon I chatted with him while he had snack. I had a little speech prepared.

Parents have to make choices about what they think is the best option for their children in a tough situation. We'd hoped Tusarova would work out well for everyone. While you made friends and had fun there, your need to learn how to read and write wasn't being met ...

I was planning to play the reading/writing card because G specifically mentioned to me within the previous week, "we've got to get me reading." Also, I didn't want Garrett to blame Ben for G needing to leave his friends.

I got to the part about Tusarova being good in some ways when Garrett interrupted me.

"Actually, I like Riverside better."

Phew.

So that's it. They started Wednesday. Both teachers reported the boys had a fabulous first day. Ms. Logan, Ben's teacher, said at one point she saw Ben and three other boys from class laughing and walking arm-in-arm down the hall. And Garrett happily has been taken under the wing of Allison, one of his classmates. By Friday it seemed they'd been there all year.

+ + + + + + + +

We're delighted that the boys are as happy as they are at Riverside, and grateful we had the option to send them there. But it's not without some sadness. There is an opportunity lost in this. If we didn't acknowledge that, the picture would not be complete. We thought it was important enough to try a local school despite the difficulties. Just because something is hard, we told the boys, doesn't mean it's not worth doing. Had we known of the specific problems sooner and addressed them effectively, that, too, could have provided an important lesson about persevering through challenges.


And Ben and Garrett did hang in there, even when it was really hard. I hope they have gained a sense of their resilience and ability to adapt. Their mom and dad certainly see it in them. And we could not be more proud of them.


Boys, you rock.

Language, it seems, wasn't the issue

Not entirely, anyway.

Last week I spoke with representatives from several of the international primary schools in Prague and visited two sites. Both were lovely in their own way. One did not have room in either the kindergarten or second grade (she could have told me that before I made the trip out there, but whatever). Naturally we went with the one that had room for our boys: Riverside School.

Riverside is considerably smaller than the first school I visited and not nearly as flashy. But the warmth of the staff toward me during the interview and the feeling of community throughout the halls comforted me and reminded me somewhat of Center Street, the elementary school where Ben and Garrett will return next year. The atmosphere in the classrooms was even better. From what I saw the children were engaged and having fun. They were polite to each other and to anyone they encountered. A week ago today I left that meeting, shed the burden of anxiety that had been building, and went to pick the boys up from their last day at Tusarova.

Over a snack of ice cream, I mentioned that I'd looked at some schools.

Ben's head snapped up, his body daring to hope.

"English schools?"

I nodded.

"Are we going to go?"

"What would you think of that?" I asked, looking at Garrett.

"Yeah. Yes! YES!" Both of them pumped fists in the air.

Certainly the initial reaction was positive, but we knew it would be tricky with Garrett. By Saturday afternoon, he looked at me with tears teetering on his lower lids and insisted he didn't want to go to a new school, didn't want to leave the friends he'd made.

Ben, on the other hand, started speaking Czech.

The boy who curled in a ball at school for the last two and half months suddenly read headlines to us from Karl's newspaper, asked how to say certain things, and crafted phrases about comic book characters.

Which is a little bittersweet. It's clear he was not happy at Tusarova, but he was absorbing something. More than he knew, or wanted to admit to himself. As parenthropologist mentioned in her comment on the last post, "it easily could have gone the other way, with Ben taking to the Czech school."

True, that. It's a shame he didn't have a better situation. One with a friend.

Anyhoo. Since it didn't seem right to make Garrett test-drive a new kindergarten class on his birthday, especially if he were wholly against the idea, we put off the boys' school visit for a day. Tuesday morning saw us off to Riverside, Ben with a spring in his step and Garrett with daggers in his eyes. He left no doubt as to his feelings.

"I'm NOT spending even ONE DAY at Riverside! I want to go to Tusarova!"

Sigh.

The final update about this transition to come.

Oh, and 3? It's a magic number. Yes it is.

Know When to Fold 'em

Changes are brewing here, and we're sending the boys to a new school. Wrapping my head around the events that got us here, I wrote this last week. I'll post the update in the next day or two.

Three, it's a magic number. That's what everyone told us anyway.

As a child, our friend Andrée lived for a year in France when her father was on sabbatical. She spent the first three months in school mute and then busted out in perfect French.

A nursing student who babysat for us last year waxed poetic about her time in the Netherlands in elementary school. She left without any knowledge of Dutch and came home fluent. “It took about three months,” she told us.

And Karl's mother, Char, an ESL teacher of many years, said something clicks for kids after three months' time in an immersion situation. “Christmas, it all comes together around Christmas.”

I could go on. But none of that really matters when it's not coming together for your kid.

Ben –– we learned recently –– has really been struggling with school. He got into a downward spiral situation which involved other kids in the class actively excluding him from break-time activities and him shutting down and not participating in class. His teacher said he would eat during class (rather than break, when it was allowed), go to the bathroom many times, and sit in the knees-up position reading an English book. (He would not earn any checks for that!) She let him because she felt badly for him.

Garrett, on the other hand, seems to be on the verge of actually speaking Czech. Although he would claim differently, his teachers say that he communicates effectively, either in using very simple Czech (with beautiful pronunciation!) or hand gestures. He makes himself understood. And based on what he tells us about his school day, it's obvious he's absorbing more than what he would be observing visually.

But Garrett's class, kindergarten, is the perfect place for a child learning a new language. The schedule is very predictable. The agenda is all play, all day. (I'm sure there's more to it than that, but from a kid's point of view, that's the take home.)

In second grade, however, Ben has to sit through subjects such as science, Česky jazyk (Czech language), and social studies all in a different language. The only one he enjoys is math. It must be comforting that the numbers are the same.

Compounding the different environments are their wildly different temperaments. Garrett is social, gregarious, not too afraid to take risks –– in other words well suited to pick up a new language. Ben is much more internally focused, intellectual and precise, a bit shy.

We're three months into the academic year. Ben is miserable when he's at school, a fact we did not understand fully until last week. We knew he wasn't happy about the set up, but he didn't talk about school at home. And at home he was very content.

We've gone back and forth on this, but the bottom line is we want our children to enjoy this year. And so, we're pulling the plug on our cultural experiment at ZS Tusarova and looking into enrolling Ben and Garrett at one of the international schools.

I'm conflicted about this only because Garrett is right on the cusp of speaking Czech. And he actually enjoys school now, which wasn't the case back in October. His teachers tell us each day how much more he communicates than even the week before.

Should we have gone this route from the beginning? I don't know. I guess I'm glad we tried it, and equally glad that Karl and I are on the same page in recognizing the need to change.

This whole parenting thing is a big kick in the pants sometimes.