Day 8

For the past few days, we have all been a little under the weather. Bonnie has been sick since we got off the plane, and the kids have been a little run down. We just stayed in all day, and ate home made chicken soup. All the kids love the soup Bonnie makes, and for those of you who have multiple children, it’s rare to find a meal that all the kids love.

Other than that, not much happened today, we played board games, Dragonwood was the favorite today. My namesake loves board games, and for some odd reason all of the kids got a long for an extended period of time, it was weird. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this post for a while because I wanted to get the words right, but since nothing happened today, I wanted to share what the single most difficult issue was when moving out of country for half a year, and that was taking my children away from their friends, and brilliant teachers. I will profile each teacher in this blog, and I know they might be following along. I won’t use any information or names to keep anonymity, but they will know who they are, and my friends and family will also know who they are.

My wife and I were thrilled at the beginning of the school year when we found out which teachers our three older kids were assigned to (our preschool teacher is phenomenal as well). We were also sad when we found out which teachers our kids would have because we knew they wouldn’t have them for very long. I think a week before we moved our third grader (second child) along with his siblings, his teacher made him a wooden box, and had his classmates write him notes and they were placed in there. The wooden box is lined in what I think is copper plating, and the classmates also wrote their signatures in it, there were also some photos as well.

As some background. My son had this teacher last year in second grade and we were honored when we found out this teacher was moving to third grade, that he chose to bring our son along. At the end of the school year, the school has a end of year fundraiser to raise money for whatever, who cares. It’s a public school and they all need money. But every class in the school creates some art project that makes the parents want to purchase it at auction. Last year, my child’s teacher had all the kids draw out their silhouettes, and this teacher with the aid of another artistic parent, used these pictures and sculpted their drawings in copper wire, then he mounted it on a frame. It was the most impressive art project I had ever seen students accomplish. When we walked into the fundraiser my wife eyeballed it and said to me “that’s coming home with us” and I immediately checked our bank account to say goodbye to whatever money we had. It was the last item auctioned at a live auction, I had maybe a few shots in me, so I started bidding, and another parent was bidding as well, this was worrisome because she kept upping the bid. My wife thought I was taking too long and she started bidding hire than the other parent, and at the end of the night we paid $3,700 for this art project. That’s how talented this teacher is, and looking back on it now, it was money well spent. Back to this wooden box.

When he brought it home, I couldn’t look at it. I would immediately get choked up and come close to tears. I know he has a few very close friends and for the sake of this trip we are taking him away from them temporarily, but it still feels awful. My third graders teacher is probably the nicest man I’ve ever come across, sincerely. He is an artist, and it shows in the work he put into this wooden box. So simple, but also so loving, it is obvious how much he cares for his students, especially my son.

He loved the box so much, that he put it in his carry on, and held it the entire four and a half hour flight. He reminds me of myself growing up, I didn’t really like change, and I had few friends, but we were very close. My first real best friend happened when I was in second grade, and I still keep in touch with him today. I actually keep in touch with his parents more because they live close to us in the States. I vividly remember the day I found out they were moving to Benicia, after a soccer game, my mom went up to me and said “isn’t it sad ____ is moving away”, and it was like I was hit by a lightning bolt. I used all the power in my mind to not cry in front of everyone there, luckily the soccer park was close to my home, so I went home and sulked for a good while. Later on in life his parents explained why they moved, and as a parent I would say their reasons were absolutely spot on, and given the opportunity I would have done the exact same thing, as a 7th grader heading into high school though, I was collateral damage in the hard choices, the same as my second child is with our move here.

I still can’t really look at this box for a long time, it just brings out too many emotions. My son has gone to bed sad most nights, missing his friends. He tells me he is sad, which is a huge honor. I don’t ever remember telling my parents anything about my emotions, and he feels safe, and close enough to share that with me. This wooden box has really helped him cope with this very temporary move. I know on our flight back home, he will have it on his lap, like he did on his flight here.

That’s all I have for tonight, the bottom line is my second oldest child’s teacher this year is amazing, and one of the best teachers at the school that my older three kids goes to. I’m as educated as you can be, so I have had a lot of teachers in my academic career so I think I can say this with some authority, my sons third grade teacher this year is the type of teacher that when you see him, you just feel happy that he’s around, and grateful that he found his true calling.