Aidan brought home his first mid-semester progress report of the school year; yes, believe it or not, he has completed half of the first nine weeks.
It was an excellent report. He is working at grade level in all subjects and meets expectations for his conduct ("does not meet expectations" is the only other choice). His teacher added the comments: "Aidan is off to a great start! He is precious!"
We are very pleased with the report and with the school year thus year. I don't know if it is a function of being a little older and more used to how things work at school, or an excellent connection with the teacher and parapro, or a combination of both...doesn't matter, it seems to be working. Aidan's behavior at school is much better than last year and he appears thrilled with everything they do in class. He is excited to leave each morning and returns home every afternoon in a good mood, ready to tell me about his day.
I do think that a lot of it has to do with his teacher, Mrs. M. She has a way about her that makes Aidan want to please her, to "do his personal best" as he tells me. He clearly adores her, much like he did his pre-K teacher. I have great admiration for those teachers who can inspire such devotion and positive energy from their students.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
11 September
Today's date is one that is spoken in capital letters, a date that can never be mentioned without a catch in the voice.
I was at home that morning. I was between jobs (a nice way of saying unemployed) and because my severance pay from the job I was laid off from had ended, I had an appointment at the unemployment office. I did not have the television or the radio on, unaware of the horror that was unfolding. James called me and asked if I would turn on the television and tell him what was happening, because their office at JFK had mentioned something before their telephone communications went down.
I was astounded. I would tell him what I was seeing and then he would tell the other people in the office. The second plane hit while we were talking. I finally had to leave to go to the unemployment office and when I got arrived, there was a television on in the waiting area. I was waiting to be called when the first tower fell. The woman sitting next to me grabbed my hand and we sat there, holding hands and crying. I had never seen her before and I have never seen her since, but at that moment, we comforted each other.
I had to run an errand on the way home and when I walked into whatever store it was, the cashier took one look at me and we both started crying again. It was all I could do to drive home.
Amidst all the tears, I remember being angry - and I am still angry. That janitors and administrative assistants and waiters and receptionists and accountants and any number of “ordinary” people, just trying to make a living, went to their seemingly safe job that day and were murdered.
My friend Val’s husband is a pilot for Northwest and was flying that day. She was, of course, in a panic until she heard that it was an American Airlines airplane and a United airplane…she realized that at the same moment she was breathing a sigh of relief, some other spouse/partner/child/parent was experiencing the opposite emotion.
11 September 2001. It seems like a world away but it also seems like yesterday.
I was at home that morning. I was between jobs (a nice way of saying unemployed) and because my severance pay from the job I was laid off from had ended, I had an appointment at the unemployment office. I did not have the television or the radio on, unaware of the horror that was unfolding. James called me and asked if I would turn on the television and tell him what was happening, because their office at JFK had mentioned something before their telephone communications went down.
I was astounded. I would tell him what I was seeing and then he would tell the other people in the office. The second plane hit while we were talking. I finally had to leave to go to the unemployment office and when I got arrived, there was a television on in the waiting area. I was waiting to be called when the first tower fell. The woman sitting next to me grabbed my hand and we sat there, holding hands and crying. I had never seen her before and I have never seen her since, but at that moment, we comforted each other.
I had to run an errand on the way home and when I walked into whatever store it was, the cashier took one look at me and we both started crying again. It was all I could do to drive home.
Amidst all the tears, I remember being angry - and I am still angry. That janitors and administrative assistants and waiters and receptionists and accountants and any number of “ordinary” people, just trying to make a living, went to their seemingly safe job that day and were murdered.
My friend Val’s husband is a pilot for Northwest and was flying that day. She was, of course, in a panic until she heard that it was an American Airlines airplane and a United airplane…she realized that at the same moment she was breathing a sigh of relief, some other spouse/partner/child/parent was experiencing the opposite emotion.
11 September 2001. It seems like a world away but it also seems like yesterday.
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