Christmas Letter for 2008

                                                  2008
                         A year of momentous celebrations.
                         … and a few disappointing ordeals:
January -
• in which Megan’s mother Joan was here to visit
• in which we learned these momentous revelations about dear old Mum: she named Megan after a character in the book Apple Tree by Galsworthy; she is afraid of heights (has never been up Seattle’s Space Needle); and she went to a strip club on her 18th birthday (courtesy of the corrupting influence of her older sister)
February -
• in which we sang back-up (along with 700 others) for opera diva Dame Kiri Te Kanawa at an outdoor concert in the park
• in which we had a driveway party with our neighbours to wish Joan a bon voyage
• in which the school year began and Megan was back in a classroom teaching Social Studies and English, in addition to a little librarian work on the side
March -
• in which Austin (28) embarked on a Political Science degree
April -
• in which Megan tried a very British sport called bowls, which is similar to bowling only there are no pins to knock down, it’s played outdoors on perfect grass, and everyone wears white and keeps a stiff upper lip
May -
• in which Megan celebrated another birthday and disappointingly got another year older
• in which the newlyweds (Carlin and Kristen) living in Phoenix, got a new dog
June -
• in which we began a series of ascents of Auckland’s 50 volcanic cones – called mountains, but actually just hills a few hundred metres high
• in which we went to see the musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - good fun with outrageous costumes, plenty of ‘70s disco retrospective, and therapy for any latent homophobia
July -
• in which Megan bought a scooter and achieved notoriety among the students as the teacher on the red scooter riding around Auckland. Her coolness factor increased substantially
• in which Megan wanted to sing with a select group to welcome Condoleezza Rice’s visit to New Zealand, but was disappointingly rejected because they were recruiting young singers, despite being the only one who already knew the words to the American national anthem AND being able to sing in a fluent American accent
August -
• in which Nolan (26) announced he would be going to law school next year
• in which Boone (23) came to visit and to summit 8 mountains/volcanic cones/hills while here
• in which Boone played Scrabble against Curt 18 times during his 4 week visit – Boone won 12 times but that’s only because Curt disappointingly had “crap for letters”
• in which we had another driveway party to celebrate Boone’s visit, and then another
September -
• in which we went to our first rugby game, a truly Kiwi experience
• in which we stopped in Bellingham, WA on the way to England, and Curt delivered 3 original paintings as gifts to the boys:

• in which we spent 3 weeks in England to celebrate our 30th anniversary
• in which Megan was hit by a taxi in London while walking across the street. She survived with minor bruises; her beloved muffin was smashed in the ordeal
• in which we went to Bellingham, England and learned it’s pronounced Bell-in-jum there. Really.
October -
• in which we stopped in Portland, OR on our way home from England and saw Curt’s family, our old church family, and Megan’s old school (plus a special stop for Mrs. Fields cookies)
• in which we came home to learn that our church had failed miserably during our brief absence – first approving and then rejecting the appointment of a new pastor because she was gay. We were incensed, frustrated, and sorely disappointed over the ordeal
November -
• in which we gathered with our (Kiwi) neighbours to celebrate and offer a toast for the American election results
• in which we gathered with our Kiwi neighbours again 4 days later for the New Zealand election results
• in which Megan got hit by a car while riding on her scooter. She survived with a few cracked ribs and some minor scrapes and bruises; her beloved scooter got smashed in the ordeal
• in which Nolan and Erica announced their engagement and upcoming summer wedding
• in which Megan bought another scooter
• in which Curt finished 2 more paintings:








December -
• in which we write our clever Christmas letter

Tears for Rosa, Martin and Obama

I dreamt last night that Obama came to my house to remind me to vote. I'd already mailed in my ballot with great satisfaction a few weeks ago, so I don't know why I was dreaming about that, other than the obvious reason that I have been bombarded with US election news for the last 2 years ... and remember, I live in NEW ZEALAND! Yes, there has been a front-page story in the New Zealand Herald nearly every day. (Coincidentally, there is also an election in New Zealand happening on November 8th. Do you think US papers have been running front-page stories about the NZ election day after day? Nah, me neither.)

But I have been consumed by this election, even from 8,000 miles away. First of all, I love politics. I have doorbelled for candidates, served as a page at the state capitol, and attended presidential campaign rallies for candidates from Hubert Humphrey to Al Gore. I became a history teacher, so I taught students about the Declaration of Independence and the Electoral College. I can even sing the Preamble to the Constitution. Yes, I love politics.

So that explains a bit why we were so crushed by the direction that America had been going. In 2004, when George W. Bush was elected for the SECOND time, - I could forgive America for making a mistake by electing him the first time, but to RE-elect him was beyond comprehension - we couldn't take it any more and we left the country.

Many people questioned our decision to emigrate: "He'll be gone in 4 years," they would say.
But it wasn't just the President that we were fleeing. We were fleeing the millions of Americans who think like Bush. The ones who think it's okay to invade other countries. The ones who are against gay marriage. The ones who want to teach creationism but not evolution. The ones who were deluded enough to vote for a man who gives tax cuts to the rich, and the ones who didn't bother voting at all. And they would all still be there. We felt that we were just too liberal to fit in any more.

Today, I was still nervous that McCain would somehow steal the election (like Bush) so I couldn't allow myself to really believe Obama would win. All day at work, I was so excited that I felt like a teenager in love. Couldn't concentrate. Butterflies in my stomach. Election results started coming in at about 1:00 p.m. NZ time, so I had my computer set to NPR (similar to BBC) and listened to the live feed while I half-heartedly marked papers.
Luckliy, I didn't have a class 6th period. Students and staff alike would see me and ask how the election was going. Everyone knows I'm American because a)I talk 'funny' and b)I've been wearing my Obama pin every day for weeks. Last week I even wore a shirt covered with dozens of old campaign pins from McGovern, Carter, Dukakis, Clinton Gore, Kerry, and Obama. I even have a (Bobby) Kennedy bumper sticker. All those pins and stickers would have looked best on my Jesse Jackson '88 T-shirt, but I couldn't find it amid the boxes. Puckishly, I have fond memories of wearing my Jesse Jackson shirt just to make my dad mad.

After school, I went running on the treadmill, but I didn't want to miss any of the returns so I brought my computer to the gym (thankfully my school is wireless, including the gym), plugged it in, balanced it on the treadmill, and ran 5k while listening to NPR. Pretty pathetic, huh. Then I arrived home just in time to hear John McCain's concession speech. I found Curt was already home (indeed, he'd come home at 2:00 just to watch election results) and I found him with tears in his eyes. I was similarly moved. Obama's win gave me hope that maybe America has finally woken up.

Our neighbour arrived with a bottle of champagne and we all toasted the new chapter for America. There are even fireworks going off outside tonight in New Zealand. Not because of the American election, but because it's Guy Fawkes Day. But I can pretend they are celebrations for Obama instead.

How does it feel?
It feels too good to be true.
It feels like pride, something I haven't felt about America in ages.
It gives me goosebumps.
I am so overwhelmingly relieved that in this election, the other America spoke.
Tonight ... tonight brought tears to my eyes.

Rosa sat so Martin could walk.
Martin walked so Obama could run.
Obama ran so children could soar.
author unknown

field trips

Last week, I took 60 11-year-old girls to MOTAT, the Museum of Transport and Technology. We'd been studying technology and inventions so the exhibits at MOTAT were perfect for our topic. We saw old cameras and old washing machines and rode an old tram. It was a bit disconcerting, however, when the MOTAT guide showed the girls an old dial telephone and demonstrated how it worked. They were fascinated by this ancient technology. Talk about feeling old! But it was a great trip, and the girls behaved perfectly, as always.

While I was at MOTAT, however, my English class got into a bit of mischief with the reliever (substitute teacher) back at school. The reliever walked in and saw instructions on the board that said "Silent reading for 5 minutes, then playtime." She was justifiably suspicious and went to get the head of the English department, Margaret, who came into my room: "Right. Who wrote that on the board? And what is it really supposed to say?" All the ponytailed little heads turned toward Jennifer, a bubbly little blonde with a bit too much energy. Margaret sorted out what the class was really supposed to be doing with the reliever, and took Jennifer into the corridor to give her the "You Made a Really Bad Choice" speech. It goes something like this: You wasted the reliever's time./I'm sorry./You wasted my time/I'm really sorry/You wasted the class's reading time/I'm very sorry/You violated Mrs. Davidson's trust in you/ I'm truly so sorry/....

Ironically, while I was on the field trip I had told the other teacher that my English class was so good, "even if a reliever never showed up, the girls would probably read for 20 minutes and then do Skill Sheet #4 as instructed." Ha.

In spite of small glitches like that, I've always been a big promoter of field trips. Some teachers hate them and refuse to take their students anywhere, but I love it. I didn't hesitate to take my students to the state capitol building, the courthouse, or even the public library.

One time I was taking my English class to the Portland public library to show them what a library has to offer - besides books, there are magazines, free computers, free CDs, and free movies. I requested parent chaperones. Andrew's dad signed his name on the permission form and said he'd be able to help. Excellent ... except that I knew Andrew's dad had just been released from prison after serving 5 years for a drug offense. Not coincidentally, he was unemployed and therefore available during the day to chaperone field trips.
My fellow teachers thought I was nuts to let him come along, but I figured it was a good sign that a) he wanted to get involved in school events and b) he wanted to spend time with Andrew (who barely knew him). Besides, he could probably c) learn something new about what kinds of things are available at the library. Maybe he would even d) sign up for a library card while we were there. What would you do? Here's what I did: The ex-con and I took 29 students to the library for an hour and everything went fine. Although he did smell like smoke and had a lot of tattoos.

There were no such problems on the field trip to MOTAT. Diocesan parents are not really the ex-con or tattoo type.

Reports are to be written in passive voice

It's report (report cards) time at my school, which usually means long hours and major headaches. Besides writing 100 paragraphs about my own 100 students, I was unanimously selected to be the chief proofreader for the rest of the Social Studies department because I am the only English geek in the bunch who has eagle eyes to search out typos wherever they lurk. So I read about 1,000 more paragraphs. Apologies for being such a grammarian, but in the course of reading all those comments, I couldn't help noticing the Kiwi predilection to write in passive voice.

First, an example of passive voice: The hamburger was eaten by me.
and an example of active voice: I ate the hamburger.
Seemingly, both sentences convey the same information, but there is a different tone to the first one. It's as if the hamburger went out and got itself eaten; as if it was somehow the hamburger's fault. As you can see, the passive voice can be used to shed blame.

What I noticed on reports is a tendency to write things such as: She is to be commended for her effort or It is pleasing for me to see her improvement. Why can't they just say I was pleased with her improvement!?!?

I was wise enough NOT to put red marks all over my fellow teachers' reports every time I saw passive voice. I reserved my red pen for their instead of there, run-on sentences and typos. But I mentioned the preponderance of passive writing to them, who were absolutely shocked to hear that the passive voice is frowned upon in America.

In fact, most American university professors believe that the passive voice signals sloppy, lazy thinking; that the writer has not fully thought through what they are discussing. Automatic grammar-checkers on word processing programs also point out passive construction, as if it needs to be changed.

But in New Zealand, it is accepted and even preferred. The Auckland newspaper is full of sentences like It is understood that the man was from Hamilton. In America, the reporter would have written Unidentified witnesses said... instead.

My colleagues and I agreed that this is a partly due to the British penchant for understatement. Likewise, there is a custom of not wanting to take credit for something for fear of looking like a braggart. Therefore, a NZ company report would say clients were well-served. American culture, however, values directness and speaking plainly. Americans aren't afraid to take credit and a US company report would say: our staff served clients well.

And yet, an American made perhaps one of the more memorable passive statement, used to shed blame: Ronald Reagan said "mistakes were made" when referring to the Iran-Contra scandal.

"The dog ate my homework" and other excuses

"Mandy, Where's your myth?" I demanded as class began on Friday.
"Well, it's done but you see..."
"Do you have it? Yes or no?" I interrupted.
"Um. I was ..."
"So your answer is no. You'll be joining me for lunch detention. Today." And with that, I turned back to the rest of the class and proceeded giving the instructions for today's lesson.

On Monday, a big myth-writing assignment had been due in Year 7 Social Studies. Most girls turned in their work.
On Tuesday, I got a few more myths from those who'd been absent, and I nagged the last few slowpokes.
On Thursday, I announced lunch detentions for anyone whose myth wasn't turned in by Friday.
Unbelievably, on Friday there were still two girls, Mandy and Carrie, who didn't turn in their myth. It looked like I would be having 2 guests for lunch ... until Carrie announced that she couldn't come because she already had a detention with her PE teacher scheduled for that day. Mmm Hmm. Call me a cynic, but I needed to confirm Carrie's story with the PE teacher.

Then Carrie told me an even more suspicious story: Mandy's myth got stolen. Another Mmm Hmm. I'm having a bit of a hard time believing there is a black market for schoolwork. Furthermore, Carrie informed me, Mandy was too scared to tell me this herself so she sent Carrie with the news. Admittedly, that's not entirely accurate - Mandy tried to tell me herself but I kept cutting her off. I'd better go hear the whole incredulous elaborate story from Mandy. Do I sound like I have an open mind?

Mandy said her myth was at her Dad's house, and her Dad's house got robbed.
"Why would robbers want your myth?" I inquired, attempting to sound sincere, but not being entirely successful in masking my scepticism. What kind of stories will kids come up with next?
"Well, they didn't actually want the myth, they just used my school bag to load up their loot and the myth was in my school bag."
"Really. So all your other school books got stolen, too?" I am trying to sound sympathetic.
"Um, no. They dumped out all the other books but the myth was at the very bottom."
How convenient. Does she think I am that gullible? "Well, I'll be contacting your dad to let him know how important it is that you re-write it by Monday." I watched her eyes for a glimmer of panic. I expected her to start backpedalling at this moment, but she didn't. Could her story possibly be true?

I have a hard time knowing when to believe students. During 10 years of teaching, I couldn't help noticing that kids at this age (11-14) tended to blame every problem on something or someone other than themselves. When their document doesn't print, it's the computer's fault. When they get caught fighting, it was always The Other Guy who started it. When they get poor grades, it's because the teacher hates them. Then there was the time when a boy impersonated his mother over the phone. So. I get a little suspicious. Call it healthy scepticism.

First I contacted the PE teacher with the alleged lunch detention for Carrie. That part was true. OK. Maybe I'm a just little wary when it comes to students' excuses for avoiding detention.

Then I called Mandy's mum. Yes, Dad had been robbed.
Really? I'm gobsmacked. And a little embarrassed.
Sheepishly, I acted like the purpose of my call was to let her know that Mandy would be working on the myth over the weekend. Yes, thank you for your time.

And yet ...
I'm still the slightest bit distrustful. Could Mandy have asked her mum to lie for her?
Honestly, I really must stop thinking this way. I am far too suspicious.
Or am I?

Continental knowledge

One of the things I like about being a teacher is all the things I learn while I'm teaching. For instance, in one of the Social Studies assignments, there was a question asking what continent New Zealand is a part of.


My first reaction is to say New Zealand is an island and therefore not part of any continent. But when you think about it, Great Britain is an island, yet still considered part of Europe, isn't it? Japan is considered part of Asia. Um, wouldn't that mean that New Zealand is considered part of the Australian continent?

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" say my colleagues. They're noticeably adamant that NZ is not a part of Australia. "First of all, Australia is not a continent."

"What? When I went to school in America, we learned that of the 7 continents, Australia was the only one that is both a country and a continent."

"No. It's called Australasia and it includes New Zealand and the South Pacific islands. Sometimes it's called Oceania. The correct answer is Australasia or Oceania"

So I went home and looked it up. Australia is indeed a continent according to Encyclopaedia Britannica, which seems like a pretty reputable source. (I mean, at least I'm not quoting Wikipedia or anything, although it too said Australia was a continent.) Australasia or Oceania may be regions of the world, but they are not names of a continent if you ask me. Not that I'm going to challenge my fellow teachers.

Ultimately I've decided that determining whether or not to include neighbouring islands in the definition of continent may well depend on the distance between the continent and the island. So I researched a few distances: England is 30 miles away from Europe, Japan is 120 miles away from Asia, but New Zealand is 1300 miles - yes 1300 miles - away from Australia. Therefore I would call New Zealand an island and not part of any continent. Who knows. Just don't ever accuse New Zealanders of being part of Australia. They get really touchy.

Teen magazines

In my Y9 Social Studies class, the girls are studying women's rights throughout history. I am in heaven because it's a topic I love to rant about (ask my husband and four sons). And I work at an all-girls school which means I don't have to be worried about presenting a "balanced" view. Just kidding. But it's hard to explain female infanticide or dowries without sounding a bit biased. You should have heard me explain what a chastity belt was.

One of the assignments involved analysing a teen magazine. Good grief. Those things are wretched. In New Zealand, the teen magazines are called Dolly and Creme and Girlfriend, but I have a feeling they're similar all over the world. Since I didn't have any daughters, I haven't seen a teen magazine since I was a teen back in the dark ages. What a shocker. First of all, they're 90% advertising. And the rest is clothes and make-up tips, advice on how to get a boyfriend and celebrity pictures. Lots of celebrity pictures. The latest covers all seem to be plastered with images of the stars of High School Musical. (A Y7 student told me on the first day of school that the most important thing I should know about her is that she is going to marry Zac Efron. She's 12.)

My Y9 students all purported to be appalled at the content of the magazines, but couldn't help reading the horoscopes aloud and asking me if they could please tear out the centerfold picture of some cute guy, usually the aforementioned Zac Efron.

In spite of their infatuation with teen magazines, I was reassured when I saw their mis-analysis of a political cartoon from the New Zealand suffrage era. (Did you know that New Zealand was the first country IN THE WORLD to give women the right to vote?) My students were sure that the oversized, powerful woman towering over men was an indication that the cartoonist believed women should be able to vote. (In fact, it was anti-suffrage) But in their world, women have always been powerful. They live in a country with a woman Prime Minister. They have no personal understanding yet that a caricature of a powerful woman would be used as something threatening. Although their answers were incorrect, I found their naivete comforting.

I was also heartened by their response when assigned to write about a woman they admire. I was expecting them to pick someone like Angelina Jolie or - heaven forbid - Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham, but I was wrong. A few chose Mother Teresa or a sports figure such as New Zealand bicycle gold medalist (and Diocesan Old Girl) Sarah Ulmer. But most of them chose their mums or other female family members. There's hope yet.

Prizegiving vs. Graduation

I went to my first prizegiving ceremony at Diocesan. It was the end of the school year and 200 of our Year 13 girls had completed their secondary studies. In American tradition, there would be a ceremony marking this occasion, called Graduation. But In New Zealand, there is no such ceremony for secondary schools. Instead, there is Prizegiving.

The basic purpose of Prizegiving is to announce all the students who had won scholarships or awards of any sort. At Diocesan's Prizegiving, girls who achieved 95% or above in all their classes earned awards, as well as 90% awards and 85% awards. Usually, they received certificates, but sometimes there was a gift included with the more specialised awards like Best Art Student. Actually, those specialised awards were not called Best Art Student - they were called The (insert wealthy family's name here) Memorial Cup for Excellence in Art, funded by an endowment from a Dio donor.

The most alien part to me was that in NZ, there was no recognition for every Year 13 girl who had completed her studies. In contrast, during an American graduation ceremony (see photo on the left), the principal would read all 200 names one by one, and each student would come up to the stage to receive their diploma and a handshake. In the U.S., winning a university scholarship or a prize for the best science project would be announced in the school newspaper, or maybe the local newspaper, but not at the graduation ceremony.

On this day at Diocesan's Prizegiving, all the teachers processed into the gym, wearing gowns and collars signifying their degrees. We wore full academic regalia, including different colour hoods or collars to represent different departments (minus the mortarboard hats). But the graduating Kiwi students did not wear gowns, unlike the U.S. where the students would've been the ones parading in, wearing gowns and mortarboards with tassels.

At Diocesan, like every NZ college (=high school), the most anticipated moment is finding out which girl has been named Dux, the top scholar of the school. There is also a second-place title, called Proxime Accessit. In America, the top scholar would be called Valedictorian, but she would know ahead of time that she won, and she would have to give a speech at the graduation ceremony.

Besides prizes for the Y13 girls, there are even prizes awarded to the Year 12 and Year 11 girls. While their prizes are not university scholarships, they were awarded things like 95%, etc., and also a few specialised subject awards.  

Diocesan's prizegiving was held during the school day, so every student from Y11, 12 and 13 attended in uniform. whereas American graduation ceremonies are usually held in the evening or on the weekend, so the younger students' attendance is not compulsory.

There are some similarities, however.
• In both countries, there are "inspirational" speeches about how you have your whole future ahead of you, yadda, yadda, yadda.
• Both countries play Pomp and Circumstance during the processional.
• Both versions are held in large venues with lots of parents present, taking lots of pictures.

In America, graduating from high school is an important rite of passage;  it's seen as the beginning of one's adult life.  On the other hand, in NZ - since some students leave school at age 16 with a Level 1 certificate, others leave at 17 with Level 2, and the final group leaves at age 18 with Level 3 - being 18 and finishing a Level 3 certificate isn't the same benchmark in life that it is in the US.  

American teenagers also look forward to a big graduation party after the graduation ceremony. This is usually sponsored by a parent organisation and may involve going to a few different activities (like disco/go karts/video arcade) lasting all night. In theory, the parent group ensures that it is an alcohol-free event, but in reality some may get smuggled in. There did not seem to be a similar all-school party after Dioesan's Prizegiving - it was 3:00 p.m, after all.

I can't really say if either system is better than the other. At first, I felt a little sorry for the Y13 girls because they didn't have a special ceremony marking their completion. But they have other traditions instead: a Leaver's Dinner and a formal Ball (to which their parents were invited!), and they seem to be content with that.

One other similarity I found - both Graduations and Prizegivings are basically pretty boring to sit through.

Act II, Scene 1: The newlyweds arrive

MONDAY - Carlin & Kristen arrived to spend the next 2 weeks with us. On their first night in NZ, we took them for a drive to the neighbourhood beach and on the way back, I gave Carlin his first driving lesson for driving on the left. It always sounds scarier than it is; people usually get the hang of it within a few days. He did fine.

TUESDAY - Curt and I had to go to work today so we sent the intrepid travellers off to explore Auckland on their own. They even put gas in my car and did the grocery shopping! I think I'm going to like having them around.

That evening, we took them to One Tree Hill for a great view of Auckland from sea to sea. New Zealand is so narrow at this spot that you can see both east and west coasts. Kristen especially liked the sheep who eat the grass on One Tree Hill (instead of using lawnmowers). We stopped at a fence and tried to entice a sheep near us, but it wasn't interested.

Back at the house, they played Scrabble while I marked papers. Curt won the Scrabble game, of course. Poor Kristen didn't realise she was marrying into a ruthless Scrabble family.

WEDNESDAY - Carlin & Kristen came to my school today for morning teatime to meet my colleagues. Then they went to Newmarket to shop (it's the ritzy shopping area), and finally they met Curt for a picnic lunch. He took them to Winter Garden, a beautiful setting in the the huge domain (park) near his office.

I've been feeling a little lost at work concerning my English class, not knowing what they did while I was gone, or what I'm supposed to be teaching them now that I'm back. Since I only teach one class, I'm often out of the loop. Well today, I got a bombshell. The head of the English Dept came to the library to see me and asked how I was doing. "You do know that reports (report cards) are due tomorrow morning, don't you?" What? I had no idea. Somehow, I thought Dec 6 was the due date for reports. Oh my. I started entering scores right away, but knew it would take me HOURS.

On top of that, I got a call from the HR guy at my school. I had applied for a job as a Social Studies teacher on Monday, and they wanted to interview me. This was good news ... but the interview was the following day, and I had to prepare a sample lesson plan. It looked like I was going to be up all night.

I would've preferred to skip choir practice and work on my reports, but Carlin was coming to practice a song with the choir so I felt I should be there. I was the one who got him roped into this in the first place. The poor guy. His own mother had talked him into performing with the choir on viola while he was here on his honeymoon. I am shameless. In my defence, I was imagining a simple hymn where he could just pick out a nice harmony line, but our director chose a longer and far more complicated song which Carlin would have to practice. (The choir was going to need lots of practice, too) At least Carlin and Kristen got to meet some of the choir folk who have been so good to us, and they were all pleased to hear him play.

Back at the house, I was madly writing reports while Carlin and Kristen played a "friendly game" of Scrabble (read: not always friendly). Eventually, everyone went to bed except me. I stayed up till 1:00 a.m. finishing stupid reports, and preparing for my job interview the next day. At least I wouldn't have to go to work the following day. I was taking it off because it was American Thanksgiving. I'd been hoping to do some sightseeing with Carlin and Kristen, but instead I would be going to a job interview ... and shopping and cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

THURSDAY (THANKSGIVING) -
Prepared a few dishes for the Thanksgiving feast that morning before I went to the job interview at 11:00. It seemed to go pretty well. I think it was more than a courtesy interview, at least. They were impressed with the student work samples I brought, including the packet of instructions all laid out for the kids - timeline, grading rubric, parent signature, etc. They liked my IT skills, too. Fingers crossed.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store for more turkey day supplies, but still couldn't find pumpkin pie or Durkee's French Fried Onion Rings, a necessary ingredient for the traditional Green Bean Casserole (Carlin's favourite). Eventually found a recipe to make my own french fried onion rings which was amazingly easy! As for pumpkin pie ... I decided to skip it. I don't even like pumpkin pie so I wasn't inclined to make one from scratch. Sent Carlin and Kristen to the store to buy an alternative dessert. They wisely chose something chocolate.

Made the usual turkey, stuffing, etc. but added a bit of Kiwi culture by using kumara as the sweet potato dish. When Curt got home, he started the tates and gravy. Mmmm. My favourite part. Kristen and Carlin put extra leaves in the dining room table, for we had invited our neighbours over for an authentic American Thanksgiving.

Our neighbours, Bruce and Annette and their two boys Sam (8) and Nick (6) arrived in time for some traditional pre-dinner Thanksgiving colouring: Carlin taught the boys how to make an outline of their hand and turn it into a turkey. They were suitably impressed and created some masterpieces of their own. Sam was also impressed when Carlin played a few songs on the piano for him. Sam had recently started taking piano lessons, and it was fun for him to see how years of practice could pay off. He even fetched some of his music and played for us. Sam and Nick also kept busy playing with our giant tub of Legos. It was nice to see that little boys of this generation are still enthralled with Legos, like my boys were. We explained the background of the Thanksgiving holiday to everyone, how the Pilgrims would've all starved to death their first year without help from the Indians, etc. And of course, we ate too much. But it sure was good.

After dinner, we all needed to go for a walk and burn off some of those calories, so Bruce and Annette grabbed their dog and we all went to a nearby parkland. Carlin threw the tennis ball for the dog, a golden retriever who reminded us of Duffy, the dog he'd grown up with. The little boys chased each other and ran off steam, while the adults enjoyed the conversation and the serene setting. It was a perfect way to end a lovely day.

Last year, we didn't do anything on Thanksgiving; it was just another day at work for us. So this year it was nice to have Carlin and Kristen here, and it was a prefect excuse to put on a big Thanksgiving dinner. And inviting our friends to be a part of our American holiday made it even more special.

FRIDAY - Went to work at 7:30 and got a call from the HR guy at 8:00 offerring me the Social Studies job! The Humanities Dept loved me, apparently. I was applying for a part-time position, but they wanted to know if I would take the full-time position instead. I had been hoping to teach part-time and still work in the library part-time, but had recently found out that I wouldn't be allowed to, unfortunately. After agonising indecision, I eventually decided to teach part-time: 4 classes of Social Studies and 1 class of English. But no more library, which was sad. Initially, I was a little angry that I wasn't allowed to stay in the library part-time, but I had to remind myself of all the recent whistleblower drama I had been caught up in. I was being given an opportunity to get away from that craziness and into a higher-paying job. I should be happy! Plus it felt so good that someone wanted me. 

Meanwhile, back to reality: It was getting close to the end of the school year and there were lots of special events around the school. Somehow, an English teacher forgot to come teach her class in the library 6th period. Her girls were all there, but there was no teacher. Yikes. Barbara and I did our best to manage the orphan class and run the library simultaneously. In addition, our library boss had been home sick most of the week and was not at school to teach her class, also 6th period. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell the appropriate person to secure a reliever (substitute teacher). About 20 minutes into the period, we got a frantic call at the library. Where was the Library Manager who was supposed to be teaching her class? Do we know what her class was meant to be doing? Where is the video they should be watching? So I hustled the video up to the classroom, only to find absolute pandemonium: One girl had covered her face with stickers (and couldn't see) and had two pairs of pink knickers on her head. Yes, underpants. The rest of the class was - as you can imagine - out of control. Good Lord. I removed the knicker-headed girl from the room, did my best I'm-really-mad-and-I-mean-it voice to settle the class, and turned on the movie, Romeo and Juliet. At least the knickers were clean.

At home that night I had heaps to report : the job offer, 2 unattended classes, and the girl with knickers on her head. Carlin and Kristen had heaps to report, too: They'd taken the train downtown all by themselves, shopped at the outdoor market, took the ferry to Devonport, and had fish & chips for lunch.

Carlin and I had an important conversation later that night. We stayed up late (too late) talking about my feelings that I was "losing him." Part of my sadness came from the fact that he and Kristen would be living in Phoenix, 1200 miles away from Bellingham where all our family gatherings would be. Whenever Curt and I fly back to America, Bellingham would be the logical destination ... but Carlin wouldn't be there. I hardly had any right to blame him, though because we're the ones who moved 7,000 miles away to the other side of the world. Still.  It's hard to let go, I guess.

Anticipation

I've always hated it when people start out by saying, "I'm sorry I haven't written in so long..." but I'm tempted to say it myself this time. I haven't written a blog in 3 months(!) and it's not because I was lacking things to write about. On the contrary, it's been quite eventful around here.

First, the anticipation: We're leaving in a few hours to catch a plane to America to attend Carlin's wedding! We'll be gone for 2 weeks, including a short stop in Las Vegas, a week in Phoenix where the wedding will be held, and a side trip to the Grand Canyon with the boys after the wedding. It'll be great! Unfortunately, my brain left about a week before the actual trip began, and last week at work I: forgot my keys on Monday, forgot my glasses on Tuesday, forgot my lunchbag on Wednesday, and finally LOST my keys for good on Thursday. Obviously, I need a vacation. I promise to write blogs all about our trip when we get back because I'm sure there will be lots to tell.

Now a snapshot of everything that's been going on during the last 3 months:
• I'm teaching one class of Year 7 English this term. Yea! I love it. The girls are sweeties. Am scheduled to teach at least one class next year, and I'm trying to get more than that.

• Big excitement at work trying to catch a thief who was stealing money from the library. Secret cameras, night vision, bait, sensors, etc. This sort of thing is pretty thrilling in a librarian's world. We feel like we're on CSI. The plan worked. Our money (mostly overdue fines) is safe again.


• Even grander drama at work involving a less-than-glowing performance review, and the resulting backlash at those who submitted the aforementioned less-than-glowing comments. Different people are in emotional meltdown on different days. There's too much friction everywhere and we're caught in the middle of it. I'm too old for all this drama. Vow to find someplace sane to work. Start applying and interviewing for other jobs, as are 75% of my co-workers.

• Went to Melbourne for 4 days in September for Curt's birthday. Vow to write some blogs about that, too. Curt did some sketches, and we went to museums, beaches, gardens, markets, etc. Excellent trip. I definitely needed a break at that point (see above) so it was especially good.

• Spent about 6 weeks catching up on the family photo albums, which were 10 years behind. It was fun to go through all the old pictures and re-live our travels, but it's sure a big job. Feels so good to have it done finally! Vow not to let it get so far behind next time. Can remember making that vow last time ... about 10 years ago.

• Curt painted/redecorated the guest bedroom (formerly purple!) in anticipation of Carlin & Kristen visiting us after their wedding and after a honeymoon in Fiji.


• New Zealand's national rugby team, the All Blacks play in the World Cup and the entire country is obsessed, getting up at 4:00 a.m. to watch the games taking place halfway around the world. Inexplicably and possibly unforgivably, the All Blacks lose in the quarter-finals, and the whole nation goes into mass mourning mode.

• Went to see the musical "We will Rock You" based on songs by Queen. The pulsing bass line, vibrating the floor, takes me back a few decades. Good fun.

• Spent lots of time planning for the wedding: I had to find a mother-of-the-groom dress (I'm not much of a shopper) and fancy shoes (I'm a sensible shoes-type). I had to get hotel rooms reserved, car rented, and show tickets purchased (Las Vegas). I made a spreadsheet (well actually it's more of a matrix) of who's arriving when ... and who's staying where ... and who's doing what. It's a masterpiece. Most importantly, I identified all the locations of Mrs Fields Cookies stores in Las Vegas and Phoenix. I'm ready to go.

So. Maybe you can see why I haven't written in a while. I vow not to get so far behind this time. Really.

Christmas letter 2006

As you are unwrapping your gifts on Christmas morning, we will be celebrating our one-year anniversary of immigrating to New Zealand. As expected, it’s been a grand adventure:

We arrived last year on Christmas Day and spent the next month or so finding a place to live, buying cars (for driving on the other side of the road) and appliances (with funny-looking plugs), and job-hunting for Curt.

He quickly got a job as a hydropower engineer, which has been an easy-peasey transition from his work in the hydro industry in Oregon. He's still a dam engineer. He likes it. He visits lots of dam job sites and coordinates things with the dam contractors. Really. He also likes to ride his bike to work every day, as long as he doesn’t get a puncture. He eventually resorted to bullet-proof (Kevlar) tyres. Really.

My first job as an intermediate school teacher turned out to be a major dog’s breakfast (if you can’t imagine what this phrase might mean, you’ll find the definition in the next paragraph). For instance, one day a student got angry and chucked a chair through the window and broke it (the window, not the chair). I was absolutely gob-smacked. Well, that job was making me miserable so now I have a different job as a school librarian at a posh private high school for girls. (On a side note, I never imagined myself surrounded by 1500 females, having lived with 2 brothers, then a husband and 4 sons!) Being a librarian is everything I love - books, organising, bulletin board displays, students who want to read, no grading papers and no report cards. It's a dream job. It was a struggle to leave teaching behind, though, and I may still go back to it someday. For now, I'm loving the freedom and the time that comes with NOT being a teacher, which allows me to explore and enjoy New Zealand more.

Throughout the year, we’ve tried to do some traveling around New Zealand and so far we have seen the national capital building (called the Beehive), giant kauri trees, endangered kiwi birds, stinky sulphur geysers in an active volcano area, Maori cultural performances, museums, concerts, bookstores, oodles of sheep, and tonnes of beaches. We’ve learned about ANZAC Day and Guy Fawkes Day, rugby and cricket (well … not so much about cricket). We’ve eaten pavlova (a dessert) and kumara (a sweet potato). We still manage to muck up the pronunciation of both Kiwi/English and Maori words, but we have figured out that taxes are called rates and the mailman is called a postie. We also know that wop-wops is any remote area out in the middle of nowhere, and a dog’s breakfast means a real mess. Living in a different country on the other side of the world is an exhilarating experience, constantly learning new and exciting things.

In July, we went back to visit the familiar world of Bellingham. My dad had suffered a stroke (plus 3 more since then) and I stayed for 2 weeks. For now, he’s unbelievably frail but still hanging on. My mom is a saint and is (of course) coping extraordinarily well with some assistance from hospice care, and from Austin & Nolan who both live in town and help devotedly. In addition, my brother and his family have recently moved back to Bellingham so for the most part, everything is sussed (taken care of).

While we were in Bellingham, we got to see all 4 boys and loads of old friends, which was nice. Nolan graduates from WWU in March, and he & his girlfriend will be coming to stay with us in New Zealand for 2 months. Carlin graduates from Multnomah Bible College in May and is coming out for a while. Boone started the engineering program at UW in the fall, but may change his plans and come to NZ for a while, too. That’s fine with us; we like having them around. The only one who doesn’t have immediate plans to visit is Austin, who is content in Bellingham with a good job and a long-term girlfriend.

We also bought a house in September (so we’d have room for the boys to visit) and are all moved in. We were in a small rental house before, so it feels good to be more permanently shifted; to finally unpack everything and to get sorted. (Amazingly, nothing in the container was broken when it was shipped across the ocean.) Even better, we have a real address this year so everyone can post Christmas cards to us!

Meanwhile, we found a nice church home and joined the choir and have made heaps of friends. Last weekend was our church’s big Messiah sing-along: two hundred people singing Halleluiah Chorus + soloists from the opera company + a trumpeter = a flash event. It is a little strange here to have all the Christmas music and Christmas sales going on while it's 75º out and everybody's shopping in jandals (flip-flops). But I’m not complaining.

Curt’s company closes down their entire office for 2 weeks at Christmas time, and my school will be closed for summer holiday by then, so we're flying across the ditch to Sydney Australia for a week. Christmas in Sydney will be pretty cool (actually it'll be pretty hot, but you know what I mean), especially the New Year’s Eve fireworks from the Harbour Bridge.

So while you’re toasting each other with champagne on New Year’s Eve, think of us toasting each other with champagne overlooking the Sydney Opera House. Even though we’ll actually be in Australia at the time, we’ll still be toasting our new life in New Zealand. Ultimately, it’s turned out to be a brilliant year. Cheers!