Busses and books.

Cragin's kindergarten classes went to Bookman's, the local used bookstore, for their first field trip. Turner's class went Friday, February 11th. We walked from the school to the bus stop. I was amazed at how organized and controlled the whole experience was. I have such confidence in Turner's teacher. So, we rode the city bus a couple of blocks to Bookman's, and this isn't your regular used bookstore. It attracts an eclectic crowd, and it caters to the wandering reader as well as children. If you have a dog, feel free to bring it along as you peruse the shelves. And, they always play great music.

When we first arrived, the children were asked to sit down and listen to the rules.

We received a tour of the store and saw where the books are bought from the public, priced, organized in the back room, shelved, and then put back out into the store.

We learned about how books are grouped by subject, and the kids were allowed free reign in the children's section.

They even saw the break room and the administrative offices (most of the folks stood in the stock room in uncomfortable silence. Andy and I found a book to buy).

Chol and Turner checking out the Pokemon collection.

Turner's selections.
He also chose a movie, one of the bonuses of having your folks tag along on the field trip.

After Bookman's, we boarded the city bus again. We rode a few blocks north and walked to the park near Turner's school. The kids played while Ms. Cipolla and other adults distributed lunch.
Turner had peanut butter and crackers, fruit water, carrots, and part of a huge Eegee's chocolate chip cookie.

After lunch, there was a lot of swinging.

Ms. Cipolla and the other teacher were respected by the kids, and the field trip went off without a hitch. But tonight, Andy relayed to me information he got from Diago's dad. Apparently one kid, who will remain nameless, hit melt down when the kids had to leave the park. His mother was unable to control him. At one point, and this comes from Turner's mouth, he told his mother to shut her *expletive* mouth. So, Diago's dad carried this kid all the way back to school while he kicked and screamed. Turner said he still had a *great* time.

Family hiking.

Hiking in Tucson is full of surprises with unusual animals to see, critters to chase, pokey things to avoid, and plenty of cloud formations about which to create stories. Turner and I hike regularly, and when Andy is off work (and not afflicted with some sports injury), he joins us.

February 19, 2011, the family tackles Blacklett's Ridge in Sabino Canyon in the Santa Catalina Mountains. Trail is 6.2 miles in length with an elevation change of 1810 feet. The peak hits at 4410 feet. We didn't make it that far. About halfway up the mountain, Turner gets scared. The view was amazing, but the hike was steep. And, rain was coming in from the east, so we thought it best to head out before we got soaking wet.

View to the southwest. Beautiful skies.

But turn around and the clouds had a different story.

At the start of Blacklett's Ridge. We'd already hiked for an hour just to get here.

Storm rolling in. We just missed the rain as we started down the mountain.

Teddy Bear Cactus (if you get close, it reaches out and hugs you. Kilan was attacked by a Teddy Bear Cactus when we first moved here.)

Weekly hiking club.

Hiking is a fixture of entertainment in Tucson. Last year a few of my female friends and I started hiking each weekend. Usually it is pretty leisurely. We hike for a couple of hours. Eat snacks. Look out into the desert and wonder how it is we find it so beautiful and full of life. Sometimes partners/dogs/kids/friends go with. Since we hike on Sundays, Turner usually prefers to chill with Andy, so I go alone. Andy worked last weekend, so Turner and I met up with our friends at Sabino Canyon at 9 AM. Normally we carpool, but I didn't know how long Turner would hang tough, so I thought it best to drive separate.

We start with Esperero trail, take bluff trail on to Rattlesnake. Early in our hike, Turner and I start telling stories about rattlesnakes (since this is our destination). We locate a rattlesnake in the cloud pattern in the sky. Sky Diamond Turner calls it, and it follows us throughout the day. More than once Turner says to Erica, "The rattler is following us." She had no idea what he was talking about so she'd just scream a bit and act scared. :)

Turner leads the pack all day. He climbs up the first set of rocks so quickly, we're all a bit breathless at the top. We stop for snacks four times. Honeycrisp apples. Trail mix with yogurt chips. Cheese sticks. PB and crackers. Lots and lots of water. During one break, Turner teeters across the stream, one side to the other. He makes it back and forth twice without incident. Then, as he told the story to Andy later over dinner, "I was on my way back across and I went elbow down first on the rock and foot down last into the water." Both pant legs ended up wet, even though he insists it was only one foot in the water.

As we stroll along, Erica is telling a story that concerned animals in unusual places. When she finishes her story, Turner yells back to her, "We saw a Mexican coyote at our house. In the street. Just walking along."

Erica laughs. "How did you know he was Mexican? Did he have a special hat on or something?"

"No. He was just a Mexican coyote."

"Mexican wolf actually," I say. And, yes, there was a Mexican wolf taking a leisurely stroll down our street last summer.

At another point, Turner is walking with Elise and telling her stories. "You know, I'm the year of the rooster." Just like LaLa.

"Oh. How do you know that?" asks Elise.

"My CiCi told me. She read me these things while she was here."

"Yeah? Did you have fun while she was here?"

"Yes. And she is the year of the rat. And you know, she hates rats. Really hates them."

"Hmmm," says Elise.

"Can I tell you something else? I'm also the year of the most precious wedding gift."

"Yeah. What's that?"

"The diamond."

After two and a half hours of hiking, Turner and I are quietly enjoying the crunchy shell on dipped cones. "Mom, you know the reason there is gravity is because the Earth turns."

"Yeah. I think I knew that."

"Sure. Right." He nods his head in total disbelief.

Obama comes to town.

January 12, 2011, President Obama spoke at a memorial service in honor of the victims of Jared Loughner's shooting rampage. I anticipated a long wait to get into McKale Center, but it also seemed like a rare opportunity to have the President come to town. Plus, I knew I could work this speech into my teaching, which I did.

Turner and I joined some other friends in line about 2:30 pm. And we waited and waited. Turner made plenty of friends. Margot arrived and they played baby turtles.

The doors opened at 6 PM and by 7 PM we were going through security. The speech started a little late, at 7:10 PM. We didn't wait in our seats long before the devil, um, Jan Brewer arrived on the floor, hugging and greeting suits. President and Michelle Obama emerged from the left stage and walked with little fanfare to their seats. I mean, we were all clapping and on our feet, but they waved once or twice, graciously shook hands with the beast in blue, and took their seats. There was a Native American blessing. Nancy Pelosi spoke (missing her). Others spoke. Jan Brewer graced us with some incoherent babble.

Then President Obama came out on stage and spoke of political unity and he criticized a humanitity divided by ideology. He memorialized the victims, telling us personal stories about who they were/are and how they ended up in Tucson, AZ. At the end of his speech, he charges us to go into the world with a greater respect for one another. With some love in our hearts for other Americans who may not look like us, think like us, or even believe in us. But that an "us" is an important component of being American. I was left to wonder how all those folks in Mexico feel about the unity of Americans. They are, after all, inhabitants of North America and yet are never included in the rhetoric of American patriotism. I didn't speak on these things, though, when I was interviewed by a couple of news sources on the outside of McKale Center. Instead, I praised Obama's speech and his willingness to come here and spread a hopeful message to a community devastated by such loss. I did not feel the impact of these shootings as deeply as others, but they made me scared to live in a state that respects gun rights by allowing for very little regulation. Who needs access to thirty bullets in less than a few seconds? Someone who wants to snuff out the life of a community.

There are several cute stories from our long wait in line. I'll share one.

Turner picks up a newspaper. He's walking around in the grass with this newspaper, flipping the pages, stopping to stomp his foot occasionally, and pretending to read and think over the paper's content. I ask him what he's reading. He is quiet. Hey Turner, Tell me the story about what you're doing.

Without looking up he says, "I'm an old man reading a newspaper."

His back is bent a little. His feet are shuffling along in the bermuda. A group of young college men behind us start laughing. "Watch that kid. He's acting something out." The young men stop their joking (and horrid tales of last weekend's conquests). They watch Turner. He never comes out of character. He turns one last page. Folds the paper to his chest and looks at the boys.

"Hey. What you acting out?" One of them asks.

Turner smiles, "I'm old man reading the newspaper."

The guy laughs. "Bravo. Very convincing performance."

Turner, embarrassed, comes to my side and buries his face in my leg and asks for Skittles.

As you can see, fatigue was high by the time we made it inside. Turner took a power nap at the end, missing some of the best parts of President Obama's speech. But, he'll forever remember the hours of waiting in line. I'm happy to recount the other parts to him as time moves along.

First school play.

We hear that Turner is to play an important role in the kindergarten play. The class selected a book to act out. [This is part of the OMA (Opening Minds through the Arts) program.] The kids read a series of books, vote on one, and then select parts to play. The children create the costumes, work on the set, and are "fed" lines by the OMA instructor. Older kids, like in Kilan's school, sing with choreographed moves that the students create in addition to writing the text of their play. It is pretty amazing. SO, Turner breaks the news to us (kinda late) that he's going to be in a play. Andy and I both are able to make it for once.

Turner did a great job. And, after it was over, this is how he described his work, "I was a boy named Nikki. I looked like a ninja." Ninja (I think) = Person who wears a belt tied around the waist.

Move anxiety.

The preparations for moving loom over us. A long list of to do. We've interviewed moving companies but we haven't selected one yet (update: we have selected United). We must, though, or else we're going to pay a $4.00/gallon gas cost. Moving is this vague concept to Turner. He's concerned about missing out on Tyler and his Pokemon game this summer (Tyler usually gets her in July) and he's worried about how he'll see Kilan in the future. What friends we've made. Four years feels like a whole big chunk of our lives together.

I'm standing at the island making lists of stuff to do and sorting through the moving company estimates. Turner is working at the kitchen table.

"Mom? When the movers take our stuff, what will happen to my stuffed animals?" Turner has taken on a small zoo of stuffed animals that surround him as he sleeps. Since he doesn't make his bed regularly, he just crawls back into a nest-like space each night with LaLa Bear, two cardinal birds, several Webkinz, and a lion that Kilan gave him when we first moved to Tucson.

"We will take some stuff in our car and drive it to Asheville. All the rest will go in the big moving truck. So you can put your animals in a box to go on the truck or you can bring them in the car. Up to you."

He thinks on this. "Will we write on the box what is inside?"

"We can. That makes unpacking easier. Usually we write the room at least, like 'Turner's bedroom' on the box."

"OK. Well can you make sure that the movers get all my stuff into boxes with my name on them?"

"Sure thing buddy."

Spelling.

I am a pretty terrible speller. Ask my students. I put things on the board, misspelled, often. I think it humanizes me to them and, therefore, they like me more. So, I guess I'm okay with being a terrible speller. Undereducated. Whatever.

But, it is difficult for us to not correct Turner's misspellings in his homework. In a single night, in a single hour, Turner completes his homework, eager to beat all the other kids in submitting it to his teacher the next day. Love that initiative lots. Today, his classwork comes home in his backpack, and it is focused on the weather.

Sunee. Windee. Roude (suppose to be rainy). Klaudee (cloudy). Ranee (second Rainy).

Also today, the Kinders watched Turner's documentary about penguin migration. He says, "Ms. Cipolla taught us some stuff about penguins."

I say, "What did you learn?"

He says, "Nothing. Really, nothing. I already knew it already. Penguins slide on their bellies to the water. They carry their babies on their feet. They have beaks, on second thought, they have bills. And they poke with them for food. They give it to their babies of course."

At the park this afternoon, near Turner's old school, we take advantage of the "really tall slide." He goes down it several times, as do I. Fourteen steps to the top. A REALLY tall slide. And, fast moving. When I get down to the bottom, I can't keep my feet under me. I must do those several extra steps to regain my balance after all the momentum of shooting down the silver and slick slide. Turner and I do the high five slap-my-hand-as-I-go-down bit several times. When I get tired of getting my teaching clothes so dusty and gross, Turner meets with an older boy who wants to show him tricks on the slide. His mom sits in the swing *laughing* about how her son sprained both wrists falling down from the slide not long ago. This after, of course, he'd broken both his wrists falling off school gym equipment a year before. So, he's wanting to teach Turner tricks down the slide. I'm nearby and ready to discourage. The kid shows Turner a trick. Without missing a beat Turner says, "Dude that is dangerous. Why do that to yourself?" Turner refuses to go down the slide back first with his legs tucked under him. When the older kid does it, he lands on his face. He laughs and does what cool kids do: pretend it didn't hurt. Before we left, Turner's courage grew and he ended up going down backwards while on his belly. We continued with the high five game, which is a bit more Mom's speed.

Turner sits down to clear the sand and rocks from his shoes, perched on the fourth step of the slide. As he stands up, somehow, he rips his pant legs. Huge hole. "Oh mom. Did you see that?!"

"Yep. These things happen."

"My first ripped pants kind of day."

Exactly what I texted to the aunts and uncle.