Grammar Snob

Language learning is a fascinating process. I might be a bit biased seeing as language learning is what I do all day long but I think that most people find it at least somewhat intriguing.

It has been amazing to watch our little girls’ coos turn into words and then words turn into phrases and phrases express ideas and desires. Now more than ever it has become evident just how much the girls are watching and learning from us. Hearing my exact phrasing and word choice coming from a tiny little mouth has made me consider my words very carefully.

Seeing as I labor all day to teach grammar to students, it has been amazing to me how effortlessly the girls just suddenly figure out a grammar rule and then start applying it. Their knowledge of a rule is generally made most evident through mistakes. They learn that –ed makes a verb past tense and so they say, “I runned yesterday,” or they learn that an –s makes a plural and so they say, “I want to see the fishes.” I know that these errors will work themselves out and mostly I am just excited that they have internalized grammar just through listening. How amazing is that?

However, something terrible happened the other day, something that is unnatural and could only have been repeated and not a manifestation of an incorrectly applied rule.

“Mama, where is Dada at?”

*Cue look of shock and horror.* What did my child just say? Did she seriously just end her question with a preposition?

“What, sweetheart? What did you say?” I asked, hoping that my ringing ears had betrayed me.

“Where is Dada at?”

She did. Not only did she end her sentence with a preposition, it was an inexplicably superfluous one. One of the most heinous grammatical crimes had just been committed by my own flesh and blood.

Like I said, I don’t correct their grammar. These things just work themselves out. But this, this had to be addressed. I’m sorry if it makes me a grammar snob but ending a sentence with “at” is like nails on a chalkboard to me. It takes a perfectly sophisticated conversation and tosses it in the toilet. Don’t end your sentences with prepositions, people. Just don’t.

“Do you mean, ‘Where is Dada?’”

“Yeah, where is Dada?”

“Good! He is in Hong Kong.”

I would be lying if I said this appalling offense was a singular event but, sadly, it wasn’t. You will be relieved to know that I have corrected it consistently and earnestly each time it has reared its ugly head.  Go ahead and judge me. Yes, I correct my children’s grammar. My children will know the difference between good and well, how to use an adverb correctly, and when to use I versus me. They will learn to express themselves intelligently. They will also probably need therapy. But, just think of how eloquently they will be able to share their feelings about their obsessive mother to their therapist!

I might need to seek help…

Learning to Breathe Deeply

They say that the human eye can only detect a small percentage of the colors of light that actually exist; that, evidently, there exists a whole array of colors that we just can’t see. I feel like emotions pre-children were like this. It was like our hospital “go bag” included a special pair of glasses that opened our eyes to all these new ranges of emotions. I thought I knew love before kids, but I didn’t. I thought I knew fear and anxiety, but I didn’t. I thought I knew awe and pride, but I didn’t.

Before I had two almost three-year-olds, I thought I knew frustration, but I didn’t. Recently, Chris and I watched a comedian talking about how life with children has changed and he mentioned the difficulty of leaving the house. If you have children or are thinking of having children, watch it here. It’s hilarious. At any rate, I couldn’t help but relate this morning.

Me: Okay, girls, breakfast is over and it’s time to get dressed. What would you like to do after we get dressed? Would you like to help me make muffins? (me thinking this would be a fun and special activity)

L#1: No, I want to go play outside.

L#2: Yeah! Outside! Let’s go play outside!

Me: Outside? (To self: In January? In Seoul? Checks temperature. -7° C. Bearable). Okay, we can go outside. Let’s get our clothes on. What do you want to wear?

L#1: This! (Holding out pants and a shirt).

Me: Great! Let’s put it on. What about you?

L#2. I want to wear a skirt.

Me: Okay, would you like to wear leggings with your skirt or tights?

L#2: I don't want to wear leggings or tights.

L#1: (Already dressed) I want to wear a skirt, too!

Me: (Deep breath) Okay, L#1, pick out a skirt and we’ll put it on. L#2, we need to cover our legs because it's cold outside.

L#2: But covering our legs makes my sad!

Me: I'm sorry that makes you sad. Would you like to choose pants or tights or should I?

L#2: You.

Me: Okay, let's wear these leggings.

L#2: No! I don't want those leggings. I want tights.

Me: (Deep breath) Okay. (Puts on tights)

L#2: I think these tights are too small. They are too tight.

Me: No, they aren’t too small. They are just tight, that is how they are supposed to be; that is why they are called tights.

L#2. No, they are too small.

Me: Okay, do you want to take them off?

L#2: Yes. (We take off tights)

Me: Okay, L#1, is this the skirt you want? Do you want leggings or tights?

L#1: Tights! (We put on tights). These feel weird on my toes.

Me: Okay, do you want to take them off?

L#1: No, they feel weird on my toes.

Me: (Deep breath) Okay, well, that is how the tights are made. Do you want to take them off?

L#1. No, they feel weird on my toes.

Me: Okay. (puts socks and leggings on L#2). Okay, girls, do you want to go outside now?

L#1: Yeah!

L#2: I just need to stay here with my princesses.

Me: (Deep breath) Well, we all need to do the same thing (Chris is out of town). Why don’t we go outside for a little while and then come back in to our princesses. (L#2 surprisingly easily concedes to this idea.)

Me: Okay, let’s put on our coats.

L#2: I don’t want my coat. My coat wants to stay here. I just want my jacket.

Me: Well, it is cold outside and we need coats. Do you want to wear a hat? (Attempting to distract from coat-wearing with a different choice)

L#2: No, I don’t want a hat. (Distraction successful! Coat goes on)

L#1: I want my mittens. (I pull mittens from the drawer). No, not those mittens. The purple ones. (We don’t own, nor ever have owned purple mittens).

Me: Sweetheart, we don’t have purple mittens. Do you want pink ones or blue ones.

L#1: Purple! Purple! Purple!

Me: (Deep breath) Okay, L#2, would you like pink mittens or blue mittens?

L#2: Pink! (We put on mittens)

Me: Okay, L#1, that leaves the blue ones for you. (We put these one with a pouty face but not a meltdown. This is good.)  Let’s put on our shoes!

Me: L#2, which shoes would you like?

L#2: The red ones!

Me: Well, I’m sorry sweetheart but those shoes are too small. What about these white ones? They have sparkles on them!

L#2: No! Just try it! They aren’t too small! Just try it! Just try it! Just try it!

Deep breath. I concede. We squeeze her feet into shoes that have been too small for her for some time now.

L#2: Owie, Mama! Owie! These are too small.

Me: (Inappropriate internal monologue) Okay, which shoes would you like? These white ones?

L#2: Yeah! (We put them on)

Me: Okay, L#1, which shoes would you like?

L#1: (No response)

Me: Okay, let’s put on these (We put them on and we start to leave.)

L#1: No! No! I don’t like these shoes. I want the ones with flowers on them! I want the flowers!

Me: (Deep breath) Well, honey, we already have these shoes on. Let’s go outside. (Move toward door without giving time to melt down) Where would you like to go?

L#1 & L#2: Let’s go to the trampoline!

Me: Okay! (This should get them nice and tired for a nap!)

We head to the trampoline and I take off their shoes and put the girls up on the trampoline to jump. I turn around to sit on a chair nearby. I have literally just sat down when…

L#1: Mom, it’s too cold. I’m too cold. Let’s go inside.

L#2: Me too. I’m cold. I don’t want to play outside anymore. Let’s go inside.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Check watch. It's 9:30. Repeat these conversations, only slightly modified until bedtime. Wake up, lather, rinse, repeat.

Managing Expectations

When I was a kid, getting to light the advent candle at church was a big deal. Like, Ron Burgundy big. Each Sunday leading up to Christmas, we would check the bulletin to see which family had been selected to do the honor and we would watch the performance as if it were a mini Nativity play. The years when my family was so lucky as to be asked to join in, we were invited to do the lighting a few weeks in advance. The week before the main event, we took home a binder that contained each family member’s part to speak during the service. This binder was carefully practiced and studied so that we had all memorized our lines and our cues to put on a flawless performance. Outfits were carefully selected so that right at the moment the flame took to the wick, we could have a perfect Norman Rockwell-worthy Christmas moment. My memories of the advent candle are pretty epic.

So, you can imagine my excitement when, last week sitting in our pew, one of our friends asked if our family would be willing to do the advent lighting the following week. My face suddenly all aglow with Christmas cheer, I sat up a little straighter and ecstatically agreed. We had arrived. We had established ourselves enough in our little church body and produced cute enough offspring to be considered worthy of *collective gasp* the advent candle. I had trouble paying attention to the rest of the sermon as I contemplated which of our daughters would ask, “Dad, why are we lighting the candle today?” and which would help me read the Bible verse. Maybe we should hold family auditions….

I should have known that things were going to be different when I asked about the binder. I was told just to show up a little early to the service next Sunday and that our lines would be ready for us near the candle lighting station. Okay, no problem. I’m an advent pro. I remember my lines from my elementary school days; I can wing this. Instead of memorizing lines, I spent the week trying to decide what we all should wear. We had to be coordinated, Christmasy, but not look like we were trying too hard. We couldn’t look like I was taking this as seriously as I was; there was no binder after all.

So, the big day arrived. I dressed us all in our carefully chosen ensembles, had a friend take a family photo and headed off to church making sure not to be late. I felt a certain celebrity vibe as I stepped out of the car and walked up to the sanctuary. Yes, we are here, the advent family. I couldn’t help but notice, however, that no one else seemed to care. That’s okay, they’ll know when they get the bulletin. Huh, no name in the bulletin? I can deal with that.

Chris headed up to the altar to find the promised advent guide so that at least he and I would be ready to speak and the girls could just sit and look cute. No paper. Oh dear. He went off to find the advent coordinator. Chris came back to report that the coordinator seemed to think that a college girl was going to perform the advent this week. WHAT!?!?! No. This is OUR Sunday. I might have had a few un-Christian things go through my mind at that point. I’m not sure what happened but the situation was resolved when the coordinator quickly sat down next to me and said, “Are you doing the candle today?” I breathed a relieved, “yes” and awaited the instructions.

“Who of you is going up?” He asked referring to my perfectly coordinated though not-over-the-top family. Somewhat perplexed, I replied that I assumed that all four of us would go up. He said that would be fine and then asked the woman next to him if we would be doing the Luke passage. She replied in the negative and reported that we would be doing the Isaiah passage. “Alright,” I replied. “Which verses?”

“Um, I don’t know. We don’t have the paper.”

Are you serious right now? Not only did you not know that we were lighting the candle, you don’t even know what we are saying? Come on, people.

I frantically started flipping through Isaiah to find a Christmas passage. “Pierced for our transgressions?” No, that’s Easter. “For unto us a child is born…” That’s it! I informed our coordinator (I now use that term loosely) that I found the right passage. He barely had time to tell me when we would be on when the opening song started.

In the chaos of finding the Bible verse, I hadn’t been able to ask anyone to document this monumental event for our family. So, as we strode up to the podium, I meekly passed off my iPhone to a friendly church-goer and asked if she wouldn’t mind taking a couple of pictures for our family. She happily agreed and up to the front we went. This was it. This was our defining moment as an advent family. I read the verse from Isaiah, Chris lit the candle, and… that’s it. We were done. We sat down. One of the most epic moments of the Christmas season had come and gone. That was the day that I learned a little something about managing expectations.

Merry Christmas.

Discovery Week

I thought about titling this blog “Why I will never be able to work in America again” but I thought that might border on braggadocios. And well, you know what they say about saying “never.” And so, Discovery Week won.

As you may remember from previous posts, our school has a tradition in the high school to take a week off from regular classes and “discover.” Teachers design courses ranging from learning how to cook here in Seoul to camping in the deserts of Oman. I’ll be the first to admit that planning a trip with 15 teenagers can be stressful and that spending a solid week with my hormonal, sans-prefrontal cortex students isn’t exactly the portrait of a holiday.  But, come on. Who says “no” to hiking in the Himalayas? Not this Colorado girl. And so, off I went.

The last time I went to Nepal, we stayed relatively close to the foothills near Kathmandu. We went off the beaten path, so to speak, though the actual path we followed was well worn by the locals traveling from village to village. This time, we took the most scenic flight I have ever been on to the town of Pokhara and took off on our hiking from there. This distance gave us spectacular views of the Annapurna Range though we ourselves never got much above 6,000 feet.

Now, a trip like this sounds amazing on paper. Exotic culture, spectacular mountains, “fancy camping” (as I like to call it), what is there not to like? In the planning stages, you have to know that your wild card is always going to be the group of students traveling with you. Their attitudes and behavior can make or break any trip, no matter how well-planned.

One of our campsites

These kids are used to traveling. Just like us, their parents take every chance they can get to check another country off the list or go back to their favorite Thai beach. They are the hipsters of the travel world. “What? You haven’t been to Burma? It’s really great this time of year. I wouldn’t go in the summer, though. Too touristy.”

They can be tough to impress. Not only have they been everywhere but their parents are often CEOs or dignitaries of some sort and are therefore *ahem* well off. When they travel, they go in style. Business class or bust, baby. So when I am imagining flying to Nepal with these guys, knowing that we will be sleeping in tents, without showers, and either using the glorious forest floor or (if we are lucky) a squatty potty to “take care of business”, I am a little skeptical. How are they going to react?

And so, here I am today to confess to you that I sold these kids unbelievably short. They were incredible. They were as thrilled as I was when we got to our first campsite and found squatty potties available to us. They even came back and told the rest of the group that they had to go check out just how clean said services were.  

The actual view from the squatty potty

They raved about the food prepared by our tour guides and thanked them profusely for everything that they did for us.

Yep. He made a cake in a portable kitchen. A CAKE!

When it came time for some manual labor at one of the village schools, they didn’t bat an eye about getting dirty and working hard all day. Even to the very end on our red-eye flight back to Seoul, they were bright and cheerful and ready to face the day.

I guess that the “discoveries” made during Discovery Week aren’t limited just to our students. I’ve mentioned before how TCKs (third culture kids) are different. After this trip, I think I’ll be proud to have a couple of them in my house.