I honestly can't believe how quickly my time in Norway is going. I also realized my blogs are usually so heady and reflective, that I wanted this one to be more fun and give you a better peek into happenings in my life. Yesterday was the kickoff to our first week break of the school year. I did what any self respecting teacher would do and went for coffee with my colleagues and then to the liquor store. Only here in Norway, everyone knows the cheap booze is in Sweden, so cue the road trip. Bonus of the trip is the gorgeous scenery and big shopping center just across the border. Anyone who knows me knows the best news was that I had been given a tip that there was Dr Pepper Zero at the grocery store in that shopping center. In Norway, and Sweden actually, the government controls the sale of alcohol which means on top of purchasing from specific stores with limited hours, there is a pretty hefty tax to pay when you purchase liquor, wine, and beer. Just for a reference point, a fifth of Absolut vodka in the Norwegian Vinmonopolet was about $40 and about $30 at the Swedish Systembolaget. Even though the map view makes it seem like a long drive, the trip from Sarpsborg, Norway to Strömstad, Sweden is only 40 minutes. I can remember 40 minute trips across Wichita. Hard to imagine living in a place where it takes me to another country. All in all it was a fun trip and we had a great meal after we returned. What a way to unwind and get ready for a great break. If I've learned nothing else living here, it is that family/work balance is a priority and that you must spend time outside. All students have extra clothes in their school lockers, and we used them Friday after they spent their recess playing in the rain outside. While it was definitely a learning experience for me to have to oversee my kiddos change into dry clothes, it was refreshing and just felt like how the world should be. Kids exhausted and exhilarated from the play came to my room ready to warm up and work. Speaking of my students, they are growing so much and showing me more and more how curious, funny, quirky, and amazing they truly are. Before I leave everyday, I get so many hugs and hear "I love you, Ms Hill" so much. Interesting tidbit, the students here are used to calling their teachers by their first name, so this Ms. Hill business is new to them. Friday afternoon,I am pretty sure I hugged the same three girls at least four times before I finally got out the door. Not that I am complaining. I have needed that level of student love to restore my teacher heart. It isn't all sunshine and rainbows. There are tough days and tough kids. I have one boy who acts out...A LOT, but I know it is frustration and wanting attention. I have dug my heels in as much as him and refuse to see him as trouble. He LOVES dinosaurs, so I marked all the dinosaur books I could find in Epic books on his iPad. I had a simplistic conversation and asked him in Norwegian to introduce me to his little brother. Now he sneaks off everyday to reset our calendar so that the weather and days of the week cards are ready for the next day. He even wears socks with the day of the week and shows me everyday. I mentioned to his mom one time that he really wants to be needed and helpful and that she could encourage him to teach me Norwegian phrases. He has taught me many phrases including all of our goodbye phrases, now if I could do better than just remembering "ha det sommerfugl." A couple of weeks ago, I had my first student injury. I didn't get to see the child before he went home so I emailed the mom after school to check in. He ended up needing four stitches in his chin after he fell, but he came back Monday like nothing happened. When the mom responded to the email, she thanked me for checking in and then reassured me that I didn't need to feel it was necessary to check in after school hours. *Insert shock face* She was genuinely surprised I had reached out on a weekend just to check on her child. Monday, that student came back with his usual smile and a gift card for a two day cruise from Oslo to Kiel, Germany. She said she thought I might want to take advantage of traveling while I am here. I have another student whose mom checks in with me every. day. There have been several emails, messages, and conversations. She even wanted a meeting before school started to update me. At first I was overwhelmed and a little annoyed because I thought really I can't handle a helicopter mom. Her son showed up with a bouquet of flowers the first day of school, and my heart started to melt. He tells me he is proud to have an American teacher because now his English can be the best. He is another who puts his hands on so. many. students. but I've learned it is frustration. Lately, he has been realizing he can't behave that way, and he has a good friend in class, so the behavior has mostly stopped. The family really is just an amazing family doing their best to raise caring and considerate boys. I learned first hand their commitment to being their best selves when I had to go to the clinic. We were waiting at the bus station, and I asked her if I was going to the correct place to go to the emergency clinic. When I stepped off the bus, I saw they had gotten off too. She and the boys stayed with me at the clinic until I had seen the doctor. And honestly, that is nearly every Norwegian person I've met. So yeah, my students and their families are amazing. I'd be remiss if I didn't tell about my clinic experience. In Norway, once you are assigned a personnummer, you are assigned a doctor but until then you have to go to their version of the emergency room if you need medical care. Many of my friends can most likely empathize with my reluctance to go to an emergency room. When I walked in, I took a number and sat to wait. I might mention, in Norway, you take numbers in many places including some stores to be able to purchase items. I rather enjoy the order and turn taking that is instilled in society. Back to the clinic, my number comes up, and I go in a small cubicle to speak with the nurse on duty. I am glad the student's mom decided to stay because the nurse can understand English but not speak it. Although I can get the gist of what she is saying, I am happy to have someone confirm what she tells me. The nurse takes a short history and takes my temperature over the counter between us. I am instructed to go to a bathroom to leave a urine sample, and I am also told I have to wait until 4 pm because I am not considered an emergency case and don't have an appointment. Since it is 3:30, I am not overly concerned about this wait. At about twenty after four, I go see the doctor who has a conversation with me, decides as a teacher I most certainly know UTI, and confirms with the urine dip test. She then says she has to write a prescription since I don't have a number. So she...now pay attention here...rips a piece of paper she has been writing notes on in half and writes my prescription on that paper. I get it stamped by reception and that is what I take to the pharmacy. Before I leave the clinic, there is a small electronic kiosk to pay my bill. The pharmacy is in the same building as the bus terminal, so I am home by 5 pm having spent...are you sitting down... $45 total but only because I stopped to buy chocolates for the mom and students who stayed with me. My pics or it didn't happen are right below! Autumn is arriving quickly and beautifully. I still need to get a picture of the vines running up the school building. I will spend some of my break sight seeing and wandering. I will try hard to get better pictures now that Brad mailed a camera to me. Monday, I go to the police to order my resident card and to the tax office to get my D number (hopefully) , but for the next couple of days, Janus and I are going to relax, watch hockey, and just enjoy this wonderful experience we are having in Norway.
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Walking through the streets here in Norway, I have noticed it is common to see window ledges full of tchotchkes and plants. Some windows are carefully decorated with a purposeful message and some seem adorned from a sense of obligation rather than personal meaning. When I looked at apartments, I noticed many of the apartments here have wide ledges, so decorating seemed an obvious capitalization on the often limited inside space. It's really quite fascinating to see the different configurations of statues and plants. Often I feel guilty if I find a window particularly interesting and look longer than a passing glance. I actually set off on a walk specifically to take photos for this blog entry but lost my nerve taking photos. It seemed invasive and rude. Strangely, I know people expect others to look because some of the window displays have barriers set up behind to block the view inside the apartment.
This of course set me to thinking about how we act as humans. The displays seemed an obvious connection...the view we show the world. There are the people that appear obviously welcoming, and those that craft a much more guarded view to bare to the world. I see people that crave organization and cleanliness, and those that don't even bother to knock the dust off of what the world sees. Here in Norway, it is also hard to miss that deep need to let nature run wild, even inside the home, as plants are a common theme on the ledges. It is more than this that intrigues me because even if no one sees me looking, I feel like I am handling an intimate piece of knowledge. It feels clumsy especially when I consider my own ledges. I have a cat that will happily dislodge any item occupying the real estate where he has staked a claim. I have managed to compromise with him though, I keep all of my unnecessary crap out of his windows...which is pretty much everything. Cats, am I right? Thinking about the one small corner I was able to carve out as my own, does it really give a good view of what I want the world to see? Yes and no. It is personal enough to seem real, so I have done my due diligence in creating nice window dressing. But without a translator, you won't get anything important about me. I'm guessing you'd know I like frogs, but what else do you know about me from that little display? The plant is fake because I have two black thumbs. I'd love to be able to grow plants but I realize my limitations and am unwilling to sacrifice more flora in pursuit of the skills. There are two heart rocks that my boys found in the yard and brought to me when they were small. I always found it interesting that they did this at two different times and didn't know the other had done it. I also love having those tangible reminders of the ferocity and depth of a son's love for his mother. One of those 'frogs' is actually a turtle that was given to me by an aunt that has always been one of my best cheerleaders, and frogs will forever remind me of my uncle taking me bullfrog hunting. I ended up muddier than my mom ever let me get, and it was glorious! I could go on, but that isn't how the game works. I make the display, and you look and assume but rarely if ever ask. See human nature roaring in again with this knickknack decoy game we play? The items put on a display can easily be explained away as just window dressings by both players. But what happens if we dare to ask? I mean think about it. We are all aware that we put an image out there for others to see. Most of us were raised to believe it was impolite to stare, let alone ask about what we notice, but on the other hand, don't we want people to know our story beyond the surface? This balance of give and take can be excruciating, and sadly many of us are ill equipped to play in a meaningful manner. It takes courage to create a window display that tells our story, but it also takes courage to seek meaning in others' windows as well. I want to challenge myself to be more purposeful in asking and learning. While I don't have all the answers, what I have realized is that by not asking and living in your assumptions about the view, you are left existing in a world largely of your own perspective and lacking the richness and vibrancy of the world that truly exists. Yesterday, I received an email I have been waiting for since I arrived. I have been approved for a residence permit. This means I am one step closer to having status in Norway to actually live here. Much like a social security number in the states, the personnummer in Norway is a person's gateway to paying taxes, being employed, having a bank account, and securing utility services. Today, I sit in a reality that this move is so much more than a vacation. It isn't exactly that I have been thinking with a vacation mindset, but life routines are missing. I have yet to do a typical weekly grocery trip, yet alone shop from a list. Chores and meals are hit and miss and completed on an as needed basis. The closest approximation is that I haven't allowed myself to become comfortable yet. I haven't fully acknowledged my new reality and embraced the work I need to put into it. We all know that we develop habits based on our experiences and find comfort in the familiar. Children raised in abusive situations, though, they become keenly aware of their habits when they go to therapy. Cue my self awareness of my reactions to new environments. Specifically, in every situation, I identify the escapes or the potential ways out. Even if I have no intention of pulling the trigger on the escape plan, it exists as tangible comfort tucked in the corner of my mind. When times are tough, I run my finger along the edge, and it calms me and allows me to focus on the now. I think more than anything, that email erased a huge piece of the escape plan. I still have my work contract. It states I can be let go with a two week notice during my probation period, but I am honestly not sure how badly you have to perform for that to happen. However, not being granted residence would mean I would be going home for sure. I am having the time of my life and learning so much and have no desire to leave, but that nugget of comfort that I could calmed me. That is what I meant by not pulling the trigger. So, what now, right? One of the reasons I took this leap was to challenge myself. My challenge is to recognize airfare in the bank and week long school breaks as comfort enough and concentrate on accepting the happiness and new reality I am building here. So of course I will do what any self respecting human would do and fall back on another of my coping mechanisms...concentrating on others' problems. I say that tongue in cheek, but the reality of my career is that I DO have to think of others. I have a classroom full of little minds searching and wondering and building their best selves. Finding a way to meet their basic needs has been vital to the classroom even functioning. Can you even for a minute imagine yourself in the position of spending four hours a day with a person who gets to design your day and activities but can only speak broken phrases of your language? So they build, and I look for tools and guide them to see what they may need to build. I have reworked the beginning of this paragraph several times and can find no way to segue into it aside from bluntly...which many would say is perfectly me anyway. When you live with abusive people, recognizing emotions and gauging reactions can mean the difference between getting yelled at and getting "your ass beat." I have honed this skill, and I use it to my advantage in the classroom. It. is. exhausting. as it requires more attention to detail and empathy than you would expect. But beyond the basics, I know that N needs a schedule and to know what comes next. D needs space to explode and regain composure. B needs to be needed and embraces the helper role. M needs reassurance that she is strong and capable. A needs a safe space to express herself. That is the real work of a classroom not the curriculum.
Which means, I have accepted the real work of why I am here, but it can't be the only real work I accomplish because there is still Nellie. She needs a balance of work and life. She needs to know she is enough. She needs to keep building this amazingly dizzying existence as her own. So I leave you today so a shopping list can be compiled, a chore schedule defined, and workout routines established. When I finally think about capturing photos to send home, it's usually when I am reflecting on my day. Don't get me wrong, I take plenty of photos, but not the kind of photos many people look forward to viewing. You won't find splendors of architecture or nature's majesty on my camera roll, instead you will see snippets of what catches my mind as I wander. For instance, when I took my first steps onto the street Friday morning, I noticed the low lying fog and that I could see my breath. Magical, that was my first thought. I walked along pondering what seeing my breath in September meant and comparing it to past experiences. Much like a child as I plodded along, I kept blowing huge puffs of breath just to watch it dissipate in time for the next exhale. I frequently find myself pausing to explore dew covered webs or flowers and leaves that I've never seen before, at least in real life. I vividly remember reading about lichen as a child, and this summer I actually SAW some! Of course, I snapped a photo. It is just one of many that mean nothing to anyone but me. This perspective isn't limited to vision, I stop to touch anything in stores and nature that looks to have a promising texture. I ride elevators to the top ever in search of the highest floor I'll ever reach in life. I wear my rain boots as often as I can without looking spectacularly awkward simply so I can splash in puddles. The joy I experience watching rain pour from the top of my umbrella when I tip it in heavy rain is splashed across my face. I tiptoe near walls and fences covered in butterflies hoping one might alight in my hand, and recently, I ran my finger across the top of a slug before I picked it up out of sheer curiosity. (Did you know they curl like an armadillo and that their back takes a rough texture?) It is not hard for me to imagine why my mother was constantly annoyed with my incessant questions. If only she had had Google! These things do come around, though. I once endured an eight hour car ride listening to my oldest child volley question after question my way. Intrigued by how long he would continue, I answered and encouraged the conversation. At least we got to stop in Colorado. My guess is that he would have asked questions all the way to the coast!
Much like me, that one is curious about the world indeed, however, unlike me he embraced every opportunity to learn from anyone willing to engage in conversation with him. Both of boys will also tell you I was absolutely an actions have consequences parent, and I pushed them to ask questions, think for themselves, and embrace independence. Although I can't tell you the day these qualities started to dull in my boys, I remember mourning that loss for them. As an adult, I recognized the process. School and life environments don't often appreciate the curious and wild minded children. The word domestication flares in my mind. I had teachers, like my mom, who thought they needed to know all the answers for me, and resorted to taming my mind when they didn't. Frustrated that a child could be smarter than them, I was even shamed for my intelligence and for asking "frivolous" questions while simultaneously scolded for "only" striving to be a teacher. I could feel angry, but instead I feel sorrow because at some point they must have been domesticated themselves. Doesn't life erode and tame that inquisitive force inside all of us? How sad for them they don't find wonder in an anthill. But also, I feel indebted. Their brusk approach helped me hone my own philosophy of parenting and teaching. After all, if I can value curiosity and wonder as currency children trade in, then I can leverage it! What better gift to unleash on the world than a pack of inquirers who find joy and wonder in the simple things in life? I realized that I didn't need a teacher to have all the answers for me, I needed someone to encourage me to keep asking...to ALLOW me to keep asking and wondering...to push me to experts and more asking! Even further, as a teacher looking to deal in curiosity and questions, I need to be immersed in my own wonders, and I need to be able to find joy in experiences too many adults find trivial. Beware, kids have keen radar for the impostors, and you will soon be outed if you are not authentic, but they are also willing to inspire you with their wonderings if you're open to it. Do you remember the last time you unabashedly wondered or played with the reckless abandon of a five year old? If not, you should, but I bet you'll have a lot less amazing photos to share with your friends. As for me, I'm off to climb this tower I can see from my apartment window. I wonder how much of the city I can see. I wonder how many times I will have to stop on the way up. I wonder... |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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