Nearly Nine Weeks...

Paul tells me that we need to post another blog, so I guess that it must be time. We are still living in Poland and still living the mess of life. We live about 15 minutes south of Warsaw in an area called Sadyba and we feel super-lucky to have landed here. We are renting the house from a former teacher at the school. He is Dutch; his wife Polish, and they moved to Istanbul to work in another International School. This home has been in her family since it was built in the 50s. Like us, they are renting a home they plan to return to; and, like us, their kids are in grades 8 and 10. The neighbors are friendly and inviting; and since Chase has stopped barking and has a dog-walker TWO times a day (yes. I’m being serious), he no longer complains (much).

Last week, we were invited into the street (our street is pretty small) for pizza and wine and learned more about Poland in Communist times. I also joined a school book club and recently read A Memoir of Plunder: Family Property and Nazi Treasure by Menachem Kaiser. While teaching creative nonfiction in tenth grade, I also found a piece about a Canadian writer returning to Poland to learn more about his grandfather’s journey out of the country. As we chatted that other night, someone commented that they “cannot dig in Poland without finding bones” and that struck me.

There’s just lots more to learn, and stories to lean toward. I’ve started The Warsaw Orphan and plan to read Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead (by the Nobel Prize winning author, Olga Tokarczuk). Most recently, I found “Writing the Story of Polish Queerness”.

I’m heading out on a Communist Tour of Warsaw this weekend, and Paul is doing his 100Km bike ride to support the Kelly Brush Foundation with a few folks around here. Phoebe will be sleeping and Reed will be at rehearsal for the musical, Footloose. In case you are wondering, Chase will be with Phoebe.

We wake most days at six and Paul takes Chase for a long walk. We live near a park (I think that everyone lives near a park) and he takes the long way around. He bikes to work and the girls and I hop in the car after seven. There’s more traffic than we are used to, but we head south to school, so it’s not too bad. The way home, however, is slow-moving.

School is familiar and unfamiliar. Teaching teenagers-- especially teenagers who have food and shelter and comfort-- is pretty similar whether in Poland or Buffalo, NY or Maine or St. Croix or New Hampshire. They are thoughtful and infuriating, intelligent and ignorant all within the same nineteen minutes. It’s wonderful. We also live with two of them. The IB is different. I’ve yet to give any formal score; Paul and I both have only given feedback. I like this. A lot. Students are really working towards improving their skills and understanding and we do not end up in conversations about “grades.” The girls have bus passes and often get themselves home. Phoebe is on the boys’ soccer team and Reed, when not in rehearsal, is running cross country. They transfer busses and navigate public transportation. It’s awesome.

Our life is pretty consumed by school and time with our kids. Reed’s birthday was this weekend. Thank you to all of you who wrote something on Facebook about moving or being 15. I’m currently assembling these in a notebook for her (so there’s still time).

Also, you should know that Phoebe will be turning 13 soon...so I’ll be asking again. We sit at the table in the living room most evenings for dinner and we often watch Modern Family (yes, I know that you should not eat in front of the television).

Thank you to those of you who have checked in, sent Listys and packages (Ranch dressing and Teddy’s peanut butter and the dog bone are in the lead). We love hearing from you and we love being connected.