Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts

29.8.14

Screen Time


The Simpsons. Family Guy. Big Bang Theory. Even getting the names of 3 TV shows for my opening hook was an exercise in heavy thinking- and most of those are old titles. We’ve never had TV before Abidjan. Of course, we’ve heard of the shows and watched them out at friends’ houses, but when I asked Nabih for the names of some of his favorite current TV shows, all the ones he gave me were in French (which I secretly love though probably couldn’t begin to spell.) Watching TV in French is something of a challenge for us all. But it’s good for our French.  It’s also been good for bringing up conversations about topics I might not have thought to bring up otherwise.

Nabih still prefers cartoons and is most likely to be found watching Camp Lake Bottom or Oggy et Les Kafars- a Tom and Jerry-ish cartoon that features a cat and three annoying bugs. (Honestly, he is a die-hard Big Bang Theory fan, which we have on USB for some reason. We have 6 seasons- in English. He is more likely to be found watching that if a computer is available.) Mohamed prefers the sports or music channels. When he is in control, we are watching a soccer game, music videos on Trace Africa or something athletic on Trace Sports Star (I’m not sure what the Trace connection is.) One of our favorites is the Top 20 lists that feature different topics about famous athletes: bad eaters, bizarre facts, cheaters, bad habits, most involved in a charity, stuff like that. 

Since we all pretty much believe Mohamed is going to be a famous soccer player one day (Insha’Allah) the lists have opened up the path for discussing how to handle stardom (sure to be good advice for becoming a decent, average person as well, in the event the whole famous thing doesn’t work out.) We’ve discussed bad habits like spitting (he’s promised not to be a spitter if he makes it to the big leagues,) how to deal with the paparazzi (patience, disguises and body guards over anger and violence) and wayward fans (I am still in shock over this story, Mohamed’s only strategies for dealing with this kind of behavior is to run and duck. I probably can’t offer any better advice.)   

Conversations like these have helped me to understand who his role models are and the influence they have on him. Happily I see that he is pretty good at mixing his personal values with characteristics he admires to create a fairly decent profile of the man he hopes to be.  I also like that he is aware of and has begun to consider the pressures people face- and how it intensifies the more popular you become.  Who knew the side effects of TV could be so deep reaching?

On the rare occasion when I am in control, I generally seek out news. On a lucky day I can find news in English. We have been so immersed in French that hearing news in English feels like a treat. Everything else about it is depressing. Ukraine, Palestine, Guinea.  Between war, illness and airline crashes there’s not much positive coming out of the news today. Taking it all in one afternoon, Nabih posed the question out loud that we all grapple with privately. Why is there so much war and fighting?

Mohamed’s analogy in response was simple and to the point. “Well, it’s about space. Everyone wants their own space. For example, you want your own room, right? So it’s like you have to fight to get it. And once you have it, you have to protect it so no one else will move into your room.”  The essence of war reduced to 9-year-old terms.

In addition to the new experience of raising a teenager, I am reliving the joy of late childhood albeit with the electronic twist of the 21st century. Nabih is all about video games (though he somehow manages to maintain his love of reading.) While I remain a bit confused about what kind of skills he is developing and of what value they might be, we have found a place to meet and have fun together- electronic board games.

So far, he has Life and Monopoly- childhood classics. I enjoy the fact that all the pieces are intact- no one can borrow the Monopoly money for a game of Store or Gangster and then lose half of it under the couch or accidentally leave it in a pocket where it gets washed in the machine. The graphics in the Life game are especially fun for me as they resemble exactly the board game. As you drive around the board, the seasons change- I love the snowing area which makes me feel all cool and cozy and Christmassy without really being cold. No little people pegs get lost and the spinner never flies out of the holder (although one might argue that was one of the more interesting aspects of the game.)

Of course, the automatic banking system is both a positive and a negative. While things go much faster, no one has to calculate any math, which was, from a parent/teacher perspective, one of the benefits of playing the game.

There are a few other strategy games, a building game, and a virtual reality game that allows Nabih to construct imaginary worlds. I realized these games are similar to what we did as kids when we played with dolls or Matchboxes. The difference is he doesn’t have to scrounge for old boxes or cool pieces of hardware to serve as tables and chairs and couches.

As the summer winds down and we get ready to start new routines, one of which may very well include home schooling, I’ll be searching for the moral in the mundane, on the lookout for those teachable moments lurking just inside the ordinary experience.  And while I’ll be happy to see screen time reduced to a minimum, I’m going to try and remember that there might be a lesson to learn there as well.  

22.5.14

Feeling Grown Up

I am aware that another post about chocolate could very well mean that it threatens to overtake popularity as a frequent topic on my blog- ousting traffic stories and doctor visits (well, how do you think one survives traffic and doctor experiences in Congo if not with good chocolate, really?) But this one is important- though not necessarily my favorite. Cuddling your chocolate promises to be my favorite expression for the next 10 years or so at least.

I have had a life long relationship with chocolate that I am very aware of. I remember the details about it in a way few other foods or pleasures evoke. As an adolescent, fearing myself fat and ugly, I swore off chocolate and pretended to hate it. I consumed it only in secret and was even ashamed to buy it - certain that the cashiers would be thinking to themselves- there, you see why she is so fat and ugly? It's because she eats all that chocolate. While not the prettiest child, I never was fat but merely a victim of media influence and low self-esteem. If only I had known about the healing powers of chocolate. NPR and a bunch of nurses can't be wrong.

My connection to chocolate has since changed dramatically. I have developed a taste for the dark, bitter, pure form of chocolate (the kind that is actually good for you as opposed to the candy bar kind that just adds calories and sugar to the diet.)  Yes, I have become something of a chocolate connoisseur - a sure sign of being grown-up and a necessity in Congo, where bad chocolate can be found by the multitude and good chocolate costs a hefty 3-5,000 franc. If I am going to spend $5 on a chocolate bar, it better be good- and good for me.

The most important, and secretly delicious, thing that has changed in my relationship with chocolate is the pace at which I consume it. I can actually eat a few squares and then save the rest for the next day. I have such vivid memories of asking my mom (queen hoarder of treats and personal yummies) if she was going to eat that and wondering if she really wanted it why didn't she just eat it now?

There are few moments in life when I feel like a bona fide grown up. Having a job and going to work every day isn't all that much different than when I was younger (and I am a teacher- sooooo, I'm still going to the same place, still learning, still reading and writing every day.) Having a house just means I keep cleaning and cooking- things I've been doing since I was 10 at least. And children? Well, I've always been around children, taking care of them, playing with them, learning from them. None of these things have made me feel  much like I've crossed the line from youth to maturity.

Being able to save a candy bar for the next day? Bingo. Now I know I'm an adult. But, ever looking for deeper meaning as I do, I understand the real reason behind my new found restraint. Patience. Growing older has allowed my to cultivate my ability to have patience, to savor life's moments and truly process them without giving in to reckless emotion. I don't need to devour my chocolate in 3 bites but have discovered it tastes better, in fact, when I draw out the pleasure, take small nibbles and truly enjoy each moment with my treat.

I used to think giving in to emotion was where passion stemmed from and that losing that would mean the death of dreams. Oh, my youth. I am beginning to understand- and it's just an inkling mind you, because I am aware there are many out there who will regard my numeric age with a mirthful grin and call me a 'young'un' - but I am beginning to understand the connection between passion and patience and what it truly means to  patience.

Taking time to let remarks settle and find the best way to respond- or perhaps not to respond at all. Understanding when it is possible to reveal deep emotions in an effort to strengthen a relationship and when it is better to simply move forward accepting the relationship at the level it's on. Determining when it is possible to forgive and if not, how to forge a new path that doesn't bring  hurt or shame to either party. Maturity is more than an age, but having practice and experience certainly helps. Because patience isn't easy to come by. Not the kind of patience that leads to serenity of being. Nor the kind of patience that allows one to focus on gratefulness and let go of the need to be in control. The patience that leads to passion needs time to ruminate and develop. I'm definitely getting there. And saving my chocolate is as good a first step as any.