The Schoolyear, Wrapped: Change, Growth, and (forever grappling with) the Elusiveness of Time

And just like that – we’ve wrapped up (nearly) half a term of school in our new home!

[last day pic!]

The wonky time warp and the task of remapping chronologies strikes again: the schoolyear here follows the calendar year. And so, we have arrived at the kids' final day of school. Yesterday I gaped at my little wonders as I snapped the last day of school photo and (metaphorically) clasped my hand at my chest as pride and gratitude surged. It hit me -- how seamlessly the kids had adjusted to a new school after entering halfway through the year. As this year winds down, I want to share some reflections—our observations of cultural differences in this new place and what the transition has meant for us.

Observing Differences and Similarities Between US and NZ schools

“Well, I didn’t really have to do or learn anything because I didn’t understand anything they were saying.” – Moss McBroom, answering how school was, 1.5 weeks in

I’m still cackling about Moss’ reply above when asked about his day, about a week and a half into school. It was one of those instances where kids just cut through the BS and speak, clear-eyed and directly, to the lived experience. (I often find myself recalling Moss' words during moments at work where cultural differences leave me feeling like I'm misreading situations...)

[Moss after his 'Island Beatz' performance]

Moss' candidness encapsulates something fascinating. Adapting culturally has been relatively easy, as English is the primary language. Yet, especially in the initial days, nuances in phrasing or subtle implications in people's responses sometimes leave you sensing there's more underneath spoken words. (Kiwis tend to be indirect, so reading between the lines matters.) Moss started school during Tongan language week, grappling with both an unfamiliar accent and learning a new language, and leading to his initial apprehension. But, I was so proud that over the course of four months his confidence grew and he took the opportunity to learn in stride. Last week he enthusiastically performed a mix of Pasifika songs at the school’s year-end performance.

In their first week, the boys marveled at the freedom and autonomy they enjoyed during the day. The school schedule allows for morning tea and recess simultaneously for all classes. This time affords them the chance to dart across the expansive campus, mingling with kids from various classes and years, exploring different corners, staging imaginative games, and even setting up "mini hāngīs" or islands under the shade of trees.

The emphasis on play, curiosity and community seems to be reflected in many of the schools events, too. Early on in the year the school PTA planned a “disco” for families on a weekend that was widely attended. I delighted in chaperoning the all-Year 4 (equivalent to all-3rd grade) class sleepover one night in the school gym. A parent who works for an aerospace company brought a large telescope and spent some time orienting kids to different constellations in the sky. We watched Wall-E together, and then all of the kids swapped graphic novels and read as they cocooned in their sleeping bags for the night.

What the Transition Meant for Our Family

I could dissect this a million ways, but a few thoughts linger. Foremost, as a mom, I'm surprised by the persistent worry about decisions regarding my kids' school and activities. Despite believing that a household valuing learning matters more than the school they attend, doubts crept in when choosing and enrolling them in a seemingly reputable nearby public school. Questions gnawed at me—should I ask more? Will the academic rigor match and keep pace with what is offered at US schools? What if they lag behind? What if this isn't enough? The move to a more relaxed country didn't silence these anxious voices; it's a continual recalibration, shaped by the parenting culture ingrained in me.

Another reflection—my belief that involved families, regardless of school context, are the greater driver for academic success - is rooted in the belief that families step in to both advocate and supplement learning opportunities for their kids when they struggle. While I held this ideal philosophically/cerebrally, this past year I was tested on if I would live this out in my personal experience. Moss has struggled with learning to read. When I practiced reading with him he jumbled/flipped letters, read words backward, and had difficulty with word memorization and fluency. I recognized that his in-school learning wasn't cutting it and that I needed to step in and supplement.

In Washington, D.C., I tried to begin integrating daily reading and phonics practices, but struggled to work them in consistently amid our chaotic schedules. Fortunately, our move in July provided an unanticipated 'clean slate' to our daily schedules. In those initial months, devoid of packed schedules, I found brain space, energy, and opportunity to establish a routine to provide focused support. Nightly sessions with reading materials, usage of a wonderful phonics-based app, and persistent practice became quotidian. Progress was slow but steady. Moss began grasping sight words, understanding phonetic rules, and gaining confidence as he navigated learning readers.

He (+ Charlie, Asher, Andrea and I) were glowing with pride as he jumped levels by year-end, reading much closer to on-grade level. Something I’ve been ruminating on, over and over, in the open moments of my days – is the likelihood that I wouldn’t have had a natural opening to reset and give Moss as much time and intention due to they busyness of life in DC. There is something interesting wrapped up in this unintended benefit of the move -- the time opened up, and that we were able to focus on supporting our kids in a way that they needed it, right when they needed it.

A line has been on repeat in my head: Things take the time they take.

(Initially, I thought this came to me from inside myself, but I recently stumbled upon it in a poetry collection I read to Mom in her final days – from Mary Oliver, of course.) One of the greatest, collective lessons being learned and embrace by our family is this – that things take the time they take.

Finding a home.

Settling in to a place where it feels comfortable and cozy.

Learning how to read.

Making new friends.

Re-discovering things.

Figuring out what hobbies you want to pick up or put down (for you, or for your kids) in a new city.  

You can hunger for a magic button to fast forward/power quickly through into the next, settled-in comfortable chapter, and even trick yourself into thinking you have the mindpower /will power to do this to some extent.

But, as the schoolyear comes to an end I am I am finding myself sitting with the revelation and acceptance of the reality that everything I/(we) want to unfold within our new life here will simply take the time it takes, and that is just fine.

[how it started!]