Ode to Joy and family time together
So whatever happened to Easter vacation? Somehow in our striving for political correctness we’ve allowed it to morph into spring break and, in so doing, have loused up a traditional family holiday. Parents and their children used to have a pretty good chance of enjoying some of the same days off. No more.
This year my Montana granddaughter had spring break two weeks before Easter week and was back in school when my other granddaughter was on vacation. Meanwhile, the parents had to take time off work to mind the kids while not celebrating Easter, Passover or even a pagan observance of the Vernal Equinox. Weird.
I try to visit my California family at the ranch and my younger sister in Malibu during the two weeks before Easter. She teaches at a Catholic high school and has a few days off before Easter and a week after. Even so, we managed to join two friends for a dinner at Coogie’s.
Also during my springtime in the southland, I try to see our older sister Judy, even though she would prefer not to see me, or anyone else other than her nurse, Letty, whom she considers her “family.” I respect her wish for privacy. Instead, Letty dials me on her mobile and puts the thing on speaker so Judy won’t have to fuss with it. This also includes Letty in the conversation. Nice.
Well, political correctness aside, the rest of my family-son Bobby, his significant other, her grandchildren, my daughter Susan, her husband Pete and their two children-all gather for Easter brunch of fresh-squeezed orange juice, bacon, eggs and cinnamon rolls. Kind of ranch-like but traditional for us. They come back (minus the two littler kids) for Easter ham dinner, corn souffle, French string beans with mushrooms, beets and croissants. My younger sister has joined her own family for a Passover meal, which is traditional for her daughter-in-law’s mother.
She telephones all of us, and her other family in France, on Easter. With all of these wonderful celebrations of different faiths and cultures, it’s a mystery to me why our institutions, in the name of political correctness, are turning religious celebrations into secular holidays. At the same time that we’re never to mention Easter, many workplaces and schools close at noon on Good Friday. We’re all glad for this but how is it politically correct?
My grandson goes to a continuation school in Antelope Valley, which will allow him to earn his GED in May (a year early). He had been attending the high school closest to the ranch but it was failing miserably. Seven district superintendents (plus a bunch of interim and acting superintendents) in seven years, principals fired, popular staff let go, serious drug problems, plummeting test scores at the middle and high school . . . you would think this was an inner-city school district. But it’s not. It’s rural America. Meanwhile, a nearby charter school has become the highest scoring school in all of Kern County.
Last year, the district lost 154 students (my grandson among them), and now is trying desperately to get them back along with $1 million lost in state funding. Some of these students are being home schooled, some enrolled in a nearby elementary school (which was failing until a new principal was hired two years ago). Some parents say they moved their high school students an hour away over safety concerns and poor athletic programs.
The district trustees would like to blame all this on budget cuts, but that doesn’t seem to be the whole problem.
Yes, electives have been pretty much eliminated. But just as we’ve seen over the years in Santa Monica/Malibu schools, when elective programs are threatened, parents step up to fund music and art classes they consider essential. With so much talent in town, that’s a no-brainer.
But it seems to be happening here, too. My granddaughter Amy has always been interested in music but had no direction from school. This year, her third-grade teacher, the former director of the popular music program at the middle school that was cut, now teaches music three days a week after school on his own time.
I’ve always encouraged Amy to play my old Baldwin piano and she inherited three recorders from her brother, who switched to guitar. Suddenly, she is ready to learn to read music. In less than a week, she is reading and writing in treble clef, which works for right-hand piano parts and the soprano recorder. Bass is next, then alto.
When I arrived two weeks ago, she asked me to teach her a new song. I had no idea she was ready and willing to read. But timing is everything. I played Bach’s Minuet in G Major and she recognized the tune but couldn’t read the score. So I wrote the letters below the notes and while I was busy in the garden or kitchen, she just worked at it. Three days and she had it down pat. Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” is next, a fitting tribute to the season.
I am so loving this.