When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do.
Fate is kind
She brings to those to love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing.
Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true.
NOW, THEREFORE, IT IS ORDERED, ADJUDGED AND DECREED that said minor children are hereby declared to be adopted by Petitioners, RYAN and ADAM REISMAN.
IT IS FURTHER ORDERED, ADJUDGED AND DECREED that said minor children shall henceforth have all lawful rights as their own children, including the right of support, protection and inheritance, and shall henceforth bear the names of JUSTICE RACHEL REISMAN and JUSTIN BENJAMIN REISMAN.
Dated this 19th day of March, 2013,
The Honorable Cynthia N. Giuliani
Eighth Judicial District Court Judge
Las Vegas, Nevada
And of course, we were running late. We got the call at ten in the morning - "Come in today! It's going to be today!" - and we erupted with relief and excitement. As soon as we got the official word, we put out a flurry of emails, times and locations, and a quick Facebook "join us if you can," and we were off and running.
The kids were in school, so it was a mad dash to pick them up and get across town to the courthouse in time, especially since when we got there, no one seemed to know where Justin was. His teacher's classroom was dark. He wasn't in the art room, he wasn't in the music room, lunch was over, the staff seemed stumped, until...
Ahhh, recess. Of course. There he was, out on the playground, oblivious to the drama, just busy being six.
"Hi Dad," he grinned, as soon as he saw me, and immediately left his friends in mid-tag to run over and half-hug me, half-sock me, as he always does in his unanticipated moments, in his beautiful bursts of joy.
His white shirt was so spaghetti-stained from one end to the other, we had to stop in the office and buy him a new one. Seriously. We had to buy him a new uniform shirt before we could put him in the car. Really, hot lunch lady? You had to serve spaghetti on white uniform shirt day? On adoption day? On what conceivably could be the most photographed day of his life, sans wedding bells? Oy vey. This is Justin we're talking about, ma'am. He can drink water and somehow get unremoveable stains on his shirt. Spaghetti sauce? Why not just skip the nutritional middleman and hand him a paint gun?
We rounded up Justice from classroom two. Justin showed us the way through the labyrinth of lower school hallways. Justice knew what was coming and bit back a smile when she saw us. Cheek-bit her smile in that reserved, brief, not-going-to-let-you-see-me-smile sort of way that has become her endearing trademark these past nine months.
They both knew there was an odd chance we'd finalize today, we told them it was up to judges, filings, timing and fate, but until they saw us walking into their school to get them, they didn't know were were a "go."
But hey, get out of school half a day early and get adopted to boot? Yeah, they were both smiling as they walked down the halls. Justice demurely. And Justin strutting like a peacock. And oh, how that boy can strut.
The same Courthouse that so fully vexed me when I was legally changing my name -- the building of red tape and headaches that took "thorn in my side" to a whole new level -- now looked like an oasis in a long and complicated desert.
Two kids and Adam's mom in tow, we shuffled in, took our belts and shoes off, security screened all the body parts and acessories they like to take a peek at before they let you loose on the judges, and we made our way upstairs to Courtroom 6.
The Fromes were there, God bless them. And Adam Graff from temple. And Miss Mary, Miss Tiffany, Miss Courtney, Nurse Maureen and all the other case workers (am I missing any misses?). There was Wendy from the Adoption Exchange, with her beautiful Heart Gallery photograph of the kids, just like she promised, all those months ago.
Howard and his new girlfriend were there, snapping pictures like it was Oscar Night. And Chris, who's been in Justice's life since she was a little bitty baby, who literally first met her at the hospital with Grandma Cindy on the day she was born, was there and smiling and wiping back tears during this birth too, proving life as we know it really does come full circle, and faces past become faces future, and there's a magnificent continuity to all of this. Some things we don't fully anticipate until magic days and magic ways bring them to us, front and center. But here they are, meant to be. And they are beautiful.
"All rise!" the bailiff shouted, and thank God, the kids did. Telling Justin to get up out of a chair and stand on cue is a crapshoot on the best of days, so I silently thanked my lucky stars that court hearings register on his wack-a-doodle radar as legitimate pay attention moments.
The judge looked at them with the sweetest, kindest smile, and spoke to them softly, surprising them completely and winning everyone over from her very first words.
"Are you Justice and Justin?" she asked.
They nodded shyly, still a little in awe. Frankly, they don't see a lot of women in long, black robes, so this was a new one. She could have ninja stars, broccoli or time-outs under that robe for all they knew.
"Do you mind if I come down there and talk to you for a minute?" she asked them.
They smiled shyly and said that would be okay.
"I've been thinking of you all night long," the judge said quietly.
Their eyes lit up. These are two kids who love to be thought of.
"I went to bed last night wondering what you looked like, and how tall you were, and what your voices might sound like, and now here you are, right in front of me."
They smiled at that. Actually giggled.
"Do you want to come up here and sit by me while we do this?"
They did they said, and up they went, eyes wide. Went right up on the bench with her and sat in her lap, one on each side.
She gave them teddy bears before she started, God bless her. That's when I started looking around for the Kleenex box. Come on. I don't care how many times you've seen Law & Order. You still have to dab the old waterworks a little when the judge gives out teddy bears.
"I bet you know why you're here, right?" she asked kindly.
"Because we got out of school," Justin answered. And everyone laughed as the last remaining sliver of ice broke.
"Well...yes..." she laughed, "but other than that, why are you here?"
"So we can get adopted," Justice said.
"Exactly," she said. "And who's that over there?" she asked, pointing at me.
"Dad," they answered in unison.
"And who's that over there?" she asked, pointing at Adam.
"Daddy," they answered.
"And are you ready for them to adopt you, or should I take you home with me?"
"Home with you," Justice giggled, and we got our second round of laughter from the group assembled.
"Well, I'll tell you what," the judge said. "Why don't we let your Dad and Daddy adopt you and I will just keep in touch with each other instead. Would that be okay?"
Okay, they admitted. That would be fair.
"So you think you want to be adopted today?" she smiled.
"Yes," they said.
They both said yes.
The rest came down to legal-eze, and not too much of it at that. Just a few questions straight out of the petition asked by our wonderful attorney and friend Fran, who did this without a single penny asked. Her speed and generosity were a blessing. And when I looked at her, even she was full of happy tears. Will we care for them? Will we treat them as our own children? Do we realize that they, and we, will have all lawful rights?
God, yes, we realize it. Pinocchio and family are no longer made of wood. The Blue Fairy's wand wave was a long time coming, but brave, truthful and unselfish, here we were, and two dads' dreams were finally coming true.
"Now comes the magic part," the judge said, and the kids were still sitting on her lap spellbound, looking in her computer monitor like it might actually emit sparks or colored smoke or something. You could see it in their eyes as she read the following out loud. No special effects, but it was music to our ears all the same.
"Therefore, I order, adjudge and decree that Justice and Justin are hereby declared adopted by Adam and Ryan Reisman and shall henceforth be considered their own lawful children."
And that's all it took.
And people clapped.
And Bernetta cried.
And now we are a family. A real live one. Signed, sealed, delivered.
I've got no strings to hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown.
I had strings, but now I'm free
There are no strings on me.
Hi-ho the me-ri-o
That's the only way to go.
I want the world to know
Nothing ever worries me.
I've got no strings, so I have fun
I'm not tied up to anyone.
They've got strings but you can see
There are no strings on me.
Our story hasn't ended, in fact, it's just beginning. But I do know this part of Fly4You is done...the part where my kids are no longer a case number. Now they're just my kids.
The storytelling isn't done either. This journal will continue, because I still don't know where the happily-ever-after is. Maybe it's when I dance with Justice at her wedding, or maybe it's when I stand next to Justin in the maternity ward and he puts his new child in my arms for the first time.
I don't know what shape it will take, but I do know it's out there, and I do know we're heading toward it.
To all of you, who've been with us this year, I leave you the same words we gave Miss Mary, the kids' case worker these past three-years-plus they've been in the system. The kids rubbed their hands in paint, and gave her their handprints, framed, with "Justin, age 6," and "Justice, age 7," written underneath this verse.
Hands that held me when no one else would.
Soft, strong angel hands.
You took mine in yours and led me home.
You changed my world
with one touch of your hands,
and for that I will always be grateful.
Thank you, Eighth Judicial District Court. What a gift. Literally, the gift of a lifetime. Everything in our lives, up to today, was just a rehearsal for the beautiful blessing of now.
We'll see you soon friends. We've got a week-long trip to Disneyland to plan. And then when we come back, we're going to get busy with the long, beautiful business of familyhood. And you can watch.
In the meantime, welcome home, Justice and Justin. We're glad you let us adopt you.
We love you more than anything else in the world, ever, ever, ever.
Welcome home.
"I've Got No Strings" and "When You Wish Upon a Star" by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington from Walt Disney Studio's "PInocchio,"
©1940 The Walt Disney Company
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Comes Now, Petitioners
TO: THE HONORABLE, THE EIGHTH JUDICIAL DISTRICT COURT OF
THE STATE OF NEVADA, IN AND FOR THE COUNTY OF CLARK
COMES NOW, Petitioners, ADAM and RYAN REISMAN, both of
whom are adults, and respectfully represent to this Honorable Court
as follows:
The pages are signed, the ink is dry, the petition is filed, and good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, we're about to finalize our adoption in court.
It could be next Tuesday. It could be a week from now. It could be the first week of April.
But Hallelujah and please stand by, one of those dates, depending on whose in-box we fly in and out of fast enough, Pinocchio 1 and Pinocchio 2 will turn into real live dads, we'll be out of legal limbo and we'll become the bona fide parents of Justice and Justin.
I think the words "bona fide" are actually in the paperwork somewhere, which makes me giggle and think of George Clooney's ex-wife in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" -- "Vernon here's got a job. Vernon's got prospects. He's bona fide."
Anyway, that's the voice I hear in my mind when I read the document. Holly Hunter with a Southern Accent. Except for the first line, "Comes now, Petitioners, Adam and Ryan Reisman," which I hear in a boisterous, out-of-tune Klingon opera voice, like Worf on TNG and DS9. "Comes NOWWWW, Puh-TISH-uh-NURRRS!"
But as usual, I digress. When do I not digress? Oy.
"If the Court makes and enters its order that the minor children
shall be adopted as herein prayed for,
Petitioners will treat and regard these children as their own
lawful children and will provide these children the right of
support, protection and inheritance."
Inheritance? Whew, good luck with that one kids. Put it this way...you'll get a paid-off house to fight over and all my old Billy Joel CD's. Other than that, I suggest you start tucking aside a little out of each paycheck ASAP.
But "support and protection," that part we're good for. Well, other than the reckless amounts of Krispy Kreme, Hot Cheetos and Hershey's with Almonds allowed in our house, that is. Let's not get too nitpicky, your honor.
Thank you to our marvelous friend and mind-bogglingly fast attorney, Fran Fine, Esquire, who set new land-speed records getting everything drawn up, filled out and filed at the courthouse the minute DFS gave her the go-ahead. For nine months our world felt like it was moving in a vat of molasses, then Fran stepped in, and suddenly we were in hyperspace.
I'd show everyone the petition we filed word-for-word, (because copy and paste is a marvelous invention), but I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon, and as Han Solo so wisely noted "traveling through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, boy. Without precise calculations, we could fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova, and that'd end our trip real quick, wouldn't it?
So rather than face the wrath of bad protocol, and DFS and/or Clark County Family Court rules which are mighty and all-powerful, a bit like James Franco in the new Oz movie, I'll just cull the fun parts and give you snippets. If you want to see the whole thing, you'll have to meet me in a dark alley at night, where I'll be the one in dark sunglasses and a yellow raincoat. "Psst. Hey buddy. Wanna see my petition?"
"Petitioners are financially able to and will provide
for the comfort and welfare of the minor children. Petitioners are
of good moral character and reputable standing."
The other part up there, "Petitioners are of good moral character and reputable standing," goes without saying, unless you count the time I was 19 and got drunk at Cindy Parker's house and started passing out chicken salad sandwiches under her dining room table. Suffice it to say, I was quite a hit.
Anyhoo....
"WHEREFORE, Petitioners pray for an order of the Court
that the minor children be adopted by the Petitioners; that
henceforth the minor children be regarded and treated in all
respects as the children of the Petitioners,
ADAM and RYAN REISMAN."
Set your countdown clocks and standby champagne thrusters. Here comes reality, Pinocchio.
We are finally, blessedly, almost there.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Class
You were my queen in calico,
I was your bashful, barefoot beau.
You wrote on my slate, "I love you so"
When we were a couple of kids.
- Will Cobb & Gus Edwards, 1907
What a difference a year makes.
Thank you to the miraculous staff of the Adelson Educational Campus, who took two incredibly challenged, uprooted and unadjusted children at the beginning of this school year, and gave them safety, comfort, love and stability, and a path to academic peformance and improved self esteem that so profoundly surpasses what they were able to accomplish last year in public school, the difference in their lives, both socially and academically, lights up the sky.
Like the Academy Awards, I know I'll inadvertently miss someone, but Morah Nicki, Ms. Schorr in the Art Room, Coach Lamph, and Mr. C in Music (one day I really will learn how to spell Culcasi), you are our heroes and our hope.
Ms. Colwell, our amazing Head of Lower School, Mr. Schiffman, our Head, who gave us inspiration and nothing but forward-thinking optimism from Day One, and Ms. Kalb, who equally enbraced us with her loving welcome way back in the June assessment that already seems a lifetime ago, thank you.
To Mr. Mancuso, your astounding financial aid team, and the cooperative miracles made possible by you and the amazing Las Vegas Jewish Federation, we owe you our very existence. I don't quite know if you all fully understand yet how much you've changed the world for this new famly, but it is beyond what you think you've done. It has altered the course of four new lives immeasurably, every day.
And to Dr. Miriam and Sheldon Adelson, I will never know why you made this school part of your life's mission, but I can't help feeling in all four corners of my grateful, egocentric heart that it was for children just like ours. Born into a world of drug addiction and parental neglect, shuttled into a System that changed their faith and took their very identity away, Justice and Justin could have been lost for a very long time. They could have been lost to their Judaism. Lost to an overburdened public school system without the resources to help them. But now here they are in your world. And they're thriving.
And I know you didn't create all this with them in mind, but here they are. And you two are the benevolent champions who gave them their life back. Every day we drop them at your door, you should know what kind of miracle that is. If that's even part of what you hoped to accomplish by giving this world such a remarkable haven, then part of that dream came true this year. And it's name was Justice and Justin. Thank you.
No voyeuristic peek through the curtains of our fledgling family room would be complete without a look at their most recent report cards, and to that, I turn to all the teachers and heroes above, and two in particular I haven't mentioned yet.
If Jewish schools had saints - and sometimes I think they should - the first two women I'd hold forward for instant canonization are Ms. Henke and Mrs. Medof, our two in the trenches, who, in the complete personification of go-team-go, put the "home" in our "homeroom," and whose nearly bewildering committment to our children went so far past simple duty or professionalism this year, I can't even articulate our level of gratitude, respect and raw admiration without wiping my tears away.
Dena and Antoinette, if there's a special easy chair in heaven for those who give from the heart and give from the head and literally turn at-risk children's worlds around, then sit back, grab your headphones and put your feet up, we're buying you Temperpedic thrones. I'll be fanning you with palm leaves and Adam will be feeding you grapes. We've held people in esteem before, but never like this. Never like you. Bless you both, with all our hearts. While we've been teaching them how to learn to love, you taught Justin and Justice how to love to learn, and I can't even tell you how important that makes you in their lives without reaching for the Kleenex.
Math: "Justin is moving right along in math. He has a very bright mind and is able to understand math concepts quickly and with ease. He is a great problem solver and his mental math connections are right on target. He is able to sit and listen better in class which helps him to stay focused and not make silly mistakes. I am amazed at how well he can sit during math activity time and calendar time. Justin is doing just great and I am so proud at how far he has come this quarter."
Reading: "Justin is making very steady and good progress. Even when he meets a challenge, he perserveres and is able to read the text to the best of his ability without frustration. His fluency is building as well as his pace. Justin has great recall skills and remembers what happens in the story. During center time, he is staying well focused and he does his work diligently and neatly. Fantastic job, Justin."
Science: "Justin is doing so well. Since he is more focused, he is able to retain so much more information discussed. He participates more and feels so much pride when he is able to answer questions correctly. He has had so much fun learning about space and the solar system. He loves all the activities we do in class and is very enthusiastic when we learn new things."
Music: "Justin exhibits good grasp of basic rhythm skills and has learned to keep the beat steady when we work with drums, bells or we are simply dancing. He is a pleasure to have in class."
Phys Ed: "Justin continued to display strong athletic skills during the second quarter of Physical Education. Although Justin is a kind boy, he gets caught up in the games and becomes a bit aggressive. I would like to see him focus on improving his teamwork and sportsmanship."
Art: "Justin is a natural artist and a delight to have in class!"
Judaics & Hebrew: "Binyamin is doing well academically in Hebrew and Judaics this quarter. We are still working on keeping our hands and bodies to ourself as well as waiting to be called on before giving an answer, but we will get there! Keep working hard and stay focused!"
Social Studies: "Another area I see so much growth. He is able to listen to stories and participate in open discussions. I love to see the joy on his face when he makes mental connections to what he is being taught. He has a good heart and compassion for others. He has learned a lot about Jewish history and American history this quarter."
Writing: "Justin is right where he needs to be in writing this quarter. He is doing much better with concentration and finishing his product. His printing, spacing and grammar skills are much improved. He is trying much hader to phonetically and skillfully sound out words to put in his sentences. He works more independently and is able to complete his work when asked. Justin is finding good success with his writing."
Work Habits and Behavior: "Justin has made such amazing progress this quarter. The medication has helped him on every level in class. He always had an amazing heart and he loves to learn, but this change has helped him to really enjoy learning. I see him only going up from here. We are still working on taking responsibility for our own actions and not worrying so much about others. He has improved, but he still tends to oversee others in class. I tell him that is my job, but I don't think he believes me. I just love him."
And we love you, Ms. Henke. We thank you for your endless patience and your try-any-angle perserverence as Adam and I waded through a nightmare of red tape and county-ordered clumsiness, trying simply to get Justin the medicine he needed to sit still in your class. If anyone at Aldelson should have been drawing hazard pay from August 27th to December 19th, it was you. But you did it with good humor, endless optimism, and boundless encouragement to us, to Justin, and to all we were going through. You became our ally in every sense of the word, and in a family like ours, your full, frank friendship was a blessing. Talk about earning your paycheck the hard way. Your laughter and support while we both made "hang in there" our mantra, are already heirlooms of a first year's victories, tucked firmly into our hearts.
Antoinette. While Adam and I spent so much time in our early months fearful over what was going wrong with our new daughter's adjustment, you remained warm and wise, perceptive and corrective, introducing us to the side of Justice you saw every day...the compassionate girl who helps her friends...the gentle, good, considerate Justice who pays attention, goes out of her way to love and learn. In your world, we learned with great relief, she's not labeled with defiance disorders and oppositional behaviors. Her difficult adjustment at home had little bearing on the tender grace within her heart she displays in your classroom, and it meant the world to us that you kept letting us know that, every time you saw us.
Work Habits and Behavior: "Justice continues making great progress in first grade. She is a focused worker and attentive listener and is consistently cheerful and helpful with classmates. Justice has expanded her friendships and is a sought-after playmate. She is a delight."
Art: "Justice is a delight to have in class!"
Hebrew & Judaics: "Rachel is doing a fantastic job in Hebrew and Judaics. She is a focused, attentive learner who participates a lot in class and really tries her best. It is a pleasure to have her in class."
Math: "Justice has done a very good job in math this semester. Her work on unit tests and cumulative reviews shows she has a very good understanding of the material that was presented. When working with new skills and concepts, Justice needs some additional practice and review. Once she feels confident, she works with more accuracy and enjoyment."
Phys Ed: "Justice works to achieve the objective each day in Physical Education. She is an attentive listener who is ready to take on the task, knowing what is expected of her. Keep up the good work, Justice."
Reading: "Justice has shown excellent skills on her tests, earning perfect scores on all but two tests this quarter. Indpendent work has also improved and Justice now works with more focus and enjoyment. Justice seems proud of her growing skills in reading. She has had a good term!"
Social Studies: "Justice was a conscientious, involved learner during our studies of maps, the continents, and Antarctica. She produced excellent work."
Writing: "Justice has worked hard to improve her writing this semester. Justice earned perfect scores on the end of Unit 3 and Cumulative Review tests, demonstrating that she had excellent recall of the skills presented. Justice writes with more confidence and enjoyment. Her compositions are longer and more detailed. At times her sentences are so long that it is hard to follow the sequence of her stories. Justice is working on expressing her ideas clearly and more concisely without compromising her creativity. She has made progress in each area of writing. She should be proud of her accomplishments!"
We are enormously proud of what Justice and Justin have accomplished this year at their new school, and we are thrilled to report they have been welcomed back to Adelson next year as first and second-graders. If you see a teacher today, or a school administrator - anyone who works for a school, anywhere - thank them. They really are our greatest hope for our children's future. I don't think I understood that until now. Not really, anyway. Comes a time in your life when cliche and common platitudes become staggeringly, joyfully real. Internalize that one, Skippy. Schools really do change the world.
Of all crazy songs to think of during an essay on our kids' education and the gift we've been given by the teachers, administration and financial backers at the Adelson Educational Campus who continue to make it all possible, I can't get this one out of my mind:
And now we're standing face to face
Isn't this world a crazy place
Just when I thought the chance had passed
You go and save the best for last
Sometimes the snow comes down in June
Sometimes the sun goes round the moon
Just when I thought the chance had passed
You go and save the best for last
You did, you know. You took two good, beautiful children whose hearts were full but whose hopes were compromised and you redefined their future. You set them sailing.
"Teach a child three things," the Talmud instructs from the sign above the beautiful swimming pool they play and learn in. "Torah, a trade, and how to sail on water."
Well done, all of you, because if anybody has lifted them buoyantly into a new tomorrow no one had the audacity to imagine, it's you. And now it's second star to the right and straight on till morning.
I hope you know we are forever grateful.
I was your bashful, barefoot beau.
You wrote on my slate, "I love you so"
When we were a couple of kids.
- Will Cobb & Gus Edwards, 1907
What a difference a year makes.
Thank you to the miraculous staff of the Adelson Educational Campus, who took two incredibly challenged, uprooted and unadjusted children at the beginning of this school year, and gave them safety, comfort, love and stability, and a path to academic peformance and improved self esteem that so profoundly surpasses what they were able to accomplish last year in public school, the difference in their lives, both socially and academically, lights up the sky.
Like the Academy Awards, I know I'll inadvertently miss someone, but Morah Nicki, Ms. Schorr in the Art Room, Coach Lamph, and Mr. C in Music (one day I really will learn how to spell Culcasi), you are our heroes and our hope.
Ms. Colwell, our amazing Head of Lower School, Mr. Schiffman, our Head, who gave us inspiration and nothing but forward-thinking optimism from Day One, and Ms. Kalb, who equally enbraced us with her loving welcome way back in the June assessment that already seems a lifetime ago, thank you.
To Mr. Mancuso, your astounding financial aid team, and the cooperative miracles made possible by you and the amazing Las Vegas Jewish Federation, we owe you our very existence. I don't quite know if you all fully understand yet how much you've changed the world for this new famly, but it is beyond what you think you've done. It has altered the course of four new lives immeasurably, every day.
And to Dr. Miriam and Sheldon Adelson, I will never know why you made this school part of your life's mission, but I can't help feeling in all four corners of my grateful, egocentric heart that it was for children just like ours. Born into a world of drug addiction and parental neglect, shuttled into a System that changed their faith and took their very identity away, Justice and Justin could have been lost for a very long time. They could have been lost to their Judaism. Lost to an overburdened public school system without the resources to help them. But now here they are in your world. And they're thriving.
And I know you didn't create all this with them in mind, but here they are. And you two are the benevolent champions who gave them their life back. Every day we drop them at your door, you should know what kind of miracle that is. If that's even part of what you hoped to accomplish by giving this world such a remarkable haven, then part of that dream came true this year. And it's name was Justice and Justin. Thank you.
No voyeuristic peek through the curtains of our fledgling family room would be complete without a look at their most recent report cards, and to that, I turn to all the teachers and heroes above, and two in particular I haven't mentioned yet.
If Jewish schools had saints - and sometimes I think they should - the first two women I'd hold forward for instant canonization are Ms. Henke and Mrs. Medof, our two in the trenches, who, in the complete personification of go-team-go, put the "home" in our "homeroom," and whose nearly bewildering committment to our children went so far past simple duty or professionalism this year, I can't even articulate our level of gratitude, respect and raw admiration without wiping my tears away.
Dena and Antoinette, if there's a special easy chair in heaven for those who give from the heart and give from the head and literally turn at-risk children's worlds around, then sit back, grab your headphones and put your feet up, we're buying you Temperpedic thrones. I'll be fanning you with palm leaves and Adam will be feeding you grapes. We've held people in esteem before, but never like this. Never like you. Bless you both, with all our hearts. While we've been teaching them how to learn to love, you taught Justin and Justice how to love to learn, and I can't even tell you how important that makes you in their lives without reaching for the Kleenex.
Math: "Justin is moving right along in math. He has a very bright mind and is able to understand math concepts quickly and with ease. He is a great problem solver and his mental math connections are right on target. He is able to sit and listen better in class which helps him to stay focused and not make silly mistakes. I am amazed at how well he can sit during math activity time and calendar time. Justin is doing just great and I am so proud at how far he has come this quarter."
Reading: "Justin is making very steady and good progress. Even when he meets a challenge, he perserveres and is able to read the text to the best of his ability without frustration. His fluency is building as well as his pace. Justin has great recall skills and remembers what happens in the story. During center time, he is staying well focused and he does his work diligently and neatly. Fantastic job, Justin."
Science: "Justin is doing so well. Since he is more focused, he is able to retain so much more information discussed. He participates more and feels so much pride when he is able to answer questions correctly. He has had so much fun learning about space and the solar system. He loves all the activities we do in class and is very enthusiastic when we learn new things."
Music: "Justin exhibits good grasp of basic rhythm skills and has learned to keep the beat steady when we work with drums, bells or we are simply dancing. He is a pleasure to have in class."
Phys Ed: "Justin continued to display strong athletic skills during the second quarter of Physical Education. Although Justin is a kind boy, he gets caught up in the games and becomes a bit aggressive. I would like to see him focus on improving his teamwork and sportsmanship."
Art: "Justin is a natural artist and a delight to have in class!"
Judaics & Hebrew: "Binyamin is doing well academically in Hebrew and Judaics this quarter. We are still working on keeping our hands and bodies to ourself as well as waiting to be called on before giving an answer, but we will get there! Keep working hard and stay focused!"
Social Studies: "Another area I see so much growth. He is able to listen to stories and participate in open discussions. I love to see the joy on his face when he makes mental connections to what he is being taught. He has a good heart and compassion for others. He has learned a lot about Jewish history and American history this quarter."
Writing: "Justin is right where he needs to be in writing this quarter. He is doing much better with concentration and finishing his product. His printing, spacing and grammar skills are much improved. He is trying much hader to phonetically and skillfully sound out words to put in his sentences. He works more independently and is able to complete his work when asked. Justin is finding good success with his writing."
Work Habits and Behavior: "Justin has made such amazing progress this quarter. The medication has helped him on every level in class. He always had an amazing heart and he loves to learn, but this change has helped him to really enjoy learning. I see him only going up from here. We are still working on taking responsibility for our own actions and not worrying so much about others. He has improved, but he still tends to oversee others in class. I tell him that is my job, but I don't think he believes me. I just love him."
And we love you, Ms. Henke. We thank you for your endless patience and your try-any-angle perserverence as Adam and I waded through a nightmare of red tape and county-ordered clumsiness, trying simply to get Justin the medicine he needed to sit still in your class. If anyone at Aldelson should have been drawing hazard pay from August 27th to December 19th, it was you. But you did it with good humor, endless optimism, and boundless encouragement to us, to Justin, and to all we were going through. You became our ally in every sense of the word, and in a family like ours, your full, frank friendship was a blessing. Talk about earning your paycheck the hard way. Your laughter and support while we both made "hang in there" our mantra, are already heirlooms of a first year's victories, tucked firmly into our hearts.
Antoinette. While Adam and I spent so much time in our early months fearful over what was going wrong with our new daughter's adjustment, you remained warm and wise, perceptive and corrective, introducing us to the side of Justice you saw every day...the compassionate girl who helps her friends...the gentle, good, considerate Justice who pays attention, goes out of her way to love and learn. In your world, we learned with great relief, she's not labeled with defiance disorders and oppositional behaviors. Her difficult adjustment at home had little bearing on the tender grace within her heart she displays in your classroom, and it meant the world to us that you kept letting us know that, every time you saw us.
Work Habits and Behavior: "Justice continues making great progress in first grade. She is a focused worker and attentive listener and is consistently cheerful and helpful with classmates. Justice has expanded her friendships and is a sought-after playmate. She is a delight."
Art: "Justice is a delight to have in class!"
Hebrew & Judaics: "Rachel is doing a fantastic job in Hebrew and Judaics. She is a focused, attentive learner who participates a lot in class and really tries her best. It is a pleasure to have her in class."
Math: "Justice has done a very good job in math this semester. Her work on unit tests and cumulative reviews shows she has a very good understanding of the material that was presented. When working with new skills and concepts, Justice needs some additional practice and review. Once she feels confident, she works with more accuracy and enjoyment."
Phys Ed: "Justice works to achieve the objective each day in Physical Education. She is an attentive listener who is ready to take on the task, knowing what is expected of her. Keep up the good work, Justice."
Reading: "Justice has shown excellent skills on her tests, earning perfect scores on all but two tests this quarter. Indpendent work has also improved and Justice now works with more focus and enjoyment. Justice seems proud of her growing skills in reading. She has had a good term!"
Social Studies: "Justice was a conscientious, involved learner during our studies of maps, the continents, and Antarctica. She produced excellent work."
Writing: "Justice has worked hard to improve her writing this semester. Justice earned perfect scores on the end of Unit 3 and Cumulative Review tests, demonstrating that she had excellent recall of the skills presented. Justice writes with more confidence and enjoyment. Her compositions are longer and more detailed. At times her sentences are so long that it is hard to follow the sequence of her stories. Justice is working on expressing her ideas clearly and more concisely without compromising her creativity. She has made progress in each area of writing. She should be proud of her accomplishments!"
We are enormously proud of what Justice and Justin have accomplished this year at their new school, and we are thrilled to report they have been welcomed back to Adelson next year as first and second-graders. If you see a teacher today, or a school administrator - anyone who works for a school, anywhere - thank them. They really are our greatest hope for our children's future. I don't think I understood that until now. Not really, anyway. Comes a time in your life when cliche and common platitudes become staggeringly, joyfully real. Internalize that one, Skippy. Schools really do change the world.
Of all crazy songs to think of during an essay on our kids' education and the gift we've been given by the teachers, administration and financial backers at the Adelson Educational Campus who continue to make it all possible, I can't get this one out of my mind:
And now we're standing face to face
Isn't this world a crazy place
Just when I thought the chance had passed
You go and save the best for last
Sometimes the snow comes down in June
Sometimes the sun goes round the moon
Just when I thought the chance had passed
You go and save the best for last
You did, you know. You took two good, beautiful children whose hearts were full but whose hopes were compromised and you redefined their future. You set them sailing.
"Teach a child three things," the Talmud instructs from the sign above the beautiful swimming pool they play and learn in. "Torah, a trade, and how to sail on water."
Well done, all of you, because if anybody has lifted them buoyantly into a new tomorrow no one had the audacity to imagine, it's you. And now it's second star to the right and straight on till morning.
I hope you know we are forever grateful.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
I Wish I Could Be a Butterfly
I'll be on the other end,
to hear you when you call
Angel, you were born to fly,
if you get too high
I'll catch you when you fall
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down.
- Nickel Creek, "When You Come Back Down"
"I wish I could be a butterfly.
When I grow up, I can be a doctor.
I am proud of my brother.
Most children are nice."
- Justice, age 7, February 2013
It's hard to know what's going on in their minds.
At six and seven, displaced and rerouted, what would you think about? What would any of us think about?
In therapy, which happens at our house every Wednesday after school thanks to an amazing organization called Olive Crest, which serves parts of Calfornia, Nevada and the Pacific Northwest, we play games, do crafts and activities, and watch, with the therapist who comes to our home, as the children write, draw and play out what's on their minds.
As is common with children of trauma - and all kids in the system fit that definition - J1 and J2 did not necessarily arrive in our home equipped with a standard set of emotions or the tools to express them the way children who haven't lost both parents - and the parental figures who replaced them - might do.
"Show me what it looks like when you're happy," Miss Hannah, their therapist, said to Justice one night early in our sessions. Justice smiled.
"Show me what it looks like when you're sad," she said next. Justice smiled again.
"Show me what it looks like when you're hurt," she asked. And Justice smiled again.
Same smile, different heartbreak. Sad or happy, you'll likely be the last to know.
Children of trauma do not modulate well. Typically, they're not a little sad or a little upset. When they get pissed or hurt or sad or scared, they go straight to condition red, full-on meltdown. Likewise when they're happy, they're over the moon. And sometimes, as was the case of Justice's confusion over appropriate facial expressions for opposite emotions, they actually don't know the difference.
So that's one of our goals in therapy this year: to teach the kids it's okay - and even healthy - to emote, express anger safely, tell us when they hurt inside and let us help comfort them. That's a big menu to bring to the table, big expectations from parents they've only had for nine months, and a lot of grown-up abstracts to teach reserved, guarded children who, like turtles, learned instinctively from the complicated station of their birth to pull themselves inside a protective cover instead of leaving themselves outside in the real world to be hurt or neglected again.
"If I'm still, quiet, hidden, or pretending," they wisely but unproductively seem to say, "than nothing can hurt me ever again." And we see a lot of that, friends. A challenging, heart-tugging lot of it. This has been an education into the enormous self-preservation mechanisms of the fragile young psyche, bar none.
So that's the hiding place we're trying to challenge. The table we're coaxing them out from under. Come out, come out, wherever you are, my daughter and son, and learn to love, and learn that happy looks one way, and scared looks another way and we love you equally when you're both. Just as much and just as forever. It's okay to be scared, hurt and angry. You're safe here when you are. You're loved when you're happy, cooperative, infuriated or in despair. There is no way to lose our love. It's yours for free and yours forever, no matter which emotions come exploding from your hidden hearts.
"I get angry when I get mad at my brother.
I like my teacher, but she gives us lots of worke.
Animals are not afraid because we be nice to them.
I love my friends.
When I am alone, I feel sad and mad."
You're reading things Justice wrote for her therapist, verbatim, spelling and syntax adoringly unchanged, giving us one of our first illuminating peeks inside her young, deceptively simple, but multi-layered mind. The therpist wrote the beginning of the sentence...
When I am alone...
And asked Justice to fill in the end...
I feel sad and mad.
And that's incredibly important for us, as her dads, to read after she's written it. Because's she's not yet ready to say it to us. "I feel sad." "I feel mad." Those are words she can't yet find the voice for. Whether through simple youth or astoundly complex guardedness, "I feel" is not something she's able to vocalize yet.
I learned a lot about my new daughter from this simple exercise on a piece of yellow legal pad paper. I think all parents should try it with their own kids. I even learned she sees me and Adam in a positive light...or did on this particular night, anyway.
"Father's are..." the therapist prompted...
"Happy," Justice supplied.
Whew. Thank God for unexpected endorsements.
"I feel bad when I scream at them," she wrote.
"I feel happy when someone plays with me."
"School is fun because you play with your friends at resess.
If I could be someone else, I will be like my friends.
My best friend is Brinkly and Molly and Noya and Sarena and Ellie and Ofri and Chris and Christopher and Michel and Eati and Aron and Aaron and Sophia and Emmy and Avi and the other class that I know."
"I will never be mad at my friends.
If I were a teacher, I will be nice to the kids.
A mother is kind to her kids.
What bothers me is when somone teas me.
I am bad when one time I broke my shirt."
"People like me when they see me happy.
My friends think I am sad."
That was perhaps the most telling of all. "People like me when they see me happy," and "my friends think I am sad." This year, through therapy, I hope we can help Justice to relax, relearn and remodulate. To get her eventually to that hopeful place where she knows all of us love her whether she's happy or not, and the friends who think you're sad can wrap you in a blanket of compassion and help you be happy again. Best case scenario, anyway. In a perfect world. Which, sometimes for Justice, this world is still not.
"It is nice to meat you.
I wish I were a gron up.
I wish I could be a butterfly."
I wish you could be a butterfly too, sweetheart. I hope you don't grow up too fast, with your wings too fragile to soar unencumbered, but always stretching, always reaching. That's what flying's all about. Not just height. Sometimes just the beautiful, dizzying, fluttering exploration.
You're getting very good at that, beautiful girl. Just now starting to let those wings emerge, to find out who you are inside. And here's a secret. That lasts forever. It's forever flight. A journey for you, for us, for everybody we know, for a lifetime.
And Daddy and I will always be here to catch you when you come back down.
to hear you when you call
Angel, you were born to fly,
if you get too high
I'll catch you when you fall
When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down.
- Nickel Creek, "When You Come Back Down"
"I wish I could be a butterfly.
When I grow up, I can be a doctor.
I am proud of my brother.
Most children are nice."
- Justice, age 7, February 2013
It's hard to know what's going on in their minds.
At six and seven, displaced and rerouted, what would you think about? What would any of us think about?
In therapy, which happens at our house every Wednesday after school thanks to an amazing organization called Olive Crest, which serves parts of Calfornia, Nevada and the Pacific Northwest, we play games, do crafts and activities, and watch, with the therapist who comes to our home, as the children write, draw and play out what's on their minds.
As is common with children of trauma - and all kids in the system fit that definition - J1 and J2 did not necessarily arrive in our home equipped with a standard set of emotions or the tools to express them the way children who haven't lost both parents - and the parental figures who replaced them - might do.
"Show me what it looks like when you're happy," Miss Hannah, their therapist, said to Justice one night early in our sessions. Justice smiled.
"Show me what it looks like when you're sad," she said next. Justice smiled again.
"Show me what it looks like when you're hurt," she asked. And Justice smiled again.
Same smile, different heartbreak. Sad or happy, you'll likely be the last to know.
Children of trauma do not modulate well. Typically, they're not a little sad or a little upset. When they get pissed or hurt or sad or scared, they go straight to condition red, full-on meltdown. Likewise when they're happy, they're over the moon. And sometimes, as was the case of Justice's confusion over appropriate facial expressions for opposite emotions, they actually don't know the difference.
So that's one of our goals in therapy this year: to teach the kids it's okay - and even healthy - to emote, express anger safely, tell us when they hurt inside and let us help comfort them. That's a big menu to bring to the table, big expectations from parents they've only had for nine months, and a lot of grown-up abstracts to teach reserved, guarded children who, like turtles, learned instinctively from the complicated station of their birth to pull themselves inside a protective cover instead of leaving themselves outside in the real world to be hurt or neglected again.
"If I'm still, quiet, hidden, or pretending," they wisely but unproductively seem to say, "than nothing can hurt me ever again." And we see a lot of that, friends. A challenging, heart-tugging lot of it. This has been an education into the enormous self-preservation mechanisms of the fragile young psyche, bar none.
So that's the hiding place we're trying to challenge. The table we're coaxing them out from under. Come out, come out, wherever you are, my daughter and son, and learn to love, and learn that happy looks one way, and scared looks another way and we love you equally when you're both. Just as much and just as forever. It's okay to be scared, hurt and angry. You're safe here when you are. You're loved when you're happy, cooperative, infuriated or in despair. There is no way to lose our love. It's yours for free and yours forever, no matter which emotions come exploding from your hidden hearts.
"I get angry when I get mad at my brother.
I like my teacher, but she gives us lots of worke.
Animals are not afraid because we be nice to them.
I love my friends.
When I am alone, I feel sad and mad."
You're reading things Justice wrote for her therapist, verbatim, spelling and syntax adoringly unchanged, giving us one of our first illuminating peeks inside her young, deceptively simple, but multi-layered mind. The therpist wrote the beginning of the sentence...
When I am alone...
And asked Justice to fill in the end...
I feel sad and mad.
And that's incredibly important for us, as her dads, to read after she's written it. Because's she's not yet ready to say it to us. "I feel sad." "I feel mad." Those are words she can't yet find the voice for. Whether through simple youth or astoundly complex guardedness, "I feel" is not something she's able to vocalize yet.
I learned a lot about my new daughter from this simple exercise on a piece of yellow legal pad paper. I think all parents should try it with their own kids. I even learned she sees me and Adam in a positive light...or did on this particular night, anyway.
"Father's are..." the therapist prompted...
"Happy," Justice supplied.
Whew. Thank God for unexpected endorsements.
"I feel bad when I scream at them," she wrote.
"I feel happy when someone plays with me."
"School is fun because you play with your friends at resess.
If I could be someone else, I will be like my friends.
My best friend is Brinkly and Molly and Noya and Sarena and Ellie and Ofri and Chris and Christopher and Michel and Eati and Aron and Aaron and Sophia and Emmy and Avi and the other class that I know."
"I will never be mad at my friends.
If I were a teacher, I will be nice to the kids.
A mother is kind to her kids.
What bothers me is when somone teas me.
I am bad when one time I broke my shirt."
"People like me when they see me happy.
My friends think I am sad."
That was perhaps the most telling of all. "People like me when they see me happy," and "my friends think I am sad." This year, through therapy, I hope we can help Justice to relax, relearn and remodulate. To get her eventually to that hopeful place where she knows all of us love her whether she's happy or not, and the friends who think you're sad can wrap you in a blanket of compassion and help you be happy again. Best case scenario, anyway. In a perfect world. Which, sometimes for Justice, this world is still not.
"It is nice to meat you.
I wish I were a gron up.
I wish I could be a butterfly."
I wish you could be a butterfly too, sweetheart. I hope you don't grow up too fast, with your wings too fragile to soar unencumbered, but always stretching, always reaching. That's what flying's all about. Not just height. Sometimes just the beautiful, dizzying, fluttering exploration.
You're getting very good at that, beautiful girl. Just now starting to let those wings emerge, to find out who you are inside. And here's a secret. That lasts forever. It's forever flight. A journey for you, for us, for everybody we know, for a lifetime.
And Daddy and I will always be here to catch you when you come back down.
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