The sound of silence...

So the other day, when it was just me and the boys at home, at around mid-morning, after all the breakfast and playing melee, there was a rare moment of silence. Winkie was on the chair, head bent quietly over a book (*heavens*), Thambi was on the floor playing with his trains, and I was in the kitchen, loading the dishes. The silence was so strong, especially in the wake of all the noise we'd just had, that I simply had to comment on it.

Isn't it awfully quiet Winkie?

Hmmm. Ya.

Its nice, isn't it?

Ya.

Wanna play a game?

Yeah!

Okay...we stay absolutely silent for 3 minutes, and perk up our ears and listen for any other sounds that may be there, and then you tell me what you heard, ok?

OK!

Silence....1 min....2.....3.....and then..

So what did you hear?

Nothing. I did not hear anything. It was very quiet.

Hmm. That can't be. You must have hear something. Little little things...

Ok...then you tell me what you heard...

Silence again...1 min....2....3....

I heard the sound of the cars passing by on the road, I heard you turning over the page fo your book, I heard the click click of the magnets of Thambi's train engine.....see, I heard a lot of things.

Wow. Okay, now its my turn...

Silence....1 min...2....3.....

Ok, your turn...

Hmm.....I heard the beep of the fire alarm (batteries need changing!), I heard you closing the door of the oven, I heard the water drip from the tap, I heard a dog barking outside.....

Wow...that's a lot of things.

Yeah! *pleased as punch*

At the end of this impromptu exercise, we made on important observation. That it feels good to stop talking and start listening. That even simple silence is not the most absolute. There is always that faint white noise. That absolute silence would be the most deafening sound of all...

Listen to the Wind

Listen to the Wind
The story of Dr. Greg & Three Cups of Tea

by Greg Mortenson & Susan L. Roth
Collages by Susan L. Roth

Ages : 5-8

As ordinary people, leading ordinary lives, we may not ever venture to climb the K-2, lose our way and accidentally discover a village that will change our lives forever, but through this book, we certainly can, and hold our children's hands while we do it.

This book is a story about Three Cups of Tea, of how an ordinary man like Greg Mortensen, had a vision to climb K2, the second highest, and even more dangerous peak of the world, to leave a necklace of his deceased sister there. And how he loses his way, and walks off the trail and instead meets his destiny. But it is at a level that children in the ages of 5-8 can read and experience for themselves. I have never come across a children's book before, which is written after an adult version of the same book, and that in itself, makes it exciting. For here is a way to share what moved me, with my own son.

But let's plunge right in...! As soon as you open the book, you meet the children of Korphe, one of the last villages of the Karakoram mountain range, before the landscape is totally taken over by the rugged peaks. The people here are some of the poorest in the world, and the school the children go to, is the outdoors, writing with sticks on the dust of the ground. And this is how things would have continued, had not Dr. Greg, as he is fondly called by the villagers, stumbled into their village one day, noticed the extreme conditions, and vowed to build a proper school for them. He is a man of meager means, and the way he sets about gathering funds, buying materials, and getting into the actual logistics of building a school in that high altitude zone, is what forms the crux of the book.

After all the hurdles are crossed, the school indeed gets built, and every person in that village has lent a hand in its rising. While the men lay the stones for the classroom walls, the women carry the water to mix the cement, and the children wedge tiny slivers of stones into the cement to make it stronger. The way that school comes up, gives the term 'community' a whole new dimension.

Listen to the Wind is a curious title for this story. When Dr. Greg was about to leave Korphe that first time, he asked the headman Haji Ali, to help him think of a something special he could do for Korphe. And Haji Ali tells him to ....listen to the wind. Dr. Greg closes his eyes, and from the distance hears the voices of the children reading their lessons, the sounds carried by the wind. And he realises what he must now do. The story ends with the same phrase, but not before the children of Korphe tell you that they can now read, and add and subtract, and explore maps....they now have a better way of life, thanks to one man.

I love the enterprise of sharing the work of a noble crusader through the means of a children's book. In addition to the pretty picture books and the rich fantasy escapes, our children also benefit from something that is so rooted in reality. The book ends with a lot of real life pictures of the school, Dr. Greg, the children of Korphe, and a wonderful note from the artist, whose work simply has to be mentioned. All the illustrations are done through the use of the collage medium. Susan Roth was very inspired by the way the people of Balti (the region to which Korphe belonged) never let a thing go to waste and found a way to use even the most discarded of things into everything else. So her collage makes use of all kinds of paper lying around her studio, in an effort to honour this deliberate, aesthetic use of things.

On a personal note, Winkie really enjoyed this book. He was fascinated by K2, and that sparked off a whole different discussion of geography and general knowledge, and by the idea that these kids studied in a school which they had helped to build. He now knows the name of at least one little village in the far flung mountains of North Pakistan, and that if you stay quiet long enough, you too will hear the voices of the children trailing down, as you...listen to the wind.

_________________________

[This book is also available for young readers as Three Cups of Tea.]

[Crossposted at Saffron Tree. For comments, click here.]

Making a snowman...

Making a snowman is not half as romantic as it sounds. It is a serious business. But it was the romance of it which carried us outdoors, that cold morning after Christmas, when a nice strong flurry was working up outside. The snow was fresh and powdery and calling us to it. So armed in all the possible gear that we had outside and in storage, we headed out to that fresh morning. It was beautiful, it was thrilling, and that lasted all of 5 minutes. Pretty soon, the tips of little noses began to turn red and drip, and eyes smarted from the cold wind. Still, the romance of doing what they do in the books and the movies and have a picture perfect moment, held strong and we held ground.

The boys made little snowballs and played. Winkie lay flat and traced out a snow angel on the ground. Thambi tried to ride his car even in this ferocious setting. And I set about to build a snowman, armed with tons of romantic ideas about a figure that would tower out of the ground, stark and imposing in that wintry landscape, causing neighbours to pause and smile and say hello to him; carrots for his nose, twigs for his arms, a cheery smile, and a warm hat, maybe even gloves. I was all geared to carry the vision to fruition.

My first vision was completely obliterated as the rest of the family wouldn't help me for it, especially Winkie. Lazy that he can be, he said he would watch and "encourage" me! Bah! R tried to help, but was always waylaid by Thambi, who figured it was more fun to wedge his foot in one hard stomp right in the middle of the snowman's base. So of course, he had to be deflected from his destructive path, so I could get on with the construction.

By this time, my nose was runny, my hands were cold, despite the gloves, and my socks were damp. And while I worked, more snowballs were made and thrown, some even at me, and noses were wiped, and little scuffles broke out as well. And I worked, determined to make the masterpiece. 1/2 an hour in, and I was still making the base layer. I had to quickly give up my notion of a big tall guy who would arrest the landscape. He was going to be short. Very short. Midget sized even. And then I began the second layer. And however much I gathered the snow, and formed the shape and chiseled the excess, I just couldn't get it to look like the ones on the cheery Christmas cards. Those perfect little round mounds sitting snugly one on top of the other, the head mounting it. Mine looked like he had way too big a bottom, almost like an unseemly barrel. Oh well! That vision just flew out the window. *whoooosh*

By this time, doubts were beginning to creep in, and there was a distinct dip in the enthusiasm levels, it must have matched the sub zero conditions I was working in. How do people live in really cold places, I wondered. How do men climb mountains? How does the penguin live in Antarctica??? How did I ever get myself into this!!!!

At this point, another warm idea, with distinct stirrings of romance tickled my sense...that of a cup of hot melting chocolate, perhaps even scooped up from that irresistible chocolate river, in Willy Wonka's factory! Finish this idea first...I scolded myself sternly....see it through!

And that's just what I did. After about a good 45 minutes of scraping and shaping and moulding, my second layer was done and then the third for the head, and finally it was time to accessorise. R, who was by this time, warm and cosy back in the house, carved out a nice pointy carrot nose for me. For the eyes, and mouth and the buttons of the snow jacket, I dipped into a bounty which I had been saving up for years....the tamarind seeds, collected over many many sessions of extracting and cooking. We picked up some dried blades of bush grass for the arms, and R lent his hat for our guy's head. Which brings me to the most important thing of all...with all the character and personality that our snowman has assumed, he needed a name....and that's how Lou came to be.

Happy was the moment when I could freeze the already freezing moment with a *click* and finally head back in to thaw out my fingers and my nose. The souvenir from our little jaunt outside, was a nice little head congestion for me, which begged for a nice long 3 hour nap. Phew. Carving romance from virutality and pegging it to the realities of your own life is hard work. Very hard work.

Within half an hour, the flurries had covered Lou even more nicely and so complete was the obscurity that all you can see right now is a very ordinary mound of pyramid snow, with two blades of grass sticking out the sides. So was it worth all the time I spent outside freezing? Heck yes. It was worth every minute. And I'll tell you why. Inertia is a big thing to overcome these days. It has a very sneaky, unobtrusive way of creeping into your life and sapping you of the one thing that is essential to living....enthusiasm! So for a change, when R suggested we head outside, I said yes. And as a family, we were all in it together, one way or the other. Two, real life is not romantic. The things we read about and experience in an illusory world, nevertheless influence us very deeply, and it is essential at times, to bridge the gap between that world and this, and see how the glove fits. To take the romance of an idea, test it out in real life, see how it withers away in a grass root level, and yet end up stronger, because it is no longer just an idea anymore, that you didn't experience outright. It is now a very real customisation to your own life. And that is a precious find, even at 17 degrees F!

Winter break 2009 - Day 2

Day 2 was interesting. I hit upon a little idea that would make our 10 day situation an interesting *err* enterprise. I am not saying what it is just yet, for what if it falls flat all my face, for all my grand scheming, and I have nothing here to show for it??? Let's just say that it was bound to give us some purpose and direction, and a little excitement of trying something new.

> So once R is dropped, and that rush is over, we have the whole day to ourselves.

> We start off with a little art theme --> shapes. I tell Winkie he can draw whatever he wants, but it has to be done only using the basic shapes that he knows. Not abstract ones either, but our solid, typical shapes.

> He wishes to practice on our trusty whiteboard, before committing his ideas to paper. And on the left is what he drew. A man holding a pyramid on top of his head (we don't know why that is, but suffice it to say, he must be a very important man to be doing such a weighty task), with fire emanating from to tip of the pyramid, shown in orange triangles, with shape clouds in the sky, and a shapely sun :), and the sun rays also shown in shapes all around the man, and a windmill (which I think was an offshoot from my own farm on farmville ;). Overall, it was a great effort, and he was ready to use paper and his colours. That took the better part of another 1/2 hour.

> An hour long bath, splashing in the tub, which could have been avoided given their colds, but what the heck!

> Thambi sleeps off and Winkie and I take our time with lunch.

> Its afternoon, and I have a headache which I want to sleep off with a nap. This is the point where I succumb once more and switch on the idiot box. He watches for an hour.

> Snacks and a fruit, and he goes off to the neighbour's house to play. We see him again only 2 hours later.

> Thambi has spent most of the day in my arms and sleeping, and no TV at all, and that's a small triumph.

> Evening time, boys have a good round of roughhousing and pretend play of Vampire Wars (heavens!) with their father, and the day is wound down with a story from our Curious George collection.

> Bedtime at 9:00.

Overall : Good day. Tho I was planning on some extra time with Winkie in the afternoon, while Thambi slept. But I think we did good, with only 1 hour of media time. Plus, had a lot of free play time with each other, which was really nice!

Rating : 3 stars.

Winter break 2009 - Day 1

12 days and 12 nights. 2 high energy boys. 1 highly impatient Mom, scouring for ideas on how to get by with everyone's peace intact. 1 very involved Dad who unfortunately has only 5 of those 12 days off and at everyone's disposal. 1 TV with too many luring shows, which must be avoided/minimised at all costs. An objective for days spent in creative pursuits, off of the media's distractions, allowing the mind some rest and soul some light. Can it be done? Or is it a tall order in today's world, and in a single family setup where the average set of parents remain pretty frazzled with all that's on their plates. There's only one way to find out! Read on...





> Off to rocky start with a doctor's visit for the boys. Throats are hurting, and temperatures are spiking to decidedly balmy levels.

> Doctor pronounces virals and a possible strep, but a culture rules it out.

> By this time, the morning is gone, and its afternoon. Can we still make something of our day?

> Winkie and me take to watercolours and paint poinsettias for practice. Its not half bad.

> Thambi wakes up and feels better and upto some rowdy games with Winkie. They proceed to bring the roof down, alterating between tumbling and laughing, and fighting and sulking and crying.

> My head is a blur of voices and takes on the zombie like feel.

> Soon enough, its 6 PM and time to get R home.

> Its Dad's turn to roughouse and play and he does it with his trademark gusto.

> Dinner's relatively peaceful. Relatively.

> Teeth brushed. Medicines down. The living room gets a break from all the noise and the bedroom finally becomes an oasis of peace for everyone, as we give in to the tiredness.

Overall. Not bad. 1.5 hours of TV in the morning, with Polar Express and that was it. I can pass that off as a Christmas festivity thing, and I watched it right along with them, so there was a bit of interaction involved! Tho I am sure we can better that tomorrow.

Overall Rating : 2 and 1/2 stars

Let it snow!

When snow comes, as often as it does in Chicago during the winter, though not as much this year so far, the biggest thing that it teaches you is patience.

That first snow of your first winter ever, is the most exciting. You can't wait for it and when it comes, you are all geared to meet it. And then it snows some more and then some more and then some more, and soon, the pure white gives way to the slush and the freezing temperatures refuses to let your heart thaw to the warmth of that first introduction. You have to then be patient to tide through all the cold, white days after that, till it finally begins to melt. You have to be patient every year thereafter, when the hold of snow lessens on you and all you see is the grey wintry landscape outside. You have to be patient when you drive, and go over the icy patches and the thick slush of aftersnow, and avoid skidding even at 20 mph. You have to be patient for the car to warm up enough inside for it to feel like home. You have to be patient when you walk, as you do it slowly, and carefully, and despite everything, get your socks all wet. You have to be patient for the sun to come out and melt out a bit of the ice so you can clear the rest away with your shovels.

And most of all, you have to be patient, as you stay indoors, warm and watching....the whites fall outside and collect on every branch and every rooftop and the railings of the deck and the floor...shelving all your plans to be up and about, since it was just snowed on anyway, and this is when patience really begins to feel easy, for a change...for anything that can make you feel that calm, and that slowed down, and that willing to be the spectator of your own life....just has to be a good thing!

This Christmas...

Christmas is almost here, but I feel like I have been living and breathing it for well over a few weeks. What with all those decorations on the farm (*wink wink*), and the big huge tree with the golden bird on top, and the Christmas carols practice at the Sai Center, and working on their Christmas flier, and reading books on Christmas at home, and designing my own Christmas header, to baking Christmas treats, to looking through and putting up all the Christmas crafts the boys are bringing home...Christmas has become a season of festivity and not just a sacred day in a holy month, and its been so lovely!

Speaking of Christmas things the boys have been bringing home, this cute little santa on the left is Thambi's special contribution to the joyous air. And on the right here, is Winkie's personal letter to Santa. It goes like this....

"Dear Santa, I would like a Wii game and a McQueen PS. Santa, I wish you would give me the right thing. Can you wait until Christmas Eve? I can't wait! I wish I could be your Elf and help you with Santa things. Are you going to take me magically to the North Pole? From, Winkie."

And our own letter goes like this...

"Dear God, there are a great many things that I would like to have. But Lord, I wish you would always, give me just the right thing. I know I am most impatient and can hardly wait for most things to unfold, but you now just the right time for me. I wish I could always be your devotee and help you with your divine work. One day soon, I hope you will give me deliverance and take me magically and eternally to your Abode. From, Me."

I guess, at the end of the day, young and old alike, we are all the same at heart. :)

Merry Christmas everyone!

Three Cups of Tea

Three Cups of Tea is the story of one man, and how a chance encounter high up in the Karakoram ranges one day, led to his mission to make a difference to the world, one school and one nation at a time. My discovering this book was a chance encounter too, and the cover picture of three girls, heads covered in white scarves, heads bent over their books, caught my eye and helped me acquaint myself with the life and work of this remarkable man.

Greg Mortensen was a climber and dreamt of climbing K2, the second largest peak in the world and also the most dangerous, to leave a necklace of his late beloved sister, on the summit. He, alongwith a couple of others in the expedition, were pretty close to the top, but a sudden necessary rescue operation derailed their efforts, as they rescue a fellow climber, who was in trouble, to safety. In the process of descending to their own base camp, Greg wandered off the trail and got lost. After spending a depressing night all alone in the mountains, he sets off the next morning and stumbles into a village, bedraggled and exhausted. It is Korphe, the last village and habitation before the lonely peaks take over the scenery. Little does he know at the time, that he has stumbled upon his destiny, and is about to discover the true calling of his life.

He is welcomed into the village and given a chance to rest and recuperate. In a few days, he has regained enough strength to make the descent and go home. As he prepares to leave, he watches the children of Korphe in their school. The sit on the hard and dusty ground, no roof over their heads, using sticks to write on the dust, their lessons. And watching them, a resolve suddenly forms in Greg's mind, a resolve to build them a proper school. He makes the headman of the village, his promise, that he will be back.

Three Cups of Tea is the story of how Greg Mortensen built that school. And some 131 after that, providing education to some 58,000 kids, 44,ooo of them girls, in some of the most remotest and volatile regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan. This coming from a man, who could barely support himself at the time. He worked as a medic back in the States, filling in as a nurse in a hospital, a clinic....anyplace that would have him. He lived out of his car, and stored his meager belongings in rental storage. How did he go about gathering the funds for a project like this? How long did it take him? Who helped? How did he learn the business of building a school? What about all the logistics, impossible at times, or transporting materials to such high altitudes, in a land which is so ridden by corruption and vested self interests? It is high altitude drama all the way and one that will keep you turning page after page, rooting for this simple earnest man, who has a single minded focus.

One of his biggest challenges post 9/11, is the issue of the rapidly multiplying madrassas and their spewing of fundamentalist Islam. And what started off as one school, in the last village of the mountains, becomes much larger than life, as it addresses the root cause of what develops such volatile, dangerous fanaticism to flourish....that of the dreadful poverty of the people of these remote villages, which see so little of the Central Govt. funds coming their way. Greg makes his case by arguing that one of the most effective ways to ensure security from terrorism, is to provide a balanced, modern education, without any religious overtones, to give the children and youth of this region, a chance for a better way of life, one which they can value. So that when it comes right down to it, they want to choose life over death, and tolerance over jihad.

The title Three Cups of Tea, comes from the custom of this region drink endless cups of tea and use it to forge relationships with others and it has a close analogy with the book. The first cup of tea, is offered in hospitality to a stranger. With the second cup of tea, you become a friend. And by the third cup, you are family. And that is how it is with us, as readers, too....by the time we are done with Three Cups of Tea, we too are intimately drawn to the life of this man, and the people he chose to serve....

And such an experience does not have to end once the book is shut...there are several more ways, to let it continue to enrich our lives. One way is through Pennies for Peace, which is based on the fact that one penny, which is quite useless to us here, helps to buy a pencil for a child out there. A more personalised look at Pennies for Peace, here.

The year is drawing to a close and if you're considering any last donations to make, you might seriously want to consider giving to the Central Asia Institute.
Also, this book is available for young adults too....as Three Cups of Tea One Man’s Journey to Change the World, One Child At A Time.

And much to my delight, there was one for the little kids as well...Listen to the Wind, the review of which is coming up soon! Stay tuned!

I am 32, how old are you?

Today, I am 32 and I have 2 little stories to share with you, and perhaps a bit more than that.

Story 1 goes like this. Right upto the 10th standard, I was safe and secure in a world where I knew exactly when I was born. And I was born on the 2nd of December, 1977. Right upto 10th std that is. One day, as I was filling out forms for the board exams, my parents confess to me that they had made a mistake all these years. That I wasn't really born on the 2nd, I was born a little after 1:00 AM, early on 3rd morning. Somehow, with it being night time and all that, it was mistakenly taken to be the 2nd.

Now this is a good 16 years ago, and that's all my acquired wisdom halved right down its center, and a discovery like this, literally rocked my world. It may have even been the point when I started pondering the big questions of the universe....who am I? How old am I really? When was I really born??? It might sound melodramatic, but your whole life is pretty much built on these sets of facts about yourself that are supposed to be rock solid, so when one of those stones come loose in your hands, you really can't help but stare at that gaping hole in the wall.

Well anyways, cutting the drama short, it took a paradigm shift for me to let go of the 2nd and embrace the 3rd as my real true soul-date. And there's been no looking back. But every year after that, the shadow of the 2nd always cast its glow on my life before retreating from the stage for the 3rd. And my parents always wished me on the 2nd first. What's the point of this story...well, it was my passport's birthday yesterday and for the first 14 years of my life...mine too. :D

Story # 2. At around the same time, my Juno Swan and I became really, truly, the Juno Swans that we are now. And her birthday is on the 5th. So we started celebrating close together, usually on the 5th. And even to this day, the mood of my birthday stretches till the 5th, at the very least. Anyways, I digress. We used to have this silly, fanciful, teenagerish habit of collecting birthday cards and then counting them at the end of the day, to see how many we'd got. And we'd end up with pretty much the same number, give or take a few. Our delight lay in counting how many people we'd won over that year and how popular we really were. Silly I know, but it made us happy and even now it makes me smile. And I have seemingly, still not outgrown this tendency to collect wishes. And all day today, I have been doing just that. And thank God for Facebook, which makes it so convenient, that I've heard from folks I wouldn't normally hear from on a regular basis. Its been such fun and so amazing to know that I do figure in the lives of so many people and that so many incredible ones figure in mine. That they took a few seconds, to stop and write a line or two, stamping a positive vibe on those words, that page, my life. Everyone who wrote to wish me, has made my day for me. And I am just so unabashedly thrilled about that. Thank you guys!

That wraps up story 2. And as for the little bit more...

My birthday today had a cake. It flew across 3-4 states, braving the distance and all the jostling to make it to my doorstep and take a good long nap in my fridge before getting ready to meet its destiny. Altoid's careful warli decorations didn't stand the jostling, but thank God for the before picture, that I could use to recreate in some measure, her efforts of customisation. The evening saw a lone candle come out to be lit and wedged into the center, where it glowed prettily and withstood patiently, Thambi's little attempts to blow it out on his own, before flickering off in the gust of air that Winkie and I mustered amongst the two of us.

After a long day of being connected to the media in one way or another, I find myself pleasantly tired but still nursing the high of celebrating another birthday. Tomorrow, we drop the boys off to school and go off to buy me a new winter jacket and then find a nice place to have lunch by ourselves, without having to look for an extra highchair! Yippee! :)

Ending with this last snippet of information which could be potentially useful to the lay reader. Our library has a nice return policy. Book are due on a certain day, but you have 3 grace days after that, within which you can still return the book, should you be assailed by amnesia. I mention this, because I come with the same clause as well. Everything's due on the 3rd, but you all have 3 grace days to make use of, so use it well. That puts you to the 8th, which, as luck may have it, has my star falling on it! :D

The Origami Master

The Origami Master
by Nathaniel Lachenmeyer
Illustrated by Aki Sogabe

Ages : 4-8

Set in the landscape of the high mountains of Japan, Shima, an origami master lives all by himself. His life revolves around his origami and he is happy living alone.

One day, a warbler chooses the tree next to his home, to build its nest. All day long, it flies about, collecting twigs and materials and at the end of a long day, it sits on a branch and watches Shima at work, from time to time singing...hoohokekyo....hoohokekyo. Shima loves hearing the warbler and all is well until one night, when the warbler flies in to the house and begins to fold a piece of paper, just like Shima.

The next morning, Shima discovers a new paper elephant on his desk. Its the most exquisite thing he has ever seen, and even more beautiful than his own origami elephant. He stays guard that night and discovers the identity of the mysterious origami maker. He is consumed by jealousy and decides to catch the warbler and find out all its secrets. That very night, when the warbler comes in, he grabs it and locks it in a cage.

But the warbler, desolate about being trapped, refuses to do any origami and stares longingly at her home in the tree. Shima tries his best to entice it, but nothing works and he falls asleep at his desk. The next morning, when he wakes up, he finds that the cage door is open and the warbler is gone. And its means of escape is quite ingenious.

At this point, Shima realises how much he misses the bird's company and how much happier he was when it was up in the tree singing...hoohokekyo..hoohokekyo. The story has a happy ending when the warbler returns to its home, to find a beautiful gift waiting for it, from the origami Master himself.

That's the story. And it is one story that was equally enjoyed by both my 6 year old and my 3 year old. Its hard to find common reading ground among the two of them, and it was the warbler's hoohokekyo that charmed both these young readers alike. That and the little origami bird tutorial that was on the last page of the book, with very easy to follow instructions. I made them one bird each and they could now sing hoohokekyo to their heart's content.

As for me, I have to say that I liked the minimalism in this book. That there are just 2 characters in all, and the story tosses back and forth between them. That it is a see and do book, interactive and guiding you to try something new. That the illustrations showing Japan's countryside and the architectural uniqueness of the traditional homes there, together with the pink cheery blossoms, all giving it a very quaint-but-never-cliched oriental touch.

And as for you....well, you will have to guess and tell me, how you think the warbler escaped! :)


[Pics courtesy of Origami Resource Center.]

[To post comments, go here.]

Comprehension...

During Winkie's Parent Teacher conference, that hallowed event that takes place once a year, giving us a window into the 7 weekday hours of his life and his thoughts, among all the other encouraging things we learned about him, we learned one important thing. That good reader as he was, he was having trouble with his comprehension. He wasn't retaining much after reading through a book, and his standard response for feedback about the book was an I don't know. I could totally relate to his teacher when she said that, because we were hitting that same brick wall at home as well. In fact, I had also been wondering about why he wasn't too interested in reading books to himself, though always ready to listen when I read to him. I had put it off to a certain laziness on his part, but poor comprehension skills were a whole different angle to it, and one that made sense.

And I realised we would have to do something about it to help him. For what is the point of reading if you cannot understand what you are reading? It was also necessary to shake some of that laziness off of him and the next day I got out a little ruled notebook. The idea of trying something new sometimes piques his interest and this time it did, especially when I asked him to write a label for his book.....'Comprehension Notebook' it said.

And that's how we started. We do comprehensions 3-4 times a week. He gets to choose the book we want to do this exercise on, and once we have read it, either together or him solo, I open a fresh page of the book, write the title and author and date, and list out all the questions that seem uppermost in my mind. Along the way, he has learnt a lot about how to go about a comprehension exercise and the need to write in full sentences and not convenient monosyllables. :) And the need to add details, rather than present just a curt answer. We've come a long way in just 4 comprehension exercises and while most of the questions are about memory recalls and attention to the finer points of the story, one question, the last one, is always about his feelings about the book and the story. What did he make of this? How did he feel about that? What was his favorite part? How did it inspire him?

At the end of which he knows better, how to dig into his thoughts, extract and present them in a way that I can understand, and oh...he now knows what inspire means. Both of which are great things, don't you think? :)