Praise

When Ella, NochElla (who had come in to say hi), and Alex burst through the door at lunchtime, my girl had the most radiant expression.  "Well, hi there, Ella," I told my grinning daughter, and went to help Alex with his backpack.  But Ella shuffled over and planted herself in front of me, still grinning.

"Um, you look happy, Ella, I'm so glad," I told her as I went to dig out the detritus of their z'nünis (or snacks...elevenses) from Ella's and Alex's bags.

Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. Plant. Grin.

"Ella? Is there something you want to tell me?"

NochElla couldn't stand the suspense any longer.  She burst out, "Oh, Ella had the most wonderful family tree in the whole class! It was absolutely perfect and so beautiful, and she was the only one who thought to actually draw a tree and color it, and the teacher held it up in front of the class, and she's posting it so that everyone can see it! And Ella did such a good job! She was amazing!"

Impossibly, Ella's smile got wider.  "Mom, it was the first time I've been the best at anything, all year. I'm so proud! I even got a paper clip!"

It's interesting how they teach kids to draw their family trees here, upside

down.  Ella says they do it this way so that it's easier to add more branches

when she and her brothers and cousins have kids.

I remember when Ella was about three and we had her in a gymnastics class in Berkeley.  My uncle was visiting, and he joined us at her class, and he chuckled over how the parents and instructor said "Good job! Oh, good job!" with every other breath.  It's a common, well-earned American stereotype: our parents lavishly praise their children.  And Dennis and I still do, constantly telling the kids how proud we are of how far they've come since we moved here.  But, more than once, I've had a disheartened Ella spit back, "You have to say that. You're my mom."

I think it's safe to say that American teachers are probably also quite quick to praise and encourage.  Ella's described her teachers here as scary and strict and stern, but really, I think they're just matter-of-fact. They expect the kids to perform, and they don't see any need to reward them for simply doing their jobs.

It didn't really occur to me until now, how, consciously or not, Ella must really feel the lack of positive feedback from her teachers, since that's all she received for three years of school.  Today's praise was hard-earned, however, and so it had more meaning than a thousand stickers.

After Ella returned to school, NochElla (who had the afternoon off) started doing loops past our apartment with her roller racer.  When Alex didn't notice her, she resorted to rapping on the window: "Can't you come out, Alex! You can play on my racer!"

Alex couldn't believe his luck: she wanted to play with him! Him!  He showed his excitement and gratitude in typical Alex fashion, by heaping NochElla with gifts.  He ran into his room and gathered all of the orphan earrings and sequins that he's been finding and squirreling away, carefully packed them into a bubble tape container, and presented them: "I want you to have this." And NochElla, bless her, received the gift in the spirit in which it was offered.

Puttering with Joey while the big kids play. He
eventually nodded off with his marker in his hand.

So Alex was happily busy scooting and rolling this afternoon, and although NochElla had to go home before Ella got back from school, big brother Paul soon found his way over to ours and kept my kids busy for another happy hour in the sand pit.

Unfortunately, her good day in school did nothing to encourage Ella with her homework tonight.  She was so tired from the long day that, when it came time to settle down to work, it took her ages of dawdling to get some really simple assignments done. As much as I like letting her go out to play with her friends, I think we're going to have to return to our business-before-pleasure policy.