The sun’s shining again…
So, as you may or may not be aware, we had a little false start when we first moved over here… that is to say I had a little false start. Hubby had already moved over and we stayed behind to sort stuff out. When we finally moved it was Christmas and I missed my folks (yes, I know they’re all mental, but they’re MY mental family), and I’m ashamed to say I had a little wobble and fled back home leaving poor Hubby wondering quite what he was going to do with his new shiny job and newly empty house in a new and strange country. The biggest problem was the school they’d started at. It was a weird, shanty-town type affair with portakabins and strange rules such as no running in the playground and poor #2 was the only child in his class whose first language was English. Now I know that one has to fit in when one moves to another country, and I know that outlying areas of big cities like Dublin will always be multi-national in their communities, but battling a huge move, plus sitting in a class full of Polish, Latvian and Senegalese children and not being able to communicate was tough. And they hated it.
Oh, it’s okay, I came back. And when we did all come back we chose a nice, quirky, fun school for them to go to. It didn’t matter that it was an hour’s drive away at the time as we kind of planned to head north anyway (at the time we didn’t anticipate quite how far north, but that’s another story). And they loved it. They played cricket (in Ireland! Imagine!), learned Latin and embraced their inner quirkiness. Reader, it was a success.
And then everything changed. #1 left for ‘big school’, and slowly, gradually, #2′s smile seemed to fade (and #2′s is a huge and cheeky smile generally – it was like an eclipse…everything seemed darker). Dropping him off became a constant, draining treadmill of pleas, encouragement, bribery…anything just to persuade him out of the car (yes, I tried the rolling pin, but a bruised child is just as tough to move as a sparkly fresh one). It became clear that a couple of children in his class were, well, let’s just say they weren’t particularly friendly. I’d stop short at the term ‘bullying’ but there were a few little incidents…games that he couldn’t join…his beloved watch smashed while he played rugby… His writing was rubbish, he told me, and he wasn’t very good at football. And it played itself out in typical ‘I’m the parent so I’m entitled to interfere’ fashion: parents were talked to, desks were moved…you know the drill. Still, his confidence was ebbing away and things had to change.
Long story short, then… Monday morning saw #2 start at the local school. He’s in the same class as Lou-next-door and Big Lovely, starts at 9.30 and finishes just after 3. He can hardly believe it. It’s like a half day. And yesterday when he arrived home (walked all by himself – it must be all of..oooh…300 yards?) he’d had a lovely day. He rushed to do his homework (which he did painstakingly, joined-up) and went to research WW2.
And no, he’s not learning Latin, nor will he play cricket. But do you know what? He’s actually not bad at Gaelic Football, and at lunchtime he played basketball with Middle Lovely and there’s this pretty girl that sits a few rows in front of him….
And the sun’s out again. I can feel the glow reflecting off him.
Those guys giving you grief in the old school had a problem, forget them. As my big sister always told me “they are of no consequence” and really, they’re not.
Your new school sounds excellent, enjoy
Hmm, lucky you, I went to schools run by nuns my whole life…eeek!
Jenn.
My daughter watched all this – and decided to befriend all the bullies so they were on her side – she doesn’t speak to anyone from school now!!
Its not easy is it!!! x
I’l be honest with you – and this is nothing against my current situation at all, just a underlying desire to go ‘home’ – some days I plan to the letter exactly how I would go back, down to thinking about where my passport is and how quickly I could do it!
I’m never going to do that. (Honest!) But some days it seems rather tempting. One day, when I’ve figured it all out, I’ll write a post about it. In the meantime, thank you for writing yours
In my home town they play gaelic football but the pitch is known locally as the Cricket Field (it adjoins the grounds of the former landlord’s estate). Cricket used to be played in much of Ireland and I remember reading that the places where hurling is strongest now are the areas where cricket was played in the past.
Jenn: Nuns eh? You really should talk to Jen – she’s edumacated by nuns too. She knows all this weird stuff like what saints day it is. And she’s giving up wine for lent. Hee
Paddy: I must admit that Hubby and I did toy with telling him to just bloody thump someone. He’s quite a physical lad and I’m surprised (but kind of relieved) that it didn’t come to that. I was bullied too. I don’t think it ever leaves you x
Towny: So many of us. I wonder if bullied people turn into bloggers – some kind of catharsis?!
Kate: No, it’s not. And as much as you want to, you can’t live their lives for them. Hopefully we’ve helped in the best way we can. Fingers crossed eh? x
Aidan: Thanks. Is that so? My kids are cricket mad and they still miss playing. #2 likes GAA as he’s quite physical, but cricket seems to suit #1 as it’s a bit more genteel. They don’t do hurling round here – does a county tend to be either hurling or football??
Ali: Rock and roll is exactly what it is Alg. Mwah xx
Growup: Not sure if they do Tai Chi in Cavan – I am enrolling him in a local soccer school tho – change of scenery and some new faces should do the trick
Nats: It’s amazing how they change, isn’t it? Glad to hear it’s working out for Kirstin x
Oh how we feel our kids’ pain! Here’s hoping that everything works out even better than you can imagine. And yes, there’s just something about going home again, isn’t there. That’s one of the reasons I read here, it’s a little like going home for me, but without all the complications. Hugs Sandra
It did come back in the end though, and he’s now happy again. And it’s such a relief, isn’t it?
I’m glad your No. 2′s smile has surfaced sooner than mine, long may he feel happy about larnin’. The pretty girl probably helps!
Jay: Oh I’m sure of it! Glad to hear that there’s light at the end of the tunnel x
Aidy: Me too. Secretly (or not so secretly as I’m just publishing it), when I’ve been most happy, at Christmas for example, with all my lovely family around me, I’ve thought of some of the people that made my life a misery. I’d love to drag their arses up to the window at English Towers and see me in my lovely house surrounded by all that love and happiness. Corny, but true.