This week my son’s class, standard one, decided to celebrate Literature.
The kids had to:
illustrate the cover of the book they were currently reading;
learn a poem or a little speech to be said in front of the class;
prepare for a spelling bee;
start a kindness journal;
come dressed as a character from popular literature (super heroes were banned making it that much more of a challenge);
dress up in Indian clothes on another day;
donate old books to school (which meant we had to search for them);
carry a 100 things to eat (we sent a 100 pepper cashews) which the kids shared with each other to mark the completion of a 100 days of school.
If this was all not enough, the parents were requested to ‘do something’ for a library festival as well as in class.
For the library festival, some mums got together and staged a play – two actually – one was based on the mythological story of the Churning of the Ocean, by the devas and asuras. The other was Roald Dahl’s version of Jack and the Beanstock. This meant hours of practise, renting of costumes and making of props.
For the class thingie another group of mothers read out the story of the Wizard of Oz, alongside a powerpoint presentation of the same. Meaning I had to go off one evening searching for a lion mask and a mane, that would do justice to my role of the Cowardly Lion
I had just returned from a hectic holiday and ran straight into the eye of the storm. Rehearsals, guests, preparing for a protest march against widening our road and cutting down the beautiful trees on it; sick kids (both of mine obligingly added to the chaos by succumbing to a terrible viral attack), trying to keep up to speed with the next thing on the to-do list.
It’s been a busy week.
And in some ways a great one. Ishaan thought I rocked the class play. I didn’t. But it felt good to hear all the same.
I got to watch him recite the poem he learnt – The Homework Machine by Shel Silverstein – a poem after every little fellow’s heart. And today he went off to school as Merlin the Wizard (from King Arthur fame), togged up in the glad rags that my husband spent the better part of yesterday making!
I like being involved in school. I think.
So in moments of doubt I console myself. Our kids are little but once. And grow up but once.
I guess it’s all worth it in the end.