The Box of Peace Colours

One of the things I like in my children’s schools is that they are encouraged to write (creatively) even at a very young age. I’m not sure if this is true for all schools here in Canada. The teachers make the kids keep a school journal where they write at least once a week. They are not strict with spelling when it comes to journal writing, especially to those kids in the lower grades who are just starting to read and write. They are instead instructed to sound out the words. (For those who grew up in the Philippines, remember learning to read with ba-be-bi-bo-bu? None of that here.) Of course, they still have to know the right spelling when they have their spelling tests and when they are in the higher grades. But for creative writing, more focus is given on expressing their ideas.

They also write poems every once in a while. I don’t remember writing poems when I was in elementary school. The only thing I could remember is trying to come up with a haiku in my sophomore year in high school.

At the end of every school year, I gather all my children’s writings and compile them in separate binders. We sometimes look back at them. It’s fun to see how their handwriting and work improve as they grow older.

Ryan’s class studied a poem similar to the one below a while ago. They were asked then to write one of their own. Sometimes, I have no idea how much my kids have learned until I read their work.

















Photo Credit: Earth Science Picture of the Day

The Box of Peace Colours ©
by Ryan Carlo, Grade 6, 2006

I had a box of colours.
I tried to open it but it wouldn't budge.
I tried to open it again and it opened.
In the box it was full of sludge.

I drew a picture.
I had no black for the lost and lonely.
I had no gray for the smoke we're smelling.
I had no red for the people who sacrificed at war.
I had no green for the army soldiers attacking.

I had yellow for the sun shining bright.
I had orange for the sun setting down.
I had blue for the clear high sky leading us home.
I had white for the light guiding us through the night.

I drew a picture with happiness
and used the colours in my box.

© 2006 Ryan Carlo

Ryan's Week at the Soup Kitchen

Before Confirmation, candidates are prepared to become fully responsible member of the Catholic Christian Community. As a young person, the confirmand already understands that there is hunger, poverty, loneliness and need all around us and in the underdeveloped countries of the world. So they are invited to choose a Christian service project to do a good work for someone who is needy. Ryan’s class was also provided with a journal to record their experiences.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, Ryan and I volunteered at the soup kitchen last week. He wrote his experiences in his journal. They were given a list of questions that needed to be answered in the journal. The main points were: What did you - See, Judge, Act, Reflect. I found his observations very direct and honest. I’ve also included his entry from December when his class delivered Christmas hampers in different households in the city.

Ryan's Christian Service Project Journal

Dec 17, 2005
Christmas Hampers

On this day my catechism class had no catechism because we are doing Christmas Hampers. First, we went to Br. J----'s house. In there we put food in the hampers. Then we take some hampers with our group and drive it to the location on our sheet. Our leader in my group was my teacher in catechism. The first house we went the person had a dog but his christmas tree was small. His railing outside his stairs was broken. The second house we went the person had big T.V.'s and lots of food. He didn't seem poor.

After we were done giving the Christmas hampers Br. J---- treated us to McDonald's. This day was fun but a lot of work. I saw people who were poor and who didn't look like he was poor. I decided to help people with Christmas hampers along with my classmates. This activity we had to put food in the hampers, give the hampers and go to McDonalds. The people we gave hampers to were happy to see us helping. I spent about two and a half hours.

Mar 28, 2006
Volunteer at Missionaries of Charity

Today was the first time to volunteer at the Missionaries of Charity. Me and my mom were the first ones there. While I was there, there were some other people volunteering too! Their names were Muffy, Shane and some other people. First we had to cut hotdog buns in half and put them back in a bag. Next, we had to put chips in plastic bags. We served hotdogs, soup, bread with margarine and donuts and muffins. I saw people coming in to sit and eat. I decided to serve them food. I actually served food and ask if they want water or coffee. Washing the tables, setting them and serving them - that's what I did also. Other people that we served were hungry and we served them so they weren't hungry. This activity took three and a half hours.

Mar 29, 2006
Volunteer at the Missionaries of Charity

Today I went with my cousin. First I had to take bread out of the bag then place it on the table. I had to cut bread by cutting thin strips on one side then the other side. Then I had to spread butter on the bread that wasn't cut. Also we had to put two cups of sugar into a bag. We had to make seventy bags. We served soup, sandwiches, bread with butter, donuts, water and coffee. When I was serving I saw the same people from yesterday. I decided to volunteer again. Doing chores was involved also. I felt sad to see a young person eating here. I spent about 3 and a half hours.

Mar 31, 2006
Volunteer at Missionaries of Charity

Today there wasn't very much people. There was about twenty to thirty people that we served. While we were serving we said a prayer. But first I had to spread butter on the bread. There was a lot of bread. My mom came with me to help. She had to cut onions. She was almost crying because she had to cut lots. We served soup, bread with butter, coffee, water and tuna sandwiches. I thought the day was done but we had to do lots of cleaning and chores. It took four hours so I was very tired. I saw people from previous days that came here because they don't have food. Doing less serving and lots of chores was involved.

My version:

The soup kitchen is run by the nuns of the Missionaries of Charity. This is the same Order that Mother Teresa belonged to. They wear the same habit - white with the blue stripes on the edge of the veil. The regular volunteers are mostly retired seniors. Since it was Lent and last week was Spring break, there were also a lot of young volunteers.

It was my first time to volunteer at a soup kitchen and so I really didn’t know what to expect. The nuns keep a very clean kitchen. We were even asked to wear aprons and hairnets for girls and hats for boys. Everything is sanitized. They serve the hungry as if they were patrons in a restaurant. I couldn’t help but smile when one complained about a strand of hair in his soup. I didn’t think it was one of the helpers’. But the nuns courteously replaced his with a new bowl of soup.

The patrons were mostly Metis Indians (Aboriginals). I was surprised that Ryan didn’t mention this in his journal. Because that was the first thing that I noticed when they started coming in. It probably didn’t occur to him. Or it could be that he has been exposed to the different cultures and nationalities here in Winnipeg since he was born. But what struck me was his concern for them when we left the kitchen on our first day there. He asked me if they were homeless. And I told him that I didn’t know. The next day I went there, I asked one of the senior volunteers. She told me that they do have homes and they receive welfare money from the government. But I guess they couldn’t get jobs. One patron was telling us that he didn’t finish high school and there was one Polish lady who couldn’t read English. The last day that we volunteered, there were only a few people who came. I guess that was the day that they got their money and they must be out there spending it somewhere. Who knows where their money goes. We could only hope that they spend it on food and clothing. I saw a lady there who looked wasted, her hands shaking. As much as I’d like not to judge, your guess is just as good as mine.

But the Sisters don’t judge these people. They take them graciously and are very friendly with them. They know their names. I also learned that the Sisters visit these people at their homes or in the hospital if they are sick. The Sisters also have an after school program for the kids and they also teach catechism in nearby parishes.

It had been a tiring week for me since I also worked that week. But I had fun meeting new people, the volunteers who were very friendly and how could I forget Nelson who entertained us with his lovely voice. And I was glad that I have been able to help in the little way that I could.

Where did Spring break go?

The temperatures are getting warmer everyday. Most of the snow has slowly melted. The start of Spring is not a pretty sight here in Winnipeg. The grass is soaking wet. There is sand everywhere. It sometimes gives me the creeps to find out what has been buried in the deep snow all winter. I see cigarette butts and pieces of garbage at bus stops. Two bags full of Fall leaves have been unearthed, or should I say, unsnowed in our backyard. Oh, I have heard other things that are worse than that.

I usually catch up on sleep, reading, watching tapes/DVDs during Spring break. But none of these happened. Okay, I did watch King Kong with my family on Saturday night but I was half asleep after the first half. I thought it would only be 90 minutes long. I started to drift away after the first two hours. “What happened?” I asked everybody when I woke up and saw the ending credits on the screen. I have to borrow that DVD again. Or is it worth it?

I can’t remember the last time I sat down to read a book. I started reading The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields a few months ago and it still lies there on my desk, the last chapter waiting to be finished. I have bought two books recently, The Opposite of Fate by Amy Tan, which was on sale at Coles for only $6.99 and the paperback copy of The Da Vinci Code, which I found at Staples and cost only $10.99. I can’t wait to read these two, but I got to finish The Stone Diaries first.

It’s been a very hectic week for me. Hectic has been my normal lately. I accompanied Ryan to his volunteer work three times this week, including Saturday. He wasn’t too happy earlier this week when I told him that he had to start his Christian service project while he had no school. And so I was really surprised that I never heard a complaint from him after his first day at the soup kitchen. I think something inside him has been transformed. He had just been studying in his Confirmation book about how the Holy Spirit transforms us through Confirmation. I think he learned a lot during his week at the soup kitchen. I will write about this next time.

You like him more than me

I have been busy these past few months preparing my 2nd grader for his First Communion and my 6th grader for his Confirmation. Just like Ryland’s preparation for his First Reconciliation, I am also the one teaching my boys about the first two sacraments I mentioned. I think our parish has a really good program in that they involve the parents in teaching about their Catholic faith. As the workbooks have repeatedly mentioned, the family is every child’s first community and the parents are their first teachers.

So, I’ve been really busy every night sitting with each one of my two boys, alternately, with their lessons. One child would hang around while I spend time with his brother. I knew that they were wishing that it were their turn that night. You would think that they would be happy that I am spending a one-on-one time with them at least every other night. But alas, there’s never enough time to spend with them.

Ryan, my 6th grader, started to volunteer this morning at a soup kitchen in our neighbourhood as part of his 20-hour Christian service project requirement before he gets confirmed in June. So I took the morning off from work to accompany him. We got up earlier than usual, which was really a sacrifice on Ryan’s part because it is Spring Break after all. He should be sleeping in but instead he had to get up an hour earlier.

We were finishing breakfast when Ryland came downstairs at around 6:45 am, quite early for him to be up as well. He must have heard me and Ryan talking in the kitchen. But we were getting ready to leave and I didn’t have time to serve him breakfast (anyway it was too early for him to be up at that time) so I sent him back to bed.

Knowing that he’s such a sensitive boy, I knew that he didn’t take that really well. He had his blanket over his head when I came up and that meant only one thing. He must be crying. I tried to console him and promised to give him a treat when we came back. I kept my promise.

Tonight, as I tucked him into bed, I asked him what he did after Ryan and I left this morning. Did he go back to sleep until his Kuya Reggie got up and helped him with breakfast? No I cried again, he said. Oh my, here we go again.

“You like Kuya Ryan more than me,” he said.

I was dumbstruck, flabbergasted, astonished.

“Ryland, that’s not true. I like you all the same,” I told him.

Trying to convince him so, I told him, “I hug you lots, but I don’t hug him (because he won’t let me), do you still think that I like him more than you?”

He nodded.

“I kiss you but I don’t kiss him (because he won’t let me), do you still think that I like him more than you?”

He nodded again.

“I like you all the same.”

I wouldn’t stop until I convinced him.

“I still carry you when I bring you downstairs in the morning (even though it hurts my back), but I don’t carry him, do you still think that I like him more than you?”

He nodded again.

“I lie down here in your bed at night until you fall asleep, do you still think that I like him more than you?”

He nodded again.

“I like you all three the same.”

What is a mom to do?

As usual, I embraced him after he said his prayers and stayed with him in bed. Just before he fell asleep, I asked him, “Do you think I love you?”

I saw a nod in the dark.

A Case of the Flakes

I saw the tiny white crumb-like stuff on the back of the navy blue sweater as he got up after shutting down the computer. White flakes on a dark shirt used to be a common sight a few years ago, before my husband treated his dandruff. But this guy, who was five feet and two inches tall, was not my husband. This was my fourteen-year old son.

“What is that on your sweater, Reggie!” I blurted out as I flicked with my fingers the white flakes under his neck. I parted his thick black hair in different areas to confirm my suspicion. I saw patches of crusty scales. “Did that hurt?” I asked him when I scratched off some of it and more flakes fell on his sweater.

“No,” he simply replied.

“You have some kind of rash on your scalp.” I avoided using the word “dandruff.” Children don’t get dandruff. Only adults do, I thought.

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