Divali

I was proud earlier this week when Edith's teacher told me that Edith is so eager to learn new things that she becomes totally focused during any learning time, attempting to screen out all distractions.

Even so, the lessons can get a bit mixed up. Edith's class has decided to study a single country for awhile, chosen from among a bunch whose names were in a bowl. The selected country was India, to Ms. Bela's apparent disappointment, since she said she wanted to learn about someplace new to her. But the benefit for everyone else is that as a native of India, Ms. Bela has lots of knowledge and personal experience to impart. Indeed, the first thing they did in their study was get on Google Earth to find Ms. Bela's family's village in Gujarat.

They also are just in time to celebrate Divali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, at the end of this week. Ms. Bela told me at pick-up on Monday that they had started learning about Divali in class that day. At the time, I confess I had no idea what it was, and I just nodded pleasantly. The class had also jumped seasons and learned to sing "Frosty, the Snowman," as Edith demonstrated on the walk home.

While we were eating a snack at home I asked her, "So what is Divali?"

"A snowman," she replied.

"A snowman?" I asked. "Are you sure?" I was having a hard time imagining any Indian snowmen.

"Yes, a snowman," she repeated. When I still looked uncertain, she asked, "Mommy, do you know what snowmans are?"

Edith returned to school on Tuesday to learn more about Divali, while I did a little research on my own to get up to speed. At the end of the day she and Tom met me at the public library. As she and I climbed the three flights of stairs to the children's floor together--"I going to see the 'quarium; I will arrive just in time"--I asked her what she'd done at school. I learned that she had made a flag of India. It was green and orange and had purple glitter. I asked if she had learned more about Divali, and she said yes.

"What is it?" I asked again.

Again she answered without missing a beat. "It's, like, just about half an hour."

"What?"

"It's, like, just about half an hour."

I feel a little like those blind seers, also of India, piecing together their definition of an elephant. We'll see what Edith has added to the thirty-minute snowman when we pick her up today.

Next post: Edith's recent fascination with Christmas, a holiday about which we're all a bit better informed.