A Danish child is put into a government institution at 6 months and is basically kept there as they grow up. Danes believe this is a good thing and think it's normal.
However, I'm not Danish and believe it's the parents' job to raise their children, not the government's. So when the opportunity came to work from home, I took it so I didn't have to keep our son in an institution. I enjoy spending time with the little rascal, it limits his exposure to Danish brainwashing and this also gives him a chance to deal with homework before spending the rest of the day playing. So a few months ago, we withdrew him from the SFO program at his school (SFO is the afterschool institution). This left the Danes at the school very confused. So confused that when we arrived at school this morning, as we do every morning, his locker had been completely cleared out and his name removed.
Evidently, if you don't belong to the government institution at your school, you no longer exist at that school - even if you still go to classes every day and are enrolled in that school.
They got a taste of an American going extremely grumpy this morning and have promised to fix it . . . that's if they can overcome the handicap of having their heads completely devoid of anything resembling common sense and even, heaven forbid, an original thought.
I'm still grumpy . . .
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Grumpy Rules!
A study has shown that being grumpy is actually good for you.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8339647.stm
In short, grumpy people are better at decision-making and more realistic than the happy people. Happy people tend to not look deeply into matters and just live on the surface - the grumpy ones think about things and are better communicators.
For once, being grumpy is making me happy . . . take that, happy people!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8339647.stm
In short, grumpy people are better at decision-making and more realistic than the happy people. Happy people tend to not look deeply into matters and just live on the surface - the grumpy ones think about things and are better communicators.
For once, being grumpy is making me happy . . . take that, happy people!
A Happy Memory
Another nod to K for the idea . . .
One happy memory that springs to mind is a day spent with my son and mom on our last trip back home. My parents live in southern Florida not far from the beach, so of course time would be spent there. We hit this wonderful beach with white sands and crystal blue water. The waves were light and as it was early in the day, it had not yet gotten too hot. Seashells were collected, sand castles built and destroyed - either by grandma, son or by a scurrying crab in a hurry to get back to its hole. Lots of water was splashed by all parties along with a lot of giggles every time a wave hit my son, who was 4 at the time. After a couple of hours when the beach started to get crowded and bare feet was not a good idea on the increasingly hot sand, we left for home. After getting cleaned up, we then went out 'treasure hunting'. In our family, that means hitting antique shops and secondhand stores looking for odds and bits that catch our interest. It's more the time spent together than for anything valuable. My son got into the spirit of it and actually found a couple of books that he liked.
One happy memory that springs to mind is a day spent with my son and mom on our last trip back home. My parents live in southern Florida not far from the beach, so of course time would be spent there. We hit this wonderful beach with white sands and crystal blue water. The waves were light and as it was early in the day, it had not yet gotten too hot. Seashells were collected, sand castles built and destroyed - either by grandma, son or by a scurrying crab in a hurry to get back to its hole. Lots of water was splashed by all parties along with a lot of giggles every time a wave hit my son, who was 4 at the time. After a couple of hours when the beach started to get crowded and bare feet was not a good idea on the increasingly hot sand, we left for home. After getting cleaned up, we then went out 'treasure hunting'. In our family, that means hitting antique shops and secondhand stores looking for odds and bits that catch our interest. It's more the time spent together than for anything valuable. My son got into the spirit of it and actually found a couple of books that he liked.
My Best Possible Future
Nods to K for the idea :)
My best possible future would be one in which I live in a small cottage within sight, sound and smell of the mountains, forests and ocean (yes, Maine is one of my favorite places). I'm able to make a comfortable living from my writing - not necessarily millions, but enough to keep the roof over the head, food on the table, kibble in the cat dishes and books on the shelves. My son will grow up in a wholesome atmosphere and become a man who stands up for what's right and just, and not just accept the status quo but work to change those things that need to be changed. There will be time to work on hobbies, evenings spent with family and friends and quiet times spent listening to the waves hitting the shore. I must admit, I'm not one for travel - home is the best place on earth and with such a home as I hope to have some day, I can't imagine wanting to ever leave.
My best possible future would be one in which I live in a small cottage within sight, sound and smell of the mountains, forests and ocean (yes, Maine is one of my favorite places). I'm able to make a comfortable living from my writing - not necessarily millions, but enough to keep the roof over the head, food on the table, kibble in the cat dishes and books on the shelves. My son will grow up in a wholesome atmosphere and become a man who stands up for what's right and just, and not just accept the status quo but work to change those things that need to be changed. There will be time to work on hobbies, evenings spent with family and friends and quiet times spent listening to the waves hitting the shore. I must admit, I'm not one for travel - home is the best place on earth and with such a home as I hope to have some day, I can't imagine wanting to ever leave.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Danish Lessons
My language background consists of 5 years of French during elementary/high school and a year each of German and French as well as a semester of Japanese during college. I loved languages and learning them, especially French. So I looked forward to starting my Danish classes and learning the language of my new home.
Ha . . .
Instead of starting at the beginning with a bunch of other beginners at a set time, I was thrown into a class that had been going for months. There was Danish being thrown back and forth, and me sitting there going 'Huh?' Amazingly frustrating and the little I learned between April and July consisted of my numbers and saying 'Hvad?' I did have an excuse in that I was becoming increasingly pregnant and had morning, noon and night sickness so it was a little difficult to concentrate, but really . . . it was the most bizarre way to be introduced to a language that I've come across to date.
As I was due in August, I was able to take a break from lessons and concentrate on giving birth to a brand new Viking. Meanwhile, I did pick up quite a bit from reading subtitles on the tv and newspapers though my speaking was still very rough. According to the hubs, my American accent is extremely strong and rather funny-sounding *sigh*
So after several months, I was back. New class, new teacher, new experience? Nope, was thrown in and expected to pick up right away what was going on. Not only that, but this teacher loved to ask everyone the most personal questions (Describe your first date, in Danish please - 'Det var dejligt' *silence*) I'm a rather shy, private person (ok, stop snickering) and this just really drove me nuts. But went through a couple of months of that before I needed to stop once again. I had gotten permission to start at a business college to upgrade my skills in order to get a job here. As hubs at the time worked shift work and babysitters were highly expensive, I could now skip the lessons and focus on improving job skills for the next two years.
Skip ahead two years . . .
I can now read Danish enough to understand non-technical items and signs. I can also speak enough to get by when out and about. So it was time to go back to Danish lessons while the job search was underway. But this time, I was not looking forward to it at all. The classroom experiences were highly discouraging but nothing compared to the experiences on the streets of Denmark. Every time I spoke Danish to someone, there would be one of three reactions:
1. Answer back in English.
2. Look of disgust and walking away without saying anything.
3. Look of disgust coupled with a few swear words before walking away.
If I got the first one the majority of the time, then there would be no problem. But I got 2 and 3 most of the time. Well gee, Danish people, thank you for welcoming me to your country. I actually was thinking it was me - was I not smiling enough? was my accent really that bad? did I pronounce the words that badly? did I step on their toes? Though my husband witnessed some of it (and got angry), most of the time I was out and about on my own. Over time it became harder and harder to gather the initiative to learn more Danish. And as luck would have it, the Friday before I started up the lessons once again, I got a job in a company that had English as the corporate language. Yay, no more danish lessons! And considering the reactions I got from speaking it, hardly any incentive to continue learning on my own - why bother if they're going to be rude and swear at me? The French have the reputation of being mean if you speak their language wrong, but they have nothing on the behavior of many Danes. And before I get hate mail, notice I didn't say ALL Danes - there are a few who are actually helpful and have manners.
I wonder if they could clone these special people to repopulate the country . . .
Ha . . .
Instead of starting at the beginning with a bunch of other beginners at a set time, I was thrown into a class that had been going for months. There was Danish being thrown back and forth, and me sitting there going 'Huh?' Amazingly frustrating and the little I learned between April and July consisted of my numbers and saying 'Hvad?' I did have an excuse in that I was becoming increasingly pregnant and had morning, noon and night sickness so it was a little difficult to concentrate, but really . . . it was the most bizarre way to be introduced to a language that I've come across to date.
As I was due in August, I was able to take a break from lessons and concentrate on giving birth to a brand new Viking. Meanwhile, I did pick up quite a bit from reading subtitles on the tv and newspapers though my speaking was still very rough. According to the hubs, my American accent is extremely strong and rather funny-sounding *sigh*
So after several months, I was back. New class, new teacher, new experience? Nope, was thrown in and expected to pick up right away what was going on. Not only that, but this teacher loved to ask everyone the most personal questions (Describe your first date, in Danish please - 'Det var dejligt' *silence*) I'm a rather shy, private person (ok, stop snickering) and this just really drove me nuts. But went through a couple of months of that before I needed to stop once again. I had gotten permission to start at a business college to upgrade my skills in order to get a job here. As hubs at the time worked shift work and babysitters were highly expensive, I could now skip the lessons and focus on improving job skills for the next two years.
Skip ahead two years . . .
I can now read Danish enough to understand non-technical items and signs. I can also speak enough to get by when out and about. So it was time to go back to Danish lessons while the job search was underway. But this time, I was not looking forward to it at all. The classroom experiences were highly discouraging but nothing compared to the experiences on the streets of Denmark. Every time I spoke Danish to someone, there would be one of three reactions:
1. Answer back in English.
2. Look of disgust and walking away without saying anything.
3. Look of disgust coupled with a few swear words before walking away.
If I got the first one the majority of the time, then there would be no problem. But I got 2 and 3 most of the time. Well gee, Danish people, thank you for welcoming me to your country. I actually was thinking it was me - was I not smiling enough? was my accent really that bad? did I pronounce the words that badly? did I step on their toes? Though my husband witnessed some of it (and got angry), most of the time I was out and about on my own. Over time it became harder and harder to gather the initiative to learn more Danish. And as luck would have it, the Friday before I started up the lessons once again, I got a job in a company that had English as the corporate language. Yay, no more danish lessons! And considering the reactions I got from speaking it, hardly any incentive to continue learning on my own - why bother if they're going to be rude and swear at me? The French have the reputation of being mean if you speak their language wrong, but they have nothing on the behavior of many Danes. And before I get hate mail, notice I didn't say ALL Danes - there are a few who are actually helpful and have manners.
I wonder if they could clone these special people to repopulate the country . . .
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