Waking Dream

“Waking Dream” by Artist Lisa Rae Winant
Image used by permission of the Artist
22 x 24 / oil on panel

“No! Please don’t go. If you do, I’ll jump out of this tree, and I will surely die,” cried Katherine’s lover as he clenched the tree limbs of the lush lemon tree in which he had perched himself. Gray feathers from his bird costume floated down around her as he inched downward, getting ready to leap.

“Please don’t jump,” Katherine pleaded. “Don’t you dare hurt yourself!” The endless flow of wine at the summer festival had intoxicated her, making it difficult to form clear thoughts. “Our time tonight in the tent meant the world to me. I will treasure it always. You made me so happy, darling. Aren’t you happy that we had this time together?”

“I was happy, but now I feel horrible,” he shouted. “When you leave me, I want to die. I only live for the next time I can hold you again. I love you! I love you,” he wailed into the still night air.

“I want you to love yourself, too. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Katherine was beginning to feel angry at his irrational behavior. Her lover saw this, so he retreated into the tree limbs. With his right hand, he grasped the long beak on his bird mask and removed it. He changed his tone and spoke gently, “Then stay.” He tenderly urged, “Pick a lemon from my father’s tree and stay with me forever. We would be so happy.”

Her lover's warm gaze melted Katherine's anger. She thought about his soft kisses, his strong arms, and his powerful words. It felt magical when they intertwined. Was he enchanting her? As she reached up for the gleaming yellow fruit, she was not sure if she was really in control over her arm. She went on her toes to touch the closest lemon. The moment she felt its cool rubbery texture, a sense of dread washed over her as clarity returned. This choice would destroy Katherine’s life. She would be with her lover, but how long would she be happy with him. If she tired of him, she would never be able to return to her home.

Katherine slowly withdrew her arm. She looked down and quickly turned around to avoid her lover’s teary eyes. She folded up her little red chair and whispered, “I love you.” She walked away in her bare feet that were wet from the dew on the green grass. In the distance, her lover’s sobs seemed to have faded as hers grew louder the farther she walked.

Corporate Daycares Don’t Care—About Children

I was pleasantly surprised to hear that there was no waiting list at the most expensive daycare in our town. Logically, I assumed my baby would get the best care there. Unfortunately, the highest price does not always mean the best. If you take a tour of a corporate daycare, you will see classrooms filled with new books and toys, but what they hide is that they take the “care” out of childcare. Headquarters is not concerned about children. Their priority is making a profit. In order to do that, the centre director moves children and teachers around whenever the numbers get low—numbers as in children.

Let me tell you how it all works. In New Hampshire, the ratio in a toddler room is 5 to 1—five children and one teacher. There are usually ten toddlers in a room with two teachers. If you ever sit and watch, it is usually chaos. The teachers are up to their elbows in dirty diapers and calming the child who is crying the loudest. When the numbers get low, they put two classes together. Therefore, the teachers never get a chance to spend quality time with their tiny students. The other ramification of this process is that the teachers are always moving around, so the children don’t get to be with a constant teacher for very long.

When I pick up my toddler, I usually take a minute to look through the one-sided mirror to watch him in his environment. The other day, I saw my one-year-old sitting at the little lunch table. I wondered why he was there with no snack or project in front of him. Then I saw a strange teacher approach him with a shirt. She yanked off his wet one without unbuttoning it, and then shoved on a new one. Later on, I saw that Michael’s nose was all red and scraped. I assume the buttons from his shirt caused it. Yesterday, I got a call at work that a “friend” bit my son. The director told me that the teacher didn’t see it happen, she just saw his arm. “He didn’t cry,” was the explanation. She also said that it was unacceptable, but normal. I was not comforted.

You may ask, “If you are so dissatisfied with your corporate daycare so much, why don’t you put him in a non-profit, or get a nanny?” As for a nanny, it is hard to trust a stranger alone in your house in the first place, but to trust her with your child all day is very hard. My son is on a waiting list for a non-profit, but there are no official openings until June 2009. I put a non-refundable deposit on a possible number two as well—just in case!

The First Tanya Darling Blog

The dust is collecting on the big red piano again, but this time for a good reason. I'm back at school again pursuing the 20-year long bachelors degree. I've switched majors from music to communication. This fall, I'm taking Media Writing with professional screenwriter Dana Biscotti-Myskowski. I'm looking forward to this semester. The class is interesting and fun so far. Now I just have to get Michael to play with his toys instead of the stairs so I can get some writing done! :)
Tanya