The End (and Ambivalence)

I had a professor in college who stopped class one day – actually stopped her lecture to read to us from the dictionary – when a student misused the word “ambivalent.”  The student thought “ambivalent” meant “not caring very much about something either way,” but it turns out that the word means “feeling really strongly both ways about something at the same time.”

The passage at the end of chapter forty-seven brought the word “ambivalent” to mind:

Grandio launched a big long rant about Mommers that rose and fell all that afternoon and through our meat loaf dinner.  “I could have made that call, I tell ya!”  He filled one cheek with potatoes.  “One hot second and I would have reported her.  Taught her to respect the laws that–”

“Stop!”  My own voice rang back at me.  “I can’t stand it if you keep going on about her!  I can’t!”  I burned with tears and silence for the next few seconds.  I expectedc him to shout back at me, but he didn’t.

He finally ducked his head and mumbled, “You’re right, girl.  That’s it.  I’m done with it now.”

Somehow, I knew he meant it.

I can’t imagine how it must feel to be a in a situation like Addie’s.  She knows that she can’t count on Mommers; she knows that she isn’t safe with Mommers.  At the same time, Mommers is her mother, and they did have some genuinely good times together – though not many.  It seems to me like this must be the ultimate example of ambivalence – desperately loving and desperately hating a person all at the same time.

I’ll confess to feeling ambivalent, myself, about the ending of Waiting for Normal.  I love that Addie ended up with Dwight, and I love the idea of Addie, the Littles, Dwight, and Hannah building a true family and home.  I also love that Leslie Connor didn’t tie all the ends up in a pretty little bow; she left Addie feeling conflicted about some things, and she left Mommers about to have a new baby.  I don’t like stories that end fakey-perfectly, so I appreciated the uncertainty.

At the same time, though, I’m really frustrated by some of mysteries that were never explained about Mommers.  What was this job with the office supplies, exactly?  What was she doing when she was gone for days at a time?  I have suspicions about some of it, but my guesses were never confirmed.  I know this is Addie’s story, but I really, really wanted to know about what was really going on with Mommers.

What do you think about the end of the story?  What do you think will happen next in Addie’s life?  In Mommers’ life?  Brynna’s?  (I find myself oddly interested in the character of Brynna.)  What will Elliot do without Soula?  What will things be like for Mommers’ new baby?

By the way, this evening’s posts are my last . . . and in fitting with our theme, I’m feeling rather ambivalent about that!  Life is getting busy for me these days, so I’ll be glad of one less responsibility, but I’m also going to miss the kind of thinking that goes into the Together blog.  I hope to facilitate sometime again, perhaps in the summer, when a teacher’s life slows down.

Here’s hoping you’ve all enjoyed your experience with Waiting for Normal.

H-E-R-O

Let me start today’s entry by quoting the end of chapter forty-three:

“I’m sorry about . . .” [Soula] glanced toward Mrs. Casey’s car.  “I couldn’t see what else to do, Cookie.  Truth is, I should have called them long ago.”

“I know,” I mumbled.  I should have hugged her, should have told her everything was okay.  Instead I said, “Thanks for taking Piccolo.  I’ll see you soon.”  I ran out the door and got into Grandio’s car.

[. . .] I concentrated hard as I drew four big letters in the fog on my window.  I was careful to reverse them: H-E-R-O.

I hoped that Soula could see.

One of the most difficult decisions I can think of is when and whether to report suspected child abuse or neglect.  I’m lucky; so far, I’ve never needed to make a report, although I have initiated conversations about certain children in schools.  It’s awfully hard to know what’s really happening behind closed doors, especially when the children affected aren’t willing to speak up.  (There are lots of reasons why abused or neglected kids often don’t say anything.  Sometimes, they’re afraid of being punished; other times, they don’t think they’ll be believed, or they feel like the situation they’re in is at least one that they know and understand – and they’re scared that if they say something, they might end up in an even worse place.)

At first, it seems like Addie wants to thank Soula, but she can’t, like she’s feeling kind of conflicted.  Before Grandio pulls away,though,  Addie tells Soula that she’s a hero.  Do you agree that Soula is a hero?  Why or why not?

Also, although it’s scary to think about, child abuse and neglect are more common than some of us know.  No matter what school you go to, at least a few children there are probably being abused or neglected at home.  You would probably never know about it, and it’s good to realize that teachers and principals and school counselors are trained to be on the lookout for this sort of thing.  The adults at your school will do all they can to keep every child safe.  In fact, it’s even a law that teachers who suspect child abuse or neglect must report their suspicions, even if they don’t have solid proof.

Still, as a family, you might want to talk about some of these questions: What are some signs that something might be going seriously wrong in another child’s life?  What should you do if you suspect that a kid you know may be abused or neglected?

(This page, from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, is a really great resource for adults.)

Growing Up

I remember distinctly the first time my mother left me home alone.  I was eight, and Mom went to the post office and back, which took about twenty minutes.  Before she left, she locked and double-locked every window and door.  She forbade me to answer the phone or the door under any circumstances.  “I don’t even care if it’s Grandma,” she said.  “You don’t answer the door!”  Then, she waited until I was absorbed in an episode of Full House, reminded me about the phone and the door one last time, and drove away.

She came back before the closing credits, but I recall feeling Quite Grown Up, being at home on my own.  Still, it was years before I was home alone after dark, and only when I was sixteen did I spend a night entirely by myself.  (Even then, it was an unexpected emergency, not a plan.)

In the later chapters of Waiting for Normal, Addie spends more and more time alone – sometimes even for several nights.  As modern day readers, we find it horrifying that Mommers would leave her twelve-year-old uncared for.  The thing is, in centuries past, a twelve-year-old was often considered entirely grown up.  In some cultures even today, a twelve-year-old female might be married and starting her own family.

Why do we all think of twelve-year-old Addie as being a child?  I wouldn’t argue against her being a child; at this point in the story, I desperately want her to have a secure home and a strong parent, the most likely candidate being Dwight.  But when is the time when we know a person is truly an adult?  What marks the moment when someone is entirely “grown up” and ready to be independent?

NOT Stupid.

In chapter thirty-five – in the scene where Dwight explains to her that she has a learning disability called dyslexia – I made what is definitely my most personal connection to the book.  I felt so relieved for Addie!  Maybe it sounds kind of funny that I felt relieved for her, but I’ve actually had a very similar experience to Addie’s.  I’m not dyslexic, but I do have a learning disability.

Even since I can remember, it’s been very hard for me to recognize people.  Someone will walk up to me and start talking like we know each other, and I’ll have no idea who that person is.  I usually have to meet someone five or six times at least before I know them on sight.  I don’t forget meeting the person; I just forget what they look like, so the next time I meet them, even if it’s only half an hour later, I don’t know who they are.

This always seemed really weird to me.  I thought I must be the only person in the world that it happened to, and I was embarrassed because no one understood.  Sometimes, even now, I find myself in really awkward situations, and sometimes, people even get angry with me.

The moment of revelation came when I was twenty-two.  My mom saw something on television about prosopagnosia.  She called me right away to tell me about it, and I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was when I realized I wasn’t the only one who had this problem, and it wasn’t my fault, and it didn’t mean I was stupid or not trying hard enough.  It turns out there’s a special place in your brain that is designed specifically to remember people’s faces, like a filing cabinet full of photographs, and in some people’s brains – like mine, for example – there’s no “filing cabinet” there, so nothing ever gets stored.

I hope Dwight will make sure that Addie hears more about dyslexia, so that she can really understand what it is and what it means for her.  It’s especially important that she knows she is not stupid, because dyslexia has nothing to do with being or not being smart.  Also, the more Addie knows about dyslexia, the more she can use the strategies that help, like her notecards to “hold the words still” and skipping lines as she writes.

(I know I use a lot of coping strategies.  For example, when I only have to remember someone for a little while, I try to memorize what they’re wearing.  Sometimes, if I’m learning a lot of people very fast, I can do it by where they’re sitting or by how tall they are.  Eventually, I get to know people’s posture and movement and way of speaking, and that’s enough that I can always recognize them after that – but it takes me several meetings to absorb those things!)

Learning disabilities are quite common.  Think about how complex our brains are!  It’s no wonder they occasionally malfunction.  I’ve learned that as much as 2% of the population may be prosopagnosic, and dyslexia is even more common – around 5%!

Do you have a learning disability, or do you know anyone who does?  Do you think you can tell just by hanging out with a person?  One of my problems is that people occasionally get so frustrated me for not recognizing them that they don’t even want to let me explain.  I wish more people knew what “prosopagnosic” means!  Have you had any experiences with learning to use “coping strategies” – ways of managing to do something when, for some reason, you’re not able to do it in the same way that most people do?

Gifts . . . and Responsibility

Happy New Year, everyone!  I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday season – I did! – and I also hope we haven’t all forgotten where we left off.

This evening, I find I’m thinking about Addie and her flute.  I can understand entirely why Addie chooses to return the flute to her old school, and I can definitely understand why she runs away from the concert.  What’s harder for me to grasp is why she turns down Ms. Rivera’s offer for a new flute, especially when Ms. Rivera is being so understanding.

Here’s what Addie has to say on the subject (at the beginning of chapter thirty-two):

“You know what, Ms. Rivera?  I appreciate [the offer].  I really do.  And I’d like to play the flute again someday.  But to tell you the truth, it’s been like a huge weight off my back ever since I returned that instrument.  I . . . I can’t be responsible.  I don’t want another school flute.  Really, I don’t.”

This passage puzzled me at first because Addie seems like the kind of person who has a reasonable amount of self-confidence, despite the fact that a lot has gone wrong in her life.  Also, she says she “can’t be responsible,” but I think the rest of the book shows us that Addie is an exceptionally responsible kid.

I wonder if the answer to this might be in the very next passage.  Addie’s on her way home with Helena, and a fireman dressed as Santa Claus offers her a box of chocolate.  In the narration, Addie says:

“I hesitated.  It’s a gift, I told myself.“

Then she goes ahead and takes the chocolate, with a “thank you.”

So, here’s what I’m wondering . . . and it’s honest wondering, not English-teacher-wondering, where I pretend not to know the answer but I really do.  Why do you think Addie hesitates to take the chocolate?  Do you think it’s connected to her turning down the flute?  Why do you think Leslie Connor put these two incidents together in the story?  And why would Addie say that she “can’t be responsible”?  Do you think that’s a true thing for her to say?

“the best interest of the child”

Okay, I’ll preface this by confessing that the majority of my knowledge of family law comes from watching Judging Amy.  If anyone out there is an actual lawyer, please speak up!  You’ll know far more about this than I.

A few days back, in talking about Mommers, several of you said that Dwight needed to come in and take Addie; in chapter twenty-four, we find out that he’s actually tried to do so.

“I tried to get custody,” Dwight says, as Addie eavesdrops.  “The judge told me I don’t stand a chance because we’re not blood.  Denise would have to sign Addie over to me . . . unless she screws up again, she keeps Addie . . . God knows, if I could fix it, I would.  For now, I send the money and I stay in touch as much as I can . . . think my heart doesn’t break every time I think of this?  I miss her and so do the girls.”

In the United States, custody disagreements are supposed to be settled by judges “in the best interest of the child.”  Theoretically, other factors are not to be considered.  However, traditionally, “the best interest of the child” has been interpreted to mean that children should stay with blood relatives, barring extreme circumstances such as serious abuse or repeated neglect.  Over time, this preference for blood relatives has become a sort of case law – unofficial law made by judges based on precedent.

All of that basically means that legally, a child like Addie must stay with a mother like Mommers unless the mother does something really, really drastically wrong.  Even then, custody will usually be granted to the next nearest blood relative; in this case, that means Grandio.

What do you think of the way custody laws work in the United States?  If you were the judge in the family court, what would you have done in Addie’s case?  In chapter five, when Brynna, Katie, and Dwight visited the trailer for the first time, I got the impression that Mommers was only allowed supervised visitation with the Littles – in other words, only allowed to see them if Dwight was present.  The judge could have given shared custody of the Littles to Mommers and Dwight, but that’s not what happened.  Why do you think the judge made these decisions this way?

A Little Name Game

When I was in first grade, my teacher – Mrs. Parrish – opened a book one day and announced, “Now, children, we’re going to find out the meanings of your names.”

It had never occurred to me that names might have meaning.  Soon enough, though, Mrs. Parrish informed me that Emily meant “industrious,” or hard-working, which was not literally true of me at age six.  Nevertheless, I think I’ve grown into the label; along the way, I’ve also developed a genuine interest in names.

These days, I make it a practice to research the definitions and origins of characters’ names.  (I mean, I don’t do it obsessively.  I can’t tell you the root of every character in every story I pick up, but, y’know, I do it when it comes to mind.)  Sometimes the definitions accurately reflect the characters; sometimes, as in the case of the Harry Potter series, researching the names can even add to the story.

In Waiting for Normal, not all the meanings appear to be significant.  Still, a couple of the definitions are surprisingly cool, so for interest’s sake:

 

FAMILY

Addison (Addie) – Literally “red earth,” from the name Adam, and the story in Genesis of Adam being created from earth

Denise (Mommers) – From an old Greek name, meaning “dedicated to Dionysus,” the Greek god of wine and partying

Dwight – Okay, this surprised even me; “Dwight” comes from exactly the same root as “Denise” and therefore carries the same meaning!

Jack (Grandio) – From John, meaning “God’s grace”

Brynna – From a Gaelic expression meaning “exalted and high-minded”

Katie – Short for Katherine, which means “pure”

 

FRIENDS

Soula – This is the name of a shoe store and also a town in Greece, but I couldn’t find a source for it as a given name.  Could it be connected to the word “soul,” possibly?

Elliot – Greek for “God is Lord”

Rick – From Ancient Germanic, this means “powerful leader”

 

AT SCHOOL

Robert – Germanic for “shining with fame”

Helena – “Sun ray,” from Greek

Marissa – Hebrew.  “Wished-for child.”

 

A COUPLE MORE . . .

Pete (Mommers’ friend) – “Rock,” from Greek

Hannah – “Favored grace.”

 

So?  Did any of these surprise you?  Do any seem meaningful to you?  A few of them definitely struck me.

Oh, and just for fun – “Leslie” means “holly garden,” while “Connor” means “lover of hounds.”  What a great name this author has!

Where does your name come from?  What does it mean?  Does the meaning of your name suit you?  How did you receive your name?  Is it significant in some other way?

“the kind of scared you get from a memory”

In chapter fourteen, we finally find out what happened with Mommers before the littles went to live with Dwight.  This is something the author has hinted at throughout the story, but here, Addie finally explains:

“Brynna, Katie, and I had all been in the big bed together at the old house.  They lay asleep.  I lay awake.  Mommers had called the first two nights . . . but she didn’t call [the third night].  Dwight did, and for some reason he asked for Mommers . . . ‘How long has she been gone?’ he asked.  I said, ‘Three.’  ‘Days?’  ‘Yes.’ . . .”

It’s scary to think about, but this sort of thing really happens to some kids.  As a teacher, I’ve actually known children who have had these sorts of experiences.

Some of you readers nine years old; Addie was nine when this happened.  What do you think this experience was like for Addie?  What would it be like if you were left alone for three days and nights?  What if you had two baby sisters to take care of?

Try thinking of it from other perspectives, too.  What do you think this situation was like for Dwight?  He was two hours away when he found out that his girls were home alone.

The hardest perspective for me to imagine is Mommers’.  Why do you think Mommers left her girls alone for so long?  Do you think she believed they were safe?  In the book, Mommers says that she cares about her daughters.  Do you think she really does?  Does she behave as though she does?

Family Book Reviews

Hi everyone! We’re starting something new here at Together Book Club. We want to get your reviews of the book club picks that we’re reading monthly. You can do the review as a family or by yourself. If you choose to send us a review, you will get several exciting things:

• The pleasure of seeing your review in print on Together Book Club!
• A free copy of the December/January book: Waiting for Normal by Leslie Connor.
• A singing telegram from me, Rachel, the Together Book Club intern.

Okay, so that last one was a joke. But the first two are quite real! Please start your review by clicking here. You can also click on the heading above marked Family Book Review. The world wants to know what you think!