The next day I decided to go to Norwegian courses, and by 12.30 get to the school and meet the child. In the break between lectures mama called (I was just in the buffet) and I had to “stand to attention!” and listen to her remarks about yesterday. It turned out that I had acted wrongly, treating the child to a piece of homemade cake that I had baked myself. She said that it harms his health.
And it was like this: when I heated up food for him, and tea for myself, I understood that it was somehow meagre at lunch to feed a child heated porridge. So I shared my dessert with him. Of course, after this remark, I decided not to show initiative, but to do only what they tell me.
And one more moment impressed me in this telephone conversation about my first working day. “My son said that you played the piano!” Here I made a second-long thoughtful pause. Then honestly and quietly answered “yes”… She said it in such a tone as if I had not played, but stolen that piano!
After this conversation my enthusiasm dulled somewhat. But, as they say, “the beginning is half the battle,” and after the courses my friend drove me to the school. (On foot I would not have got there). When the child saw me, he said that he needed to go to the school library to change a book and eat fruit. I stayed waiting in the corridor. I understood that he does not feel great joy going home when his comrades stayed at school in after-school care, so he “stretched” time to be at school longer.
We walked home slowly, uphill, following mama’s instructions “only on foot!” And when we approached the house (I must note that in Norwegian towns the private sector predominates), the stairs were completely drifted with snow “up to the knees” and I had to crawl in to open the front door.
Having overcome the difficulties and taken off the wet clothes (we did not throw them, we laid everything out to dry), I went into the kitchen. This time there was no food for the child, but on the table lay a detailed work plan, including also quick cooking of food by me, like oatmeal. The plan was written out by mama to the minute with a concluding phrase: “At 16 o’clock you go out for a walk, the child needs fresh air!”
Having sat the child at the table, I read him the “plan of action” for the following couple of hours. He ate porridge and listened, then said: I must call papa, and left the table. Now I cannot recall what he talked about with his father in Norwegian; I did not listen in, he spoke for a long time, about 20 minutes. After that we started solving maths for 4th class.
To be continued… Good night!