Mommy Guest Blogs: Savoring Inclusion’s Rare Rewarding Moments

See?! I can do it too!

Every so often I allow mommy to guest blog here at my site. And this time I am happy to reprint a blog of here that appeared here in the Times of Israel initially because its all about me, which is the point of this blog.

This version is better because it contains photos and videos, unlike the other black and white (yawn) original post. So enjoy rereading her words, but even more so, seeing my photos and videos!

My class <3

*****

Savoring Inclusion’s Rare Rewarding Moments
By Nicole Jansezian

While I could spend some time castigating the Israeli education system for its failures regarding inclusion, I must linger for a while longer in the happy afterglow of success and let it be a reminder that inclusion is worth the grueling effort.

We encountered a mountain of challenges this past year after our decision to mainstream our son in a municipal preschool. The first month is still a fog in my mind. Daniel was not assigned a personal aide for two weeks and so the school’s manager, who himself is responsible for the three classrooms on the premises and several others around the city, took responsibility for my son until he received a shadow two weeks into the school year.


Daniel had at least one apocalyptic meltdown per day. Without fail, he passed out for hours in the corner while the other children carried on with their day and learned as they were supposed to. And he came down with a tricky form of pneumonia – in other words, none of the symptoms but all of the pain, so we had no idea at the outset. It was a nightmare.

This went on for about a month until slowly the issues started to peel away and he (and we) adjusted to this new routine. But the initial shock still feels like yesterday.

So you can imagine our elation when, at Daniel’s end-of-the-year party last week, we saw displayed before our astonished eyes, the long awaited rewards of inclusion: Daniel participated in all of the choreography in the hour-long show. He knew exactly when he should sit, stand or wave his prop. He was on rhythm with the music and mouthed the words to all the songs.

He did every single thing he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to do it. At 4 that’s not a small feat for any child.

And best of all, after every song, he turned to face the audience and cheered “Yea! Yea! Yea!” and gave an enormous fist pump to celebrate his exploits.

You see, the most important lesson Daniel learned this year was recognizing and relishing his accomplishments. He knew how far he had come. He knew he accomplished something colossal. He knew he nailed it – and that was more important than actually nailing it. And it meant more to him, because it had come harder to him. Thus his theatrical cheering after each song.

Time for the fist pump and victory dance!

Daniel has Down syndrome, meaning an extra chromosome presents more challenges to him in the physical and mental arenas of life. He was in a fantastic special education daycare and preschool before we moved him. Our goal in mainstreaming was to provide a normative environment that would challenge him socially and academically.

With a supportive approach from the school’s manager, who took Daniel’s case personally, Daniel’s teacher, his aide, the surrounding staff and his fellow students, this experiment succeeded. This team effort – and Daniel’s performance at the party – give us hope for next year and motivation for the inevitable fight that lies ahead. Every single year.

We were easily the proudest parents in the room if not in the country on that day. Daniel’s performance made every tear, every battle and every agonizing day along the journey of inclusion worth it.

The price of inclusion is high. But its rewards are priceless.

Warning: Video content is copious and repetitive and may only be acceptable viewing for immediate family members at risk of abject boredom to anyone else!

Follow @nic_jansezian

Getting in to Medical School

Firefighter Academy? Or preschool? Who wants him?

Last month, mommy and abba found a preschool for Lucas. How nice, right? They did so with still four months to go. No big deal, right?

Wrong!

Registration for ivy league medical school opened and closed in February! Oh, I'm sorry, did I say "Ivy League Medical School"? I meant preschool!!!

In Jerusalem, it is quite easy to mistake the two: The process for preschool registration in Jerusalem is so wrought with stress that is is tantamount to something as major as medical school. Parents unravel from the anxiety as registration day approaches. They consult each other and others about the leading preschools in the city and then lobby their connections to make sure their child can get in. Then, on that fateful day when online registration opens in February, these parents flood the internet and bring the fragile municipal servers crashing down, sending the communal tension that already pervaded the city to a crescendo of angst.

Actual prospective medical school students in Israel won’t even know if they made it into medical school until September and then their lives will be turned upside down in a matter of weeks as they will have to move across the country for university or take an exam for medical school in another country!

But 3-year-old children will have been registered since February or March when they find out which school graciously accepted them (and about 34 others their age). Yes, accepted. And that not based on academic achievement. Or potty skills.

Me: an official preschooler. Joshie: A preschooler in training. 

Here I am, the teacher of my own preschool,
raising up other babies in baby ways

Actually, the process started in December of 2014 for preschool in September 2015. That’s nearly a year in advance for kids who are most likely still in diapers, napping and looking forward to nothing more than a Mickey Mouse birthday cake.

Mommy and abba joined the fray of parental tumult and raced to their preferred preschool for its Open House in December, the day before we were leaving the country for Zemmy’s wedding. They filled out the five-page application, supplied the necessary forms and talked up Lucas as a genius who gets along with all variety of children and exhibits stellar leadership qualities (all of which is true). They handed over the paperwork to the principal with a kiss and a prayer and twiddled their thumbs on the 12-hour flight - and for the next two months.

Registration officially opened two months later, in February. And then a full month after that our parents found out - to their shock and horror - that Lucas was a baby without a preschool! Despite all of their advance efforts, the numbers worked against them and, in May, mommy and abba trudged wearily to the municipality to repeat the process in person this time. And so, with none of the stress and with all of the grace and surprises that God (and the Jerusalem Municipality) had to offer, Lucas was placed into a sublime neighborhood preschool, a veritable hidden gem close by with a reputable teacher.

But wait! Parents must register their children for kindergarten as well and then first grade, so this plays out three years in a row for each child. And then again at high school. And where you go now for pre-K could determine which high school you end up attending.

But the moral of this six-month stress-laden saga is this: While the parents sweated blood, jockeyed for prestigious preschools and then begged for whatever was left over, we babies were oblivious to it all.

As well we should be.

I for one have my own daycare to run as you can see from the pictures. There is a lot of baby shenanigans wisdom to be passed on to the next generation. And adult-run preschools are the least of my worries.

Follow @nic_jansezian

Babies and Blazing Bonfires - a True Israeli Holiday

Lag B'Omer: Vanity of the bonfire and of the babies who gathered round it

In Israel, between Purim (which usually occurs in late February) and Hanukah (which usually lands in mid to late December) there are more holidays than there are days in the year. That leaves just January that is guaranteed to be all gloomy and holiday-less.

Now this may seem like a slight exaggeration, but it is not if you are a working parent who attempts to go to an office to get some work done in order to earn a salary in order to pay for school, food and housing among other things.

However, if you are a child who attends some sort of daycare, preschool, nursery, kindergarten or beyond, you have a different perspective. Throughout the school year in Israel you have the equivalent of vacation days that add up to summer vacation, which means you basically have summer vacation twice in one year! That is probably why most schools charge extra for schools to host summer camp through July - so that the parents can find a way, between sick kids or their own sick days or whatever, to actually "work" through the summer. And probably to placate those parents somewhat so that they don't sue the school system.

Raia and I nudged ourselves into Lucas' school party - and we had a blast!
(Scroll down for scrumptious video coverage)

There's nothing like catering and hired entertainment for a non-holiday party
...especially when it shows off my strong suits such as music and rhythm.

But the most insulting part for parents is when days that should not be holidays become such on the calendar of the Ministry of Education. And thus, from last evening through today, we celebrated Lag B'Omer because, really, after a month off for Passover and scattered days for other religious and national holidays, who needs to go to school anyway?

Lag B'Omer is not a biblical holiday, nor is it a "national" holiday in terms of the State of Israel. It is a day that marks the death of a rabbi who is revered by followers of the kabbalah. The celebration of this day, according to Wikipedia, "has spawned several well-known customs and practices ... including the lighting of bonfires."

Yes, bonfires. Perhaps not the most highly recommended activity for a country with an arid climate.

But Israelis are looking for any excuse to throw a party.

And so, with no school the following day, the country goes ablaze. Clearly teenagers, usually unchaperoned, gather together to stoke the biggest bonfire in the universe on any random corner of an open field because that is what teenagers live for - endangerment of themselves and the general public.

And why should babies not get into the act? So as not to leave them out, parent committees of every kindergarten and daycare also organize celebrations replete with food, entertainment and FIRE.

And it takes place at a random corner of an open field before dusk while the group of teenagers hovers and waits to take your spot when we babies are whisked off to our beds.

So it was that last night, Raia and I attended Lucas' Lag B'Omer festivities with his classmates from school.

Between a blazing bonfire and a street.

The sheer lure of all this peril and hazard rendered us giddy with excitement. We didn't even want to eat. Lucas busied himself with the older siblings of his classmates who were trying to tear down the ropes marking our bonfire territory while I made several breaks for the street and Raia just ran dizzying circles around the leaping flames. At one point we all gloriously threw whatever we wanted at the flames to spur them on.

In the end, we all were peeled away well past our bed time with blackened faces, grimy hands and dusty clothing. We all smelled gloriously of smoke and were starving because we had zero time to eat with all this frivolity to be done.

And yet, miraculously, we were all in one piece with only a minor scrape among us to show for it. Under the soot, we were still alive and eventually clean.

I made friends with the 12 year olds waiting to swarm our space
for their own mega-fire after we went home

Actually, these guys became my biggest fans and helped
me scale their future kindling

In the north yesterday "paramedics provided treatment to 92 people who suffered minor injuries over the course of the all-night celebration." But we - a group of about two dozen babies - were all okay. And THAT is cause for celebration!

That and being off from school today.

I'm confident that pretty soon the Ministry of Education will find a way to add Tu Bishvat, the Jewish New Year of the Tree, to its holiday roster. And then we will have a holiday nicely nestled in January as well.

So accordingly, as we say, "Shana haba b'Yeushalayim!" Next year in Jerusalem!

Follow @nic_jansezian

100 Years - A Sad Memory and a Need to Recognize

As you know, this is my blog that revolves around me, radiates my various activities and cuteness and reports about whatever I choose to pontificate. For those reasons, I very rarely allow a guest post.

This is one of those occasions as I feel obliged to allow my mother some of my cyber space for her own writing mostly because what she wrote 1. is about me and 2. is timely.

Tomorrow, April 24, is the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. And so, here is mommy and what she has to say about that, originally posted here and copied and pasted with her permission:

What Genocide Victims and People with Special Needs Have in Common

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

Martin Niemöller (1892–1984)

By Nicole Jansezian

Martin Niemöller, a German Lutheran pastor and theologian, became an outspoken critic of the Nazis in Germany and was sentenced to a concentration camp for his crime of speaking against the regime. His famous poem, quoted above, has been reworded over the years and used to make a point: If we don’t speak up now for others, we place ourselves in inevitable danger.

I married an Armenian and when I did I married into a cause. If one characteristic marks Armenians, aside from their pride in being the first Christian nation, it is the hovering pall of the Armenian Genocide.

Yerevan, the capital city of Armenia with a view of
Mount Ararat in modern day Turkey

Have you heard of it? Many have not. This Friday is the commemoration of 100 years of this atrocity in which 1.5 million Armenians were killed at the hands of the Ottoman Empire. On April 24, 1915, the Ottoman government executed more than 200 Armenian leaders in Constantinople. What followed were years of systematic abductions, expropriation of assets, executions, death marches and starvation in an effort to eliminate the Armenian population in present-day Turkey.


Armenians around the world can’t shake the specter of this haunting time because many world superpowers refuse to call it “genocide.” Russia, France and about 20 other countries recognize it as such while the United States, Britain and Israel do not. Turkey, in its insistence to avoid culpability, denies it happened.

But long before any nation recognized what occurred in Armenia, Adolf Hitler did. Hitler observed that his own genocide would be successful because no one remembered the Armenians. And so he spent years methodically annihilating people who didn’t fit into his world, most predominately 6 million Jews. The Holocaust occurred partly because genocide had already been allowed by the world.

And yet, before he rounded up the Jews, Hitler experimented with another group: the disabled and terminably ill. According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, in October 1939, Hitler initiated the killing of Germans he deemed “unworthy of life.” Some 200,000 handicapped people were murdered between 1940 and 1945. This became the model for the mass murder of Jews and a training ground for the concentration camps.

These despicable historic events bring me to the present. Daniel, my young son, is of Armenian descent and he has special needs. He would’ve been targeted in either genocide because of his identity.

Thankfully we live in a society today where Daniel is treated with dignity and love. I don’t expect any laws to be legislated against his existence. And he has advocates like those we found at SHALVA, the Association for Mentally and Physically Challenged Children in Israel.

Shalva’s work, quite opposite to Hitler, is to improve the quality of life for children with special needs and their families. To give hope. To instigate progress. Shalva is fostering a more knowledgeable and compassionate social climate for people with disabilities so they will be included and never again looked upon as a lesser group or a weak link.

Thanks to Shalva, Efrat Dotan (Down syndrome) and Matanel Biton (developmental delays) worked at an Israeli newspaper and interviewed national and international celebrities and politicians. Dina Samte, a singer who is blind, performed on a New York City stage along with percussionist  Yair Vomberg, who has Down syndrome.

In order to pave the way for more opportunities such as these, we must continually speak up for those who have no voice.

If we do not recognize we cannot repair, rebuild and move forward. Failing to speak out for one group regarding an atrocity is a moral failure. And for me, failing to speak up is failing my son. 

“Denial of genocide … is not an act of historical reinterpretation … but an insidious form of intellectual and moral degradation.” Holocaust scholar Deborah Lipstadt said.

Edmund Burke is known for this famous quote: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” I’d like to add, “and to say nothing.”

So as a defender, advocate and mother, I must speak up for recognition of the Armenian Genocide and its victims.

May this 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide be a time for us all to remember, represent and advocate for and to recognize the defenseless.

*****

Nicole is wife to Tony Jansezian and mother to Daniel and two other Italian-Armenian Israeli-born kids. She heads up Christian Friends of Shalva. To support SHALVA’s work and create more success stories such as mentioned above and for Daniel and his friends too, click here.  

Follow @nic_jansezian

Hanging with the Big Boys

Welcome to the Jungle, Raia! I mean, our bedroom :)

Friends, Passover break is over and we have all returned to our respective frameworks after nearly a month celebrating freedom. But not without some major changes, of course.

This extra long spring break provided mommy and abba with the opportunity to make some big changes in their lives, a spring cleaning of sorts: They evicted Raia from their room! 

Yes, after 16 months of maybe a handful of nights slept through, they felt she certainly outstayed her welcome in their room and change was needed.

Not that she had anywhere else to go. We have a smallish apartment. There was talk of cleaning out the office and transforming it into a bedroom. But that would've taken months as the office acts as our walk-in closet and is the only room sealed off from babies as it hosts important things such as the kitty litter and the printer - two treasures we babies are angling to get our hands on.

Mommy would not be stopped however, and she came up with another "solution." And so, with much ado, the crib slid right into our room with no problem, positioned perpendicular to our toddler beds.

Yes, mommy reasoned that all her children deserved each other. Raia was now formidable enough to meet us in the boxing ring and her daytime schedule had mostly aligned with ours. Not to mention, we had more than two weeks of spring break to sort it all out while mommy prayed for success.

It came at an appropriate time. We have been watching Prince of Egypt repeatedly. One of the songs is "Playing with the Big Boys Now." This was our welcome song to Raia: "You're sleeping with the big boys now!"

All the adults in our lives had bets placed on who would be disrupting who's night's sleep: Some contended that Raia's shrill midnight screams would disturb Lucas and I. Others assumed I would be the culprit, driven by curiosity and community to chat with Raia all night. Many feared Lucas and I would climb into Raia's crib and crush her.

It wasn't just Lucas and I who climbed into the crib:
we threw in every single item in our room as well!
(blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, diapers, etc)

Well, all of the above has occurred in some form or another. But the real lesson here was that Raia started sleeping through the night pretty much as soon as she moved in. So certain parents are kicking themselves for not doing this months ago. Er hm.

And so Lucas and I extended our most baby welcome to little sister Raia. Now that we have her to ourselves we can train her in the Ways and Laws of Babies. Watch out world!

But to understand our family's sense of humor, this is how Zia Em pictured our new sleeping arrangements:

Follow @nic_jansezian

Happy Holidays - And Beware of Babies Wielding Staffs!

"You shall take in your hand this staff, with which
you shall perform the signs.” Exodus 4:17

Lucas took this literally, for himself. Note, this particular
staff has never turned into a snake despite repeated attempts.

Seeing as we are mere hours from ushering in Passover, I will review what we learned this year in our respective schools. Most importantly, we learned that the Ten Plagues are called Eser HaMakot in Hebrew. Another, more familiar, day to day translation of makot is plural for smack, or hit.

Hence, the story of Passover and by extension Easter, is all about ... fighting.

Of course!

I understand many of you may have assumed that Passover and Easter are about deliverance, freedom and salvation. But as babies and boys, we see the inherent battles in any situation, mostly because we like to rumble. And in the spirit of Passover, we have acted no differently. When you strip these stories down to the bare bones, they were all about the fight!

Passover

Egyptians vs. Israelites

Slaves vs. Pyramids

Moses vs. Egyptian Slave Driver

Moses vs. Pharaoh

Man vs. Red Sea

(All Ten Plagues) vs. Man

Easter

Romans vs. Jews

Jews vs. Jews

Man vs. Grave

God vs. Death

All of the above

God vs. Satan

Immediately upon learning of Moses, Lucas adopted for himself a staff, ala Moses (Moshe), which he wields wildly and has carried with him (or tried to) everywhere for the last two weeks. His teacher created a special place for it at school where it was unreachable by children during the day. Certain restrictions were put on this staff (mateh in Hebrew) not the least of which was to not poke his sister's eyes out and to not sleep with it. Ouch.

So affected was Lucas by his newfound Moses persona that he announced that he was going to Egypt to DO the Eser HaMakot. I kid you not. And I agree wholeheartedly that a reenactment would be stunning, replete with special effects and lots of drama, especially on location with pyramids and sphinxes! But mommy and abba dissuaded us from said journey fearing that perhaps it could pose a bit of a threat to the tenuous peace in the region.

While we learned the Exodus story at school and at home, much of our riveting education has come from Prince of Egypt, the movie. We relate to it well, especially the scenes where Ramses and Moses join together as brothers and practically bring down the Egyptian empire, unintentionally, with their naughty games like chariot races through construction sites. Such role models they are!

"Behold the power of God!"

Another thing we learned is that on this night, Passover, we should put blood on our door post lest the angel of death visit the region yet again. Apparently that is no longer practiced, which is cause for fear as far as I am concerned as the eldest baby in this family. When mommy and abba posed the question to us of where (on earth, or why or how) we would get blood for such an act, we thought hard and came up with a good substitute: ketchup! Needless to say, this night has been different from any other night.

All the fighting has been so invigorating and such a celebration of the Exodus and Easter miracles.  Sometimes we get so worked up by all of this miraculous business that Lucas will dramatically slam his staff to the ground and declare: "Behold, the power of God!" 

...as splinters from the wood splay in different directions threatening all in his immediate surroundings and both mommy and abba yell, "No playing with the staff in the house!" Oops.

If you're going to get carried away with anything, it might as well be the power of God. Right?

And so from the basket of little Moses to the the modern life of iPads, the drama of the Exodus lives on for us babies! Happy Passover and Happy Easter, everyone!

Three baby siblings, like Aaron, Miriam and Moses,
conspiring to reenact the Exodus

Raia mostly just laughed at our shenanigans, but I
have no doubt she'll catch up with us some day.

Follow @nic_jansezian

Last Push Before Race Day and Team Daniel!

This is Raia sleeping on an airplane. Do not be deceived:
Out of 12 hours on a plane, Raia ran up and down the aisles on
an overnight flight for SEVEN hours.
Somebody's got to train for the marathon! 

Raia's reward was great and makes me jealous:
Mimi and GongGong picked her up at the airport.

I haven't really pushed this because I've been just way too busy in the last few months. Day to day baby activities. School. Pneumonia. Therapies. Sick days. Birthday parties. Purim. And my mommy abandoning me and Lucas for a week to go to the US (for work, allegedly).

But somehow, between all of these routine and extraneous activities, abba, mommy and many others have been training for the Jerusalem Marathon coming up on Friday, March 13. 

Mommy and abba took on the stupid challenging course of the half marathon because their motto in life seems to be: The more challenging something is, the more fun we'll have doing it! Okay, I shouldn't put words in their mouths, I don't think they really said that. Anyway, they decided to run together this year rather than flip a coin. Mimi and GongGong signed up to babysit so everyone is sorted and we babies definitely get the better end of the deal.

As per usual, we are all running this year for Shalva, the Association of Mentally and Physically Challenged Children in Israel. And this time we created Team DANIEL (in my honor) which is a group of people running for Team Shalva! ( http://www.run4shalva.org/en/school_profile.php?id=157)

But here is something even more exciting and, should you be moved by this, please consider giving to Team South Africa (http://www.run4shalva.org/en/school_profile.php?id=156). This group of runners from South Africa are the FIRST EVER coming from their country to run for Shalva!! These dear runners were moved by the story of Shalva and one of them has nephew with Down syndrome and so she jumped at the chance to help out this organization, knowing from personal experience why this is so important. They need help raising the minimum amount required. If you feel moved to donate to Shalva, please sponsor their team. All of the support goes to Shalva in the end, it doesn't matter which runner or team you support.

Here's mommy's words on why Shalva is special and worthy of your support: As his mother, I run after Daniel on a daily basis. But I am also running for Daniel and all the children of Shalva in the Jerusalem Marathon. Shalva has helped our family get started on the path of early intervention, therapies and support. And what's more - they never asked us for money. All the professional support we have received has been given to us. It is such a gift and a blessing!

By running and raising support I feel this is my way to give back to Shalva. For the families of children with special needs their race isn't just a 10k or even a marathon. It is a daily run, slow and steady, and there is no break. Shalva helps us get that break through different programs and by helping our children.

And so, with a few days to go until race day, and a Shalva dinner tonight in NYC at which mommy is giving a speech, and then taking a transatlantic flight with a baby who never stopped running from the moment she learned to walk, and jet lag and an adjustment from winter (NY) to summer (Jerusalem), mommy will join abba in the half marathon soon! And, in mommy's words again: "Yikes!!"

Purim! Lucas dressed as a sous chef.
Yes, not a "mere" chef,  but he told people
he was a sous chef.

This is what you call a parenting FAIL.
Same costume as last year! Larry the
Cucumber. Reasoning: different school.
Thanks, parents.

It was a White Christmas March in New York.
No marathon training whatsoever!

Raia had the nerve to grow up a little while in NY

And in her boredom of staying indoors, she
raided GongGong's wardrobe. Nice tie!

Follow @nic_jansezian