Posts Tagged Under Svetlana Nikitina
What Are We Fighting For?
My seven-years old son asked me recently, “Mom, is war ever good?” We were driving in beautiful Marin, past the emerald green hills and the sparkling blue water of San Francisco Bay.
I paused, and my thoughts raced through my head, searching for just the right words and just the right message. I thought of all the articles and books I ever read as a teacher and as a mother on explaining complicated issues to young children. My brain quickly turned up the information it retained on the warfare philosophy and latest war-related news, complete with visual images seen on TV and computer screens, as well as latest war casualties’ statistics. What could I answer to a seven-year old?
Suddenly, I recalled the familiar voice of my mother telling me stories of her growing up in Russia during and after WWII. It was her voice that made my throat tighten, my heart beating rapidly, my mind still desperately searching for words. I sensed that my answer was not instantly coming, and I said, “Let me think about it, okay?”
By Svetlana NikitinaA Full-Time Working Mother IS a Good Mother
I am a full-time preschool teacher, and a single mom.
One of my favorite things about my job is that warm and fuzzy feeling I get because I am doing something good for others; contributing to my community I live in by teaching its smallest members the basics of life.
What can be more rewarding?
Yet, my altruistic bubble was burst the other day by my seven-year old son’s comment, “Mom, I wish you had some other kind of job, so that you are not all done playing when you get home.”
By Svetlana NikitinaTHIS is Something Special
Our “outdoors discovery center” at a preschool where I teach is really just a glorified playground.
Humping Symphony
We are sitting outside in San Francisco’s Stern Grove, waiting for the symphony concert to begin. I am proudly seated between my son Alex, nine, and my boyfriend. This outing was inspired by me trying to make sure that my child grows up to be a well-rounded and cultured individual.
Father’s Day
When my son turned one, his father and I separated after five years of marriage. We were divorced several months after that, and my ex-husband left this country for good. We have not heard from him since. For that reason, Father’s Day has been a particularly awkward holiday for me to deal with.
I tried to ignore it as best I could, purposefully making our day busy enough with happy outings and special bonding time just between my son and me. Deep inside, I always knew that sooner or later I’d have to deal with it and have some explanations to do.
My first shake down came when my then six-year old son came home from Sunday school on Father’s Day holding a man’s tie made out of paper and pipe cleaners. His regular teachers were aware of our family situation, and were careful about providing alternative activities – “making something special for your mom.” This time, he had a sub who, according to Alex, “just made him do it.” As soon as he got in the car, my normally even-tempered child threw the paper tie as far as he could, and quietly said, “Why did I even have to make this stupid tie if I don’t even have a dad around!”
By Svetlana NikitinaMy “Perfect” Child
My nine-year old son is completely indifferent about his school backpack being dusty, dirty and full of strange particles, dried leaves, old assignments, and leftover snacks.
I clean it out with him, trying to establish a working system that would mitigate the mess. I talk, beg, explain, and sometimes get really mad and scream. I nag, hug, and then occasionally cry when Alex is asleep.
Why is he such an absent-minded slob?
By Svetlana NikitinaTeaching
I am a full-time preschool teacher, and a single mom.
One of my favorite things about my job is that warm and fuzzy feeling I get because I am doing something good for others; contributing to my community I live in by teaching its smallest members the basics of life.
What can be more rewarding?
Yet, my altruistic bubble was burst the other day by my sevm-year old son’s comment, “Mom, I wish you had some other kind of job, so that you are not all done playing when you get home.”
By Svetlana Nikitina
