A foot in both places

We worked out that in early January 2020, our oldest child will have lived in America for longer than he did in the UK. For both of them, our lives in England will seem more and more like a distant memory, and they'll be those kids at the party who talk about how they moved here very young and go back to visit most years. For me, that transition date comes in 2049, when I'll be 66.

This is why last night's election result had me in tears this morning. Even though I no longer live in the UK, a large part of me still cares deeply about what happens there, and my life is still very much intertwined with my friends and family who live there. The idea of handing a massive majority to the Tories means that Brexit, which has been a frailty in my mind ever since the referendum, now becomes a nailed on certainty, an avoidable seismic shock that none of us can truly prepare for. My travels around Europe, my liberal upbringing and my vision for teaching children to be world citizens are all undone by the retreat into our island shell. Brexit rejects the strength in unity, refuses the give and take of reciprocal agreements in favor of a unicorn trade deal and allows those who wish to blame "the other" for their problems a louder voice. I shed tears for my tattered dreams, for my kids who lose their birthright to live and work freely among 500 million people and for the turn in society towards isolationism and selfishness.

But the eternal optimist in me can never sit still for long (or maybe it's just the coffee kicking in). The Tories now have 5 years to implement their vision for the country, and for Brexit. Maybe (maybe?!?) it'll work out and we'll all be proved wrong. But if it doesn't, there's no Lib Dem coalition to hide behind, no blaming it on the previous government, no opposition to stop them. The buck stops here, and as the opposition, all we can do is watch and be ready to call them into accountability and hold them to their promises. In 2024, we need to be ready with an opposition worthy of the name, and while we may never be able to undo Brexit, we can rebuild the links and ties that make us part of Europe.

These events (of which there seem to have been a lot of since we moved!) also make me renew my professional vows. As an educator, I don't get to talk politics at work, and I will never have anyone claim that I push my political views on my students. However, there are some universal truths that I will always teach and encourage: empathy towards others, the ability to debate and listen, how to allow yourself to change your mind in the face of new evidence. I feel fortunate that I get to help shape the thinking of the next generation, and I hope that my work ends in a more inclusive and collaborative world.

Citizenship

I thought about writing a bigger, broader post reflecting on 2018 and what lies ahead for 2019, but a) I don't quite have the mental energy for it, b) there's been so much to think about that if I do write it down, it needs to be a series of separate blogs and c) I've been thinking about citizenship a lot recently, and wanted to record my thoughts.

This blog started life in the months leading up to our big move, which now seems a lifetime ago. I catch myself now and then driving around this beautiful state, gently amazed at the fact that we get to live here and that we've forged (are forging) a life for ourselves in a different country. Leeds often feels like a different world, and I'm not sure if that makes me feel happy, sad or nostalgic, or all of the above. However, this blog is titled "The Life of an Alien" with all the connotations of the word intended. 2019 will mark the end of our 3rd year here, and I will be eligible to apply for US citizenship.

There is not a moment's hesitation in my mind that I want to get my US citizenship, especially as it's legal for me to hold dual nationality with the UK. The benefits are manifold - I would get to vote (finally a chance to do something about the mess I see here!), I wouldn't be as worried about the anti-immigration rhetoric that comes out of the current administration, I get to hold the same passports as my children, and I never have to worry about visas expiring or being canceled. My biggest regret writing this list is that we never had the money to do this for my wife in the UK. Whilst it's more of a moot point now as we're living in her home country, I kinda wish that we had done it for her. 

The question is therefore not if, but when. April 8th marks the anniversary of us arriving, but there's an outside chance that I may be able to apply in January, which suddenly makes the idea of becoming an American real. I had to fight the urge just then to not put the word American in quotation marks, as I would be an American citizen with all the same rights and responsibilities that are afforded to my friends and family here. My urge to put them there represents the core of this post - if I have an American passport, pay taxes to the American government and work in an American school, at what point do I become American?

I recite the Pledge of Allegiance at school each day and every time I say the opening line (“I pledge allegiance to the flag…), I feel like I’m cheating as it doesn’t feel like my flag yet. I wonder if having citizenship will make me feel more truthful instantly, or if it will be a more gradual thing. The daily Pledge is one of those things that makes me feel most like an alien; partly it’s because I find it a strange thing that everyone is expected to do, regardless of whether you believe/understand the words, and partly because it’s strange to pledge allegiance to another country’s flag, even if it’s a country that I have chosen to live in.

I have a feeling that getting my American citizenship will feel like getting married. In some respects, nothing will change. I will have a blue and purple passport (although soon to be two blue passports if Brexiteers have their way), but I will still go to work, pay taxes, play with my kids and live my life as I have done for the last almost-three years. In some respects, lots will change. It will be a symbolic gesture to the longevity of our move (those hoping to see us return to the UK any time soon may choose to read another blog!) as well as a confirmation of the roots and ties that I/we are putting down over here. It’s that latter sentiment that fills me with excitement, and whilst I think I will always sound different and have a different set of cultural references and vocabulary, I think knowing that I belong here (and have the paperwork to prove it!) will make me feel less of an alien and make America feel more like home.

The end of an era

After over two weeks of procrastinating/denial, I finally stepped up today and did it. I went to the vets to pick up Millie's ashes, and then tidied all of the cat stuff up in the basement (who knew you could get teary eyed whilst emptying out a litter tray?!). Now, I'm not going to pretend that I'm as upset about Millie as I was when Pollo died, as she's always been Kelsey's favorite and the two of them formed a bond that no-one else could intrude on (they say you shouldn't have favorites, but I think that only applies to kids, right?). But that feeling of sadness and melancholy has hovered over me since we had her put down, and I've been trying to put my finger on it.

My guess is that with Millie passing, an end of an era is marked. The cats felt synonymous with our house in Leeds as we got them a few months after moving in. So much happened in that house, from the forming of rock solid friendships that can withstand the Atlantic Ocean, to the birth of both kids and the decision to move over here. In amongst all of that were Millie and Pollo, who befriended (to a greater or lesser extent) many of our friends over dinner, peeing in their shoes and while we were away on holiday (so many funny videos of Pollo being needy and yowly got sent our way!).

It was a hard decision to bring them over here, but in reality the only one we could have made. We couldn't handle the idea of us not being there when they got put down, or that we would leave any of our family members behind. So at great expense (it cost more for them to fly over in two shoddy wooden boxes than it did for 4 humans with 7 pieces of luggage!) they came with us.

They didn't live the same lifestyle as they did back in Leeds (mainly because we didn't want them to end up as a meal for a bobcat or a bear), but I think the indoor life suited them. The house is big enough that they could find places to hide when the kids or Marlowe (our dog-in-law) were around, and there was always a lap to cuddle on (if you were Millie with Kelsey). I'm not sure that either of us expected them to live as long as they did, especially as Millie was given 6 months to live around 5 years ago; we did wonder if they were eternal beings trapped in cat form.

But now they're gone. No matter that this moment was bound to arrive from the time that we decided to adopt them, the sadness that comes with that ending endures. To me, it feels like another link back to Leeds is gone. That in itself seems silly to write as we were the ones who chose to leave, and severed a huge number of links in one fell swoop. But at the same time, Millie and Pollo were a constant throughout most of our time in Leeds, and with their passing, an era has come to an end.

Summer 3.0

It's incredible to think that in 3 short weeks, our 3rd American summer will be done and dusted. Well, almost. It will continue to be what I consider too hot and too sweaty till around the start of October, but we'll all be back at school (some later than others - curse you late-starting Manchester school district!) which seems to count in my mind.

Every summer has been different, and will continue to be different due to the kid's development, both physically and socially. However, this has been my favorite so far. It started with an incredibly recharging trip to Europe, seeing all of our old friends in the UK (including the wedding of our two best friends after 12 years of being together!), racing around the country at high speed to fit everyone in, before heading to Italy (after a brief passport debacle which, if I decide to do it, will warrant it's own blog post) for a week's worth of rest and relaxation. Having access to the small slice of heaven that is my parent's home out there means that we can keep up the hell-for-leather pace in the UK knowing that there is endless days of salty bread, walks to town and swimming to allow us to fully recharge.

After this amazing trip, it's therefore strange to come to find that there is still 5 weeks left before the kids come back. Last summer, and indeed in our first year here, I felt the need to go and run around every day with the kids, and I quickly fell into that mindset here. I think in part this is due to the Facebook effect - you see pictures of everyone else's summer and they look like they're having a terrific time, so you want to make sure your kids are getting the same sort of experiences. But a while back, before the summer started, I read a blog which I wish I could repost here. The writer talked about setting the same high expectations for herself, but that it made every day feel stressful, and she found herself getting grumpy if they didn't do something wonderfully enriching or memory making. This resonated with me, and I've been thinking more about it this summer.

This post was inspired by this morning, where I had thought about going to the beach or down to Dover to hit up our favorite museum. When I suggested that to Jake, he said no, and that he wanted to sit and play Lego's instead. Sophie agreed and we actually stayed in our PJs most of the morning, just goofing around and not going anywhere amazing or doing anything that we haven't done a million times already. I started to get fidgety and got that feeling like we were wasting our time, but then I was hit by the realization that this wasn't wasted time; the morning was all about building memories of time at home with Daddy, playing silly games, running around the house naked, deciding on a whim to go pick blueberries (despite being banned from the farm by my wife!) and eating watermelon til it drips down our elbows. There's definitely a time and a place for the big memory making trips and experiences, but I also want Jake and Sophie's childhood memories to be filled with the small delights and the endless lazy days moving at their speed and their timetable.

I wanted to record this realization for next summer, when it's quite likely that we'll be staying in the US all summer, and I will get the overwhelming feeling that we should be out doing Facebook worthy stuff. The other realization is that if what I see on Facebook is stressing me out (in that I feel like I'm not doing those amazing things that everyone else seems to be up to) then maybe I need to close Facebook instead of forcing my own summer.

The glorious thing about all of this is that this afternoon we went to the lake to meet up with Jake's best friend and his family and ended up having one of those dreamy afternoons by the lake, where Jake got on and steered his buddy's paddle board and I goofed in the water with Sophie, with hot pizza from the store across the road for dinner. Beautiful memory making quite by accident, which seems to be a much better way for them to be made, and a much more satisfying summer.

Here's to 3 more weeks of less planning and more goofing (thought with my sister coming on Wednesday, and the Forbes Family Vacation the week after, that may change!) and 3 more weeks of relaxation before the madness overtakes us all again.

2 years (and a few days!)

I like anniversaries. Whether it's commemorating the fact that my wife and I have been a couple for 5000 days recently, or celebrating birthdays, there's something satisfying about marking the progress of time and reflecting on the changes since the last celebration. Which is why I'm slightly disappointed with the timing of this post. April 8th will always mark the date that we moved here and started the next big chapter in our lives, but as always with these posts, there is a delay between thinking "I need to write" and finding the headspace to do so. I would also imagine that there's a fair correlation between my blog posts and when I'm off school, as this is when time slows down a little.

Anyway. I still want to mark 2 years of being here as it represents a full year in our own house and the starting up of traditions and habits that will become part of our kid's earliest memories. What I want to do here is revisit the 1st post of this blog which talked about the 5 things that I was most excited for our move. I want to look at how each of these has played out, and the next things I'm excited for.

1) The space
In the original post, I had my heart set on a 3 or 4 bedroom house in the woods, with a couple of acres of land that we could grow vegetables on, have the kids play and keep chickens. With the exception of the latter, we are truly living the dream. Yesterday, Jake got up from rest time and decided that he wanted to go and do some gardening, so we went and planted pumpkin seeds. They then drove around in their four wheelers, played in the sand pit and happily played in the house on the deck. It was simply delightful to have that much outdoor space. I'm also planning on expanding to grow blueberries and cherries this year, with half an eye on a peach tree. I give this dream 10/10, even without the chickens.

2) The people
We see an awful lot of my wife's family, especially her parents which isn't surprising as it's less than a 5 minute drive to their house (which was all part of the plan of buying this place!). I had talked about the friendly customer service and small talk, and this is definitely true, even though I've had to train myself in becoming proficient in small talk to strangers (tip for other aliens: start by finding a common link, whether it's where you're from, where you've been or someone you know). We're still working on having friends outside of work or our kid's situations, but with 2 small people and the desire to hang out with them a lot makes this harder; that and I sometimes feel that we're always going to compare them to our our solid group of friends back in the UK. In terms of the gist of the original post, my overall impressions of New Englanders is that they're polite, friendly and very earnest (I've had to tone my sarcasm down several octaves): 10/10 for the prediction!

3) An outdoorsy lifestyle
Last summer saw me conquer 4 of the 48 mountains in New Hampshire that measure over 4,000 feet, as well as starting to get to know some of the local trails. I also used some of our tax return money (still don't quite understand the tax system here, but it seems to pay out in our favour!) to buy a canoe, which we have used once. When it's not bitterly cold, we do spend a good chunk of time outside which will only improve as Sophie becomes more confident and Jake allows himself to become braver with some of the activities we like to do. However, I've been made aware of loads of kid friendly hikes and trails, so I can't wait to explore more this summer! 9/10

4) Exploration and adventure
I think I probably underestimated how big America is and how little vacation time Kelsey would get when I wrote this. We also have the old trap that has dogged us for years that we want to spend all of our vacation time visiting friends and family in the other country. So our biggest trips so far have all been to England and to visit my wife's sister in Connecticut. However, my wife is training to become a teacher this year, so while it's going to make things tight financially, from September 2019 onwards we should have more time and money, and kids that are old enough, to start to explore more of this side of the ocean. 5/10.

5) Living on vacation
I still get a little giddy going to Calef's for lunch as it feels like I'm on holiday rather than just grabbing a sandwich for lunch. My vacation time with the kids is spent doing mini tourist things, and the ability to be at the top of Bluejob mountain within 30 minutes of leaving my front door still feels special. It's an interesting flip to watch the routine things of our time in Leeds (Greggs, going to the pub, hanging out with our friends') take on the mysticism of "holiday activities"; things to be excited about rather than just day to day activities. This one is hard to score as it's not vacation any more to live here, but I still enjoy the treats and the experiences that are now available to us daily.

So all in all I feel that my predictions about what I would find the most exciting over here are pretty accurate. It's also pretty satisfying to see that we've managed to make just about all of the dreams that we had for our life here come true, or at least have a plan to make them happy.

Some of the other things that I didn't realize that I would be excited about:

My job - teaching over here is a completely different experience and one that has truly set me free to be the creative and caring teacher that I dreamed of being at the start of my career. I know I'm lucky with my school district, but I get a lot of professional and personal satisfaction from my day to living.

Enormous snowfalls - any time when we're expecting over a foot of snow, the small, childish part of me gets all giddy at the prospect of such a scenery changing amount of snow. Even having to snow blow multiple times doesn't get me down, and there's something awe inspiring in putting your foot down and having snow come almost up to your knees. That, and the sunny days that immediately follow are some of the most spectacular times.

Sophie at day care - when we moved over, Sophie was 9 months old. She's now almost 3, and it's crazy to think that she has lived almost 75% of her life here! I love her daycare's outdoor section and the fact that she comes home covered in paint, food and with leaves in her hair, gabbling incomprehensibly about her day. While I'm excited to have her at Jake's old day care in the autumn, I will miss our car rides together.

Jake at school - I know Jake wold have thrived in any rule bound school environment, but when we moved he was still only 4 and school seemed like a long way away. Watching him develop into a learner who can read, write and count is just wonderful, and I love listening to his stories about what he did at school.

Fruit picking - we spent a lot of time at Butternut Farm last year picking each of the seasonal fruits, and there is something just incredibly exotic about picking a fresh peach off the tree and biting into the juicy goodness. I love the connection to the land, and while the produce will be more expensive than at a store, I fully intend to spend hundreds more there this summer to support local growers and to make sure my kids have a full appreciation of where their food comes from.

There are more, many more (grilling, lake life and free sports on TV to name but 3), but a) I don't want to sound like I'm boasting, b) this post has given me such a big smile and a true appreciation of our life here and c) I need to go wake Jake up so we can go to the trampoline park, because it's April vacation week, because we can, because life here is good.

Decorating

Is that it's officially spring on Tuesday (despite what the foot of snow still in parts of my garden tells us)? Or perhaps that we have an IEP evaluation for Sophie on Wednesday and we want to look like "good parents"? Or maybe it's that our 2 year anniversary of The Big Move is coming up?

In any case, these last 2 weekends have seen a massive increase in our decorations around our house. Yes, we've (and by we, I mean my wife) have managed to keep a seasonal wreath on our door (who knew that was thing!) and a seasonal tablecloth on the table (including the garish orange pumpkin one for most of October and November! (note from wife - this was picked out by the 5 year old!)). But these are all temporary and small things. We've had a few family heirlooms and knick-knacks on the mantel place and on display in the spare room, but the only piece of art is a watercolor painting from Target because we felt like we should have something.

I was always slightly bothered that there was nothing on Jake and Sophie's walls in particular - again, their rooms and indeed our house are not lacking for books, toys and other personal touches, but there was nothing in there to make them into a proper kid's room.

All that has now changed. We have the most beautiful map of the White Mountains hiking trails hanging behind our couch (thank you Karyn!), with a stunning wooden frame. I've been told I'm not allowed to mark on the ones that I've done, but this seems a waste - we'll see who wins that one! My wife brought back some fancy wrapping paper from her recent trip to the UK which has world maps and a "map" of the solar system, so we've framed these and hung them in the kid's rooms. We've also added some artwork that we brought with us from the UK, and some that we've borrowed from the in-laws that my wife used to have in her room as a kid. Finally, we strung up some flower garlands in Sophie's room, and a ring of world flags in Jake's.

The overall effect throughout the house is to make it feel more like a home. This is strange to say, as we've now lived here longer than we did at Church Lane (our first married house) and it is most definitely "home". But I think there is a difference between somewhere feeling like our home (where my wife and kids are) and a building feeling like a home, where it looks lived in and personalised to the people living there. I'm not sure that pictures on the wall is the only way to achieve it, but putting up all those frames has made me so happy and rooted that there must be something in it.

We've still got a whole pack of pictures and paintings from our time back in Leeds, as well as plans for a family photo wall and a Forbes Wolfson Fine Art gallery, which all feel like exciting thoughts moving forward towards the start of our third year here. I'm not going to bore you with pictures - if you want to see how we've decorated, make plans to come visit!

Adverts

A lot of the posts on here tend to be more serious or thoughtful, generally depending on how homesick I am or how much I'm reading the news. However, this one is more playful. I keep meaning to write it, but each time I start writing it in my head, I hear something new that I want to add in.

Adverts, or commercials, are everywhere here. The most weird placement is during the baseball TV commentary, when halfway through a discussion point they will name drop a sponsor and their tag line ("That play was brought to you by Geico - 15 minutes could save you 15%") as if it's not a weird thing to do. Every part of a game is sponsored, from highlights to half time shows and even the post match interviews. The strangest thing that I only realized on going back to the UK for a whirlwind weekend is that there is no gambling here on sports - no Bet365 odds at half time or William Hill shops on every corner (also means no football accumulators...probably a good thing).

My favourite commercials (as I will call them as I prefer the term) are the ones on radio, especially those on local radio stations. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think these are particular to the US, but a) I listened almost exclusively to commercial-free BBC radio in the UK and b) a lot of these observations make me laugh. So here are my favourite radio commercial observations:

1) The use of the show's presenter in commercials - this happens both at the local and national level, with even bit part members of the Elvis Doran (think Chris Moyles just older and gayer) show getting in on the act. It's very confusing to hear them discussing something and then break for a commercial, only for them to be on air delivering the commercial. I guess that's half the point, but I heard one segment where 4 of the 5 commercials were done by the show's presenter. I also love the local DJ (Jadd on Z107) who speaks like a teenager and has sold his soul to just about everyone in a 10 mile radius. Listening to him trying to get hyped about Pandora bracelets or the local credit union makes me chuckle.

2) Small local business - most people buy in professional voice overs or actors, but my favourite commercials by far are the ones done by the people who actually own the business. They always sound so forced and corny that I can't help but laugh, especially when they try to insert a joke but forget they can't hear your laughter and so leave an awkward second of silence. Pure radio gold.

3) The pervasiveness of Geico - while you'll hear most commercials on repeat for a good month or so at a time, Geico (a large national insurance provider) seems to have gone for the scatter gun approach. In the last week, I must have heard at least a dozen difference commercials, ranging from advice from your shadow to things that will make you feel good. At the heart is the same message about why you should choose Geico (and I could probably reel them off for you, which shows the success) but the sheer cost involved makes me wonder if the effort is worth it. I also sometimes wonder who comes up with the themes, as a lot of them are incredibly random and not related to insurance at all.

4) Political ads - these were way over the top during the run up to the election, especially with the above mentioned continuous repetition. However, they still pop up every now and then, and recently I heard a negative ad slamming one of the New Hampshire senators. There's no election any time soon and the ad was sponsored by a group not affiliated with any political party or organization (I know because they have to tell you at the end). It struck me as bizarre that this is a legitimate form of campaigning, yet if I was to do and say the same things about a random member of the public, it could be construed as slander. Interesting thoughts.

The best part of having fun with the commercials is that they're not my favorite part of the radio experience. I was concerned that I would miss radio 1 and 4 a lot, and to begin with, I only listened to the stations that Kelsey and I listened to as we drove around on holiday. However, I now have my Chris Moyles alternative in the morning (until Sophie starts repeating what she hears - the show is definitely NSFW some days!), NPR (think radio 4 but more random) as well as sports radio with really feisty presenters and some good country in the mix too. Long commutes to work don't seem as boring any more!

A year at home

One of the interesting things about anniversaries and important dates is how and when you use them to mark time. We have our birthdays and weddings (though for my wife and I, we have 3 wedding dates to choose from, but only one birthday between us), but the move over here is also marked in our calendars (not diaries, over here at least!) as it demarcates the end of one chapter of our lives and the start of the next.

Today also marks another important anniversary - a year in our first American home. In the same way that I can't believe that it also marks 18 months of us being here (we moved in exactly 6 months after we arrived), a year in this house seems to have gone by very quickly. The transition from our family house in the UK to my in-laws was strange, but familiar at the same time. Finding this place and going through the whole purchasing process was the first time that our move here felt permanent, even with jobs and a new car. Buying a house means putting down roots and signalling our intent to stay here, to become part of the community, to have our kids grow up in Strafford's school system and for us to have a family home to return home to each day. 

I remember with clarity the first night here, giving the kids a bath and thinking how weird it would be for that bath time to feel normal and for the whole newness of the house to become familiarity. To a certain extent, it has, but I still feel a rush of excitement sometimes when I catch a glimpse of a new angle of the house or just admire another facet that I hadn't noticed before. For example, being able to host a birthday party with an enormous bouncy castle that didn't seem to take up any space, or having a Christmas tree that was 10 feet plus tall that I could look down on, or simply standing in the back and looking up at the trees, feeling small and protected by them. 

We have made some interesting discoveries. In November, about a month after moving in, we woke one morning to find that it was absolutely freezing in the house. The heating, which had been working fine, was off and we didn't really want to pay someone to come and fix it. We called my father in law, who's first question was "when was the last time someone delivered oil?". Problem solved, but it was a revelation to realize that we weren't connected to any sort of communal heating, water or sewage supply - everything is in our house. The only thing we have "delivered" is electricity, but we're planning on solar panels so that we can be more self-sufficient. In March, I finally gave up my battle with our incredibly slow (but cheap) satellite internet service and paid off our contract. We now have high speed cable, meaning that video calls back to the UK are easy and fun - some times, you can't put a price on things. In June, with guests visiting and having boasted about the quality of our water, we found that it was turning orange and metallic - a sure sign of iron. Cue a discovery about the intense filtration system that we have downstairs that we hadn't paid attention to and needed servicing. I love the idea of having water coming from the ground underneath us, but it sure makes you appreciate what Yorkshire Water does - including having to give the kids fluoride pills as there's none in the water here.

We have done our usual house trick of not really doing anything for the first year. We have 2 pieces of art on the wall and a good stock of second hand and discount furniture to see us through when the kids are young. We bought something that was too big for our house (a canoe) but managed to find a home for it. We have managed to keep half a handle on the garden, but it will need more TLC next year. I guess the big difference is that we have invested in some nice furniture with a plan for more and the sheer amount of space available to us has made us more cautious about filling it with stuff. 

It feels like a long time since my childhood friend Dan and I climbed the tree in the back yard instead of unpacking, and even longer since we first stepped through the door and gaped at the size of the house we were looking at. This house has seen Jake start kindergarten, Sophie get her hearing fixed and learning to walk and talk, a new change of career plan for my wife and a successful first year for me as I start my new adventure in American education. By the time October 8th rolls around next year, Kelsey will be knee deep in her masters course, Jake will be in first grade and Sophie will be at preschool. We may or may not have updated the house further, but it will feel more and more like home home every day. 

Post script

None of this would have been possible without the legacy of Gran, and the irony is that if she was around for me to Skype and share this home with her, we probably wouldn't be here. It's a tough balancing act to manage, but she stipulated that the money should be used to do something that you wouldn't otherwise be able to do. I'd say moving wholesale to America into a house that is 4 times our previous one with enough land that my 144 square feet vegetable garden makes no dent in the acreage fits this bill, and for that I will always be truly grateful to Gran. 

American Values

Part of the fun of being a foreigner is the feeling of insider knowledge that you get from truly experiencing another country for an extended period of time. Gone are the familiar stereotypes and even some of the surface observations that you make as a visitor here - the experience of day to day living surrounded by American people, American news and American culture offers an unrivaled view into another way of life. It's fun to be able to offer our visitors some of these deeper insights, such as the earnestness of most Americans I've met, and the social norms such as the traditional American small talk of trying to find some sort of connection through ancestry or social group.

On the other hand, it reveals certain truths and ugliness that are hard to see from the outside, especially with the rose tinted view afforded by holidays. I started writing this post in my head during last week's NFL protests, but I feel compelled to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) after the events in Las Vegas and their dissection by the media and politicians.

The NFL protests - kneeling during the national anthem - were, I think, intended as a way of bringing to focus social injustice in terms of the underlying racism that still exists in large swathes of America. However, the national anthem, along with the flag, is held in high reverence here and to do anything other than stand and remove one's hat is seen to be the height of treason (regardless of the fact that most people sit when they hear it on TV).

The confusion lies in the belief that the flag and anthem stand for "American values" and that all Americans, regardless of who they are or where they're from, should be proud to stand for the flag. Indeed, we start every day at school pledging blind allegiance to the flag, assuming that we know what we're pledging. The issue here is what you consider to be American values (a similar debate has raged in the UK education system about British values, but that's for another post). If you take the pledge of allegiance, the main values (I think) come from the last sentence - liberty and justice for all. In that sense, I agree with the protesters - we don't have either of those, so any way that you can find to raise awareness of this is worth pursuing. If you take the national anthem, the values that come through again stem from the last line - the land of the free and the home of the brave. This idea of bravery runs deep in America, and often the national anthem/flag debate gets wrapped up with veterans and the army, so by kneeling for justice, protesters are seen to be disrespecting the army who protect this land of the free and brave (this, again, is another post in the making).

If you take the constitution as your guide for American values, you end up with a great mix of ideas. On the one hand, the idea that all men are created equal doesn't seem to run true, while on the other there are some knotty issues about the extent of free speech as seen in the recent events in Charlottesville. You are also adhering to a text written 250 years ago in an age where America was being forged against the will of the might of the British empire, so it made sense to amend it to afford a well armed militia with a right to bear arms and to not have to quarter soldiers against your will. I feel that some of these amendments have the same ring that arguments against homosexuality using that Leviticus section of the Bible hold - it says so in the book, and the book must be right, therefore I'm right, regardless of whether it's still applicable or relevant today.

The shooting in Las Vegas sickened me, but not as much as the vapid "thoughts and prayers" from many of the country's leading politicians. Even worse are the politicians who, instead of taking to arms (so to speak) and thinking of ways to combat this problem before the next shooter comes along, have openly said that these shootings are a natural consequence of the freedoms afforded by the constitution, so we just have to accept them. Even worse is the politician who when asked about gun control said that it's on the shoulders of everyone to take extra precautions and to "be small" in the situations.

Fuck.

That.

(sorry for swearing, mum)

If I have to accept you have a constitutional right to "bear arms", and that there is nothing stopping those arms from being fully automatic, military grade machine guns, then you have to accept my constitutional right to congregate freely in public and to live a life free from harassment. Why should I have to take precautions about going to open air concerts or other crowded spaces because it is feasible and possible that someone, without any prior convictions or recorded history of mental illness, decides to take their arsenal and shoot their frustrations at me? Why should I have to teach my students the "lockdown" drill where we hide in our classroom in the dark with the door locked so a shooter can't kill us? Why should I have to hug my children extra hard tonight, praying that at some point in their lives they won't be one of the faces on TV for a few days, their lives ended because no one did anything in their power to stop it from happening again, and again, again?

The normal response of "people wouldn't shoot innocents if they knew everyone else had a gun" fails when your gunman barricades himself in a hotel 100 yards away and rains bullets down. But not once in 48 hours post Vegas have I heard anyone (apart from a few Democratic senators) say anything other than condemning the violence, praying for the victims and talking about mental health laws. I don't know if I get so worked up over gun violence and mass shootings because I come from a country where guns aren't an issue because no one has them, or because I'm a pacifist through and through and the idea that you are making it easier for people to cause massive damage to others just sickens me. But the lack of any kind of preventative response from the only people who could actively do something about just makes my blood boil.

The life of an alien is tough sometimes. You spend ages feeling like you've acclimatized, that you're part of the furniture, but then you realize that being part of that culture is more than knowing the Red Sox lineup by heart or learning a few pop culture references; it's understanding the decisions that get made and the different voices that make up the national conversation. Perhaps that's why American values are so hard to pin down - not because they don't exist, but that each American has their own interpretation of what they mean, and that is the hardest lesson for an alien to learn.

Hello from the other side

Jake starts Kindergarten tomorrow. Just that sentence feels strange to type; it shouldn't, given that him going to school was an inevitability in whatever country we lived in, but at the same time, it's a strange realization to think that this is the start of a 13 year journey of continuous schooling (and hopefully beyond, but we'll cross that bridge in 2030...), and a 16 year process when you add Sophie into the mix.

So it felt strange going to another person's classroom this evening for their "open house". Don't get me wrong, I must have been in over 200 classrooms in the course of my career so far, but each time it's been with a purpose related to my job - observe a child, provide support, teach, borrow a stapler etc. This was the first time I went in a non-professional role, as a parent. That also felt strange to write, as while I know that I have two kids and that "parent" is one of my roles in life, it's not one that I pick out immediately when talking about myself, but my drive to take Jake for open evening was definitely built on my desire to see where he will be during the day (my mum will laugh as she always likes to have mental pictures of where we all are!) and to see what his classroom looks like. It was strange to see his name on the door, and his cubby (also written as Jacob...I know I've done that as a teacher, so I hope that he's brave enough to make himself be called Jake!). It was also strange to see his surname written out, and it was the first time I felt a little guilty for giving him Forbes Wolfson (especially when his "rainbow" table buddies have last names like "Grant" and "Chick"). It's a lot to learn to write (it took him awhile to learn to introduce himself fully) but at the same time, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I sit here feeling strangely on the other side to his education experience. I know about everything that he's going to go through this year from the eyes of his teacher. I know that he will be one of 18 kids and that his teacher will do her best to see him as much as possible, to give him what he needs and to help him grow this year, because that's what I do with every kid who comes into my classroom. At the same time, I know that each child in my own classroom belongs to someone else, and they have the same desire for their individual child to succeed and develop as I have for Jake. So I can see both sides, which makes me feel less worried that I think I would be otherwise.

I'm also glad that we were able to give him the extra year that he's had of pre-K work. In the UK, he would be starting year 1, having already completed one year of formal schooling. While I know the reception class work is play based, I still feel pleased that he had a year to grow a little, gain some social skills, develop his emotional literacy as well as begin playing with letters and numbers. That extra year, combined with the work that we're doing at home on rule following, independence and kindness, means that I feel safe and happy sending him into Kindergarten tomorrow ready to start his school journey. Go Jake, a member of the class of 2030!

The 4,000 foot club

The tallest mountain in England, Scafell, is 3,209 feet above sea level. By contrast, there are 48 mountains in New Hampshire that are over 4,000 feet. There is an unofficial club of people who like to climb all 48, and right from the word go, I knew I wanted to be a member of this club. I've signed up to a couple of hiking groups online, but haven't quite got up the courage (or in the case of the winter hikers, got enough experience/crampons) to go. So with the arrival of my long time hiking buddy Matt (see http://walkingtheleedscountryway.blogspot.com/), it was time to start the journey.

We spent some time researching our options for today's hike. We ruled out anything that was rated difficult or above, and were surprised to find that not one 4,000 footer is marked as anything less than moderate on most websites. After a recommendation from a family friend, we eventually decided on Osceola, reported to have amazing views from the top and measuring in at 4,315 feet. Matt, as always, downloaded a map and spent some time creating "Walkbot" which would help us find our route and give us useful stats on elevation and distance.

It was meant to be a simple 4 hour hike (2 up, 2 down), so we set off at 6am to try and catch the cooler morning sunshine ("we" also include my mother-in-law. Our previous hiking experience together included hot pastrami pizza before a noon hike, so things could only get better). A beautiful drive ensued, including going over the Kancamangus pass in glorious clear sunshine. We arrived on time to start at 8 and started to walk. It was at this point that Matt mentioned that we had 2.5 miles to the first peak, then a simple ridge walk to Osceola, coming in around 3.5 miles. This sounded like a long distance to cover in 4 hours, but we were already en route at this point.

The first 1.5 miles or so were delightful. The land rolled slowly upwards, meandering across small streams and halved tree trunks served as wide tight ropes to help us cross some of the boggier parts. At this point, our moderate hike became strenuous. The gradient sharply increased, and Matt became quickly introduced to why New Hampshire is known as the Granite State - there were rocks everywhere! We had to scramble, climb and stretch ourselves up the hill, to the point where we decided that if you didn't have to use your hands to climb, it wasn't "up". The glimpses of the Presidential range and the cool breezes made it fun, and we took many breaks to allow the lactic acid to break down and our heart rates to relax.

After a good hour of this, we reached East Peak, 4,156 feet in elevation. This we discovered meant that today was going to be a double bagger (i.e. getting two 4,000 peaks for the price of one hike), which suddenly made the sweaty t-shirt and lack of lunch more bearable. However, East Peak definitely falls under the category of "peak bagging", mountains that have poor or no view, but still measure over 4,000 so you need to tick them off. We discovered that the simple route that we had planned to go wouldn't have taken us to East Peak, so I'm very glad that we don't have to revisit it, as it's simply a cairn in the middle of some woods, with no view worthy of the name. After a quick photo stop, we were on our way to Matt's "ridge walk".

The map Matt had downloaded was a bit fuzzy as you zoomed in, which meant that it was hard to work just how many contour lines we would need to cover. The answer, as we crossed the saddle from East Peak to Osceola, was many. There was around 500 feet of descent, followed by 800 feet of climbing, including The Chimney, a vertical rock climbing experience (but with some easy hand and foot holds, so it was more exciting than dangerous). However, the ridge part was a great description, and the feeling of walking on the top of the world with the wind in your face and views glimpsed through the trees on both sides is one that isn't easily forgotten.

By the time we reached the peak of Osceola, we were in need of a break, and what a place to have one. You get around 220 degrees of view (according to websites) and the sheer height of the peak means that the sides drop away steeply, leaving you with a slight sense of vertigo. We were able to see for miles, and unlike similar views in the UK's Lake District, where you know that over the next hill lies a big town and more people, here you just know that you'll just get more of the same view of big mountains and trees. It's a view that I'll never get bored of, and it just boggles my mind every time that the whole state is one massive forest, but it's one of the smallest states in the nation and that America just goes on for miles and miles.

The walk down was tough to say the least. Our legs were still feeling the burn from the exertions of the climb, and some of the rock formations that we had to climb down were scarier than when we went up. The comment that we made the most was "how on earth did we climb up this?!". We were much quicker coming down (3 hours to the peak, 2.15 to the bottom) but we were all still pretty tired and sweaty as we arrived in the carpark. For the toughness of the hike, the view at the top more than justified the effort involved, and I'm delighted that I've started my 48 club collection with not one, but two peaks. I'm already starting to plan how many I can check off while the weather is still good enough!

Driving in the US

I've been mentally adding to this post for a few months now, and it seems prescient to post it now with the first of our summer visitors coming. This is meant as a personal guide to driving over here for people who haven't done it before, but I'm not going to start with "drive on the right" and "enjoy spending less than £20 to fill your car from empty". Instead, these are curiosities that I've found over here that I want to share ahead of time.

1. Right on red - Jeremy Clarkson once described this as America's only contribution to Western civilization, and while I disagree with the word "only", I do think it's one of the better road rules over here. The basic gist is to keep traffic moving, especially in rural states like New Hampshire, when you could be waiting for ages for a light to turn green with no traffic coming for miles. If you're at a red light and turning right, you may proceed if it's safe to do so after stopping. There are some intersections where you can't do this, and there will be a big sign saying NO RIGHT TURN ON RED to remind you. If it doesn't say it, you're free to go. It's exhilarating the first time you "run" a red light, but after a while, I wonder how I'll cope without it when I leave the US.

2. Stop means stop - again, this tends to apply to back roads and quieter city streets where the cost of a traffic light intersection isn't worth it for the traffic volume. Instead, you end up with big red STOP signs on each corner. Unlike the UK, where you can proceed at a junction like this if there's no oncoming traffic, here you are expected to stop fully for 3 seconds before moving on. In moving traffic, this rule allows for "zipper" movement, allowing one car in turn from each road to cross so no one road gets blocked by others. On a quiet night, however, it feels strange - made stranger still be item number 3:

3. Police as speed traps - each town has it's own police cars (each one is marked differently) and they are in part responsible for traffic safety within their borders. This includes the usual looking at missing tail lights and dealing with accidents, but also setting up speed traps. In somewhere like my hometown, where there's very little crime, the 3 police cars will often spend their time trying to catch people speeding (and not stopping fully at stop signs). On the one hand, it reduces the pressure of remembering where all the speed cameras are, and as you know there are very few police around, it's tempting to speed everywhere. However, the number of trees and winding roads means there are some great hiding places, so you do have to be careful how fast you go, especially given item 4:

4. Slow speed limits - this applies everywhere. Most roads in New Hampshire look like single lane highways to me, which indicates a 60 mph speed limit. In fact, most of them are 40 (or 45), and those designated as high population (lol) are even 30. It can feel like a snail's pace, especially as you know it's highly unlikely that you'll get busted due to the low police to roads ratio, but the fines are high and it's hard not to giggle (having watched Super Troopers too many times) when you're asked for your license and registration (for the record - this has happened once to me here for a broken tail light). The highway speeds in New Hampshire are 55 or 65 (with a minimum of 45) which makes number 5 even more frustrating:

5. Highway driving - this is one of the things that will drive my friends Vicky and Dave insane; they're from two different circles of friends, but equally irate about motorway driving rules. As far as I can work out, the rules are still the same as the UK, just mirrored. Right hand lane slow and for exits, middle for overtaking the right and left lane for overtaking the middle. However, this isn't the way it works at all. Most Americans refer to the left lane as the "fast lane" and treat it as such. I've happily been driving in the right lane and watched someone move from the middle to the left with no other cars on the road. I've also been driving in the middle lane overtaking one car and watched every single car stay in the middle lane, forcing everyone into 2 lanes. There's no sense of needing to move over, even when you're merging on, and people seem confused when I move to an empty right lane even when I'm driving at 75.

6. Move over for emergency vehicles - this is another one of Vicky's bug bears in the UK. However, in the US, it's the law that you are expected to pull over for an emergency vehicle with sirens on, even if you're on a two lane highway, and even if you're on the other side of the road. It seems excessive to me, but I guess the idea is that if you make it a big deal all of the time, then there's no ambiguity and everyone just gets out the way.

I think that's it for now. I'm sure there are other things that I've just added to my driving repertoire and now no longer consider strange, but they will be brought into sharp relief when I get behind the wheel of a British car again in July.

June

As can be seen from the date of this post, this year is absolutely flying by. I had intended to write this on June 1st, but somehow time just seems to slip away too easily. That's probably because the pace of life is picking up, with my wife starting back into roller derby, my masters course starting and Jake's T-ball season continues. However, I wanted to stop and think about this month in particular, as it feels like an unusually important one in a variety of ways:

1. End of school
This feels bizarre to me still. Part of my brain is so deeply ingrained in the UK education system that the end of May feels like it should be holiday time (for Whitsun), but the end of school is then another 7+ weeks away. It feels strange to have 12 days left on my calendar, and that's even after the extension of 5 days due to the snow in the winter (which feels like a lifetime ago now!). The start of the school year in the end of August seems impossibly far away, and while last year I didn't really notice the change as I worked at a summer school, the long vacation seems both enticing (for me) and daunting (for my upcoming students to forget everything). While I'll never complain about a 10 week break, there is something to be said for multiple short vacations to keep everyone fresh.

2. Sophie turns 2
This is the craziest feeling. I could just about handle Jake turning 5 (this will feel more problematic when he starts school in September, but more on that in another post), but Sophie still feels like my little baby, so the idea that it's been 2 years since she was born seems mad.  It's been a big year for her though, learning to walk, becoming much more sociable and learning to communicate (sometimes through sign, sometimes with words). Her birthday party is unlikely to be on the same scale as Jake's, most likely hanging at the lake like last year, but I already can't wait to see what her 3rd year is like.

3. Visitors
Beyond my immediate family, and a fleeting day visit from Dan in October, we have had no visitors since Mei Ying, James and Robin just after we arrived last year. This will change when our best friends arrive in New Hampshire later this month and stay for a couple of weeks. We always said that the biggest challenge of moving here is losing our tight knit group of friends in the UK, and this has proven to be the case. Even with faster internet making Skype calls manageable and enjoyable, there is something to be said for face to face communication, and the opportunity to generate new memories. This will be their first time out here, and we've always talked with them about the many different experiences that we can't wait to share with them. It's going to be great to have finished the school year and start the vacation by hanging out with my favorite people, showing them our new home and getting to act like tourists again.

4. Our first trip to the UK
One of the first posts on this blog was about the nature of home, and I've continued to discuss and think about this over the last 15 months. New Hampshire definitely feels more like home, and our house is becoming home more and more. Just typing the title of this paragraph made me pause, as my instinct was to say our first trip home, but that doesn't feel right either. We fly out on the 30th (the same day as our visitors, who we will see in Leeds the following day (no prolonged and sad goodbyes just yet!)) and spend a week in Leeds before flying to Italy to see my parents. Our time in Leeds already feels stressful, as we left so many good friends behind, we feel the need to see as many of them as possible for as long as possible. Because it's been so long since we've been there, people are taking time out of their schedules and travelling to see us, so it feels like our schedule is already squeezing tight. I just worry that we'll end up not seeing enough of everybody and that our time in Leeds will be over before we know it, and it will be a year (bar a couple of fleeting days in December) before we're back again. But this is one of the negative consequences of making the move, and hopefully we can do a good enough sales job on our friends that we persuade them to come visit and spend some longer quality time with just us.

It's going to be quite the month! My brain can't plan anything beyond the end of this month, so when people ask me about July and August, I just nod and write it down somewhere. As for next school year; well that just feels like another planet right now. I'll be glad when school is out and I can focus on the fun start to the summer vacation.

The rest of the garden

I've been working slowly but steadily on a 12 x 12 foot vegetable garden over the last few weeks. While I'm now at the planting stage (finally!), I want to be truly done before documenting the process on here, as the more I do, the more proud I become. So I wanted to take some time here to talk about the other 65,000 square feet of land.

One of the big attractions of our house to us was the sheer amount of space that it provided to us. Our whole garden in Leeds could easily fit in the small semi circle contained by our driveway, so the idea that we have 1.5 acres of space more just still boggles my mind. It's not until you get outside and look at the property from different angles that you get a feel for just how much space there is available to us. That, and when you get the push mower out, work for an hour and realize that while you have Wembley-worthy stripes, you've still only covered half of one lawn, with another 2 to go.

Once again, our neighbors have been incredibly helpful. Nicholas, a charming man from the Dominican Republic, came over on his ride on mower after watching me struggle against the high grass (lesson 1: mow sooner after the snow melts next year!) and offered me the use of his machine. I got on, put it in gear, and giggled at how quickly and easily I was getting the mowing done. I did come unstuck in the truly long grass (lesson 2: change the height of the cutter so you don't overheat your neighbor's machine), but it did mean that I got to hang out with Nicholas and his wife for a while and chat about the ins and outs of Strafford, teaching and coming to America. All interesting stuff. While he has offered us permanent use of his ride on mower, I think I've now persuaded my wife to get one of our own (lesson 3: wait patiently before asking for the next big power tool/machine).

While this has been going on for the last week or so, the main inspiration for todays' post was Jake's birthday party today. It was the first proper one that we've had for him at our own home, so I was a little nervous about how it would work out. I was particularly nervous as we're now into the next of stage of putting down roots here: making our own friends. It was always going to be the case that we would find people with children of similar ages to Jake and Sophie, but today was the first time we'd hang out in a social setting rather than meeting at his school or T-ball games.

It turned out to be a great success, which is in part due to the sheer amount of space that we have outside. We discovered as we were setting up, that the house is beautifully designed for outdoor parties, with a great traffic flow from the kitchen and lower living room straight on the deck. We were able to set up a table of food on the deck, a table with a dozen chairs around it, Sophie's tent and play house and another dozen chairs elsewhere without really taking up too much space. This made me feel less bad about renting an enormous bouncy castle for the party; while it was huge, we put it on the side lawn and it seemed to just make sense of the space. The kids went absolutely nuts for it, and the combination of the bouncing and party food made the time fly. I stood there watching the flow of adults and kids and looked into the future of big get togethers (especially when my grill arrives! Lesson 4: buy local, but make sure they have it in stock! Currently on week 3 of waiting...) and chilled hang outs with our friends. While I'm proud and excited by my vegetable plot, the rest of the garden fills me with an equal amount of pleasure too.

Field of dreams

Today marked a special occasion. Not a massive milestone or special date, but Jake's first outing as a competitive sports player for a team. Given the focus on sports and extra curricular activities over here, we're likely to see both kids have active schedules over the years (as well as ourselves - my wife is currently out at her first roller derby practice!), so I wanted to just mark the first one.

T-ball (baseball for little kids) is a strange concept for me as a team sport for kids aged 4, 5 and 6. They can manage to hit fairly well, and the concept of throwing is easily taught. However, the catching and fielding part is where I see the game falling down. In the event that they manage to get down low enough to stop the inevitable ground balls in time, you've then got to convince them to throw the ball accurately enough to someone on first base (where I see most plays being made) and for the first base player to stop the ball and avoid it going foul. I know it's meant to be fun and an introduction to the game, but I just hope it doesn't end up being frustrating for him or his team mates.

The main point of this post, though, is to talk about Jake. Since I'm now operating a One Blog policy (or One Blog To Rule Them All), this would normally have gone on my Just Jaking blog, but it now will live here. It was a strange sensation to watch Jake playing as a part of a team, with a coach telling him what to do and seeing how he acts around other kids. He ran for the whole time with a massive smile on his face, and even managed to remember to put the glove on the opposite hand to all the other kids. He did his usual thing of watching everyone and everything carefully, and it was delightful to see how he joined in. The funniest part was watching the seriousness with which he played Simon Says at the end - a true rule follower.

He's still young enough that I can get a wave from him and a hug during the water break, but I know those days will be numbered. I remember what seemed like an odd conversation with my dad when Jake was learning to walk. He said "the tough part of being a parent is letting them go, but you've got to start early to make it easy." I didn't quite get what he meant till this afternoon, realizing that the time is starting when we will slowly move to a different position in Jake's life; cheerleaders and life coaches instead of default playmates. We're a number of years (hopefully) away from the full transition, but it marks the next step in our parenting adventure.

Living the dream

Ask me what I did tonight after we put the kids to bed, and I would reply "I painted bee hives in my basement!" I'm not sure that the fact that I have a basement, and that it's big enough and well lit enough to paint in, adds to the excitement, but the painting of the hives makes the next part of the dream become real.

When we decided that we would actually move, one of our drivers to get here was to live out our dreams. Admittedly, they are slightly different if you ask me or my wife, but overall there's a desire for an outdoors woodsy childhood for our kids, a sense of exploration inside New Hampshire and out into North America and a general ability to do things that we would never get to do in our lives as they were in the UK. We check in with each other to make sure we're still "living the dream", which is a code word for doing things out of the ordinary that bring us joy.

I write this post as there's been a few instances of recently of when I've found myself in "living the dream" moments, some of which were dreams that I had had before, and some of which I didn't know were part of "living the dream" until they happened.

T-ball

Sports start early in America, and they start up quickly. Jake is now old enough to qualify for pre-K T-ball (like baseball, but the ball starts on a tee for you to hit instead of being thrown at you by a pitcher) and so we signed him up for a 5 week taster course. We of course bought him a glove, ball and tee and we went each week. He ran around with a smile on his face, and it was delightful to see him interact with others and take pleasure in a group sport. As a result, we've now signed him up for a team, and the first weekly practice (!) session is tomorrow afternoon, with a game most Saturdays between now and July. There'll be another post just about this whole process, but I'm excited to have him playing team sports.

Playing in the yard

For most of our time in this house so far, it has either been too dark or too cold or too covered in feet of snow to play in our garden. However, we finally seem to have reached the end of winter, and while this week is predicted to be only in the 50s, we had a few days of summer like heat and sunshine at the end of last week. The dream moment happened on Friday night when my wife got home from work with Jake. I had been at home with Sophie that day, and was itching to get out of the house, so I invited Jake to come play T-ball outside. We got all the stuff together, set up the tee and spent a glorious half an hour hitting the ball as a far as he could down the yard. It was at that moment that I realized how much space we have, and how much I love where we live. There was that beautiful golden setting sunlight, a summer warmth in the air and the giggle of my children outside, and if that's not living the dream, I don't know what is.

Teaching with technology

Not every part of living the dream happens at home, and this is one of the moments which I didn't realize I wanted to happen, but was so glad when it did. I'm lucky enough to teach in a school which has provided 1:1 Chromebooks for the students in 3-5th grade, and I've taken up the challenge to see how I can transform their learning using these tools. It's been a slog at times to show them how to use the different apps and extensions, but the cloud aspect and ability to share and collaborate continues to amaze me. Two moments in particular stand out for me: the first was a group of students who were researching a short term project together. Without discussing with me, they had set up one Google Slide show, assigned each of them a topic to search and decided on the format of their own slide as a way of pooling resources. It was such a neat interactive way to take notes, done so independently, that I realized just how far we've come. The second happened on Friday when I was home with Sophie. She was taking a snooze, and I noticed that at that time the students would be in math, working on Google Drawings of parallel and perpendicular lines. They thought it was a bit freaky but also really useful that I popped on their work, commenting in real time from 25 miles away on what they were doing, chivvying them along and discussing the next steps. It's moments like that that make teaching rewarding as you find new and innovative ways to engage students.

Not every "living the dream" moment has to be big, or grand. In fact, I like the fact that a lot of these moments that validate our move for me and that bring me so much joy are the small ones that can be savored and repeated. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait for our first big road trip or our first canoe adventure, but in the meantime, I will be living the dream in many smaller ways just as happily.

The end of the beginning

I'll start this post that marks a year of us being in the US with a text from my mum: "So when do you stop being an alien?". It was a great question that stopped me in my tracks. I had been planning sort of a review style post, with some musings and reflections. I think I'll still write that at some point this week, as well as revisiting my predictions post from the very beginning (almost like I planned that one!). But for today, I want to try and think about an answer to Mum's question.

On a tangible level, I am now 1 year done out of a 3 year "trial" period. Assuming that I do everything right, I'll be able to apply for my US citizenship in early 2019, joining the blue passport gang in my house. It's a decision that we'll definitely make, with concerns over Brexit and getting the ability to be able to vote among the primary drivers. I feel a little guilty, as while my wife qualified for British citizenship a number of years back, we only had the cash to do so in the year before we left the UK, by which point it didn't seem worth it. However, as we're planning on staying here indefinitely, I want the right to vote, and not to have worry about visas or being a legal alien. I will maintain my UK citizenship, of course, which still remains an essential part of who I am.

However, I doubt that a US passport will automatically change my status to non-alien, at least mentally. I think that that process takes a lot longer, and is a much more gradual and subtle process. In part, I think the transition away from alienhood will happen linguistically. I find that the American terms and phrases that come up a lot in my day to life (period for full stop, gas instead of petrol, referring to general money as dollars instead of pounds, etc) come more naturally out of mouth, but I still have to think a few words ahead to make sure that I'm "translating" correctly. I also am more aware of having to change the way I pronounce certain words, and while I know that parts of my accent will stay the same, I'm also aware that there will be words and phrases that will sound more American (despite not being able to "do" an American accent!) and that I won't be able to hear these until someone points it out to me.

In part, the transition will come behaviorally. I now accept that adding 20% tip onto a meal is appropriate, and have been known to do more for better service. Driving on the right hand side has become second nature, to the point where we were watching a show set in the UK and it took me a while to realize why I felt nervous during driving scenes. I find myself dressing more American, with more polo shirts and slacks at the weekend than I ever thought possible.

The biggest change I feel will happen socially. This for me is the hardest thing to acclimatise to, and the one that most often makes me like an alien. The two examples that stand out for me are small talk and banter.

I don't know if it's a personal thing or a British thing, but I find small talk hard. Fortunately, most Americans are great at it, and I have a built in talking ticket in being British which means I can get by. However, it's the start of conversations that I find hard. In the UK, it wouldn't be weird for me to start a conversation with a colleague at work in the morning by saying their name and getting started. Here, you need to go through the whole "Hi, how are you?" "I'm fine, how are you?" dance, and I still tend to forget. I worry that I sometimes come across as rude or uncouth, but it's still not part of my alien DNA yet.

The other thing I find hard is banter and joking with people. The large majority of Americans that I have met fall into two categories - incredibly earnest and genuine, and so deadpan sarcastic that it takes me a while to see the twinkle in their eye. I didn't pick up on the first group for ages, and my usual way of making friends by gently teasing people and beating up on them for fun fell on deaf ears and surprised looks for a long while. My brain often supplies quick quips and put downs that I know would make a British audience laugh, but I have to supress this a lot for the risk of being seen to be mean. I don't know if that little voice inside my head will ever stop, but it's hard work turning it off sometimes. The second group of people are much more fun to hang out with, as I recognize a lot of my own sense of humour with them, but it's hard to have these terribly sarcastic conversations where it's almost like a competition to see who can keep a straight face for longest.

So, back to the question that kicked this post off. I've been here for a year now, and there are times when I feel so very British and foreign, but other times (more frequently) where I don't notice my own foreigness for ages until I say or do something that raises an eyebrow or gets a laugh unintentionally. The other, perhaps more pertinent, question may be "do I want to stop being an alien?", and that is a much deeper and harder question to answer.

So with that in mind, and much to my wife's pleasure, I'm not going to put this blog down as I feel that there's much more alienness to discover and reflect on. However, the title has changed, much to my wife's chagrin (who knew she cared that much about my blogs!) to reflect the longer term nature of the process. Here's to more adventures in year 2!

Lessons from the snow

For many years, I always relished coming to the US each winter so that I could finally get my hands on some serious snow. It was a constant source of amusement to friends and family over here about my childlike enthusiasm, and I've been known to make all sorts of snow sculptures while everyone else is inside by the fire. "Just you wait," they all said "just you wait till you move over here and it feels like it never stops snowing. Then see how you like it!"

It's now April 7th (one thing I've become used to is saying and writing the date the American way (and indeed not referring to the American way of doing things as "the wrong way" unless I'm deliberately being obnoxious), and this post has been in the back of my mind for a month or so now. That is, since around the time when I would have thought that all the snow would be gone and spring would have started. You know, around the time when the clocks went back and everyone announced the first day of spring. I waited and waited for the last snow storm before writing this, and while I'm fairly sure we're done for this eternal winter, I wanted to get the post written anyway as tomorrow marks the year anniversary of the move and the theoretical end of the blog.

So to start with a summary, do I still love the snow? I think on balance yes. There's still something exciting about snow that comes up to your shins, and I have dozens of photos of the snow laiden trees and the black and white landscapes of the early mornings, which are even more stunning when coupled with the beautifully crisp and clear sunshine days that intersperse the snow clouds. There's something impressive about a snow storm that lasts for 24 hours, and a certain incredulousness as you watch the forecast amounts increase from a few inches to 1-2 feet. 

There are, of course, some downsides. The frequency and reliability of heavy snowfalls each winter means that you make up snow days at the end of the school year, meaning that we get out on June 22nd instead of June 15th. A mental note for future visitors and summer trips away to bear that in mind! Also, the snow plow crews do an amazing job of clearing the public roads (even our backwater street gets cleared by 6am!) so it's over to you to clear your driveway and get to work (unless you work in schools and have a snow day). That means, at least in our house, that my wife had to go to work, and I had to go snow blow a path out at 6am; no mean feat when the snow is still falling and the wind whips down the street, threatening to freeze off all my extremities.

With that in mind, I want record some lessons that I've learned from the snow this year so that I'm better prepared for next season:

1. When you have the thought "I should go fill up the gas can so that my snow blower doesn't run out of gas in the next storm", do it that day - I managed to get all bar the last 3 yards done on one tank, but I would have been screwed if the snow had kept coming!

2. Always have the right tools - this ranges from having a decent snowblower (check) to having fleece lined trousers, decent gloves and face protection from the wind (all now check). It also applies to a shovel and ice basher (my terminology, not necessarily correct!). Our walkway to the front door regularly freezes over and initially I bought an aluminium shovel to clear it. After bending it in half on the second attempt, I went back to the store and bought the heavy duty basher which I had considered before, and cleared the ice in half the time.

3. Snowblow often - the first few snowstorms, I waited until the snow had ended, and the plows had hit the ends of the driveway. Big mistake. While there was only 8 inches or so in real terms, the wind blows hard down our street, causing all the snow to drift, and my poor snowblower and I struggled to clear the driveway. The other drawback of waiting is that the snow plows push another foot of snow onto anything you haven't hit yet, and my snowblower only clears 2 feet vertically. 

4. The post office has diagrams for bozos who don't clear a path to their mailboxes - I know the importance of this now, but after 2 days of polite notices in our mailbox, and my wife berating me to go and do it, I got the hint. However, when I went to clear it, the drifts around the mailbox were 3 feet high and compacted. I couldn't shovel the snow to the side or behind me onto the road, so I spent a backbreaking hour clearing a rough path. It becomes easier as spring approaches and the snow melts quicker, but I still need to be out there sooner.

5. The correct way to clear the driveway - after many different experiments, I think I have the ultimate route. Clear the left hand driveway in stripes, then continue to cut round to the right hand garage door. Make one last pass up the left driveway, then approach the right (and higher drifting) driveway from the road. Continue back and forth in stripes, then tidy up the remaining triangle. Don't be afraid to blow snow onto the areas that you haven't cleared yet, especially when the wind dictates the direction you can blow in. 

In summary, therefore, I think I still like the snow, but I won't be sad for it all to go and for warmer weather to start arriving next week!

A different perspective

It is with much incredulity that our one year anniversary of the Big Move is coming up in a few weeks, a fact which is motivating me to get some thoughts written on here, as well as to think about what to do with the blog in the future. I had in mind that it would chart my first 12 months here and then end, but I realize that I enjoy writing and reflecting, and it's even more fun to look back at old posts and see how far we've come. On the other hand, do I just put it down as a one year blog, and splinter into other topics that I want to record, such as the bees and our discovery of New Hampshire's great outdoors? Thoughts on a postcard (or a comment!).

I want to revisit some of my first few musings over here in future posts, but today is a more somber topic. Today, Primer Minister Theresa May handed over the letter (a letter! In 2017! Why not tweet?) signalling the UK's intention to withdraw from the EU. I'm still heartbroken by this, as I like to think of myself as a European citizen, part of a great social network of people with multiple languages and cultures able to live and work in closer harmony and unity. For a ridiculous uninformed referendum run solely for the personal political pride of David Cameron to ruin this for me, my generation and my children's generations to come is beyond belief, but then a lot has happened in this last year that I still can't get my head around. I had dreams of being able to tell Jake and Sophie that they could live and work in 30 countries with their 2 passports, and that they should be proud of their British and European heritage. While I still want them to feel British in part, I question how British I feel if this is what the country is moving towards.

I think the problem is that I still feel helpless and powerless about it, a fact which is exacerbated over here by the fact that British news rarely makes it into the public consciousness (which is fair enough, given the shit storm that has engulfed America since January 20th), so even though it's weighing heavily on my mind, there's not a huge number of people here that I can talk to. For sure, I got sympathy at work when I expressed my sadness today, but it was more the kind of sympathy that you give someone who has suffered a bereavement of a distant and unknown relative, rather than someone who has had an integral part of their personality ripped off by a politician. My best connection at work is someone who has a British mother, and while we bemoaned the process for a few minutes and I ranted about how I don't want to pull together as per Theresa May, she politely ended the conversation by saying that maybe we need to accept facts and work together. While I understand her sentiment, it wasn't the kind of response I was looking for, or one that I would have got from a UK colleague.

This different perspective was brought out in a less stressful light this week at lunch. As there are only 3 male teachers at school, we tend to gravitate towards each other and end up eating lunch together most days. We talk sports, and I have learned a lot about football (it still irks me not to call it American football!) and now college basketball with March Madness. It wasn't until this week that one of them brought up soccer and the fact that they had become briefly interested with it a few years back. Now I'm not going to pretend that I have vast football conversations with my friends in the UK regularly, and definitely not at work, and indeed that I've not loved learning about a whole new sporting culture, but I miss having people who know about and get excited the Leicester City story, England's new manager and the current set up in the Premier League. Maybe it's because our lives don't lend themselves greatly to meeting people with those interests, but again it's been interesting to see a different perspective on the things that I consider to be big and important topics.

Taxes

I've always heard Americans complaining about taxes, and there's numerous quotes comparing them negatively, so it was with good reason that I embarked on my first ever tax return with some trepidation. It's seems like such a strange system after living in the UK, where unless you mess up your tax code by moving job or being unemployed, your only dealing with the tax man is your P60 (W-2 over here) as all your tax is taken at source in your pay check. The same happens here, which is why I was initially confused about why you need to file tax returns as we were already paying federal taxes through our pay checks.

However, after a lot of online reading and working my way through the system with the help of Turbo Tax ($35 and I couldn't have been happier with the help and guidance provided!), I now have a better idea of the system and why the returns happen in the way they do here. Here is how I understand things:

- You get paid by your employer, who withholds a certain amount of money each month to cover your federal tax, social security and Medicare contributions (which I compare to National Insurance). At the end of the year (which helpfully runs 1st Jan to 31st Dec!) you get sent a statement of what you got paid and how much they withheld. 

- Your total earnings put you into a tax bracket, whereby you pay a base rate plus a certain percentage of everything over that base rate. This is how much tax you owe each year.

- You can claim deductions against your tax, including child tax credits, childcare expenses, health care expenses and others. 

- If your tax owed is more than your deductions, you pay the IRS. If your deductions are more than your tax bill, you get paid the difference as a tax refund. 

I know this is a simplified version, but it's helpful to me now (and probably will be next year!) to have my understanding of it written down. The yearly returns replace the different benefits and credits that the UK system offers as different packages. For example, we got a set payment to help with the cost of raising 2 kids, and were able to pay for "childcare vouchers" before tax was applied to help with the cost of childcare. The US government does the same, but has it as all part of the same system, meaning that I only have to deal with one set of paperwork.

I decided to file online as my previous experiences trying to fill in taxes for Kelsey for her earnings abroad confused me greatly. Even though each form comes with a helpful explanation sheet, there's a lot of terminology that I wasn't sure about, and I didn't want to start my dealings with the IRS with a mistake ridden return. Fortunately, the program I chose not only filled in the form for me by using my answers to its questions, but I was able to click on any words or terms that I didn't know and got a succinct and clear explanation of what it meant and how it applied to my situation. It took me about an hour, but I was pleased with the process and came away with a better understanding of the tax system over here.

As for the result? Well, let's just say we are entitled to a bigger tax return that we had anticipated, and that, all things being equal, it should hit our account in 3 weeks. There's a residual wariness of getting money from the taxman, as I've had situations in the UK where I've been sent a tax refund and spent it, only for HMRC to ask for it back a few months later. However, I've been assured that this is a legit process, and the money is ours to spend any way we see fit. I doubt we'll get as much of a return next year, but the idea of having an unexpected windfall each year will help with our travel and home improvement plans greatly!