"Sisters' Place"
My Daughter Khalila
By Phoebe Gumbs
My daughter Khalila is one of those six-year-old diva wannabes. A cross between a short Brandy and a chocolate covered Martha Stewart. Normally, her first grade teacher, Miss Arnold, sends me a monthly project. Don’t get me wrong, I like Miss Arnold but I assume the projects are chosen especially for me. There’s no way an ordinary six-year-old or, an extraordinary one for that matter, can do them without parental involvement. In other words, basically, I do them—though with some input, some cutting and pasting and a first grade scrawl from Khalila.
But, this past December I was smug. I was happy. I was grateful. By December 17th in the height of my Christmas madness, our faithful Miss Arnold didn’t send me my usual monthly project. Hallelujah! The woman had a golden heart after all. Yes, there was a Santa Claus! Someone understood the plight of the working mother! Things were looking good. True, I was way behind in my Christmas shopping. And yes, my list was growing like dreadlocks on hormones. Yeah, our oddly shaped Christmas tree was still in a plastic bucket propped up against the living room wall. Yep, I couldn’t see the bedroom floor with all the debris in the way. Still, life was good. There was no school project, very little homework and only a few days left of school. Finally, I was free to comb through Filenes’s bargain bin----- I needed just the right $10 scarf for my slightly eccentric neighbor Mrs. Foster. Life was grand indeed--- even for a procrastinator.
Then it happened. Over dinner the next night, Ms. Khalila, all sassy and six, proudly announced she’d noticed Miss Arnold hadn’t sent home a December project. So, she asked for one! Ms Arnold obliged. Well, I almost choked on my roti. "Khalila, why did you do that?" I coughed, trying to dislodge a piece of curry chicken from my windpipe. "Projects are fun. Why, did I do something wrong Mommy?" She smiled sweetly. What could I say? Words couldn’t come. I just stared at her dumbfounded. Yes, my child was now the original demon sorceress from Hades.
A project the week before Christmas? Life was just not fair! And not just any project mind you? Nope. It was THE project from hell! Imagine, you had to chart the progress of the weather for one week and make a report of the humidity, temperature, dew point and wind, conditions. Who was I? Al Roker? Miss Arnold was nice but she was getting on my last nerve. She was coming dangerously close to getting one of my nasty parent/teacher notes.
Okay. So then I got cool. After all, the project was due on the last day of class. I had a whole week to do it. Not the end of the world. I quickly got over my hysteria and chucked all thoughts of weather, wind, humidity, etc. out of my mind. I happily went back to the business at hand: a Bloomingdale’s one-day sale.
But, unfortunately, every evening that six-year-old conscience could be heard nagging, "Mommy, did you write down the weather today? Miss Arnold said we had to do it every day." "Yeah, yeah, yeah I’ve got it under control", I mumbled "You worry too much for a kid and Miss Arnold, she needs a life." Actually, I never gave the darn thing another thought. I had garlands to hang and a ham to bake. Who cared about the weather as long as it wasn’t too cold. Especially when handmade ornaments were at Kwanza Fest.
Then it was the night before the project was due. Where in tarnations were those newspapers? I thought I saved them—I really did. Didn’t I? Where were they? Did it rain on Saturday? What was the temperature Sunday? Was it windy Monday? I was a wreck. I couldn’t remember my own name. I tore up a house already seeing tough times. Our bedroom looked like Bosnia. Then, finally it hit me. The most marvelous thing known to womanhood, personhood, and motherhood. The World Wide Web. Who knew?
Now, a techie I am not. I’m a pure left brainer. The right side of my brain hasn’t really developed yet. But the Web has saved me from a whole heap of mess. To make a long story shorter: I was able to find the most amazing weather information with the simple click of a mouse. There it was. The temperature, the wind gust, the humidity, the weather conditions for all the days I needed. Everything. It was all there. All I had to do was print it. I explained everything to Khalila. We surfed for about a half-hour. We did the diagrams and graphs and she got an A. It was so easy, I felt like it was cheating. Pity the parent who didn’t have that sanity-saving tool on that cold December night three days before Christmas.
Now, the Internet can never replace books and libraries. There’s nothing more joyful than a good book. I love books. I love reading. I want my daughter to have a serious appreciation for books. In fact, we read together every night. Books are beautiful. I would not want to live in a world without them. The Web just makes our busy lives a little easier. It’s just another helpful tool for a working mother when life gets frantic.
A cyberspace guru I will never be. I can basically point and click—that’s all. But I do find a computer and Web access to be as important to a home as a refrigerator and stove. I can’t remember how we lived without it. From class projects, to gardening tips, to millions of recipes and entertaining ideas, you can find it. If you have health concerns, or child care questions, even if you need travel directions to a friend’s house in New Jersey or to an Apple Orchard in Pennsylvania, it’s all there. It’s excellent for job search and career information (i.e., CareerMosaic, monster.com). Everything you want to know, and even many things you don’t. The World Wide Web is a woman’s best friend. Don’t be afraid to use it.
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