St Patrick’s Day

The three Koenig children approached the table like wildly careening racecars, sliding into their places famished, as usual. Emma and Alex grabbed for the bowl of salad at the same time and each gave an experimental tug before their father placed his larger hand on the edge.

"Wait a moment," he commanded firmly. "Let your mother get to the table. There’s plenty to go around and you won’t starve in the next thirty seconds."

Both children backed off.

"They might," six year old Richard piped up.

"Might what?" Helena asked as she placed a large bowl of vegetable stew in the middle of the table.

"Starve." Richard answered enthusiastically. "They might both just fall over dead and I’d have to eat all the rice pudding by myself." He didn’t sound particularly upset by the notion.

"Rice pudding?" Alex asked.

"For desert?" Emma grinned. It was the family favorite.

"Aunt Kate brought it," Richard informed them. "It was still hot and kind of jiggly."

John had custody of the salad bowl and placed some on each plate while Helena ladled out the stew. No warnings to eat everything were necessary with this crew.

"Alex made Miss Jenna cry today," Emma said conversationally. "Ow! That hurt, Alex." Alex kicked her under the table.

"I did not! Liar!"

"Alex, that’s not nice. Don’t kick your sister, and don’t call her a liar," his father said sharply.

"Mama called you a liar the other night," Alex replied, hoping to avoid the kicking issue and the statement by Emma that prompted it.

"When?" Helena asked with a frown.

"When you were playing cards the other night with Josh’s mom and dad," Richard supplied. "Daddy said he had no clubs and you told him he was a liar."

Helena sighed, remembering.

"Well, your mother shouldn’t have said it either," John replied, trying to keep a straight face. "Apologize to your sister for kicking her and calling her a liar."

"I’m sorry, Em," Alex said reluctantly. "But I didn’t make Miss Jenna cry," he added defiantly.

"Well, she was crying."

"It wasn’t my fault!"

"Alex, why don’t you let Emma talk, then you can have a chance to correct anything she says wrong." John had found that staff meetings had been excellent training ground for parenting skills.

Alex nodded reluctantly.

"Miss Jenna said we were going to learn about a Earthish holiday. This guy named Patrick went to this island and killed all the snakes there so they have a big party for him every year and wear green and if you don’t wear green you get pinched. Then Alex leaned over and pinched Dinah—"

"Alex!" his mother said.

"Well, she wasn’t wearing green. And she’s always punching me. I know you said I can’t punch her back, but Miss Jenna said it was safe to pinch if they weren’t wearing green—and she wasn’t," he emphasized.

Helena sighed. "But why was Miss Jenna crying?"

Emma continued. "She asked Alex if that was the only thing he knew about Saint Patrick’s Day. What’s a saint anyway?"

"It’s a good person," Richard offered. "You’re a good person, Momma, are you a saint?"

"It’s a good dead person," Alex corrected him. "Momma’s not dead."

Helena gave John a helpless look and John just shrugged his shoulders.

Alex continued, "I told her everything she’d just read to us," he sounded rather exasperated "Then I said I didn’t think he was such a good person if he went around killing animals. It’s bad to kill animals. And if he killed all the snakes that would do bad things to the food chain. So I didn’t think he was a very good person and I didn’t see why anyone would make him a saint, or have a party for him."

"Earth people killed animals," Richard said.

"Only bad Earth people," Alex said stubbornly.

"Then Miss Jenna sent us to gym class five minutes early and when I ran back to get my slate, she was crying," Emma finished her story in a rush. "So you did too make her cry."

"Did not!" Alex leaned over the table at her. John took his oldest son by the shoulder and pushed him back before the problem could escalate again.

"I thought dead people were ghosts," Richard said thoughtfully, his mouth stuffed full of biscuit.

"Yeah," Alex said. "Like Mateo’s ghost." He lifted a piece of spinach and shook it at Emma who shrieked and backed away from him.

"Alex," Helena intervened. "Put your supper back on your plate."

"Yes, Momma."

"Are ghosts bad dead people and saints good dead people?" Emma asked curiously.

"Was Mateo a bad person?" Alex asked.

John sighed. If he had not been present at Mateo’s death he would have simply told the children that ghosts weren’t real. Now he couldn’t do that. "No, Alex. He was unhappy, and angry, but he wasn’t bad. Ghosts are— pretty rare."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "Can I have some pudding now?"

Richard shoved a last piece of carrot in his mouth. "Me too?"

Helena had barely finished her salad, but all three children had already cleaned their plates in anticipation of the rice pudding. She smiled at them and headed to the kitchen. The conversation continued in other directions, like this evening’s soccer practice for the boys and a project Emma was working on, making a tiny toy robot for Richard. Richard wanted it to talk. Emma was trying to explain that would use up too much energy, but Richard was insistent.

The pudding vanished as quickly as the stew and salad had and the boys were ready to head for soccer practice.

"Can I go to Dinah’s?" Emma asked hopefully.

Alex nodded.

"And pick her up on your way back," his father added.

"What if we forget her and just leave her there?" Richard asked. "Can I have her room?"

"No," Emma said. "Momma, I can come home on my own."

"All right, " her mother said. "Be back in an hour."

Emma agreed quickly. Her parents usually made her stay with her older brother. She was pleased to be allowed to make her way back on her own. The boys changed quickly into their soccer clothes and the three children vanished, leaving a much quieter apartment.

Helena sighed. And put her head in her hands. John rubbed his eyes. "I thought it would get easier when they were out of diapers."

"I think it gets progressively harder."

"You never mentioned that when you said you wanted a baby," John grinned, teasing her.

"I didn’t want to scare you off," she joked back.

Before he could reply the door buzzed. John pulled his mini-slate from his belt and checked it, then signaled the door to open. He stood.

"Jenna, We were going to call you after dinner."

"Am I interrupting--?" the young teacher asked hesitantly.

"No, no, the kids are finished and off to soccer practice. The timing is perfect," John ushered her in and offered her the chair Emma had recently vacated.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, yes. We ate ages ago," Jenna replied. "Saul works second shift so he can watch the baby while I’m teaching. We eat together right after school is out so he can get to the power room in time. Please don’t let me stop you."

John took a bite of his untouched stew while Helena said, "The children told us about Alex pinching Dinah today."

"Oh, well, that was only a small part of what I wanted to talk to you about. He did apologize to her. It’s just—well, the whole St. Patrick’s Day unit didn’t work out." She sighed.

"I had hoped to begin a series of units about various Earth holidays. The children know so little about Earth and Earth history, and this seemed to be a good way to start, with a simple little holiday, and we’d learn something about Ireland in the process. Then we’d move on to other countries and other celebrations. But the children seem to focus on things differently from the way I think they will and misunderstand things that make perfect sense. I certainly don’t want a repeat of last month’s ecology lessons."

Jenna had begun by reading the book "Charlotte’s Web" to the class. The children had become outraged that people would kill animals to eat them or because they were too small. Alex and Davey Kano had been the ring leaders that time.

John chuckled. "My mother would have been so proud, hearing all her grandchildren vow never to eat pork. Good kosher children."

"The only ‘kosher’ they know of is their Aunt Kate’s dill pickles." Helena said with a smile. Then she sighed, "spare ribs."

John smiled and leaned back, "Pork roast."

"Bacon."

"Pressed cuban sandwiches."

"Hot dogs!" They said in unison with a laugh.

Jenna watched the two of them with growing amazement. It had never occurred to her that the commander and doctor might be just as susceptible to homesickness as everyone else.

"Sorry, Jenna," Koenig apologized. "It seems we live most of the time with the illusion that home isn't really all that far away. Our children usually manage to burst that illusion for us." He gave his wife a wistful smile.

Jenna nodded and sighed. "Commander, I just don’t feel qualified to teach the children about this." She was close to tears again. By the end of the ecology unit she had asked Helena to help. The children had taken the ecology message very seriously, transferred it to their own environment and decided that humans were destroying Loki’s ecosystem. They went so far as to refuse to eat food grown on Loki. Helena recruited Kate and the two of them taught a combined unit on health and nutrition. They were surprised at how thorough and passionate the eight and nine year olds were about the subject and how much information they absorbed. Even Davey and Alex finally admitted that the Alphans did need the food and supplies that Loki provided and things settled down to normal again.

"They were all so eager to learn to read, and once they had the basic skills they read everything I gave them access to. The class does have a varying interest in math. Some learn eagerly, others reluctantly, but math is so wonderfully concrete. They also have learned a good deal of basic science, especially electronics." She smiled shyly, "I’m on firmer ground there." Jenna was a electrical engineer. She had been assigned to the Meta Project, and had just finished work on the Meta probe when Breakaway occurred. She had worked as a technician since then until she had been recruited to teach.

"Jenna, you’re one of our most qualified teachers," Koenig said.

She shook her head, "My mother was a primary teacher. I worked as a teacher’s aide while going to university, but I’d never taught before."

"Neither has anyone else!" Helena said, leaning forward to take Jenna’s hand. "Most of us haven’t had any contact with children since we were children ourselves."

"And that was a long time ago," John added, leaning forward as well. "I know it’s been frustrating, Jenna, but please don’t give up."

Jenna looked at the couple. They had surprised her again. The Commander’s reputation as a demanding perfectionist was well earned. She had expected to be fired for troubles she was experiencing in the classroom. She had been so upset that she had even called her husband this afternoon and asked him to come take her math class. Then she came here this evening knowing the children would have already told their parents about today’s fiasco.

The Commander looked at his wife, "Maybe we should stay away from cultural topics for a while; stick with math and science."

"Oh, Commander, that can't be the answer!" Jenna exclaimed. "They need to know their heritage, their history, or else they won’t know who they are."

Helena leaned back and said thoughtfully, "I think that’s the answer."

"What is?" Jenna asked, confused.

"We cannot treat this as culture—it’s history to them—alien history at that."

"I don’t follow, Helena," John said.

"John, how did you learn about St. Patrick’s Day?"

Koenig shrugged. "In school, I would guess. It’s been a long time, Helena."

"You were exposed to it at school, but it was part of the culture surrounding you. Even if your own family didn’t participate, there were people in your neighborhood wearing green, news stories on TV about parades and parties; advertisements. I remember when I was very small, my father taking me to see the Chicago River died green. The holiday was a part of our culture. We were surrounded by it. It’s not something that’s part of our children’s culture."

Jenna nodded. "Not part of their culture, but part of their history. I’m expecting them to relate these traditions to their everyday lives – and they can’t."

Helena agreed. "No more than I would understand a similar Psychon holiday."

"So I need to change my focus," Jenna said thoughtfully.

"Why don’t you do a bit of anthropology. Let them discover what our culture and traditions are."

"I’m not sure we know that," John said.

"Well, perhaps we’ll all learn something," Helena concluded.

Ellen Lindow

April, 1999