Nar Kommer Du Tillbaka? When are you coming back?

Ah, little girls!! I was not allowed to take pictures of the kids.  So, I took memories in the form of pictures of their funky socks and things on their classroom walls.  Here two girls proudly show off their  colorful socks.  April 2012

Geometric tools in the walls of Kornoparken Skolan!!

Many of the children drew Butterflies.  Their teacher told me that they had seen a movie on butterflies in the class.

A display of birds on a keyboard in the classroom.  April 2012.

I assist a German television station/ research institute with some data collection sometime.  They arrange for studies on an international scale.  Several professionals get invited.  We collect the data and send it back to them.  If we wish, we can write individual papers on the data.  I got involved about 3 years ago.  Since then I have done about 3 studies with them.  Getting published is another thing.  Children and media has not my research focus.  Then why do I do it? Because I love spending time with children.  They charge my batteries.  Even when I was in the 5th grade, I would spend time with 3rd graders, pretending to be their mother.

And this last work on data collection on a study between ethnicity of children and their preference for what they want to watch on TV--affirmed that for me.  I remember when I was interested in going to med school, I always thought I wanted to be a pediatrician, so I would get to spend time with children.

So, this time it all started with an email from the TV research committee --say about in Feb.  I told them I was traveling and will get back to that in March.  In March I made several phone calls.  At times even wondering what am I doing, when this is not my research area.  But the day I was invited to talk to the principal, I knew why I was doing it.  The mere energy of school kids put my heart in place.  

I always linger a bit longer around children.  Both Fiji and Sweden have been a blessing where talking to children of strangers is free from suspicion, or other stereotypes and taboos associated with it in the US and many other developed countries.  In Fiji and Sweden, it is considered a compliment if someone wants to talk to your child.  Parents often urge their children to shake hands with me and even allow me to hold them.

I recently met a 2 year old, Vietnamese boy in a store in Sweden.  He was so friendly, he simply climbed into my arms and kept his cheek next to mine for nearly five minutes.  Imagine the peace after an hour of yoga session followed by an hour long meditation session---well, with this little one's cheek next to me, it felt a hundred times more peaceful.  There was a gentility about his spirit that I could feel. And a great compliment at that.  That a two year old wants to restrain his nervous energy to rest around you.

So, when i had to go to this school, I was excited.  I arranged meetings with two schools.  One in my neighborhood, with high diversity.  Another one in Skattskarr (pronounced Skatshar), with practically no diversity.  Most of the kids were blonde and often blue eyed.

Questionnaire asked about how the children saw themselves and what kind of people would they like to see on TV.  The most beautiful part about that was when children kept walking up to the teacher to ask her about their hair and eye color.  The teacher would look into their eyes, sometimes tipping their faces towards the light to see clearly and say, 'din ar bla' (yours are blue!).

There was a simplicity to that.  Often times children were asked to ask their friends what their hair color was, since their hair was too short for them to see.

I have learnt to say a few things in Swedish, so my most favorite thing to say to children is, 'Kan du ge mig en kram' (Can you give me a hug?). 

In Sweden, most of the children do hug you back.  

So, I had two classes to interview/survey in Skattskarr.  One had 22 children, the other one only 9. 

There was little Victor in the bigger class.  Very proper, very organized, finished his work first of all--and yet very loving.

So, when I asked, 'Victor, Kan du ge mig en kram?"  Victor was kind, blushed a little and then very nonchalantly he hugged me and ran away.

"Such a guy thing to do'  I thought.

But my most exciting adventure came in the second class, that had only 9 students.  Due to small number of the students, the teacher had much more time to engage with me in meaningful conversation.  Students were more relaxed.  They asked me many questions.

When I walked in, the boy in the front most seat kept staring at me.  But his expression revealed intense mental activity.

Then very deliberately he said, 'How are you?"

He was trying to form words in English.

'I am very well, and how are you?"  I asked him.

'Fine, thankyou.'  He said, enunciating English clearly.  Then a pause.

'What is your name?"

I said my name and asked him his.

"I am Seemone' He said in a Swedish accent, 'Simon, in English.'  he explained for my convenience.

My heart was so touched.

"Oh, hi Simon.'

Others asked me questions.  But my eyes were on the little one on the back-left side of the room.

He was quiet, and very alert.  But had a perpetual little smile laying on his lips.  The smile, seemed to be surfacing from his heart, and not from his lips or his mind.

That smile was his internal condition. 

I could not take my eyes off him.  He cupped his chin in his two palms, his elbows resting on the desk.  He was also the shortest in the class.

This is what I wrote about him in my Swedish class, that day.  The sentences are simplistic, because I was trying to write this in Swedish. The un-italiciized parts are the post-thoughts and were not written in the Swedish assignment. 

'Today, I went to skattskarr school for some research. The children were between 7-8 years. I can not begin to tell you how beautiful it was.


By the end of the session, I had made friends with the children. Many children hugged me before I left.

But we all have a favorite. Mine was a little Christopher.  Little Christopher is blonde and small.  He was missing two front teeth.  I fell in love with the seven year old.  At lunch, a child asked if I was Christopher's mama.  I hugged Christopher and said 'Ibland, sometimes.'  Christopher hugged me back, too—with his little palms he would press my back and rest his head on my belly.  And he smiled.  

I smiled at the innocence of the children.  They did not try to match the race, skin color, ethnicity, knowledge of language, anything.  They simply saw the love and thought I must be the mother.

Very Simple.

Students drew notes and drawings for me.  Little Christopher drew me hearts.  My heart was in such joyful-pain (in many Bollywood songs, falling is love is compared to a sweet pain).  

How do you respond to the love of a 7 year old.  Who knows nothing else but to draw hearts when he is happy?  And hands you the paper in the end.

The teacher asked me to join the class for lunch.  Many children asked me to sit on their table.  Imagine a bunch of under ten year olds screaming for your attention and how loved you feel!! They all wanted me to sit at their table.

Like always, and like in all countries, people asked me why I was in Sverige? 

'Job'

And your home?

"Not sure"

But at the end of the survey, the class wanted to get a group hug.  They all huddled around me and we all hugged. 

The teacher said, 'May be Sweden will be home now and you do not want to leave.'

My eyes were clouded--with the warm fluid.  There was a grateful smile on my lips.

And I will not deny that for a short time I was home. 

I still have all the drawings that the children made for me.  And when I said, 'they can ask me if they want to know any thing about me,' to the teacher.

Many of them asked the same thing, 'Nar Kommer du tillbaka?"  'When are you coming back?"

I wanted to say, 'I am not leaving.'

At one point Simon found out that he had lost DVDs of his video games.  His case went missing the day before.  He found it, but without the DVDs.  He started crying.  The crying and his lamentation, in his heart broken voice was gut wrenching.  The pain in his eyes was so intense.  We sometimes wave it off as a childish.  But children feel the pain more intensely.  It might be their first loss.  


I remember I used to feel it as a void. As I had something and now its gone.  I still do sometimes, but now other matters take over.  Although, for me things lost mean a 'memory faded' rather than a 'possession gone'. 

Watching Simon in tears was so hard. I wished I knew enough Swedish to stop him from crying.  It was as if his heart was going to flow out with his tears.

When I was standing at the bus stop right outside the school,  the little ones got on the school fence to bid me good bye.

I wiped silent tears’ as I waved back to each of their

"Hi da, hey da (good bye)’

They waved both his hands. What a wonderful day!

The next phase of the project took me to Kronoparken school which is only five minutes walk from my place. 

This time I used my google translate to write a script to read to the children.  All were impressed.  And one boy very deliberately formed a beautiful sentence and said aloud”

“your Swedish is Amasing’ In Swedish the ‘z’ sound is usually replaced with the ‘s’ sound.

And the ‘Ch’ sound is always a ‘Sh’ sound.

So, ‘Cheese’ is ‘Sheese’

And ‘Shoes’ are ‘Shoes’

There is also a confusion between ‘G’ and ‘J’ and ‘Ye’

So, ‘John’ is ‘Yohn’

And Jessica is ‘Yessica’

The children were awesome here as well.  The class was more multicultural.  So I had students who spoke Spanish at home and Swedish at school and English in between.

One girl came up to me and said something that sounded affectionate in Swedish.

I apologize, ‘Sweetie, I did not get that all, I am sorry.’

She smiled and went back.

She came a short while later and said, ‘ich liebe tich’

Now that I know.  Even though I do not know German.  That means, ‘I love you in German.’ (I can say that in several languages).

I was laughing wondering what made her think I would know German.  Or may be she did not know German either, just that one sentence.

Children, so beautiful.  Yes, they can be cruel and not all are pure.  But most of them are.  A reminder for us to think of our simple side.

Some of the children did nto have the permission from their parents to participate in the study. They were allowed to draw and write anyway, but I could not take their papers with me. 

And those whose parents did not sign the consent form, was only because the parents could read neither English nor Swedish –often Irani, Iraqui, Somali people, who are new immigrants to the country.

An indication that this country is fast changing and will have a different demographic in the next twenty years.

So the children of these parents, who did not speak English or Swedish wanted to know if they would still get the colored pens  that we were giving out as a token of appreciation.

‘Ofcourse’ we said.

When asked if they had any question for me?

They all asked, ‘Nar Kommer Du Tillbaka?”

When are you coming back….