...I'm going to let it shine.
All of them, in the downstairs, in fact, from 8pm-9pm.
Rational Jenn and John Enright and Chris O'Donnell and I'm sure a gazillion others have saved me the trouble of having to write an actual blog post about this nonsense.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Math problem on the clock!
About six months ago, Madison started to notice when the numbers on the digital clock on the stove and on the TV were displayed in patterns that would make a math problem. Such as, 8:42 or 12:36. And Ella now does it with as much vigor as Madison, so much so that any conversation at dinner is likely to be interrupted several times with:
"MATH PROBLEM ON THE CLOCK!"
It is almost a competion of who can notice it first. And if they happen to miss the opportunity, one or more will inevitably say, "There was a math problem on the clock two minutes ago." You can see that it gets to be a nuisance around the lunch hour: 12:20, 12:21, 12:22, 12:23, 12:24, 12:25, and 12:26 all make equations with nothing additional required.
And then this morning, we were reading together for the girls' book club next week, when Ella suddenly noticed that we were on page 242 and called out, "Math problem in the BOOK!"
It might get annoying if it weren't indicative of such HEALTHY minds.
"MATH PROBLEM ON THE CLOCK!"
It is almost a competion of who can notice it first. And if they happen to miss the opportunity, one or more will inevitably say, "There was a math problem on the clock two minutes ago." You can see that it gets to be a nuisance around the lunch hour: 12:20, 12:21, 12:22, 12:23, 12:24, 12:25, and 12:26 all make equations with nothing additional required.
And then this morning, we were reading together for the girls' book club next week, when Ella suddenly noticed that we were on page 242 and called out, "Math problem in the BOOK!"
It might get annoying if it weren't indicative of such HEALTHY minds.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Happy birthday, Robert Frost
Robert Frost would be 134 today if he were still alive.
He's our favorite.
Madison's is The Road Not Taken. Ella says she likes them all. My favorite poem is Birches.
We're getting birches to plant this spring, from a client of mine, FastGrowingTrees.com. I hope they grow fast enough that someone can swing on them before she grows up.
I painted birches last month as I was craving spring:
I'm still craving spring. So here is Frost's "To The Thawing Wind."
To The Thawing Wind
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
He's our favorite.
Madison's is The Road Not Taken. Ella says she likes them all. My favorite poem is Birches.
We're getting birches to plant this spring, from a client of mine, FastGrowingTrees.com. I hope they grow fast enough that someone can swing on them before she grows up.
I painted birches last month as I was craving spring:
I'm still craving spring. So here is Frost's "To The Thawing Wind."
To The Thawing Wind
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Baaaaaa...?
A very strange thing happened to me yesterday evening...I discovered that some of my relatives not only do not suck, but are positively delightful, sensible people.
I had fled my crazy, hostile, narcissistic nuclear family over the course of the 1990s...I gave them the option to treat me nicely or not at all, and each of the three in turn chose not at all. Saying I fled from them means I pretty much made sure that once they had chosen that course, I had no contact with them...which meant that of course I had no contact with the rest of the extended family, either. I hadn't had much contact with THEM since the '70s and early '80s anyway, so it wasn't like it was a real value I was losing.
Well, two of my first cousins, girls who are in their late 40s (though they'll always be 18 and 19 to me) and their kids visited us last night along the way on a little trip to Niagara Falls. OH MY GOSH, it turns out they are some of the nicest, sensible, cheerful people I know.
And their kids! I didn't know what to expect, because although my cousin Linda sounded awfully nice on email, you never know how that all translates...and it often tells in the kids. They brought Linda's 14-year-old son, and Trish's 14-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son. The kids...I so hoped they wouldn't be mumbling mouth-breathers, you know what I mean. The parents' real way of living usually tells in the kids...and the kids were WONDERFUL. The 14-year-old boy smiles and looks you in the eye (!!!!!) and talks about the way math is taught in schools, and comments that he really likes your paintings, and in a genuine way, not in a polite way. The girl smiles through all her braces at your daughters, and everyone participates with glee in the Egg Hunt that your daughters have set up throughout the house in anticipation of their arrival. And the 8-year-old wants to be a writer and he has Webkinz and Club Penguin accounts, they all play together SO nicely.
I don't know what to do with this information, I don't know where to put it yet, how to fit it into my world view: I may not be The White Sheep of the family after all, my parents and sister may be the black sheep. It's a disruption of a simpler view I had of life, and it's taking some time to know how to absorb it.
I had fled my crazy, hostile, narcissistic nuclear family over the course of the 1990s...I gave them the option to treat me nicely or not at all, and each of the three in turn chose not at all. Saying I fled from them means I pretty much made sure that once they had chosen that course, I had no contact with them...which meant that of course I had no contact with the rest of the extended family, either. I hadn't had much contact with THEM since the '70s and early '80s anyway, so it wasn't like it was a real value I was losing.
Well, two of my first cousins, girls who are in their late 40s (though they'll always be 18 and 19 to me) and their kids visited us last night along the way on a little trip to Niagara Falls. OH MY GOSH, it turns out they are some of the nicest, sensible, cheerful people I know.
And their kids! I didn't know what to expect, because although my cousin Linda sounded awfully nice on email, you never know how that all translates...and it often tells in the kids. They brought Linda's 14-year-old son, and Trish's 14-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son. The kids...I so hoped they wouldn't be mumbling mouth-breathers, you know what I mean. The parents' real way of living usually tells in the kids...and the kids were WONDERFUL. The 14-year-old boy smiles and looks you in the eye (!!!!!) and talks about the way math is taught in schools, and comments that he really likes your paintings, and in a genuine way, not in a polite way. The girl smiles through all her braces at your daughters, and everyone participates with glee in the Egg Hunt that your daughters have set up throughout the house in anticipation of their arrival. And the 8-year-old wants to be a writer and he has Webkinz and Club Penguin accounts, they all play together SO nicely.
I don't know what to do with this information, I don't know where to put it yet, how to fit it into my world view: I may not be The White Sheep of the family after all, my parents and sister may be the black sheep. It's a disruption of a simpler view I had of life, and it's taking some time to know how to absorb it.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Free to Be She and She
Laura sent me a comment on the "Twins" photo below to the effect that she thinks that home schooling helps siblings be better friends -- and want to be more alike even to the point of dressing alike -- because they aren't exposed to the, as Laura put it, "age/grade level snobbery that would keep them from enjoying dressing alike."
I think this is so true.
I thought about it all this afternoon. I think, frankly, that being free from school frees the kids from the ugly or even not-so-ugly pressure to conform to the expectations of the lowest common denominator of that age group. It leaves them free to be exactly themselves, without in any sense being shaped by the expectations of other kids.
Take music. My kids like ALL kinds of music. Ella even likes dancing to music that David and I don't care for (rap/hip-hop). Ella's favorite varies between jazz and rock, but it's classical that really sets her on her ballet toes. She says her favorite jazz is Clifford Brown. Both girls love putting on loud Latin music. They've both been singing the Broadway songs that Madison has been learning in her musical theater class ("We Go Together" from Grease and "Clouds" from Snoopy). Both girls still like much of the better kids' music (especially SteveSongs), although things with characters (like Sesame Street) have fallen by the wayside as they've aged.
But think...if they were in school, the other kids would almost certainly think it was odd that they like all kinds of music. They'd certainly feel a pressure to drop kids' music, jazz, Latin, etc. in favor of Hannah Montana.
Take the whole boy-girl thing. Even when Madison was in first grade at the early elementary classes at the Montessori school in Charlottesville, she learned this gem:
Boys go to college to get more knowledge.
Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider.
(Also chanted, of course, in the reverse.)
And even Dario (who goes to public school), who loves the girls better than cousins, wrote on Flat Dario's T-shirt:
BOYS RULE SO MUCH.
This doesn't happen with home schoolers, so far as I've seen. There certainly may be boys and girls playing in same-sex groups because interests line up, but there isn't the odd teasing "other-ness" accorded to the other sex in the same way that there is when you send your kids to be educated by other kids.
By being educated at home, the girls get to like what they like -- and who they like -- without any kind of even vague censure. And it extends to all aspects of life. No home schooler I've ever met comments on someone else's clothes or anything like that. They know there are many more important things to talk about. Like books. Or sports. Or whatever. And almost every kid I've met is not just polite about these kinds of things, but interested in the other kid's opinions.
And the sisters? Well, they get to just LIKE each other. As they've been singing, together lately (and incessantly):
"We go together
Like rama-lama-lama, ka dingity ding de dong."
I think this is so true.
I thought about it all this afternoon. I think, frankly, that being free from school frees the kids from the ugly or even not-so-ugly pressure to conform to the expectations of the lowest common denominator of that age group. It leaves them free to be exactly themselves, without in any sense being shaped by the expectations of other kids.
Take music. My kids like ALL kinds of music. Ella even likes dancing to music that David and I don't care for (rap/hip-hop). Ella's favorite varies between jazz and rock, but it's classical that really sets her on her ballet toes. She says her favorite jazz is Clifford Brown. Both girls love putting on loud Latin music. They've both been singing the Broadway songs that Madison has been learning in her musical theater class ("We Go Together" from Grease and "Clouds" from Snoopy). Both girls still like much of the better kids' music (especially SteveSongs), although things with characters (like Sesame Street) have fallen by the wayside as they've aged.
But think...if they were in school, the other kids would almost certainly think it was odd that they like all kinds of music. They'd certainly feel a pressure to drop kids' music, jazz, Latin, etc. in favor of Hannah Montana.
Take the whole boy-girl thing. Even when Madison was in first grade at the early elementary classes at the Montessori school in Charlottesville, she learned this gem:
Boys go to college to get more knowledge.
Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider.
(Also chanted, of course, in the reverse.)
And even Dario (who goes to public school), who loves the girls better than cousins, wrote on Flat Dario's T-shirt:
BOYS RULE SO MUCH.
This doesn't happen with home schoolers, so far as I've seen. There certainly may be boys and girls playing in same-sex groups because interests line up, but there isn't the odd teasing "other-ness" accorded to the other sex in the same way that there is when you send your kids to be educated by other kids.
By being educated at home, the girls get to like what they like -- and who they like -- without any kind of even vague censure. And it extends to all aspects of life. No home schooler I've ever met comments on someone else's clothes or anything like that. They know there are many more important things to talk about. Like books. Or sports. Or whatever. And almost every kid I've met is not just polite about these kinds of things, but interested in the other kid's opinions.
And the sisters? Well, they get to just LIKE each other. As they've been singing, together lately (and incessantly):
"We go together
Like rama-lama-lama, ka dingity ding de dong."
Saturday, March 22, 2008
And a nice photo of the girls
Madison and Ella are in a stage where they like to dress up as twinnish as possible, sometimes. They even made up a song and dance about "being twins." So Ella was thrilled when we went to Lu's Back Door last week and found these great matching dresses in just their sizes.
Obviously I'm prejudiced here, but don't they look just beautiful?
Obviously I'm prejudiced here, but don't they look just beautiful?
Flat Dario
In his second-grade class, the girls' friend Dario (son of Tony and Tatiana, our dear friends) is doing a project modeled after the book Flat Stanley, to help teach them geography. All of the kids in the class made cardboard representations of themselves, and mailed it to a friend or family member in another state or country. We of course were the friends. Our job was to take Flat Dario around Rochester and take photos with him. Here they are.
At the Rochester Museum & Science Center's Planetarium:
At the RMSC's garden:
At the George Eastman House:
At Kodak (where Tony used to work):
On the shore of Lake Ontario:
By Irondequoit Creek:
And, finally, in front of Dario's old house in Webster:
At the Rochester Museum & Science Center's Planetarium:
At the RMSC's garden:
At the George Eastman House:
At Kodak (where Tony used to work):
On the shore of Lake Ontario:
By Irondequoit Creek:
And, finally, in front of Dario's old house in Webster:
Thursday, March 20, 2008
All this fuss...over a fish!
Madison and I worked for over an hour on helping her get the German song "Die Forelle" in somewhat working order for the Bach Children's Chorus. Somewhere in the middle, I thought we could go look up the translation of the words on the web.
It's Schubert, right? So I thought that it would be about something grand about Art or Love or Peace or something.
Nope. It's about a trout.
Yep. This:
There are five more additional paragraphs about a fisherman stirring up the brook to make it muddy. This seems to help him catch the fish:
All this fuss over a freaking fish. Sheesh! I was amazed. Madison was amused. It definitely seems less intimidating now.
It's Schubert, right? So I thought that it would be about something grand about Art or Love or Peace or something.
Nope. It's about a trout.
Yep. This:
In einem Bächlein helle, da schoss in froher EilMeans this:
Die launische Forelle vorüber wie ein Pfeil.
Ich stand an dem Gestade und sah in süsser Ruh
Des muntern Fischleins Bade im klaren Bächlein zu
In a clear brooklet in happy haste
The impulsive trout dashed past like an arrow.
I stood on the bank and watch in sweet repose
The bath of the lively small fish in the clear brooklet.
There are five more additional paragraphs about a fisherman stirring up the brook to make it muddy. This seems to help him catch the fish:
He made the stream muddy maliciously
And I thought, his rod quivered
The fish, the fish was wriggling on it,
And I, with my blood boiling, looked at the duped
All this fuss over a freaking fish. Sheesh! I was amazed. Madison was amused. It definitely seems less intimidating now.
A much better day
Well, things can shift like magic. I had thought that part of yesterday's blahs with the kids had been due to the weather, which was rainy-icy-foggy-ick. But today it's the same weather, but all is sunny in our house. It's 12:30 and we're done, DONE, and that despite the fact that we didn't get started until 9:30...I was on the radio doing a couple of spots on a morning show and THEN I even had a nice workout at the Y (counterbalancing chrusciki effects).
Everyone did piano, karate, math, logic, history (Ancient Romans and what they had to do with Jesus's crucifixion), Writing Road to Reading words (Easter-themed), and handwriting.
I found a really nice site for practicing math facts:
http://home.indy.rr.com/lrobinson/mathfacts/mathfacts.html
It doesn't look like much but the girls really liked it; you can tailor it to practically any level for addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Madison even found it a challenge to do all four at one time; she didn't always realize the proper sign for the operation, and so she got some wrong. I'm pleased to say that my little perfectionist has become more relaxed about missing answers; that is, it's no longer a tragedy when she gets a few wrong. Not that she LIKES it, of course, and she's not careless or casual about it, but it's no longer a reason for hara-kiri.
A mark of how well we did this morning was that Madison's handwriting work was copying that dreaded song "Die Forelle" for the Bach Children's Chorus that has been giving her the willies, and she was ok with it.
I told her the story of how I hate doing taxes SO MUCH that one year in order to get through all of the paperwork, I took it all to Chili's and slowly ate my way through loaded nachos as I sat there on my own sorting and completing forms. The waitresses were understanding, even amused. At the end I had a virgin pina colada to celebrate. I said that I thought that Die Forelle was enough of a mental obstacle that we could use the same principle, and gave her a small dish of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips, her favorite, along with the paper, pencil, and lyrics. She smiled at me gratefully, and got to work.
And now I get to work the whole afternoon! Good thing, because clients are calling.
Everyone did piano, karate, math, logic, history (Ancient Romans and what they had to do with Jesus's crucifixion), Writing Road to Reading words (Easter-themed), and handwriting.
I found a really nice site for practicing math facts:
http://home.indy.rr.com/lrobinson/mathfacts/mathfacts.html
It doesn't look like much but the girls really liked it; you can tailor it to practically any level for addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Madison even found it a challenge to do all four at one time; she didn't always realize the proper sign for the operation, and so she got some wrong. I'm pleased to say that my little perfectionist has become more relaxed about missing answers; that is, it's no longer a tragedy when she gets a few wrong. Not that she LIKES it, of course, and she's not careless or casual about it, but it's no longer a reason for hara-kiri.
A mark of how well we did this morning was that Madison's handwriting work was copying that dreaded song "Die Forelle" for the Bach Children's Chorus that has been giving her the willies, and she was ok with it.
I told her the story of how I hate doing taxes SO MUCH that one year in order to get through all of the paperwork, I took it all to Chili's and slowly ate my way through loaded nachos as I sat there on my own sorting and completing forms. The waitresses were understanding, even amused. At the end I had a virgin pina colada to celebrate. I said that I thought that Die Forelle was enough of a mental obstacle that we could use the same principle, and gave her a small dish of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips, her favorite, along with the paper, pencil, and lyrics. She smiled at me gratefully, and got to work.
And now I get to work the whole afternoon! Good thing, because clients are calling.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Overheard at the dinner table
David: Anyone know the capital of Illinois?
Ella's hand shoots up. With a knowing smile, she says: "I."
Ella's hand shoots up. With a knowing smile, she says: "I."
I give up!
I have never seen such whiny, fidgety kids. What did I do to make them think that whining was a good idea. And Madison had a tantrum when I decided I wasn't going to work with her on a subject after she whined about it. I'm in the admittedly-enviable position of being able to say, "Ok, I am just not interested in educating you today as you're behaving this way," and the response is not "GREAT" but "Oh, no, please Mom, please educate us." Usually I let them get a grip and ask me to work with them on a particular subject, and I do it. But today we've tried that and it hasn't worked. So I've given up for today.
And what does one do when one has given up?
Well, first I'm going to make chrusciki, because I'm going on the radio for a "what's happening Easter weekend around here" couple of spots in the morning, and I'm going to take the Fickle 93.3 folks some chrusciki. We always had it at Easter when I was a kid.
(Long parenthetical: My cousins are visiting with their kids on Monday. It's the first time I'll have seen them in almost 20 years. They actually sound nice...imagine that, blood relatives of mine who are nice. They are two sisters in their late 40s who married brothers, and so their kids are first cousins twice. They decided to take their kids on a little trip to Niagara Falls and so they're stopping in for dinner here on Monday, they'll stay in Pittsford overnight, and continue on Tuesday morning. They're bringing an 8-year-old boy, 14-year-old boy, and 14-year-old girl. I hope it's fun, I'm trying not to put too much emotional stock into it just in case. My one cousin has Celiac and as she had been the only other chrusciki maker in the family before she found out, those kids haven't had chrusciki in years, if ever. So I asked Linda if it would be ok if I made chrusciki for the crew, and she said that would be GREAT. She appreciated how I'd tried to make gluten-free chrusciki with my friend Susan last month. She's going to give it a whirl, too, with a different flour mixture, and see what happens.
Never had chrusciki? Picture a sinful dough made with egg yolks, sour cream, sugar, salt, vanilla, and flour and kneaded until your arms fall off and the dough is smooth and dark yellow, then rolled out thin, shaped into bow ties, deep-fried in Crisco and drenched with powdered sugar. Nothing like it. Clearly the best part of a Polish heritage.)
So that's what we're doing today. I'll have them just sit around and read for a while to get a grip, then we can make chrusciki and go to karate.
Oh, damn, I also have to get Madison to work on the German song that engendered the tantrum last night.
And what does one do when one has given up?
Well, first I'm going to make chrusciki, because I'm going on the radio for a "what's happening Easter weekend around here" couple of spots in the morning, and I'm going to take the Fickle 93.3 folks some chrusciki. We always had it at Easter when I was a kid.
(Long parenthetical: My cousins are visiting with their kids on Monday. It's the first time I'll have seen them in almost 20 years. They actually sound nice...imagine that, blood relatives of mine who are nice. They are two sisters in their late 40s who married brothers, and so their kids are first cousins twice. They decided to take their kids on a little trip to Niagara Falls and so they're stopping in for dinner here on Monday, they'll stay in Pittsford overnight, and continue on Tuesday morning. They're bringing an 8-year-old boy, 14-year-old boy, and 14-year-old girl. I hope it's fun, I'm trying not to put too much emotional stock into it just in case. My one cousin has Celiac and as she had been the only other chrusciki maker in the family before she found out, those kids haven't had chrusciki in years, if ever. So I asked Linda if it would be ok if I made chrusciki for the crew, and she said that would be GREAT. She appreciated how I'd tried to make gluten-free chrusciki with my friend Susan last month. She's going to give it a whirl, too, with a different flour mixture, and see what happens.
Never had chrusciki? Picture a sinful dough made with egg yolks, sour cream, sugar, salt, vanilla, and flour and kneaded until your arms fall off and the dough is smooth and dark yellow, then rolled out thin, shaped into bow ties, deep-fried in Crisco and drenched with powdered sugar. Nothing like it. Clearly the best part of a Polish heritage.)
So that's what we're doing today. I'll have them just sit around and read for a while to get a grip, then we can make chrusciki and go to karate.
Oh, damn, I also have to get Madison to work on the German song that engendered the tantrum last night.
Dumb idea
Never try to get an 8-year-old to start learning a complicated German song just before bedtime. It's a really dumb idea.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Owning more of my own precious time
I read blogs and columns. I'm inspired by them. I have a whole list of blogs that I read. I try to be inspiring in turn to the five or so of you who read this one.
When I wanted to read blogs, I used to zip from blog to blog in the my Favorites list in Internet Explorer. Click, click, click, click, wait for page to load, scan it to see if I've already read it, then move on to the next one.
And then, a few days ago, I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time but never sat down and figured out...I signed up for a blog reader/organizer, otherwise known as an RSS reader. Here's the simple definition from Wikipedia:
I signed up for Google Reader, one of many available, as because I'm on blogger.com (from Google) I already had an account. And...friends, it's magic. I know this is no news to perhaps all of you, but still I'm so delighted I had to post just in case someone didn't know about this.
Now...oh my, I just go to my one view page and whammo, it tells me how many of the blogs I read have new posts, and in just one click I see ALL of the new ones. I organized my blogs into category folders, so I know which categories have new posts, and then can see which specific blogs have them, all at one glance. It's awesome. It is definitely going to shave real tens of minutes off the time I spend not being productive each day.
I know my enthusiasm for this is so-10-minutes ago. I was never the first in a trend.
Of course, I could decide NOT to take my time reading blogs at all. Now THAT would shave a LOT off unproductive time. Hm.
But then I'd miss all of your great blogs.
When I wanted to read blogs, I used to zip from blog to blog in the my Favorites list in Internet Explorer. Click, click, click, click, wait for page to load, scan it to see if I've already read it, then move on to the next one.
And then, a few days ago, I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time but never sat down and figured out...I signed up for a blog reader/organizer, otherwise known as an RSS reader. Here's the simple definition from Wikipedia:
RSS (Really Simple Syndication) is a family of Web feed formats used to publish frequently updated content including, but not limited to, blog entries, news headlines, and podcasts.[2] An RSS document (which is called a "feed" or "web feed" [3] or "channel") contains either a summary of content from an associated web site or the full text. RSS makes it possible for people to keep up with their favorite web sites in an automated manner that can be piped into special programs or filtered displays
I signed up for Google Reader, one of many available, as because I'm on blogger.com (from Google) I already had an account. And...friends, it's magic. I know this is no news to perhaps all of you, but still I'm so delighted I had to post just in case someone didn't know about this.
Now...oh my, I just go to my one view page and whammo, it tells me how many of the blogs I read have new posts, and in just one click I see ALL of the new ones. I organized my blogs into category folders, so I know which categories have new posts, and then can see which specific blogs have them, all at one glance. It's awesome. It is definitely going to shave real tens of minutes off the time I spend not being productive each day.
I know my enthusiasm for this is so-10-minutes ago. I was never the first in a trend.
Of course, I could decide NOT to take my time reading blogs at all. Now THAT would shave a LOT off unproductive time. Hm.
But then I'd miss all of your great blogs.
Grover Cleveland
I gave Ella the choice of Rimsky-Korsakov or Grover Cleveland for today's birthday. She chose Grover Cleveland.
Hey, he seemed to be quite a good guy! I'm glad he was the Birthday of the Day, I really didn't know anything about him. Limited government, anti-expansionist, reversing tariffs (though not against income taxes), fighting corruption, his last words were "I have tried so hard to do right." This can give the kids a good answer to the admonition David dishes out when the kids bang their head into something, as they seem to do so frequently: "Careful, or you'll grow up to vote Democrat." ("Sure, how about Grover Cleveland?")
Reassurance from a 6-year-old
Yesterday's Birthday of the Day was Nat King Cole. We listened to his music at dinner, of course.
One of the songs was "Walking my Baby Back Home." David asked Ella, "Do you like Nat King Cole's version better, or Daddy's?"
After a small hesitation: "Well, Nat King Cole's," she acknowledged. "But Daddy, don't worry, you're really a very good mathematician."
One of the songs was "Walking my Baby Back Home." David asked Ella, "Do you like Nat King Cole's version better, or Daddy's?"
After a small hesitation: "Well, Nat King Cole's," she acknowledged. "But Daddy, don't worry, you're really a very good mathematician."
Sunday, March 16, 2008
More reading from Ella
I took the girls out to lunch on Friday. I try to do this once every three weeks or so, to break up the homeschooling routine. We almost always bring a book along that I read out loud while we're waiting for our food.
A little after we sat down, I saw Ella looking around, craning her neck to look every which way.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Trying to find more signs to read!" she replied.
I (just barely) refrained from doing the Chair Dance of Mommy Joy.
A little after we sat down, I saw Ella looking around, craning her neck to look every which way.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Trying to find more signs to read!" she replied.
I (just barely) refrained from doing the Chair Dance of Mommy Joy.
Clean, crisp capitalism for the homeschooler
One of the benefits about being a homeschooling parent is that you pay for most everything.
Yes, that's a benefit.
Books? Pay for them. (I include library fines.)
Classes? Pay for them. Karate, dance, musical theater, Gym and Swim, etc.
Museum Memberships? Pay for them. We are members at the science museum, nature center, living history museum, art museum, photography museum.
Events? Pay for them, except of course if you're getting free tickets because you're the publisher/editor/dictator of a popular event web site, which entails you pay for them in a different way, with a review, if the event inspires one.
When you pay for something, it's a clean transaction. It's the beauty of capitalism. You want something, they have it, they charge a certain amount, you get out your wallet, and you get what you pay for. If it's as great or greater than the value to you that you expected, you probably do it again. If it's less than the value you spent for it, you don't go back. Responsibilities and expectations are defined up front and clearly. Simple. And it usually requires no extra work on your part, no hidden costs, because that's the beauty of the free market -- those with hidden costs get their backs turned on them by consumers quick as not.
But...the clubs and organizations. Ah, the blurred line.
Take the Brownies. It costs very little to have your kids participate in girl scouts, but they expect parents to participate to make up the difference. Take the cookie sales. Ugh. I'd so much rather write a check. And you can opt out of it, technically, although no one does.
And then there are organizations that straddle that line, like the Bach Children's Chorus. Yes, it's true, you pay about $400 for the year to have your kid in it. But the transaction isn't quite as clean as that. Parents need to make kids practice hard outside of choir rehearsal, but of course I'm used to that and would do it as part of school, anyway. Parents rotate chaperone duty, which I will confess is one of my least favorite things to do. And then there is the fundraising. You don't have to do it, there isn't even pressure to do it. In the fall we had some kind of coupon book sales, which I didn't do. But this spring, there is a big fundraising Gala at a local hotel...a concert with the kids, and then the kids go off and have their own pizza party and entertainment in separate rooms while the adults have a grownup dinner and music and...an auction. And now, here, is where I have been spending all my free (ha) time lately: Gathering auction items from local businesses and organizations. I would normally have a principle against this, except for:
1) My kids have gotten such value from this group that I feel it exceeds the value we've paid, that it will be far more lasting than any of their other classes, and I want to do what I can to help the group.
2) I can do it better than anyone else, given my KOA web site. Organizations offer giveaways all the time through KOA to get local exposure, and all I've had to do is email about 70 of these folks a personal note asking if they'd like visibility to this group by donating something. It has worked...so far we have 53 items! And I know that I have spent much less effort on this than they had to with a big committee of parents last year. So I'm proud of being able to do it well. I will feel a personal sense of satisfaction/ownership over the amount of money that the donations I gathered will garner.
3) They're immensely grateful for what I've been able to do. So much so that if I ever need anything special, something that is an exception or a departure from what is expected, I know that it will be granted instantly and gladly. I told the manager I wanted to go early to the Boston trip with the girls and stay a day late, rather than take the bus with the rest of the choir. She had been skeptical when I mentioned this back in the fall, more hassle for her to keep track of, I think...but I found out yesterday that she'd actually gone to the trouble of reserving the Ross room a day early and a day late. And I noticed this week when the manager sent around the chaperoning assignments for the rest of the year that "Ross" was absent. Yes!
So there can be some external benefits to volunteering this way, which help make it not a sacrifice. On the other hand, if I were actually *pressured* to do this or were *expected* to do it, I'd rebel and refuse.
Which leads me to my main point: that public school parents are far more pressured than homeschooling parents to participate in all kinds of "volunteer" things like this, all the time, my friends tell me. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and parents of kids in "free" government schools are obligated to pay all the time. Fundraisers, bake sales, classroom time, send in more pencils, send in tissues and shop for craft supplies...and, most important, as David points out, HOMEWORK. It's ridiculous to sit there and try to teach your children things they should have learned in over 6 hours at school.
So, Brownies and the BCC notwithstanding, no one has an option on my time and money in the way the "free" public schools have an option on parents' time and money.
Capitalism is far cleaner.
Yes, that's a benefit.
Books? Pay for them. (I include library fines.)
Classes? Pay for them. Karate, dance, musical theater, Gym and Swim, etc.
Museum Memberships? Pay for them. We are members at the science museum, nature center, living history museum, art museum, photography museum.
Events? Pay for them, except of course if you're getting free tickets because you're the publisher/editor/dictator of a popular event web site, which entails you pay for them in a different way, with a review, if the event inspires one.
When you pay for something, it's a clean transaction. It's the beauty of capitalism. You want something, they have it, they charge a certain amount, you get out your wallet, and you get what you pay for. If it's as great or greater than the value to you that you expected, you probably do it again. If it's less than the value you spent for it, you don't go back. Responsibilities and expectations are defined up front and clearly. Simple. And it usually requires no extra work on your part, no hidden costs, because that's the beauty of the free market -- those with hidden costs get their backs turned on them by consumers quick as not.
But...the clubs and organizations. Ah, the blurred line.
Take the Brownies. It costs very little to have your kids participate in girl scouts, but they expect parents to participate to make up the difference. Take the cookie sales. Ugh. I'd so much rather write a check. And you can opt out of it, technically, although no one does.
And then there are organizations that straddle that line, like the Bach Children's Chorus. Yes, it's true, you pay about $400 for the year to have your kid in it. But the transaction isn't quite as clean as that. Parents need to make kids practice hard outside of choir rehearsal, but of course I'm used to that and would do it as part of school, anyway. Parents rotate chaperone duty, which I will confess is one of my least favorite things to do. And then there is the fundraising. You don't have to do it, there isn't even pressure to do it. In the fall we had some kind of coupon book sales, which I didn't do. But this spring, there is a big fundraising Gala at a local hotel...a concert with the kids, and then the kids go off and have their own pizza party and entertainment in separate rooms while the adults have a grownup dinner and music and...an auction. And now, here, is where I have been spending all my free (ha) time lately: Gathering auction items from local businesses and organizations. I would normally have a principle against this, except for:
1) My kids have gotten such value from this group that I feel it exceeds the value we've paid, that it will be far more lasting than any of their other classes, and I want to do what I can to help the group.
2) I can do it better than anyone else, given my KOA web site. Organizations offer giveaways all the time through KOA to get local exposure, and all I've had to do is email about 70 of these folks a personal note asking if they'd like visibility to this group by donating something. It has worked...so far we have 53 items! And I know that I have spent much less effort on this than they had to with a big committee of parents last year. So I'm proud of being able to do it well. I will feel a personal sense of satisfaction/ownership over the amount of money that the donations I gathered will garner.
3) They're immensely grateful for what I've been able to do. So much so that if I ever need anything special, something that is an exception or a departure from what is expected, I know that it will be granted instantly and gladly. I told the manager I wanted to go early to the Boston trip with the girls and stay a day late, rather than take the bus with the rest of the choir. She had been skeptical when I mentioned this back in the fall, more hassle for her to keep track of, I think...but I found out yesterday that she'd actually gone to the trouble of reserving the Ross room a day early and a day late. And I noticed this week when the manager sent around the chaperoning assignments for the rest of the year that "Ross" was absent. Yes!
So there can be some external benefits to volunteering this way, which help make it not a sacrifice. On the other hand, if I were actually *pressured* to do this or were *expected* to do it, I'd rebel and refuse.
Which leads me to my main point: that public school parents are far more pressured than homeschooling parents to participate in all kinds of "volunteer" things like this, all the time, my friends tell me. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and parents of kids in "free" government schools are obligated to pay all the time. Fundraisers, bake sales, classroom time, send in more pencils, send in tissues and shop for craft supplies...and, most important, as David points out, HOMEWORK. It's ridiculous to sit there and try to teach your children things they should have learned in over 6 hours at school.
So, Brownies and the BCC notwithstanding, no one has an option on my time and money in the way the "free" public schools have an option on parents' time and money.
Capitalism is far cleaner.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
We be just a family of logic chartin' fools
David, Madison, and I all love those logic puzzles where you try to find who sits next to the person wearing the green shirt and is the cobbler. You know, the ones that use charts.
Well, now that Ella can read, I got her an intro book. Good thing we did logic last this morning, otherwise she'd have been doing nothing else, she loves it so much.
Welcome to the obsession, Ella.
Well, now that Ella can read, I got her an intro book. Good thing we did logic last this morning, otherwise she'd have been doing nothing else, she loves it so much.
Welcome to the obsession, Ella.
Thane of Ross
For David's birthday a few weeks ago, we got him all the accoutrements he needed for the Ross tartan kilt he had inherited from his father. We got a hat, a spurin (a little purse), a shirt with leather ties, the socks, the flashes to go on the socks, and a Clan Ross pin. All that was missing were the cool shoes and the bagpipes. That's a nice glass of 18-year-old scotch in his hand.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Word on the street is that Spitzer is resigning
I will admit to more than a little schadenfreude.
He has been unrelenting in his persecution of people who committed no crime, Grasso, for instance. I hope they eat him alive.
Oh, I see my friend John Enright puts it better than I:
http://john-j-enright.livejournal.com/473842.html?.
He has been unrelenting in his persecution of people who committed no crime, Grasso, for instance. I hope they eat him alive.
Oh, I see my friend John Enright puts it better than I:
http://john-j-enright.livejournal.com/473842.html?.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Ella reading
I know I posted about a month ago that Ella can't help but read.
I was right, mostly, but it's REALLY true now. Even the words she doesn't recognize right off the bat she doesn't hesitate to sound out as quickly as she can. And then, the other words just flow right in, effortlessly; unlike last month, she doesn't need to deliberately focus on the word to see what it means. Much less energy is spent, now.
About 10 days ago, she finished Little House on the Prairie, with her reading all pages that are "short" (i.e., have a little picture) and me reading all that were long. For her prize, she chose a little Webkins dog that she named, appropriately enough, Jack.
I was right, mostly, but it's REALLY true now. Even the words she doesn't recognize right off the bat she doesn't hesitate to sound out as quickly as she can. And then, the other words just flow right in, effortlessly; unlike last month, she doesn't need to deliberately focus on the word to see what it means. Much less energy is spent, now.
About 10 days ago, she finished Little House on the Prairie, with her reading all pages that are "short" (i.e., have a little picture) and me reading all that were long. For her prize, she chose a little Webkins dog that she named, appropriately enough, Jack.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Math issues
I appreciate the rantings of Ned Vare on his blog School is Hell. Those who like John Taylor Gatto will like Ned.
I left some comments on his post from yesterday, Evelyn Russo is above average. Some of the comments were taken from part of my KOA newsletter, in which I wrote another Math Rant, using David's Winter Quarter experiences from his Calc III class that just finished.
I left some comments on his post from yesterday, Evelyn Russo is above average. Some of the comments were taken from part of my KOA newsletter, in which I wrote another Math Rant, using David's Winter Quarter experiences from his Calc III class that just finished.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Solitary confinement
You always hear about Solitary Confinement in prison being the utmost of punishing punishments.
My response to this is always one of skepticism. I think: Give me Solitary Confinement, as long as I had a computer, and it sounds like a vacation. I can only imagine how incredibly productive I'd be.
(Unless, of course, the computer has Minesweeper.)
My response to this is always one of skepticism. I think: Give me Solitary Confinement, as long as I had a computer, and it sounds like a vacation. I can only imagine how incredibly productive I'd be.
(Unless, of course, the computer has Minesweeper.)
I hate computer games
But what I really mean is, I love them.
Hello, my name is Deb, and I am a computer game addict.
Hi, Deb.
There is a part of my brain that is terribly, terribly happy when it's playing games that involve small bits of logic. I realized this in 1996 when I lost three business days to Minesweeper. You know, Minesweeper, the game that comes with every Windows system.
I can think when I'm playing Minesweeper. Not too profoundly, mind you, but I can think about other things with the part of my brain that is not playing Minesweeper, the way David can think about math when he's driving. For instance, I wrote this blog entry in my head while playing Minesweeper a few minutes ago.
I haven't played computer games in years. After I emerged from that 3-day loss 12 years ago, feeling as I imagine an alcoholic does after a binge, I banned all games from all computers I have ever owned. So I got out of playing them totally. Haven't played in years. Whenever the girls get a new game, I absolutely don't play it. They know that Mommy's brain is too happy playing games, and it takes away from actual productivity. Mommy is living far too close to the edge of the balance of running Axton, running KidsOutAndAbout, trying to learn new software to expand KidsOutAndAbout, writing a book, and homeschooling as it is.
And then, while I was lying in bed with Madison so sick this week and trying to come up with something I could do with her because her eyeballs and brain didn't feel like reading, I realized that there were the Windows games on this laptop I got last year.
Good heavens.
I showed Madison. I showed Ella. And then, two nights ago while I was sitting up with Madison at midnight trying to get her to sleep, I played Minesweeper as she tried to doze. And then, *an hour and a half later* I realized she was asleep and I should probably do the same. I was getting an average of 5 hours per night while up and down with her, I was exhausted, I desperately needed sleep, and there I was playing Minesweeper.
I got the medium level (40 mines) down to 98 seconds, though.
What an idiot.
It helps to write about it, you know?
Good thing I never tried drugs.
Hello, my name is Deb, and I am a computer game addict.
Hi, Deb.
There is a part of my brain that is terribly, terribly happy when it's playing games that involve small bits of logic. I realized this in 1996 when I lost three business days to Minesweeper. You know, Minesweeper, the game that comes with every Windows system.
I can think when I'm playing Minesweeper. Not too profoundly, mind you, but I can think about other things with the part of my brain that is not playing Minesweeper, the way David can think about math when he's driving. For instance, I wrote this blog entry in my head while playing Minesweeper a few minutes ago.
I haven't played computer games in years. After I emerged from that 3-day loss 12 years ago, feeling as I imagine an alcoholic does after a binge, I banned all games from all computers I have ever owned. So I got out of playing them totally. Haven't played in years. Whenever the girls get a new game, I absolutely don't play it. They know that Mommy's brain is too happy playing games, and it takes away from actual productivity. Mommy is living far too close to the edge of the balance of running Axton, running KidsOutAndAbout, trying to learn new software to expand KidsOutAndAbout, writing a book, and homeschooling as it is.
And then, while I was lying in bed with Madison so sick this week and trying to come up with something I could do with her because her eyeballs and brain didn't feel like reading, I realized that there were the Windows games on this laptop I got last year.
Good heavens.
I showed Madison. I showed Ella. And then, two nights ago while I was sitting up with Madison at midnight trying to get her to sleep, I played Minesweeper as she tried to doze. And then, *an hour and a half later* I realized she was asleep and I should probably do the same. I was getting an average of 5 hours per night while up and down with her, I was exhausted, I desperately needed sleep, and there I was playing Minesweeper.
I got the medium level (40 mines) down to 98 seconds, though.
What an idiot.
It helps to write about it, you know?
Good thing I never tried drugs.
Madison is...
...better. Not even close to 100% yet, but last night was the first night she wasn't up-and-down like a yo-yo, didn't babble at me in a foreign language (which used English syllables but wasn't English), and didn't need medicine several times. She's still feverish and dizzy today, but I was able to get some mashed potatoes and yogurt (not together) into her, and now she's strong enough to sit in front of the computer for a little while. It's Day 5 of this so it's About.Darned.Time.
Ella is well. And Ella wants OUT, out of this house. She wants to shop, oh my how that girl wants to shop. We have a favorite clothing store, called Lu's Back Door. (It's a second-hand store...funny how we really like the selection we find in this store better than almost any other place, and little girl dresses are only $4-$8. I remember how much I loathed shopping at thrift stores when I was a kid because my cheap cheap father decreed it, and now here I am with one as my favorite store. We always find nice things for them there, cute things that aren't trashy because the trashy stuff wears out too fast for people to consign it.) Anyway, I told Ella this morning that we could probably go tomorrow, and she's verifying this with me practically every hour.
Ella's gotten bored with entertaining herself for days, even though I've done modified school with her, so she's just asked me for formal school. Logic, she wants to do logic. Isn't that nice? I'd better go do it.
Ella is well. And Ella wants OUT, out of this house. She wants to shop, oh my how that girl wants to shop. We have a favorite clothing store, called Lu's Back Door. (It's a second-hand store...funny how we really like the selection we find in this store better than almost any other place, and little girl dresses are only $4-$8. I remember how much I loathed shopping at thrift stores when I was a kid because my cheap cheap father decreed it, and now here I am with one as my favorite store. We always find nice things for them there, cute things that aren't trashy because the trashy stuff wears out too fast for people to consign it.) Anyway, I told Ella this morning that we could probably go tomorrow, and she's verifying this with me practically every hour.
Ella's gotten bored with entertaining herself for days, even though I've done modified school with her, so she's just asked me for formal school. Logic, she wants to do logic. Isn't that nice? I'd better go do it.
Monday, March 03, 2008
One of those nights
It's early in the morning; I'm in bed with my laptop next to my feverish, wheezing, lightly sleeping 8-year-old; Madison's bronchitis is pretty bad, we've had several "incidents" over the past night. The humidifier is going, but I know that at some point she'll be catapulted awake and we'll make another trip into the bathroom where I'll let the steam from the shower give her some breathing relief. There will be no science club or gym-and-swim or karate today.
Thank goodness we home school; in order to have an "excused absence" I'd have to yank her out to the doctor, when it's obviously viral and all you can do is make her as comfortable as possible for the duration. This way we just get to spend all our time hanging around reading in bed or watching David Attenborough's wonderful nature videos from NetFlix.
I know a fair amount about anatomy, which is fortunate because they both have lots of questions about how our bodies work, particularly when they're sick. So we've been doing a lot of talking about lungs and the lymphatic system and white blood cells and viruses vs. bacteria and the color of mucus and why one drinks a lot of water at times like this, and the difference in effects between cough suppressants and expectorants.
Yesterday afternoon I gave Madison her first lesson in HTML, sitting in bed with the laptop; she cottoned on right away and made herself a master links page for the places she goes online.
Madison is stirring, snuggling into me. I think I'll put this aside and wrap myself around her -- like a big old leukocyte around a viral invader.
Thank goodness we home school; in order to have an "excused absence" I'd have to yank her out to the doctor, when it's obviously viral and all you can do is make her as comfortable as possible for the duration. This way we just get to spend all our time hanging around reading in bed or watching David Attenborough's wonderful nature videos from NetFlix.
I know a fair amount about anatomy, which is fortunate because they both have lots of questions about how our bodies work, particularly when they're sick. So we've been doing a lot of talking about lungs and the lymphatic system and white blood cells and viruses vs. bacteria and the color of mucus and why one drinks a lot of water at times like this, and the difference in effects between cough suppressants and expectorants.
Yesterday afternoon I gave Madison her first lesson in HTML, sitting in bed with the laptop; she cottoned on right away and made herself a master links page for the places she goes online.
Madison is stirring, snuggling into me. I think I'll put this aside and wrap myself around her -- like a big old leukocyte around a viral invader.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Reading weekend
I wrote about Dr. Seuss's birthday this week in the email to my Rochester list:
It also seems to be Sick Across America weekend, as practically everyone we know with kids is either sick, or just got over being sick, including all of us. So it's turned into Ross Reading Weekend. We just all have the icks, except Ella, who had the major icks when I was gone and who now is the only one who is well.
Madison has bad bronchitis. I slept/stayed up with her all last night. Breathing the steam from the shower is the only thing that holds the dreadful wheezing at bay for a little while. David--none too well himself--just took Ella to a birthday party that they'd been looking forward to for a while, because she really is over whatever it was that gripped her, something stomachy. I'm in Madison's bed with her--a feverish, wheezy, hacky baby. She's been bribed into finishing her bottle of water with promises that I'd show her some web programming stuff, but as soon as I climbed in next to her with the laptop she murmured, "A little snuggle first, Mom, ok?" and closed her eyes. She's now uneasily asleep next to me. A little while ago, her eyes popped open and she asked if I'd been talking to her. I hadn't. "Ok, I just didn't want you to think I was being rude if I didn't answer you," she said, and slipped under again.
They're so loving and clingy when they're sick. (Well, mine are pretty loving when they're well, actually.)
OK, I just got a call from David saying that the birthday party was YESTERDAY. Damn. I don't usually make those kinds of mistakes. Ah well. It was a party for a little boy from a seriously fundamentalist family, and the theme was *dinosaurs*. I was probably going to have to disabuse the girls of ideas about The Sixth Day and all, so maybe it's all for the best.
This is Read Across America weekend --and what better weekend to have it than what would be Dr. Seuss's 104th birthday? Think about ways your family can celebrate: I think we may have a little family read-a-thon on Sunday evening. This is one of those situations in which just announcing something in a special way can totally change the way your child sees a task; on the one hand, you can tell your beginning reader that it's time, now, to practice his reading. Groans! But...suppose you propose that the whole family celebrate Read Across America weekend by everyone gathering around the table with some books and a nice cup of hot cocoa! Or, you can ask for suggestions or let the kids design their own ritual. It becomes an entirely different affair.
It also seems to be Sick Across America weekend, as practically everyone we know with kids is either sick, or just got over being sick, including all of us. So it's turned into Ross Reading Weekend. We just all have the icks, except Ella, who had the major icks when I was gone and who now is the only one who is well.
Madison has bad bronchitis. I slept/stayed up with her all last night. Breathing the steam from the shower is the only thing that holds the dreadful wheezing at bay for a little while. David--none too well himself--just took Ella to a birthday party that they'd been looking forward to for a while, because she really is over whatever it was that gripped her, something stomachy. I'm in Madison's bed with her--a feverish, wheezy, hacky baby. She's been bribed into finishing her bottle of water with promises that I'd show her some web programming stuff, but as soon as I climbed in next to her with the laptop she murmured, "A little snuggle first, Mom, ok?" and closed her eyes. She's now uneasily asleep next to me. A little while ago, her eyes popped open and she asked if I'd been talking to her. I hadn't. "Ok, I just didn't want you to think I was being rude if I didn't answer you," she said, and slipped under again.
They're so loving and clingy when they're sick. (Well, mine are pretty loving when they're well, actually.)
OK, I just got a call from David saying that the birthday party was YESTERDAY. Damn. I don't usually make those kinds of mistakes. Ah well. It was a party for a little boy from a seriously fundamentalist family, and the theme was *dinosaurs*. I was probably going to have to disabuse the girls of ideas about The Sixth Day and all, so maybe it's all for the best.
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