Watching spring

Watching spring as an adult seems to me very like watching my children's childhood. Winters are endless, summers lag lazily on and on, and even autumm has a certain gradual quality. But spring, that's different. Now, I don't mean the long-wet-muddy part of spring, I mean the payoff part of spring, which we're just entering here in Rochester. But, like our children's childhood, it's there and gone in the blink of an eye, way before we're ready for it to be gone.

So, spring produces both joy and anxiety at the same time. I keep wanting to find various ways to capture the experience. See this magnolia tree in my front yard? It blooms for just six and a half days each year, but it's this glory that everyone remembers the other three-hundred-fifty-eight-and-a-half days. I snapped this photo on Monday, and already today the blooms are raining down. I want to march outside and say, "Put those petals right back on, Young Lady."

Ella from the very first

Today is Ella's 8th birthday. We named her Ella Simone, the "Ella" after Ella Fitzgerald, and "Simone" after my favorite character in my favorite book, Kay Nolte Smith's book A Tale of the Wind. I had practice labor in the mornings for 12 days before she finally emerged, 9 days after the official due date, at 7:50 in the evening on Sunday, April 29, 2001.

Ella has always been irrepressibly Ella (not that we'd want to repress her or anything!). Sunshine on a cold day, that girl is. Always happy, unless she's (temporarily) dramatically unhappy. Always up for a snuggle. Loves dogs. Loves to dance. Will still play Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdie with me. Favorite color is pink. She paints rainbows into everyone's life.

Ella 2001:


Ella 2002:


Ella 2003:


Ella 2004:


Ella 2005:


Ella 2006:


Ella 2007:


Ella 2008:


Ella 2009:

Awareness of time and place

This academic year, one of the most noticeable developments Ella has had, aside from really learning to read, has been her awareness of time and place. I would say that before second grade she was essentially clueless about what time and date things happen, or where she was in time relative to upcoming events, or where she was in space relative to, say, her friend Dario in Pennsylvania. She might count down days on a calendar until Christmas, or even her birthday, but in a moment-to-moment way, she didn't really know what month followed this one, or what season followed spring, or what days she had karate, or how long it would be until she had to leave for dance class. But now, it's something on which she is rock-solid, and I would say that this solidity happened within the last few months. Other than that, she was go-with-the-flow of when things happened, looking forward to, say, Christmas, but more in the abstract.

Ella also has a much better sense of WHEN things happened...that is, she can locate the Revolution and the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, the Civil War and Laura Ingalls in the 19th century, and rapid technology development and the birth of her parents in the 20th century. She can use reasoning to compare something in history against one of these times ("well, that happened before Westward Expansion, so it's probably the 1700s" or "computers hadn't been invented yet, so it's probably the earlier 1900s").

I've noticed this development also in terms of Ella's awareness of herself in space...that streets are within cities, which are within states, which are within geographic regions, which are in countries, which are on continents. She's much less likely to guess "France" when we ask where Ella Fitzgerald was born. She can read a map and instead of my having to tell her how much longer the drive will be, I'll tell her where we are on the map, and then she can estimate easily on her own given how long we've already been in the car. Part of what has helped with this, I think, has been that we do a Birthday of the Day and always orient the person in both time and place. But I also chalk it up to natural expansion of one's personal borders.

Interestingly, I would say that it's only within the past year that Madison has really gotten a sense of these kinds of issues, too. So I don't know whether Ella is early or Madison is late. But last year, Madison totally relied on me to keep track of the schedule and requirements for, say, choir rehearsals, but now that stuff registers with her. It's as though she has developed an internal ticker or monitor that didn't exist before.

A new computer: SnowyOwl

Yesterday, the UPS man (whom we female Rosses all love) brought Ella's new Netbook, an ASUS EEE.

It's not really just Ella's, it's the family's. I've been inwardly somewhat resentful that my laptop, where all of my work is stored, has been regarded as being The Family's laptop, with people feeling free to use it for, e.g., internet searching at the dinner table. No more! We now have a great, cute, sturdy little Netbook we can whip around the house easily. But, we got it in honor of Ella, and when no one else is using it, she gets first dibs.

It's not just that it's Ella's 8th birthday next week, although that is handy because this seems like the start of a series of celebrations. In March, Ella worked hard, so very hard, on an original story with illustrations for the annual Reading Rainbow contest. She really wanted the first prize, which was a laptop. And when she saw the Netbook at Best Buy and then one that her friends had, she really, really wanted the Netbook. She had a hankering for the computer in a way she never had before. She'd bring it up at odd moments, ways she might use her Netbook if only she had one.

At one point when she was writing her story, called "The Shy Snowy Owl," she was stuck. The end seemed a long way away. "I'm so motivated by that prize," she said. "But what if I don't win it? Imagining that I don't win is getting in my way right now."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm so impressed with all of your hard work here that if you finish it and don't win, there will be a Mommy Prize."

The story really was good. I thought she had a chance of at least placing in the Rochester competition. But no, last week we got the word that she hadn't. So, that afternoon we went over to Best Buy. I led her to the Netbook section. She was elated. But they didn't have any ASUSes in stock. That night, I placed my order for the Netbook and it came yesterday.

The child is happy, happy, happy with her Netbook. Can you tell from that face? And we may enter the story in another competition some time.

As a matter of principle, I don't go buying stuff (much less computers!) for the kids when there are disappointments, and very few things that they accomplish are motivated by anything other than how good they'll feel for having accomplished it. But sometimes, when very hard work has gone into something, a concrete representation of the work can serve as a great future reminder of how hard something had been and yet had been accomplished. Ella named the computer SnowyOwl, and she is very proud of the work she put into "The Shy Snowy Owl." Not having won doesn't bother her. It may be partly because she's watched my own experience of the last few months: I know that my own book is good, but it's been rejected by a dozen agents so far, and I was completely prepared for that to happen. So, it can happen to anyone, and I think she gets it.

A friend mentioned that she'd heard there are services out there to bind your child's story into a real book. Anyone know where I can do that?

Kids' authors really do write back

As part of Madison's poetry explosion last week, she wrote (in a flash, it seemed) a poem about Cam Jansen, the heroine of David Adler's "Cam Jansen" series of detective books for kids. Cam has a photographic memory; when she goes "click," it's her mental camera taking a perfect image of the scene in front of her. Madison wrote this poem:

Cam Jansen is an alien! An alien from outer space!
She is here using her memory to save the human race!
Soon many clickers just like her will be spread across the world!
And every single one of them will be a red haired little girl!

I suggested she look up David Adler's web site and see if there is a contact email for him. There was! She wrote him a nice note, including the poem. He wrote back a gracious note to her the other day, telling her the poem is great, and he's happy she likes his books.

One of the lessons I took away from the children's book writers' conference in January is just how much the feedback from readers means to writers. And it works both ways, too: It's exciting to get a personal note back from an author! It's a good lesson: Just a little effort on the part of a 9-year-old to express appreciation adds quite a lot of value to at least two people in the world. I'm going to try to have the girls write more to the authors they care about; it's a cost-free effort that can only do good.

A new hobby for Madison

Last Friday, the girls and I made majority of the third of four quilts for my friend Anne's children. I made one when Charlotte was born in 1992, then for Wyatt in 2006 the girls "helped" me make a lovely yellow-and-blue quilt that we got in time for the baby shower three months before he was born. Duncan was born in late 2007, but life has been such a busy ride since then that poor Duncan hadn't gotten one, and here he is 16 months old. Now that Anne is expecting the fourth (a girl!) in August, I decided that busy or no, Baby #3 needed his quilt before Baby #4 arrived. And so I give you the Froggy Good Friday quilt (or Lucky Friday, as Ella has taken to calling it):



Can you tell that it is meant to be "boxes of frogs"? That's a frog pattern within the boxes.

That quilt is now winging its way downstate, and we hope Duncan loves it. I have a feeling that having mastered an easy quilt, the girls will have some bigger plans for New Girl Baby Quilt a little later on in the season.

As a result, Madison has taken to the sewing machine in a big way. She has liked hand-sewing, but mastering the use of the sewing machine is a Big Step. (She's always been somewhat skittish about things that could potentially hurt her in some way.) She now sees all of her old hand-sewing efforts as terribly clumsy compared with what she is able to do on the machine. She's very excited, and today she started sewing a tiny quilt on her own with some of the scraps from Duncan's quilt. One seam had to be ripped out 3 times, but she still didn't get discouraged. I think maybe this is a new obsession.

How different non-crappy people are

I have a friend who is dealing with a weird student-student stalking problem at her daughter's school -- not something truly dangerous, I think, but enough that she's pulling all of her own biographical information and anything that pertains to her daughter off the web. She writes for my KidsOutAndAbout.com web site, so I just went through some removals for her this morning.

I did let her know, just in case she didn't, that she's perfectly within her rights to pull her daughter out at the drop of a hat, and home school her for the rest of the year. I just wanted to let her know that there IS another option.

We are so lucky, we who home educate. We are so NOT trapped. My kids get to choose exactly who they hang out with, just like in the real world. They can turn their backs on any crappy people. In general, the other kids in all their homeschooling classes are very nice, and they have made some real friends. My kids went to a birthday party yesterday at the home of their best friends (two other homeschooling sisters) and, you know, the kids just get to be KIDS. There is no pressure to grow up too soon, so all of them (they're age 8 through 10) played Littlest Pet Shop together, without anyone worrying that it might be too babyish.

It makes life so much easier, and I think the difference between my parenting concerns and the parenting concerns of traditionally-schooled 'tween and teen girls will grow that much more stark over the next several years.

True fans

Madison and Ella say they prefer MY out-loud reading of Noel Streatfeild's Theater Shoes to the audio book for the same title that we've gotten out of the library. This despite my very creaky froggy voice (result of a cold that is now in Day 12), whose accent is decidedly not British. They've asked for me to read at meals, bedtime, and in between for the last five days. I comply, of course. I'll soak in any evidence that I'm still Numero Uno in their eyes.

People warn that it can't last that much longer, now that I have TWO 'tweens. I'm betting otherwise; we really LIKE each other, those Small People and I. I'll keep ya posted.

Reading ability makes ALL the difference in standardized testing

In New York, every other year starting in the 4th grade (or 5th grade), the end of the year home school evaluation needs to be a standardized test. In Virginia, I chose to give Madison the CAT (California Achievement Test) at the end of her 1st grade year.

I was always a whiz at standardized tests. They never caused me any stress. I actually liked them. I took the SAT 7 times, starting in 7th grade, so by the time I took it early senior year I had no trouble or worries.

By the time Madison was at the end of first grade, she was devouring books like Harry Potter. Madison took to standardized testing like a duck to water, or at least like a challenge-loving kid to a challenge. She tested at a 6th grade level at the end of 1st grade.

Ella never took a standardized test before. But because it's time for Madison to take one to fulfill state requirements, I've ordered the CAT tests for 2nd grade and 4th grade this year. We just got them. I also ordered the 2nd grade test prep book for Ella, figuring that Madison wouldn't need to prepare.

So why do I care if ELLA prepares, given that I don't need to send her test scores anywhere? When I look at it this way, it seems that I am being foolish.

Now, as she winds up her second grade year, Ella is about an average reader, I estimate. But SO MUCH of the CAT depends on reading ability that it's really all they are testing. Ella has come very far this year; she NEVER could have managed this test at the beginning of the year, and that's saying something. So I have no idea how half of the kids even manage to take this test. Even the math has to do with reading. I don't really care if Ella knows that eight thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four translates to 8,784. I'd much rather she knows the answer to 7x+1=50. But the first one is a test question, not the second.

So why am I doing this if I don't really care about someone else's arbitrary standards? The answer is, I'm not sure.

It's good to have a sense of where my kid measures up against what other second graders are being tested for in the country. I guess. But to my surprise and somewhat to my dismay, I'm caring, much more than maybe I should. (Ella, of course, has no idea that I do, I'm very careful not to show it.) I see a problem to which she doesn't know the answer (or a subject that we haven't covered), and I wince, inside. What does it mean about her education, that I haven't taught her that yet? Oh, goodness, she's forgotten how to read a clock, she knew that back in the fall, maybe I'm letting her be too much a child of the digital age..." I worry about whether I can read the directions out loud with her, or whether she must read them herself, and let the chips fall where they may if she doesn't understand.

And, worst of all, this test makes it thoroughly apparent to me that Ella's reading level is way far behind where Madison's was at the end of first grade. Now, I'm not all hyped up on my kids being precocious in everything, or even in anything. But there's no question that Madison takes in far more information per unit time than Ella does, simply because she reads voraciously. I was the same way at her age, and it made for a very rich intellectual life.

Ella is fine. Ella is exactly where she should be in some things, and beyond in others, such as math, history, science, and general cultural literacy. But the kid won't read on her own, for pleasure. And maybe this is an instance of Bad Mommy surfacing, but it privately drives me nuts. It makes me worry. Madison's reading (combined with the tenacity with which she tackles ideas she wants to understand) makes her so smart; she's got these two great tools for learning that Ella hasn't really cultivated yet. I can't exactly say to Ella, "Read, damn it, and start enjoying it, QUICK, because I don't want it ever to be apparent to you that your sister is way beyond where you are when she was the same age." I can't exactly say, "CARE MORE about ideas!" I can lead, we can all serve as her models, but I can't exhort the child to be "more like the rest of your family." I mean, she's not even 8 yet, for pity's sake. She's going to lead a perfectly smart, rich life. I'm not in the least worried about that. But I do worry that Madison is going continually to come off as this brainy genius through her life, and Ella will be regarded as Madison's Little Sister. I don't want her EVER to see herself in that light.

Interestingly enough, Ella actually LIKES working in the test preparation booklet. I was prepared for her to like most of the math, because it is, as she calls it, mostly "easy-puhleasy." But she even likes the reading comprehension. She's not having much trouble with it, she's doing fine even if not stellar, and she's been perfectly willing to work on these with me for a couple of hours each day.

But I still almost feel as though I'm betraying my own educational philosophy, that I'm falling into the same trap as today's public school teachers subject to No Child Left Behind are -- and who would have thought that I would ever feel THEIR pain? Today, we didn't get to reading about the American Revolution because we worked on test prep and then had to go out to science class. That has to be wrong, right?

As you can tell, I'm still working through this issue. Comments welcome.

It's the Nash-Silverstein-Enright influence, I think

We haven't been paying an unusual amount of attention to poetry, lately, but Madison has been excited about writing it in the last week or so. Her poetry used to aim at flowery free-verse language, but now she's playing with rhythm and rhyme and cleverly-made-up words more than she used to. (Not at my behest, this is her own doing.)

She's quite pleased with what she wrote today:

I am always happy.
I am always gleeful.
And it's that happy gladness
That makes me so me-ful!

She loved this Easter rhyme of John Enright's from the other day:

If you see a chocolate rabbit,
grab it.

And, calmly, with aplomb,
go nom nom nom.

I'm thinking it's partly this little poem that has gotten her writing a lot in the last several days. Thanks, John!

Nicer Easter reflections, by Ella and Madison

Cute Little Bunnies
by Madison

Bunny, bunny, oh how funny
Hop around all day.

Bunny, bunny, you're sweet as honey
In your bunny way.

All the bunnies are so fuzzy
As soon as the spring starts,

All the bunnies big and small
Make their way into our hearts.



The Easter Bunny
by Ella


The feeling of spring has finally arrived
Bunnies are hopping everywhere
And the humming of bees are in the air
Tomorrow is Easter
And the Easter Bunny is hiding away
So keep your eyes peeled, I am telling you here
And to the Easter Bunny...
Beware.

Some Easter reflections

We have a tendency in our society to equate SUFFERING with GOODNESS.

I know. Saying it in that bald way, it seems obvious. We shouldn't do this. But we do.

It takes this form: We take the extent to which we fuss or feel angst about something as a direct measure of our own personal goodness. We often reassure ourselves and others, "But I CARE," as if our caring is just as important as doing the right thing. Moreover, this itself becomes an excuse not to act, in two ways: As long as we're suffering, we're doing SOMETHING, and it's easier than acting to change it. And, if we act to change it, we won't have the opportunity to suffer and demonstrate our obvious goodness any more.

I know, this in no way seems profound to some of you. But I recently dropped this observation casually into a conversation with two different friends, smart people I love and respect. To them, it was literally jaw-dropping.

Obviously, this springs directly from the Judeo-Christian influence on our culture. It's definitely there in Catholicism, but despite the obvious Christian equation of suffering with divinity, my Jewish friend heartily affirmed that it's a big part of Jewish culture, too. When I brought it up to her this way, she understood in a flash just how unhealthful this is: She's the type that "takes things to heart" -- literally -- which has actually caused her some cardiac stress. How much better to calmly deal with life than to ruminate about it!

The second friend was raised Catholic, and it really resonated with her as well. She reflected that our culture actually places angst on the same level of ethics with action.

It seems to me that so often people use this psychologically as a free pass not to act: "At least I'm *stressed out* about it! It's causing me a lot of grief, so that must mean I'm a good person."

I jettisoned this sense of life a long time ago, mostly thanks to Rand. But I hadn't grasped, at the time, how very important it is to reject this attitude, or the variety of ways in which society reinforces the idea. I certainly hadn't understood how good it would be for my physical, not just psychological, health.

So cute I wish I knew where Madison put the camera

This evening, the girls decided to make a "fort" in our bedroom: They dragged ottomans and chairs and large pillows and the like about 2 feet away from the windows, and pulled the floor-length curtains over the tops of these makeshift fort walls. They draped more blankets and sheets around to make doors and reinforce the fort ceiling. They snuggled in more blankets and pillows, and despite my predictions to the contrary, they are now peacefully sleeping inside their fort.

I'm so grateful they're still young enough to want to do this!

I really hope they don't wake up in the middle of the very dark night and panic, not knowing where they are. At least I'll only be 5 feet away.

Anyway, it's a good thing they're doing this now, because last night David and I pulled up a corner of the dirty-beige carpet in the bedroom and discovered that the hardwood floors underneath are great. We're thinking this weekend might be a big get-rid-of-ugly-carpet weekend. Colder, to be sure, in an already-cold room, but we'll manage.

Beat that logic

This morning, David broached the idea of going to church this Sunday with the girls.

"Dad," said Ella, in, apparently, a lecturing sort of tone, "Easter is about bunnies, and springtime, and candy, and eggs, and chicks, and stuff like that. Why would we ruin it by going to hear someone give a talk about a guy who was murdered?"

Me, I'm with her.

Sketch-up

Last week was an insanely busy week, culminating in a Gala on Saturday night that I helped coordinate. At the beginning of the week, I was vaulted into the position of Acting President of the board of directors of the kids' choir because of health problems on the part of the president. Then, the night before the Gala, the Master of Ceremonies, a local baritone, called with the news that he had pneumonia. So I had to be not only Acting President but Acting MC. Then I promptly got sick. But this morning I really feel on my way up.

My kids have been using a wonderful free program of late called Sketch-Up. It lets you draw in 3-D. Here is what Ella did this morning: "My Summer House." (Actually, "My Summr Hows")



Can you see the little garden, the deck, the house, and the pond? I love it!

Madison has been redesigning the layout of her room using Sketch-Up. I had seen a notice about it with a note that it is also wonderful for kids with autism, a really neat and not-too-difficult way to express oneself in ways that look just beautiful.

If you download it, the free version is great, don't try for the Pro version; you have to pay for that.

Welcome to my homeschooling life

Me: Okay, we've just distributed the negative three into (6x - 11) to make -18x + 33. What would you do now?

Madison: Go out and play.

Lincoln into Art

A few months ago, I decided to bring Wendy Allen, an artist who paints Abraham Lincoln (and ONLY Lincoln...that's her only subject) to Rochester. She is on a tour of cities in the U.S. for the Lincoln Bicentennial. Wendy conceived of an enormous Lincoln Birthday Card signed by the people. At each city, she has the public sign these enormous white panels (switching them out when they get full), with birthday messages for Abraham Lincoln. She also paints one portrait of Lincoln over the several days she is in the city, and she also has a program called One Brushstroke, wherein she draws in an outline of Lincoln on a canvas, and then the entire community helps paint the portrait.

I say *I* decided to bring Wendy.

Okay, how could *I* decide to bring her?

The answer is testament to the power of one individual to make things happen. Well, two, actually, if you count Wendy, and three, if you count her partner Elaine.

I talked with various committees (it's also Rochester's 175th anniversary) and organizations about bringing Wendy. It wasn't going to cost that much, just some shipping expenses, supplies, and putting her up for four nights in a hotel. Everyone was interested, but then everyone declined because of The Money.

But I wanted her. I knew it would be awesome. And I wanted to Do Something. You know, to celebrate the Big Guy on his 200th. If there's anyone worth celebrating, it's Lincoln.

So I decided to bring her. KidsOutAndAbout.com would pay for the supplies and shipping and overnight (she's just driving from CT). The Rochester Museum & Science Center agreed to host her from 12-4 today through Sunday. And the Strathallan hotel put her up in a lovely executive suite for four nights, free. (Amazing what you can get when you ask.)

So wham, there it is. She's here. And the event is not only a National Lincoln Bicentennial event, it's also an official Rochester 175th Anniversary event. I took Wendy and Elaine out to dinner last night. They're great people, true Lincoln aficionados, and we had a lovely time. It made the Democrat & Chronicle. I've faxed the TV stations; we'll see if they show up.

This morning, I helped her set up. Ella was the first person to paint One Brushstroke on the portrait of Lincoln that the community gets to keep. Actually, technically, I think *I* get to keep it, because I'm the one who bought the supplies and got her to do it in the first place. But I'm going to donate it either to the RMSC if they want it, or to the Memorial Art Gallery if the RMSC doesn't want it.

Here are some photos:







Wendy's web site is LincolnIntoArt.com.