A have a violist

Madison started taking viola lessons a few weeks ago.

It might be startling how quickly she's picked this up if it weren't for the fact that she already plays piano and some flute.

She loves it.

Bonne idée

C'est vrai, une bonne idée.

Thanks to Sue for the costume.

Donating their brains to science

Ella and Madison are really excited because next week, they're going to be subjects in a brain scan test at the University of Rochester's neurodevelopmental lab.

They get to play a computer game while they're getting an MRI of their brain. Isn't that COOL?

What's more, the study then loads them up with gifts after: Each girl will also get a small toy/puzzle from the treasure chest, a larger toy/book/game from the prize shelf, a lab t-shirt, and a picture of her own personal brain.

And a lot of information about what the researchers are doing, and how the brain works.

And... $50. Each.

They were excited even before they found out about the $50. Now, they really can't wait until next Thursday. I don't think they've ever had that much money at one time, before. We just watched the movie that the lab made to show them how the whole MRI thing works.

This should be so interesting.

More poetry

Ella wrote this poem yesterday:

I Am a Snuggly Heater

I am something I like to call a Snuggly Heater.
And the reason I think I am one
Is because sometimes at night I snuggle with my mom
And when we wake up in the morning
She says that I heated her up all night.
And that's why I say
I am a Snuggly Heater.

This week's poem memorization

We decided it was time, for the sake of cultural literacy, to have the girls memorize something from the Bible. The 23rd Psalm was a natural choice.

Just now, to see how well Ella knows the poem, David prompted:

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..."

Ella didn't miss a beat, and continued: "...to say this poem any more."

The "Getting Embarrassed" phase

Ella has leaped full-force into a phase where she gets embarrassed.

Fortunately, she's not yet at the stage at which *I* embarrass her. (Frankly, I think that one is quite a distance in the future.) No, this stage is characterized by her embarrassment at just about everything that has to do with herself.

Examples: She's embarrassed about the sound of her own voice on tape. She's embarrassed to stumble over a word when she's reading. She's embarrassed on behalf of the villain, sometimes, when Columbo is homing in on the truth. She's embarrassed for me to see her when she's singing in a small group at chorus rehearsal. She's embarrassed at praise. She's embarrassed at love scenes in a movie. She's embarrassed at going first for something in a group.

I think this is a real sign of maturity, a new awareness of herself as someone who simultaneously acts in the world AND doesn't really know what she's doing yet. The second half of that sentence is the new bit. It's the emergence of the "is this the right thing in this situation? Damn, I don't have enough experience to know" filter. I remember the embarrassment that goes with this emerging sense, and the trapped feeling of additional embarrassment about not being able to handle the embarrassment smoothly.

As Ella has gotten older, I watch her starting to project ahead farther into the future. She is starting to realize how far she has to go, I think, before she can be confident in what she's doing, and I think this is part of what is making her skittish and embarrassed. She used to be supremely confident about just about everything, and that's no longer the case. I suspect she implicitly realizes that the standards of behavior won't always be simply externally set by parents; increasingly, she is going to have to start identifying those standards herself. She's not sure how to do this. It really is a very new filter...how to make sure you do the important things right, and how to shake off mistakes quickly for the things you do wrong, at the same time as learning from them.

Although this is difficult for a mother, I actually have decided that I don't want to rob Ella too quickly of the embarrassment, for a couple of reasons. First, because it is *hers*. It's her genuine emotion. I want her to feel what she feels for her own reasons, not because I tell her. If she decides to change her reaction, I want her to do so because she sees that it's reasonable to do so, not simply under pressure from me to slam it back.

Also, it's very useful as a kid to have the regular experience of doing the right thing *in spite of* one's emotions about it. For example, Ella should talk to me about certain things even if it makes her embarrassed to do so, *because* she shouldn't have to deal with things alone at her age (and because she should get in good practice for this when she's an adolescent). It's okay to be embarrassed about whatever it is, I tell her, but you can't let that get in your way of getting it done, you can't let it wilt you. So these small embarrassments can be very useful that way. This way, she both gets validated for the embarrassment ("I remember how hard that was for me, too...") but encouraged to push through it.

Another reason not to slam back the embarrassment is because it can be an extremely useful barometer for helping one do the right thing. Suppressing the emotion of embarrassment at minor infractions could lead to evasion as a mental habit, or unconcern with ethics entirely. I don't think there is much danger of this with Ella, but people *should* be embarrassed about embarrassing things; that's entirely rational. Not pleasant, but rational. Life is not always a bowl of cherries, and age 8 is the perfect time to start dealing with that, in minor and unimportant ways.

So as I've been talking with Ella about these things, my main strategy hasn't been to wipe away her embarrassment. Sometimes she won't tell me for a little while...she needs me to "make" her tell what's on her mind. That's fine, I do that, just patiently smiling and warm, telling her that it will feel a lot better after she has talked with me about it. (It does, too...that's true.)

Second, because I really do vividly remember exactly what this experience was like, I tell her that. Just hearing about how I understand really helps her. Hearing about how everyone else feels this way, too, especially the good people, helps her too. And hearing about how it will eventually just go away and she won't have this experience also helps.

Always, I assure Ella that no matter what, if things ever get hard, she always has us. It doesn't matter if she's 8 or 14 or 40, we can help her get through whatever has to be faced. Sometimes she literally crawls into my arms at that point and buries her beautiful little face in my shoulder. If she hasn't already told me what's worrying her, that usually works.

To be honest, there have been a couple of times that Ella was embarrassed so needlessly that I was able to tell her easily that this can be shaken off very fast. "Oh, you're embarrassed about that there was a grass stain on your coat? Really, Ella, you needn't be...no one gave it another thought, seriously, don't let it get in your way." And then I focus her attention elsewhere.

Unintentional consequences of my school stories

I am not sure what to make of my sensitive little girl Ella.

I showed the girls today some current stories that show the stupidity of "zero tolerance" policies at schools: of the Eagle Scout in upstate NY who was suspended for having a knife locked in the boy scout kit in his car, parked on school grounds, and also the story of the 6-year-old who excitedly brought his new Boy Scout utensil kit so he could eat lunch with it, and was consequently suspended.

I heard a whimper and glanced over at Ella. I was shocked to see the lower lip quivering and the eyes filling with tears at the idea of these injustices happening at school. I hastened to add that the parents of these two boys did what any sensible parent living in a free society would do: alert the media and let the truth of the story shine the light on these idiots. She felt a little better, but still not good. She asked me not to tell her any more.

It's a good thing I didn't tell her about the junior high school girl being strip-searched on suspicion of bringing Advil to school. (That one still really, really rankles me, partly because I can imagine myself being paralyzed if it had happened to me at the age of 13. I WAS one of those evildoers who brought ibuprofen to school, so it could have been me in that position.)

It is fortunate that Ella will not ever have to go to school, because I think I've--totally unintentionally--made her regard the idea with absolute fear and loathing. I guess she's a little young for these ideas. I don't mind her loathing arbitrary rules, but she doesn't need to loathe the idea of school, per se.

Thank goodness my children will never, NEVER have to put up with the crap those other kids must. (And if someone ever tried to hand it to them, boy would such people have some trouble on their hands. They'd have to deal with both me AND David.)

I just asked Madison why she thought Ella got so upset, and Madison told me that Ella was afraid something like that would happen to her at some point. "Doesn't she know that it never will?" I asked. "Daddy and I would never let that happen. And if it did, they'd regret it really quick."

"I don't think *I'll* ever be able to stand up to anyone," she said kind of mournfully.

"Are you kidding me?" I was surprised. "Madison, you're only ten. Trust me, you're being raised by David Ross. You have a tongue like a whip. When you're an adult, there will be none better."

She looked doubtful.

"Seriously," I continued. "But then again, you don't have to worry about standing up for yourself necessarily. We've got your back."

"As long as I want?"

"As long as you want."

Unfortunate homeschoolng math moment

I was working on math with Ella this morning, somewhat late because one of David's students had visited for a few hours at breakfast.

Ella knew this was going to be a shortened schoolwork day because of our visitor and because bowling is early this afternoon.

Nevertheless, there she was, whining at me shortly before lunch. "I wish I only had to do ONE page instead of TWO pages."

I looked at her, annoyed, and said, "You know, someday just for kicks I think I'll give you a taste of a REAL school day. We'll start at 8am, we'll end at 3, I'll give various lectures and you can sit still and listen, you'll do your work, and then afterward you can do your homework. How's that sound?"

She burst into tears.

Really not my proudest moment.

Ultimately, she will not be a mumbler, damn it!

Madison seems to have adopted a habit recently of looking at the ground and mumbling when she's talking with someone she's just met. She's not bad at the initial handshaking, but then she lapses. I know it's because she feels awkward and wants to say the right thing...or, more important, she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. But it has been driving me a little nuts, lately. I really am vehement that the kids will not grow up to be mumblers. I actually had to remind her today to look at who she was speaking it.

Ella doesn't do this, despite being shyer than Madison.

I think I'm just going to have to be better in the few minutes before they meet someone new, at reminding them how to do it.

A taste of the office

I do love this work-home life I've carved out for myself. I really do. I haven't worked at an office in 14 years. And I'm happy that I don't. I never want to again.

But...

It so happened that I stayed extra-long at the radio station today after I was on the air, because I got into a chat with one of the DJs and the program director. We talked about some ideas for upcoming mutual promotions. It was just like the kind of feedback and professional visibility that I used to get around the water cooler back at the publishing company I used to work at in the early 1990s. I almost didn't want to leave.

They invited me out to lunch in 10 days or so, just for fun. And you know, I'm really looking forward to it. It's not just networking, although it kind of is networking. It touched the businessperson in me in a way that hasn't happened in a very long time, even though I've had lots of lunches with clients. We scheduled it for a day that the girls are at an all-day homeschooling camp.

Don't worry, I'm not going to send the girls to school. But it did drive home to me how very much more I could accomplish during the workday if my business colleagues weren't 8 and 10 years old. And, that if I incorporate a little more of this into the work-life balance, that would be a good thing.

Overextended

The name of the game in the Ross house is: Overextended 2009!

Both David and I are playing that game this fall, and it's no picnic. I know I'm writing a lot less than I used to; blogging is one of the things I finding it difficult to justify, even though I have all these analyses going on in my head all the time, things I'd like to record about the girls' development and experiences. One thing that ISN'T falling by the wayside, though, is the girls' education, thanks in part to some of their new classes. Ella in particular is at a new stage.

Ella's music education (and, consequently, conceptual learning) has been thrust ahead by her acceptance into the Bach Children's Chorus, and the discipline and practice required to be proficient. This is Madison's third year in the BCC. When Ella suddenly decided to audition at the end of the summer, David and I nearly gave her a lecture about how she really would have to be serious about this, how this is a commitment to real work. But we decided to hold off on talking with her about this until we saw how she took it. Thankfully (and somewhat surprisingly, since Ella doesn't typically launch energetically into new experiences, especially if they involve work), the lecture wasn't at all necessary. She's working hard at chorus; she's very disciplined, enjoys it a lot, never whines about having to practice, and is leaping ahead in the same way that Madison did two years ago.

Thanks to the fact that she can now read, Ella is finding new experiences open to her in ways that they weren't last year. She'd never be able to do chorus if she were still at last year's reading level. But also, she's having no trouble in drama class, which she would have had she taken it first semester last year; no one even has to make reading allowances for her as they did second semester last year. Today, she participated in this great art-history-literature-research class that the Fabulous Adrienne the Librarian at Webster Library has designed; Ella talked enthusiastically about how she was able to research more information about Paul Revere's Ride with a little guidance from the librarians. (Last year, she would have been in over her head at that part.)

And this year, I decided to make Ella WORK in math in a way that simultaneously cuts back on the amount of preparation I have to do. So we've started using a fifth-grade textbook that is only so-so, but fine for our purposes. Ella is pretty proud about doing fifth-grade math in the third grade, and that alone drives her along even when she's not necessarily feeling like working. That, and we go through the information together. I will admit to some guilt feelings about not designing the curriculum specifically to her needs, to taking the easy way out here. But she's learning plenty, and I get to see where her gaps are, which I might not have thought of had I not been using a guide.

Ella is still apt to get overwhelmed too easily, and take the easy-whiny way out ("I can't do this") whereas if she were in school, she'd buck up and push through it. That -- the crying -- is one of the down sides of home schooling. But for all of her whining and moaning about how she can't do something (I can't decide if it's a lot or a little, sometimes it seems like a lot, even though overall she is not a whiny child, she's cheerful almost to a fault), I know she's a lot more confident than she'd be if she were in school and were constantly being compared with the rest of the class. Whereas Madison's competitive drive to be the best would work to her advantage, I think Ella (who doesn't have the same drive) might tend to sink into mediocrity. This way, Ella gets to be Ella, happy to learn even if she's not pursuing knowledge relentlessly. Of course, I'll make darned sure she knows what she needs to know before launching in life.

And now, back to work. Or maybe to sleep.

Tag's grammar

Madison has a new stuffed dog named Tag. Tag is a big, very cuddly, Bernese Mountain Dog.

Madison: "Tag convinced Ella to read him a book out loud."

David: "Madison, we never convince someone TO do something, we convince someone OF something or convince someone THAT they should do something."

Madison: "Well, tell that to Tag."