The girls and I have been playing "baby birdie" ever since Madison was not yet two years old, so we've been playing this for six years. I've blogged about it before; it's a simple game where the only thing fixed is that I'm a mama bird and the girls are baby birds. When we're playing it in earnest, it's usually on a bed, with the blankets swirled around us to form the nest.
Somehow, early on (I think courtesy of an early Dora the Explorer episode, the one where she helps the lost baby blue bird find its nest) it was decided that the baby birds would say "peep" and the mama bird would say "chirp" -- "chirp" being more sophisticated and difficult to say than "peep." (Plus, the baby blue bird said "peep-peep-peep.") Daddy bird joins in sometimes, with a deep "CHIRP" that resonates from somewhere inside his chest.
Well, "chirp" and "peep" have been extended outside the game, recently. I found that a sweet, caring "chirp" is often enough to penetrate Madison's consciousness when she's upset. "Chirp?" I'll ask gently, and it's a measure of her state of mind how, or whether, she answers. The chirp says to her, "Remember, this particular thing isn't really important, what's really important is that I'm your mommy and you're my baby and I'll always love you and take care of you." It works, it really does, it usually touches her heart even when she decides to continue being intractible for a while longer.
I've taken to using it at all kinds of times, and the tone of my voice varies depending on the situation. When I'm proud of her, or we're all feeling affectionate, I'll sometimes say, moved, "Oh, chirp!" and she'll respond cheerfully "Peep!" Sometimes, when we're out among others, I'll whisper "chirp" in her ear, and she'll look at me and whisper "peep" back if she's feeling connected, or smile enigmatically and say nothing. Sometimes, when she's feeling disconnected, she'll outright refuse to answer "peep," and that's usually a measure of something stirred up inside her, but the fact that I've chirped at her often helps her settle down. Sometimes she teasingly refuses to answer, and often she'll say, frowning (a bit self-mockingly), "I'm not going to say 'peep' now." But usually, these days, she's happy to peep back at me.
Ella, on the other hand, has no subtlety with her peeps. It's almost always an immediate, smiling, "Peep!" that says, simply, isn't it wonderful to be alive and together? Whereas Madison's peeps can be imbued with all kinds of various meanings, Ella's peeps are almost always prompt, and cheerful. The "chirp-peep" game doesn't mean nearly as much to Ella as to Madison...it's just another expression of affection, one in a neverending chain of them.
Madison and I have discussed the possibility of chirp and peep extending a long time into our relationship as mother and daughter. She's decided that there should be some end to chirp and peep, that she would never say it, say, as an adult. I, on the other hand, can picture myself calling her up some day after she's taken her post as Supreme Court Justice Ross. "Chirp!" I'll say as she picks up the phone. "Peep!" she'll respond.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Completely unrelated to home schooling
There will be a new Dick Francis book coming out on September 17.
It's called Dead Heat.
Yee-ha!
I mean this literally, from the bottom of my heart.
Although I'm sure he'll never top To The Hilt.
It's called Dead Heat.
Yee-ha!
I mean this literally, from the bottom of my heart.
Although I'm sure he'll never top To The Hilt.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Hard work pays off
I mentioned in my post on May 4 that Madison was practicing to audition for the Bach Children's Chorus, which is an amateur-but-professional-quality classical children's chorus here in Rochester which sings in many languages. It's for 8-to-17-year-olds, with the average age of about 12, I'd estimate. Madison will be 8 in September, so she's on the young side.
The audition pieces were rigorous -- one song was in German -- and they sing very high -- she had to be able to sustain a high G in one place, and get to it from a B-flat.
They give you a one-to-one pre-audition workshop which was last Saturday, and at it, my baby crashed and burned out of a sudden case of nerves. I felt so terrible for her, but she did not get very upset about it, especially when I assured her that this happens to many and that she's really on the young side to be trying out for the choir anyway. I was very proud of her for keeping her composure. I also felt really guilty for not having given her much more guidance than I had, I had basically left her on her own to listen to the practice CD. She knew the German no problem, but vocally she just couldn't hit the high notes.
The audition-proper was yesterday, and so, in the spirit of "if Mom doesn't know the tips to give you, she'll find someone who does," on Sunday I had a friend who sings classically work with her, and on Monday and Tuesday I got her two lessons at a conservatory near here. And yesterday, she rallied incredibly, and did VERY well at the audition (it helped that the director, who had been very pressed for time on Saturday and had basically dismissed her at the time after Madison had said "I CAN'T sing those high notes," had seen so many children in the last week that she didn't really remember Madison, so she didn't remember how badly she had done the first time).
You might get the impression that I was pushing her to be in the choir, but that isn't the case at all -- the kid loves to sing, and wanted so badly to be in the choir that she worked like heck, all from her own impetus, for the last three weeks. I did want her to get in because it's exactly the kind of musical experience that will focus her, she'll love it, they sing BEAUTIFUL music (when I was a child playing cello in the NJ Region II orchestra, it would move me that I was part of making beautiful music, and that stayed with me forever), and she'll become friends with good kids who are like her. But I really only wanted her to get in because SHE wanted to get in...I certainly didn't push her at all. She didn't have the sense that I wanted her to get in for any reason other than that I wanted to help her get what she wanted.
Part of the reason the director was impressed yesterday, I think, is that Madison was very willing to work there with her to do what the director wanted...she took Madison through various exercises to see her range, to help her envision the various notes, to correct a bit of the pronunciation. There was no fidgeting, no resistance, just focus on the director and willingness to follow the directions. Part of that was that she had gotten used to that from the various lessons she'd had this week. I was just about bursting with pride.
Even Madison could see the difference after the pros helped her out in the last several days. "Mom," she said in the car after the audition, "I couldn't have gotten in if it hadn't been for you helping me practice and getting me the lessons." I was stunned that at 7 she could step back and see that, but of course I downplayed it. "That's my job, to get you the tools you need to do what you want to do," I replied.
I was actually more stressed out than Madison was between Saturday and today, although she of course didn't know it. It's possible that the hives I broke out in on Saturday afternoon were the main manifestation of my internal strife. The night before the audition, I woke up at 4am with the music playing loudly in my head, and couldn't get back to sleep for 2 hours. This morning, even after Madison's success yesterday, I also woke up at 4am with the music playing loudly in my head, and because I couldn't get back to sleep, here I am at the computer at 5:30.
I was so worried that Madison would be devastated if she didn't get in, that this would reinforce her tendency to hedge-the-bet and denigrate herself and predict doom rather than success, to prevent that kind of disappointment in future endeavors. She really would do that, too, she's so passionate about things. I know that if she didn't get in after working so hard, that this in itself would have been a valuable lesson, that sometimes you work hard and it doesn't work out, but I want her to learn THAT lesson a little later in life than 7! Madison takes things too seriously so often, so I had so carefully to harness her drive and use it to motivate her to practice, but also to balance it with the reassurance that if she didn't get in this year, she's really on the young side ("sometimes I do take third graders," the director commented, "but not often."), that there are other choruses she could sing in if she didn't get in.
But it looks very much like she got in. Comments like, "she has a beautiful voice," and "I think this program will be exactly what she needs" and "I'm very suspicious of voice lessons around here because they tend to emphasize chest voice over head voice, and the kids lose the ability to sing in the head voice...she might be better off just in the chorus with no lessons at all" and "we can't let people OFFICIALLY know until after June 4" tell me that the director will let her in.
What a relief.
And, as I've been telling her the last couple of weeks, simply the fact that she has worked SO HARD at this makes me so confident for her in the future, that she'll be able to achieve exactly what she wants to achieve in life. I'm so proud.
The audition pieces were rigorous -- one song was in German -- and they sing very high -- she had to be able to sustain a high G in one place, and get to it from a B-flat.
They give you a one-to-one pre-audition workshop which was last Saturday, and at it, my baby crashed and burned out of a sudden case of nerves. I felt so terrible for her, but she did not get very upset about it, especially when I assured her that this happens to many and that she's really on the young side to be trying out for the choir anyway. I was very proud of her for keeping her composure. I also felt really guilty for not having given her much more guidance than I had, I had basically left her on her own to listen to the practice CD. She knew the German no problem, but vocally she just couldn't hit the high notes.
The audition-proper was yesterday, and so, in the spirit of "if Mom doesn't know the tips to give you, she'll find someone who does," on Sunday I had a friend who sings classically work with her, and on Monday and Tuesday I got her two lessons at a conservatory near here. And yesterday, she rallied incredibly, and did VERY well at the audition (it helped that the director, who had been very pressed for time on Saturday and had basically dismissed her at the time after Madison had said "I CAN'T sing those high notes," had seen so many children in the last week that she didn't really remember Madison, so she didn't remember how badly she had done the first time).
You might get the impression that I was pushing her to be in the choir, but that isn't the case at all -- the kid loves to sing, and wanted so badly to be in the choir that she worked like heck, all from her own impetus, for the last three weeks. I did want her to get in because it's exactly the kind of musical experience that will focus her, she'll love it, they sing BEAUTIFUL music (when I was a child playing cello in the NJ Region II orchestra, it would move me that I was part of making beautiful music, and that stayed with me forever), and she'll become friends with good kids who are like her. But I really only wanted her to get in because SHE wanted to get in...I certainly didn't push her at all. She didn't have the sense that I wanted her to get in for any reason other than that I wanted to help her get what she wanted.
Part of the reason the director was impressed yesterday, I think, is that Madison was very willing to work there with her to do what the director wanted...she took Madison through various exercises to see her range, to help her envision the various notes, to correct a bit of the pronunciation. There was no fidgeting, no resistance, just focus on the director and willingness to follow the directions. Part of that was that she had gotten used to that from the various lessons she'd had this week. I was just about bursting with pride.
Even Madison could see the difference after the pros helped her out in the last several days. "Mom," she said in the car after the audition, "I couldn't have gotten in if it hadn't been for you helping me practice and getting me the lessons." I was stunned that at 7 she could step back and see that, but of course I downplayed it. "That's my job, to get you the tools you need to do what you want to do," I replied.
I was actually more stressed out than Madison was between Saturday and today, although she of course didn't know it. It's possible that the hives I broke out in on Saturday afternoon were the main manifestation of my internal strife. The night before the audition, I woke up at 4am with the music playing loudly in my head, and couldn't get back to sleep for 2 hours. This morning, even after Madison's success yesterday, I also woke up at 4am with the music playing loudly in my head, and because I couldn't get back to sleep, here I am at the computer at 5:30.
I was so worried that Madison would be devastated if she didn't get in, that this would reinforce her tendency to hedge-the-bet and denigrate herself and predict doom rather than success, to prevent that kind of disappointment in future endeavors. She really would do that, too, she's so passionate about things. I know that if she didn't get in after working so hard, that this in itself would have been a valuable lesson, that sometimes you work hard and it doesn't work out, but I want her to learn THAT lesson a little later in life than 7! Madison takes things too seriously so often, so I had so carefully to harness her drive and use it to motivate her to practice, but also to balance it with the reassurance that if she didn't get in this year, she's really on the young side ("sometimes I do take third graders," the director commented, "but not often."), that there are other choruses she could sing in if she didn't get in.
But it looks very much like she got in. Comments like, "she has a beautiful voice," and "I think this program will be exactly what she needs" and "I'm very suspicious of voice lessons around here because they tend to emphasize chest voice over head voice, and the kids lose the ability to sing in the head voice...she might be better off just in the chorus with no lessons at all" and "we can't let people OFFICIALLY know until after June 4" tell me that the director will let her in.
What a relief.
And, as I've been telling her the last couple of weeks, simply the fact that she has worked SO HARD at this makes me so confident for her in the future, that she'll be able to achieve exactly what she wants to achieve in life. I'm so proud.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Ella's dreaming
Ella woke up from a dream about...baseball. She dreamed that the Rochester Red Wings had hit three home runs, among other more elaborate details of the game.
This delights me, believe it or not, for two reasons. First is that she's dreaming at all, and recounting the dreams in detail. Madison has always had, like me, these elaborate dreams that she loved talking about when she awoke (I used to annoy people with the elaborateness of my dreams and my insistence on talking about them). Ella, though, almost NEVER recounted dreams. I couldn't tell if it meant something about her imagination, or intelligence...or if the fact of the elaborate dreams were linked to MADISON's imagination or intelligence, of which the kid certainly had plenty. Now, almost at about the same time she's gotten engaged and immersed in these fantasy chapter books on CD, she's dreaming like heck.
The other reason I'm happy she's dreaming about baseball in particular is that it must mean something to her. She understands the rules of the game, now, is happy to sit through a 3-hour game with all of us, and she has integrated it enough into her personality for it to emerge in a cool dream. I love baseball. It's another connection that I have with both my girls. How fun.
Just as an update: We've finished the final available book in the Children of the Red King series, #5, Charlie Bone and the Hidden King. The other day, I found a great web site that will be very enjoyable for those who have read this series: Charlie-Bone.com.
This delights me, believe it or not, for two reasons. First is that she's dreaming at all, and recounting the dreams in detail. Madison has always had, like me, these elaborate dreams that she loved talking about when she awoke (I used to annoy people with the elaborateness of my dreams and my insistence on talking about them). Ella, though, almost NEVER recounted dreams. I couldn't tell if it meant something about her imagination, or intelligence...or if the fact of the elaborate dreams were linked to MADISON's imagination or intelligence, of which the kid certainly had plenty. Now, almost at about the same time she's gotten engaged and immersed in these fantasy chapter books on CD, she's dreaming like heck.
The other reason I'm happy she's dreaming about baseball in particular is that it must mean something to her. She understands the rules of the game, now, is happy to sit through a 3-hour game with all of us, and she has integrated it enough into her personality for it to emerge in a cool dream. I love baseball. It's another connection that I have with both my girls. How fun.
Just as an update: We've finished the final available book in the Children of the Red King series, #5, Charlie Bone and the Hidden King. The other day, I found a great web site that will be very enjoyable for those who have read this series: Charlie-Bone.com.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Camporee
Madison has been a Brownie since we moved here, and Ella has just joined, too, although she won't be an "official" Brownie until the next school year starts in September. Madison always wanted to be a Brownie, and loves being a Brownie. Ella likes the meetings even more than Madison.
Yesterday, we went to Camporee, an event that is held every three years, a big gathering of about 300 Girl Scouts from Brownies all the way up through seniors. It was the Camporee event for the "Millwheel" branch of the Girl Scouts of the Genesee Valley, which I think was mostly from Penfield.
Anyway, it's an event for the seniors to design events for the younger ones, under the supervision of the adult directors. David (I think one of only 3 men there, and certainly the only dad) and I were bus monitors, and patrol leaders of the patrol Ella was in. All the kids were nice enough, but it really gave us a sense of perspective about our own kids: No matter how much we think that they're not "snapping-to-it" quickly enough when we ask them to pay attention, they're better than most of the kids. It amazed me how most of them are pretty quick to ignore you, how you have to go to lengths to corral them and get their attention.
Madison and Ella did four activities: A Sports hour, a "dinosaur dig," crafts, and a nature hike. Except for the sports, which was run by the guy who ran the camp, the rest were designed and run by the older kids. You can't go too far wrong with crafts, and they chose to have the girls paint a tote bag. But most of the rest of what we saw there was really hokey, especially the dinosaur dig. Because each activity mostly took less than the full hour, the girls had down time, which was mostly taken with tetherball and informal tag.
The opening and closing ceremonies were mostly nice, around the flagpole, but they took too long because it was hard to get the girls' attention and they let the time be taken up with lengthy announcements and a little bit of silliness.
When I find people who are able to give my kids great experiences that I can't, I get so grateful, sometimes, that I actually get a lump in my throat. But this wasn't like that at all. Although my kids weren't bored, and had a good time, I didn't feel as though they were necessarily in the hands of something great. And, weirdly enough, I found that the whole thing brought up strange emotions that must have had their genesis in my childhood, but I don't remember what. I remember hating Girl Scout camp. Maybe that was it. But I guess the truth is, and I must whisper this: I don't really like the whole Brownie thing. Any of it. This is one activity that I do just because they wanted to. I don't like bringing them to meetings, I don't like doing activities with the other "Brownie moms," I volunteer for my share of stuff because that's what you do when your kids are in Brownies, but I don't really like it. I really don't like it.. Shhhhhh now don't tell.
Yesterday, we went to Camporee, an event that is held every three years, a big gathering of about 300 Girl Scouts from Brownies all the way up through seniors. It was the Camporee event for the "Millwheel" branch of the Girl Scouts of the Genesee Valley, which I think was mostly from Penfield.
Anyway, it's an event for the seniors to design events for the younger ones, under the supervision of the adult directors. David (I think one of only 3 men there, and certainly the only dad) and I were bus monitors, and patrol leaders of the patrol Ella was in. All the kids were nice enough, but it really gave us a sense of perspective about our own kids: No matter how much we think that they're not "snapping-to-it" quickly enough when we ask them to pay attention, they're better than most of the kids. It amazed me how most of them are pretty quick to ignore you, how you have to go to lengths to corral them and get their attention.
Madison and Ella did four activities: A Sports hour, a "dinosaur dig," crafts, and a nature hike. Except for the sports, which was run by the guy who ran the camp, the rest were designed and run by the older kids. You can't go too far wrong with crafts, and they chose to have the girls paint a tote bag. But most of the rest of what we saw there was really hokey, especially the dinosaur dig. Because each activity mostly took less than the full hour, the girls had down time, which was mostly taken with tetherball and informal tag.
The opening and closing ceremonies were mostly nice, around the flagpole, but they took too long because it was hard to get the girls' attention and they let the time be taken up with lengthy announcements and a little bit of silliness.
When I find people who are able to give my kids great experiences that I can't, I get so grateful, sometimes, that I actually get a lump in my throat. But this wasn't like that at all. Although my kids weren't bored, and had a good time, I didn't feel as though they were necessarily in the hands of something great. And, weirdly enough, I found that the whole thing brought up strange emotions that must have had their genesis in my childhood, but I don't remember what. I remember hating Girl Scout camp. Maybe that was it. But I guess the truth is, and I must whisper this: I don't really like the whole Brownie thing. Any of it. This is one activity that I do just because they wanted to. I don't like bringing them to meetings, I don't like doing activities with the other "Brownie moms," I volunteer for my share of stuff because that's what you do when your kids are in Brownies, but I don't really like it. I really don't like it.. Shhhhhh now don't tell.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Children of the Red King
We, meaning the whole family, are absolutely enthralled with listening to the Charlie Bone series of books on tape. This is Jenny Nimmo's Children of the Red King series. We're midway through book #4 (Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors) of five existing books, and a sixth book is coming out next month. Simon Russell Beale reads these books on CD, and he is fabulous, so fabulous that for me and the girls, listening to these CDs beats reading them ourselves. Charlie Bone is really similar to Harry Potter in many respects, in that it's about children with magical powers at a boarding school in England. But Nimmo is a better writer than Rowling, quite a bit darker, with fewer monsters with scales and more monsters in the shape of evil relatives.
Adrienne, make SURE to order the sixth book as soon as it comes out on CD! I hope they're working on it even as we speak. Do you have magical ways of finding out if it's in production?
Adrienne, make SURE to order the sixth book as soon as it comes out on CD! I hope they're working on it even as we speak. Do you have magical ways of finding out if it's in production?
Cruel Mommy
Ella is in an anti-reading phase lately. She's been reading the Boxcar Children #1, she reads one page with help, and either I or Madison read two pages, then she reads another page, etc. And lately, she's been just bursting into tears instead of focusing and reading the words she knows. It's a ploy, is the thing. She can read the stuff. But she's decided that she doesn't want to, because it's hard. But I'm making her. I'm not unsympathetic, but not particularly sympathetic either because she's just stalling to see if I'll reduce the amount to be read. I put my arm around her, and snuggle her in, and tell her that the extra time she's taking here is time she's taking away from playing later.
The loose unschooler types would castigate me for making a child do something she's not ready to do, that her crying means she's not ready. They'd tell me that it's going to make her against reading for life, that it's not going to be something she wants to do for pleasure as a result of my pressure.
I snort. Her crying means she's a good actress. She'll be fine.
But it's no fun.
To be a bit more serious about it, I have to keep submerging my own desire for her to read exactly on Madison's same timetable. I just want her to have the same kind of pleasure Madison had, as early as Madison has had it.
Also, even though Ella doesn't watch that much TV, it would be nice if she substituted some reading for the TV she does see. Madison watches almost no TV, just isn't interested.
The loose unschooler types would castigate me for making a child do something she's not ready to do, that her crying means she's not ready. They'd tell me that it's going to make her against reading for life, that it's not going to be something she wants to do for pleasure as a result of my pressure.
I snort. Her crying means she's a good actress. She'll be fine.
But it's no fun.
To be a bit more serious about it, I have to keep submerging my own desire for her to read exactly on Madison's same timetable. I just want her to have the same kind of pleasure Madison had, as early as Madison has had it.
Also, even though Ella doesn't watch that much TV, it would be nice if she substituted some reading for the TV she does see. Madison watches almost no TV, just isn't interested.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Necessary
Looking at the page, at the actual sentence to be read, is rather necessary for the reading process. Looking around the room tends to slow you down.
Why this escapes children, I have no idea.
Why this escapes children, I have no idea.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Capitalism...We teach it!
The lemonade stand was the biggest hit EVER. Madison and Ella basically ran the whole show, with minimal help from me and even more minimal help from the lovely RIT Math Club reps.
It was a beautiful day, 66 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. I hadn't anticipated Ella being so able to help, but she filled up lemonade cups for three hours and added precisely four extra drops of "secret formula" (lemon juice from one of those little yellow squeezy plastic lemons) to each cup. They sold about 7 gallons of lemonade...I had to run in to the math department building to make additional lemonade three times. Good thing I also brought along a smaller extra keg.
In addition to the new "lemonade-yellow" outfit we got her at Target for the occasion, Madison also wore a "Madison Ross Class of 2021" name tag. That got a lot of notice. We did a lot of practicing of "When someone hands you money for a product you ALWAYS say 'Thank you' enthusiastically right then." Madison also decided to add "And have a nice day!" when people left.
The stand made $49.00 profit overall, after subtracting the $7.50 in supplies, which Madison fronted with her own money. You might think that translates into exactly 113 cups sold, but it doesn't...I am not sure how many people said "Keep the change!" but it was at least 15 people.
That's Madison calculating the profit, above. 60% of it ($29.40) went to the RIT Math Club, which left $19.60 for my kids. In turn, Madison split THAT 60-40 (ah, percentages! lots of math was done at this table!) leaving her with $11.64 and Ella with $7.76. "That's almost $4 per hour!" Madison said. "At this rate, I could be rich!"
Here is Madison with Kate, the Math Club rep (and Ella is blowing bubbles in the background):
The Math Club kids tried to ask me to let the girls take all of the profits ("We didn't do anything but sit here some of the time on a nice day!") but both I and David felt strongly that they should have the greater percentage, and Madison agreed with our reasoning. In the car on the way home, Madison and I had a discussion about Public Relations and why it's often more enticing for people to buy products as part of a fundraiser than just from their own needs, which in this case would be thirst (and, as Madison reminded me, because they would want to support cute little kids in their own business).
We also had a discussion of risk, in the context of why Madison should have the greater percentage of profit even though Ella worked for the same amount of time that she did. But as I pointed out, Madison assumed the risk for the endeavor...she fronted the money for the supplies, and if no one had bought lemonade, she'd be out the $7.50. So she deserves a higher percentage. (Right, Steve?)
"What are you going to buy with the money you're making?" the kids from the Math Club asked Madison. "Oh, I'm going to save it," she replied breezily. They were impressed. Turns out she's saving up for...a TV set for her room. HMMMMMM.
Anyway, they LOVED doing this. They would do it every week if they could. We're almost certainly going to do it in September. Big plans were discussed in the car on the way home. What if we sold both fresh-squeezed lemonade AND from a mix, so people could choose? Could we charge more? We'd have to charge more. Do you think people would pay $1 for the fresh-squeezed? Do you think we'd sell more of fresh-squeezed? Do you think we'd make a bigger profit with fresh-squeezed? How much are lemons at BJ's? Maybe we could sell cookies, too.
The only down side of the whole endeavor? When we got home, somehow Ella locked our new cash box with her fingernail, and we can't get it open. So it's sitting there with the girls' money in it, enticingly, on the kitchen table. The keys are locked inside.
It was a beautiful day, 66 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. I hadn't anticipated Ella being so able to help, but she filled up lemonade cups for three hours and added precisely four extra drops of "secret formula" (lemon juice from one of those little yellow squeezy plastic lemons) to each cup. They sold about 7 gallons of lemonade...I had to run in to the math department building to make additional lemonade three times. Good thing I also brought along a smaller extra keg.
In addition to the new "lemonade-yellow" outfit we got her at Target for the occasion, Madison also wore a "Madison Ross Class of 2021" name tag. That got a lot of notice. We did a lot of practicing of "When someone hands you money for a product you ALWAYS say 'Thank you' enthusiastically right then." Madison also decided to add "And have a nice day!" when people left.
The stand made $49.00 profit overall, after subtracting the $7.50 in supplies, which Madison fronted with her own money. You might think that translates into exactly 113 cups sold, but it doesn't...I am not sure how many people said "Keep the change!" but it was at least 15 people.
That's Madison calculating the profit, above. 60% of it ($29.40) went to the RIT Math Club, which left $19.60 for my kids. In turn, Madison split THAT 60-40 (ah, percentages! lots of math was done at this table!) leaving her with $11.64 and Ella with $7.76. "That's almost $4 per hour!" Madison said. "At this rate, I could be rich!"
Here is Madison with Kate, the Math Club rep (and Ella is blowing bubbles in the background):
The Math Club kids tried to ask me to let the girls take all of the profits ("We didn't do anything but sit here some of the time on a nice day!") but both I and David felt strongly that they should have the greater percentage, and Madison agreed with our reasoning. In the car on the way home, Madison and I had a discussion about Public Relations and why it's often more enticing for people to buy products as part of a fundraiser than just from their own needs, which in this case would be thirst (and, as Madison reminded me, because they would want to support cute little kids in their own business).
We also had a discussion of risk, in the context of why Madison should have the greater percentage of profit even though Ella worked for the same amount of time that she did. But as I pointed out, Madison assumed the risk for the endeavor...she fronted the money for the supplies, and if no one had bought lemonade, she'd be out the $7.50. So she deserves a higher percentage. (Right, Steve?)
"What are you going to buy with the money you're making?" the kids from the Math Club asked Madison. "Oh, I'm going to save it," she replied breezily. They were impressed. Turns out she's saving up for...a TV set for her room. HMMMMMM.
Anyway, they LOVED doing this. They would do it every week if they could. We're almost certainly going to do it in September. Big plans were discussed in the car on the way home. What if we sold both fresh-squeezed lemonade AND from a mix, so people could choose? Could we charge more? We'd have to charge more. Do you think people would pay $1 for the fresh-squeezed? Do you think we'd sell more of fresh-squeezed? Do you think we'd make a bigger profit with fresh-squeezed? How much are lemons at BJ's? Maybe we could sell cookies, too.
The only down side of the whole endeavor? When we got home, somehow Ella locked our new cash box with her fingernail, and we can't get it open. So it's sitting there with the girls' money in it, enticingly, on the kitchen table. The keys are locked inside.
Bist du bie mir
Madison is in the audition process for the Bach Children's Chorus, a fantastic classical music singing group here in Rochester.
Right now, she is practicing a hard German song that she has to memorize as part of an audition for the Bach Children's Chorus, which is a very professional difficult children's chorus composed of kids from 8-17. She has to memorize two songs, one a German song called Bist Du Bie Mir, and the other something in English from Handel.
She practices for 3 weeks, she makes an appointment for an individual "checkup," then practices for another week and then auditions. It totally moves me how hard she's working at this. SHE wants to do it, I'm not pushing her at all. Fortunately, she can do it as part of "school." If she gets in, one of the benefits will be that she will be able to sing the beautiful music I did as a member of a chorus. That was a really fulfilling part of school for me, and I had feared they would miss out.
We don't know if she will make it, she'll only be 8 in September and it's not like she has professional voice lessons or anything. But they say that they usually take kids that prove they can work hard and make it through the audition process. Rehearsals are every Saturday morning for 2 hours starting in September. She can always try again next year if she doesn't make it this year. They sing stuff in Latin, German, Russian, Spanish, French, etc. They travel each year, they sing with the Rochester Philharmonic, and always do the Nutcracker and Handel's Messiah at Christmas. This will be very good for her, a good way for her to make good friends who also love music. It will be nice if she has this while Ella has her dancing -- Madison is definitely not a dancer.
I'm kind of glad Bist du bie mir is in German. Because here are the words in English:
(If) you are with me
I go with joy
to death and peace.
Oh, how pleasurable
would be my end!
Your beautiful hands press
my faithful eyes close.
Right now, she is practicing a hard German song that she has to memorize as part of an audition for the Bach Children's Chorus, which is a very professional difficult children's chorus composed of kids from 8-17. She has to memorize two songs, one a German song called Bist Du Bie Mir, and the other something in English from Handel.
She practices for 3 weeks, she makes an appointment for an individual "checkup," then practices for another week and then auditions. It totally moves me how hard she's working at this. SHE wants to do it, I'm not pushing her at all. Fortunately, she can do it as part of "school." If she gets in, one of the benefits will be that she will be able to sing the beautiful music I did as a member of a chorus. That was a really fulfilling part of school for me, and I had feared they would miss out.
We don't know if she will make it, she'll only be 8 in September and it's not like she has professional voice lessons or anything. But they say that they usually take kids that prove they can work hard and make it through the audition process. Rehearsals are every Saturday morning for 2 hours starting in September. She can always try again next year if she doesn't make it this year. They sing stuff in Latin, German, Russian, Spanish, French, etc. They travel each year, they sing with the Rochester Philharmonic, and always do the Nutcracker and Handel's Messiah at Christmas. This will be very good for her, a good way for her to make good friends who also love music. It will be nice if she has this while Ella has her dancing -- Madison is definitely not a dancer.
I'm kind of glad Bist du bie mir is in German. Because here are the words in English:
(If) you are with me
I go with joy
to death and peace.
Oh, how pleasurable
would be my end!
Your beautiful hands press
my faithful eyes close.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Don't you hate it when THIS happens...
SOMETHING is going on, 10:30-11:30 on Friday. I know this, because I wrote it on a scrap of paper, a statement from Morgan Stanley, TODAY. I wrote it sometime today. "I know I'll remember this," I said to myself. But I think I'll write it HERE, on this paper right next to me, so I can be sure to remember.
10:30-11:30 Friday, I wrote.
I have no blessed idea what this could be. Really, no idea. Whatever it is, it conflicts with what we're doing Friday morning, which is Madison is finally going to have her lemonade stand. She proposed to the RIT Math Club that she have a lemonade stand as a fundraiser for them, as a way to get on campus with plenty of customers. (You can't just plunk yourself down on the main walk and have a lemonade stand, even if you're cute and 7 and the daughter of a professor.) She's going to have the stand from 11:30-2:30, at some picnic that the club is hosting.
We got our sign materials from the Dollar Store today. Have to get a cash box and a keg. Photos forthcoming after the Big Sale!
What the heck could be happening from 10:30-11:30 on a FRIDAY morning?
Update: Turns out this is referring to a call I'm supposed to have with a client on MONDAY morning. Why I'd written Friday I've no idea.
10:30-11:30 Friday, I wrote.
I have no blessed idea what this could be. Really, no idea. Whatever it is, it conflicts with what we're doing Friday morning, which is Madison is finally going to have her lemonade stand. She proposed to the RIT Math Club that she have a lemonade stand as a fundraiser for them, as a way to get on campus with plenty of customers. (You can't just plunk yourself down on the main walk and have a lemonade stand, even if you're cute and 7 and the daughter of a professor.) She's going to have the stand from 11:30-2:30, at some picnic that the club is hosting.
We got our sign materials from the Dollar Store today. Have to get a cash box and a keg. Photos forthcoming after the Big Sale!
What the heck could be happening from 10:30-11:30 on a FRIDAY morning?
Update: Turns out this is referring to a call I'm supposed to have with a client on MONDAY morning. Why I'd written Friday I've no idea.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
My baby is 6...6!!!! today
Ella turns six today. How old that is! Madison turned six only 20 months ago. Here she is wearing the beautiful white dress Tatiana gave her.
We had a very low-key birthday party for her at her ballet studio. I love parties where all you have to do is get the cake and bring along your cute kid, and they do the rest. A dozen little girls tumbled, they danced, they did a craft, sang happy birthday to Ella, and ate ice cream cake. We opened the presents at home, because we try to have birthday parties not be about the presents, but about giving guests a good time.
Then we went to Chili's for dinner, where a half-dozen teenage waiters and waitresses sang and clapped "Happy Happy Birthday" to my lovely little girl.
But I think this was my favorite photo of all. The Snuggle With Daddy After Opening Presents photo.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Science Educators and Science Education
For the last four days, I've been in New York City at the Bronx Zoo for a 3-day workshop that I attended with the two education coordinators from the local zoo, the Seneca Park Zoo. Seven 3-person teams from all over the northeast attended this workshop. The sponsoring group was "SPARKS" -- "Supporting Parents in Advocacy, Research, and Knowledge in Science." Attendees were from "ISI's" -- Informal Science Institutions -- with a parent representative from the community.
I want to write about this experience but don't know quite how to organize it, mostly because it, itself was not organized well. None of us who were attending knew quite what we were attending for, what the ultimate point of this all was, other than promoting science education with parents. I went because, well, partly I really see this kind of thing as part of my job with KidsOutAndAbout.com -- one of my missions is to promote science and to spark parents' interest in their kids education, as a subset of my main mission, to promote reason in the culture. I also went as a homeschooling parent, because I had a vague expectation that perhaps they would inundate me with ideas and resources and creativity for stuff to do with kids that I hadn't thought of.
We couldn't really tell until the end of the second day that what they wanted was for us to do the exact same 2-day workshop with a bunch of parents that we were getting: Some vague stuff from the education schools about how children learn, circadian rhythms, the "multiple intelligences" idea which is just oh, so fashionable but when you look at Gardiner's premises and what he actually says (which we didn't) you can see that what he is saying is not only unprofound but untrue. Also on the morning of the second day, the instructors tried to take us from:
So in essence I pointed out that this is nonsense. "I have seen some of this kind of thing before," I pointed out to the group charmingly, sweeting, and pseudo-naively, "but I must say, I just can't see the point of what is being called "open inquiry." Sure, what we want is for kids to use their brain themselves and to want to do it, but that's not the same thing as is being promoted here. Kids NEED context, they NEED information, they NEED guidance. This kind of advocates throwing a kid into a situation with no preparation and then letting them get messy and dirty in whatever it is, without showing them how to focus their attention on some specific thing they could learn from. Let me tell you what the effect has been in mathematics with the way education has been promoting this exact same concept over the past 15-20 years, my husband has seen the effect close up...KIDS CAN'T DO MATH when they get to college..."
I will be proud of myself for getting the whole group so much on my side with this that the instructors are revising their presentation for that segment of the workshop. "What I'm hearing here is that people are coming to an agreement that guided inquiry is being seen as more the ideal than open-ended inquiry...is that right?" Heads nodded vigorously. "OK, we'll revisit this for the next group that we work with, in Chicago in May."
I have more to say here, but I will close with how much it struck me that
1) Science educators are so different from scientists.
2) How low their standards are both for parent involvement AND for how much scientific knowledge kids can absorb.
This fact-fact-FACT-oriented mom was appalled.
I want to write about this experience but don't know quite how to organize it, mostly because it, itself was not organized well. None of us who were attending knew quite what we were attending for, what the ultimate point of this all was, other than promoting science education with parents. I went because, well, partly I really see this kind of thing as part of my job with KidsOutAndAbout.com -- one of my missions is to promote science and to spark parents' interest in their kids education, as a subset of my main mission, to promote reason in the culture. I also went as a homeschooling parent, because I had a vague expectation that perhaps they would inundate me with ideas and resources and creativity for stuff to do with kids that I hadn't thought of.
We couldn't really tell until the end of the second day that what they wanted was for us to do the exact same 2-day workshop with a bunch of parents that we were getting: Some vague stuff from the education schools about how children learn, circadian rhythms, the "multiple intelligences" idea which is just oh, so fashionable but when you look at Gardiner's premises and what he actually says (which we didn't) you can see that what he is saying is not only unprofound but untrue. Also on the morning of the second day, the instructors tried to take us from:
- Structured inquiry....bad to
Guided inquiry....better to
Open-ended inquiry....the ideal, but usually not attainable
So in essence I pointed out that this is nonsense. "I have seen some of this kind of thing before," I pointed out to the group charmingly, sweeting, and pseudo-naively, "but I must say, I just can't see the point of what is being called "open inquiry." Sure, what we want is for kids to use their brain themselves and to want to do it, but that's not the same thing as is being promoted here. Kids NEED context, they NEED information, they NEED guidance. This kind of advocates throwing a kid into a situation with no preparation and then letting them get messy and dirty in whatever it is, without showing them how to focus their attention on some specific thing they could learn from. Let me tell you what the effect has been in mathematics with the way education has been promoting this exact same concept over the past 15-20 years, my husband has seen the effect close up...KIDS CAN'T DO MATH when they get to college..."
I will be proud of myself for getting the whole group so much on my side with this that the instructors are revising their presentation for that segment of the workshop. "What I'm hearing here is that people are coming to an agreement that guided inquiry is being seen as more the ideal than open-ended inquiry...is that right?" Heads nodded vigorously. "OK, we'll revisit this for the next group that we work with, in Chicago in May."
I have more to say here, but I will close with how much it struck me that
1) Science educators are so different from scientists.
2) How low their standards are both for parent involvement AND for how much scientific knowledge kids can absorb.
This fact-fact-FACT-oriented mom was appalled.
Monday, April 09, 2007
The easiest kid party ever, with the biggest payoff
We had an Easter egg hunt on Saturday, with 400 eggs and about 30 kids. It has to be the best kind of party to have ... preparation is a snap, and fun. Hosting it is a snap, and fun. It's short, only an hour, so it's not as though you're entertaining people endlessly, but everyone has a great time and then leaves to go off and do their own thing that day. They even put their candy trash in the bags and the eggs in the big box once they've opened them up. This party gives the biggest bang for the buck because it doesn't matter how many kids you have, you can always accommodate more. And it's a great way to reciprocate for having been guests at other peoples' houses, you no longer feel like you owe them one. And YOUR kids get to be the ones with the cool annual Easter egg hunt.
We did it in the freezing cold snow flurries, and every one still had a blast. It only cost me the amount of about 10 bags of candy, 2 prizes for the gold and silver egg (fancy bubble-blowers) and $15 to rent a coffee urn for the weekend.
Here's the article on KidsOutAndAbout.com that got me to do this. The lady who wrote it actually gave me all of her old eggs, so I didn't even need to go out and buy eggs. That's how the whole article got started -- she asked me if I wanted her eggs, because her own kids were too old and the eggs were cluttering up the basement.
It was great. I highly recommend it. And nowadays, all the eggs are on sale, so go out and get them and prepare for next year.
We did it in the freezing cold snow flurries, and every one still had a blast. It only cost me the amount of about 10 bags of candy, 2 prizes for the gold and silver egg (fancy bubble-blowers) and $15 to rent a coffee urn for the weekend.
Here's the article on KidsOutAndAbout.com that got me to do this. The lady who wrote it actually gave me all of her old eggs, so I didn't even need to go out and buy eggs. That's how the whole article got started -- she asked me if I wanted her eggs, because her own kids were too old and the eggs were cluttering up the basement.
It was great. I highly recommend it. And nowadays, all the eggs are on sale, so go out and get them and prepare for next year.
Ella's Math EXPLOSION
Ella had a math explosion last weekend, a big one. First, she showed that she has mastered the concept of multiplication. If you ask her 6 x 8, for example, she'll figure it out, somehow, counting in her head. It's fairly amazing.
Then, we decided that she was ready to be introduced to X. And by god, that child loves X. x + 4 = 12? No problem, give me one harder. x - 3 = 15? Oh, come on, I need a harder one. x - 6 = 22 ... ok, that's hard enough. Um, maybe a little too hard! Ok, it's 28. Give me another! Another! Another! When I've been giving her a set of 12 problems for school, she gets through them in 5 minutes.
X is now Ella's best friend, and has been our constant companion for a week.
I love this.
Then, we decided that she was ready to be introduced to X. And by god, that child loves X. x + 4 = 12? No problem, give me one harder. x - 3 = 15? Oh, come on, I need a harder one. x - 6 = 22 ... ok, that's hard enough. Um, maybe a little too hard! Ok, it's 28. Give me another! Another! Another! When I've been giving her a set of 12 problems for school, she gets through them in 5 minutes.
X is now Ella's best friend, and has been our constant companion for a week.
I love this.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Ella and reading
I feel so privileged to have such a front-seat row to the phenomenon of Ella's learning to read.
She's right there, perched on the edge, right at the cusp of it being easy.
It's still an effort, for the most part, but five things are characterizing this new stage:
1) She knows a LOT more words by sight. Sometimes I can't tell if she knows them by sight or knows them from context; regardless, she's reading a lot faster.
2) She is sounding out words much more quickly, sometimes, as with easy ones, so quickly that it does not cause a pause in her reading; words like "mud."
3) She is starting naturally to read signs when we're out and about. They are visible to her as words rather than as symbols.
4) When there is something to be read, she often (though not usually) stops me when I start reading it for her, and says, "No, I want to read it!" For our now-7-year-old friend Dario last year, that was the hallmark of his reading -- once he had it even a little, he wanted to do it. Ella has always, since she was a baby, had the philosophy, "Well, if someone else can do it for me, why not? Comfort is important, after all." She had that attitude about hiking, too, but even that is starting to change.
5) Ella is becoming willing, even eager, to hear chapter books without pictures read aloud. She has explained to me in the past that she can't see the pictures in her head for chapter books; in this way, she is very different from Madison at the same age. But now that we're listening to a lot of books-on-CD in the car, she's even happier to hear books than music. She loves hearing snippets of the Harry Potter books that Madison is reading (she's in the middle of book 5), and Ella loves the Harry Potter movies. We're listening to Emlyn's Moon right now, a tale set in Wales.
At one-month-before-6 with Madison, we had made our way through my reading all 19 of the original Boxcar Children series, and Madison was very motivated to learn to read them on her own. She was very skeptical that she could do it, but right at this age, she started to try it and that was it, she was off to the races and has never "needed" us to read to her since. I think Ella will be chronologically a little behind Madison, but not too far. She likes the Boxcars, but she's in no way obsessed with them as Madison was.
She's right there, perched on the edge, right at the cusp of it being easy.
It's still an effort, for the most part, but five things are characterizing this new stage:
1) She knows a LOT more words by sight. Sometimes I can't tell if she knows them by sight or knows them from context; regardless, she's reading a lot faster.
2) She is sounding out words much more quickly, sometimes, as with easy ones, so quickly that it does not cause a pause in her reading; words like "mud."
3) She is starting naturally to read signs when we're out and about. They are visible to her as words rather than as symbols.
4) When there is something to be read, she often (though not usually) stops me when I start reading it for her, and says, "No, I want to read it!" For our now-7-year-old friend Dario last year, that was the hallmark of his reading -- once he had it even a little, he wanted to do it. Ella has always, since she was a baby, had the philosophy, "Well, if someone else can do it for me, why not? Comfort is important, after all." She had that attitude about hiking, too, but even that is starting to change.
5) Ella is becoming willing, even eager, to hear chapter books without pictures read aloud. She has explained to me in the past that she can't see the pictures in her head for chapter books; in this way, she is very different from Madison at the same age. But now that we're listening to a lot of books-on-CD in the car, she's even happier to hear books than music. She loves hearing snippets of the Harry Potter books that Madison is reading (she's in the middle of book 5), and Ella loves the Harry Potter movies. We're listening to Emlyn's Moon right now, a tale set in Wales.
At one-month-before-6 with Madison, we had made our way through my reading all 19 of the original Boxcar Children series, and Madison was very motivated to learn to read them on her own. She was very skeptical that she could do it, but right at this age, she started to try it and that was it, she was off to the races and has never "needed" us to read to her since. I think Ella will be chronologically a little behind Madison, but not too far. She likes the Boxcars, but she's in no way obsessed with them as Madison was.
Monday, March 19, 2007
A New Timeline
We started a new timeline last week: Western Culture, 1450-2001. It's 11 feet long, as opposed to the 115-foot long timeline we were able to have snaking through the basement of our last house. But that one had to cover 4.6 billion years of earth's history, this one just needs to cover 550 years.
The girls absolutely love the timeline, and I think it will help with the Birthday of the Day, too. Last week, we colored in 2-cm-wide strips at the top of the timeline to represent the main intellectual/historical movements: Reformation, Renaissance, Elizabethan Era, Enlightenment, Industrial Revolution, Computer Age. We put the main American wars on there, too.
Early this morning, I started finding images of great people...past Birthdays of the Day, plus people I just thought should be on there. I have the next 14 days of B of the D too, so they can paste them on sometime during the relevant mornings. We had a terrific time doing about 10 of them this morning. We only have every 50 years marked off on the calendar, and Ella can't get her mind around estimating where, say, 1867 is on the timeline. Madison is fine, though, but I still think I might do a light bar marking every 10 years.
I'll be working on this Word document gradually, because it does take time to find the images and resize them and put the names and dates on, but anyone is welcome to the document once I have a lot of people on, if you want to do your own timeline. It will be a real handy shortcut.
I wish I could find my camera, this would make a good picture to post!
The girls absolutely love the timeline, and I think it will help with the Birthday of the Day, too. Last week, we colored in 2-cm-wide strips at the top of the timeline to represent the main intellectual/historical movements: Reformation, Renaissance, Elizabethan Era, Enlightenment, Industrial Revolution, Computer Age. We put the main American wars on there, too.
Early this morning, I started finding images of great people...past Birthdays of the Day, plus people I just thought should be on there. I have the next 14 days of B of the D too, so they can paste them on sometime during the relevant mornings. We had a terrific time doing about 10 of them this morning. We only have every 50 years marked off on the calendar, and Ella can't get her mind around estimating where, say, 1867 is on the timeline. Madison is fine, though, but I still think I might do a light bar marking every 10 years.
I'll be working on this Word document gradually, because it does take time to find the images and resize them and put the names and dates on, but anyone is welcome to the document once I have a lot of people on, if you want to do your own timeline. It will be a real handy shortcut.
I wish I could find my camera, this would make a good picture to post!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Sorry I've been absent
I've been extremely busy. I've started a computer class at RIT on Mondays and Wednesdays from 4-6. It's an advanced web database programming class, and it's hard and I'm mostly lost but still hanging on by my fingertips. Actually, the "hard" stuff isn't what's hard for me -- it's the not-knowing-how-to-log-into-the-RIT-system and do the common things that students have been doing for years by this time, like creating directories and using their special text editors and stuff like that. So it leaves me trying not to whisper to the 20-year-old next to me to say, "OK, how do you log on to this thing?" and trying to figure out whether the "create folder" is the old DOS command "md" (for "make directory"...it's not, turns out it's mkdir...these are the things that are stymieing me).
But other than the RIT system fussing, it's going relatively smoothly, even with juggling the girls' schedule.
And up until late last week, so was the rest of life.
"You know, we're really settling in here," said David on Friday morning. "Life is finally calm, and good. We're happy."
The words were still hanging in the air. like in a balloon attached to his mouth, like in a cartoon.
And then at 10:30 I got a call from my dear friend Patrick, whom I dated in college and with whom I'm still very close. He's a reporter at the Cleveland Plain Dealer. I see him every few years when I have a reason to be in Cleveland. A bit over 5 years ago, he was in a horrible accident and in a coma for many days. He still has lingering physical problems from that. The call from his girlfriend in October 2001, when no one knew if he'd live or die, really sucked.
This time, the call was from Patrick, and it really sucked, too.
"I've got colon cancer," he said.
He's 37, damn it.
He sent me an email with a jpg of his colon. Amazing what the technology can do these days. I like this kind of stuff, so does he. It would be absolutely fascinating if only that thing blocking about 1/3 of his colon weren't freaking inside him.
He meets with the oncologist tomorrow, Monday. They're going to resection (i.e., take out) a big chunk of his colon very soon, then they'll know whether it's spread, what stage it's at, etc. And what are his chances.
My MD friend William sent me some statistics. If it's only Stage 2 cancer then he has a 2/3 shot at living more than 5 years. Apparently, that's really good statistics for cancer in general. On the other hand, if you're interested in, say, living more than 5 years, then it pretty much sucks. A 33% chance of NOT being alive in 5 years. Fuck.
It's a damned good thing there is no Master Puppeteer or I'd be one angry, angry person right now.
But other than the RIT system fussing, it's going relatively smoothly, even with juggling the girls' schedule.
And up until late last week, so was the rest of life.
"You know, we're really settling in here," said David on Friday morning. "Life is finally calm, and good. We're happy."
The words were still hanging in the air. like in a balloon attached to his mouth, like in a cartoon.
And then at 10:30 I got a call from my dear friend Patrick, whom I dated in college and with whom I'm still very close. He's a reporter at the Cleveland Plain Dealer. I see him every few years when I have a reason to be in Cleveland. A bit over 5 years ago, he was in a horrible accident and in a coma for many days. He still has lingering physical problems from that. The call from his girlfriend in October 2001, when no one knew if he'd live or die, really sucked.
This time, the call was from Patrick, and it really sucked, too.
"I've got colon cancer," he said.
He's 37, damn it.
He sent me an email with a jpg of his colon. Amazing what the technology can do these days. I like this kind of stuff, so does he. It would be absolutely fascinating if only that thing blocking about 1/3 of his colon weren't freaking inside him.
He meets with the oncologist tomorrow, Monday. They're going to resection (i.e., take out) a big chunk of his colon very soon, then they'll know whether it's spread, what stage it's at, etc. And what are his chances.
My MD friend William sent me some statistics. If it's only Stage 2 cancer then he has a 2/3 shot at living more than 5 years. Apparently, that's really good statistics for cancer in general. On the other hand, if you're interested in, say, living more than 5 years, then it pretty much sucks. A 33% chance of NOT being alive in 5 years. Fuck.
It's a damned good thing there is no Master Puppeteer or I'd be one angry, angry person right now.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Dr. Seuss's birthday, March 2
It's Dr. Seuss's birthday. And there's nothing more fun for a parent than to hear the 7-year-old who is missing her two front teeth reading Fockth In Thockth to her younger thithter as her out-loud reading for the day.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Reading and potty-training: Connection?
When Ella was 2, she was having none of this potty-training stuff. She wasn't rude about it, or even vehement, she was just my happy little comfort-loving kid. Her attitude was: "No, thanks. Doin' just fine. Diapers are easy and convenient, I'm stickin' with what I know." No response to my mild hints like "well, when you're a Big Girl you'll learn to use the potty." She was perfectly happy to be a little girl and have someone else take care of the diaper.
Then, one day, four days after she turned three, she decided to wear underpants. And never put the diapers on again (during the day). No fanfare or anything, just a decision she made quietly.
I'm thinking the reading has been like this for her.
Ella can read. Two weeks ago, she finished Set Five of the EPS Phonics Series, reading one 16-page book per day. So what I decided was that we would start way back at the beginning, Set Two, and let her read again through the whole series.
It turned out to be a good idea. She sat down and read four of the Set Two books the first day. She knows she gets a prize when she finishes all four sets of books. But she was motivated to read so many in a day because it's now easy for her. She can remember very clearly when she read the first series -- it took her 17 days to get through the 10 books. But now...four in a day...in 15 minutes! without any struggle or difficulty. She didn't even mind reading them to herself, rather than to me...she did that for the next two days, "getting her reading done" on her own, asking me if a particular word stymied her. (The word "use" kept getting in her way.)
But what Ella has never done was made the effort to use her reading skills in real life. It's as though she lets the words from signs, from TV, from name brands written on the side of objects, just wash right over her without her trying to identify them at all. That's just something that "big kids" do, that Madison does, and Ella has never seen the need to push it, to be one of those "Big Kids" before she's ready. She knows she'll get there eventually, she has proof that it will happen in a sister who is 20 months older.
And now I'm wondering if yesterday doesn't constitute an "underpants" moment. Because she was looking at the maze game on the back of David's "Cap'n Crunch" breakfast cereal (when it's someone's birthday in our house, they get a box of sugary kiddie cereal to eat as long as it lasts), and was trying to figure it out. "Oh!" she suddenly said, startled. "That's the word START!"
I think she's starting to see the utility in this reading business after all.
Then, one day, four days after she turned three, she decided to wear underpants. And never put the diapers on again (during the day). No fanfare or anything, just a decision she made quietly.
I'm thinking the reading has been like this for her.
Ella can read. Two weeks ago, she finished Set Five of the EPS Phonics Series, reading one 16-page book per day. So what I decided was that we would start way back at the beginning, Set Two, and let her read again through the whole series.
It turned out to be a good idea. She sat down and read four of the Set Two books the first day. She knows she gets a prize when she finishes all four sets of books. But she was motivated to read so many in a day because it's now easy for her. She can remember very clearly when she read the first series -- it took her 17 days to get through the 10 books. But now...four in a day...in 15 minutes! without any struggle or difficulty. She didn't even mind reading them to herself, rather than to me...she did that for the next two days, "getting her reading done" on her own, asking me if a particular word stymied her. (The word "use" kept getting in her way.)
But what Ella has never done was made the effort to use her reading skills in real life. It's as though she lets the words from signs, from TV, from name brands written on the side of objects, just wash right over her without her trying to identify them at all. That's just something that "big kids" do, that Madison does, and Ella has never seen the need to push it, to be one of those "Big Kids" before she's ready. She knows she'll get there eventually, she has proof that it will happen in a sister who is 20 months older.
And now I'm wondering if yesterday doesn't constitute an "underpants" moment. Because she was looking at the maze game on the back of David's "Cap'n Crunch" breakfast cereal (when it's someone's birthday in our house, they get a box of sugary kiddie cereal to eat as long as it lasts), and was trying to figure it out. "Oh!" she suddenly said, startled. "That's the word START!"
I think she's starting to see the utility in this reading business after all.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Snuggle bunny is sick
We've all been so healthy for so long that I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a sick child. Ella woke up sick yesterday, medium-fever and headache-sniffle sinus cold, which magically morphed into the vomiting kind yesterday afternoon. Work went out the window for both of them, even Madison, though I had projects to complete. So we spent the afternoon camped out on the bathroom floor -- me with my laptop on the floor trying to get some work done, Ella with my head in my lap and her body huddled in the towels and blankets placed strategically near the toilet, and Madison reading Harry Potter in the bath nearby. Everyone says how -- in a way -- cute it is when kids get sick because they get so darned snuggly and I-want-no-one-else-but-Mommy, but Ella is like that all the time and so it wasn't really anything different in that realm.
It's interesting, I'm not really inclined to go near most other people when they're sick just out of interest of not catching it myself. But there is no way I'm in the least inclined to apply the same logic to my kids. Kick the kid out of my bed because she's sick and her sleeping with me radically increases the possibility of my getting sick too? No way! She stays! If I had to choose between her getting me sick and my avoiding her when she's sick, there's no contest whatsoever. It's a visceral thing, not even a logical one. I guess it's a beneficial evolutionary instinct.
It was a great day for her to be sick, though, because we had a snowstorm and everything was canceled -- for us it was piano and soccer -- and so I sent David to work in the Subaru and we just stayed put the whole day. In the bathroom.
We had a wild night last night, though, with her awake at various points in my bed, then in her bed, more medicine required, etc. But I anticipated that so I went to bed at 9:15. She's now awake, hoarse, snuggled in my lap as I type around her. Maybe we'll even get some work done today.
I hope Madison doesn't get it.
It's interesting, I'm not really inclined to go near most other people when they're sick just out of interest of not catching it myself. But there is no way I'm in the least inclined to apply the same logic to my kids. Kick the kid out of my bed because she's sick and her sleeping with me radically increases the possibility of my getting sick too? No way! She stays! If I had to choose between her getting me sick and my avoiding her when she's sick, there's no contest whatsoever. It's a visceral thing, not even a logical one. I guess it's a beneficial evolutionary instinct.
It was a great day for her to be sick, though, because we had a snowstorm and everything was canceled -- for us it was piano and soccer -- and so I sent David to work in the Subaru and we just stayed put the whole day. In the bathroom.
We had a wild night last night, though, with her awake at various points in my bed, then in her bed, more medicine required, etc. But I anticipated that so I went to bed at 9:15. She's now awake, hoarse, snuggled in my lap as I type around her. Maybe we'll even get some work done today.
I hope Madison doesn't get it.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Snuggle School
Ella gets up early, but loves to snuggle in bed with me in the mornings. Sometimes she's silent while I doze, sometimes we whisper together. This morning, I thought she was singing under her breath, so I asked her to sing me a song. Turns out she was doing math problems, designing addition problems for herself and working them out. We spent a little while counting by tens, and also experimenting with larger numbers, counting FROM the larger number up rather than starting at #1. She had kind of known this before, but I could see it really clicked for her this morning: She now has a method for doing, say, 43 + 9, and it's EASY. She wanted to do math techniques in bed for over half an hour. Who am I to argue.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Our LIW commemoration yesterday
Every day at breakfast, we talk about someone whose birthday is that day. David and I try to choose a very positive person, but if that's not possible, then we choose someone they should know about from a cultural literacy perspective. Then, around the dinner table, the girls get a nickel for each fact they remember from the morning. One of our measurements to help them orient the person in time always is, "Was he born before or after Laura Ingalls Wilder (in 1867)?"
Well, yesterday WAS Laura Ingalls Wilder's birthday, the 140th anniversary of her birth. So it was an easy one to remember. Madison got 12 nickels and Ella got 8, both all-time records.
If it's appropriate, I try to have one or more activities during the day that hearken back to the Birthday of the Day so it helps them remember who it was. Today, of course, they didn't need any help! We read from Little House in the Big Woods, we bought turnips and made them as part of our dinner (universal Yucks, including from the grownups, but maybe I didn't cook them well) and then after dinner we made Mother Wilder's doughnuts out of the Laura Ingalls Wilder cookbook...to great acclaim. Madison hypothesized that maybe life wasn't so hard after all, back then. Even with the turnips and all.
P.S. Today is William Tecumseh Sherman's birthday. I wonder what I can do in his honor...burn the dinner?
Well, yesterday WAS Laura Ingalls Wilder's birthday, the 140th anniversary of her birth. So it was an easy one to remember. Madison got 12 nickels and Ella got 8, both all-time records.
If it's appropriate, I try to have one or more activities during the day that hearken back to the Birthday of the Day so it helps them remember who it was. Today, of course, they didn't need any help! We read from Little House in the Big Woods, we bought turnips and made them as part of our dinner (universal Yucks, including from the grownups, but maybe I didn't cook them well) and then after dinner we made Mother Wilder's doughnuts out of the Laura Ingalls Wilder cookbook...to great acclaim. Madison hypothesized that maybe life wasn't so hard after all, back then. Even with the turnips and all.
P.S. Today is William Tecumseh Sherman's birthday. I wonder what I can do in his honor...burn the dinner?
Just a squirrel on a branch
One of home schooling's beautiful moments:
Madison was in her room early in the morning, reading. I was downstairs, working.
She came into the room. "Come quick, mom, you have to see this, but be quiet and move slowly when you get to my room."
We lay on her bed with our heads at just the right angle, and we could see a squirrel outside in the freezing (FREEZING! 4 degrees!) cold, on a branch, eating a nut. His tail was curled back over the top of his back.
"I saw him digging for the nut. When he found it, he just ran up to that branch and he's been eating it ever since. I bet that nut tastes extra good, on such a cold, cold day, don't you think? At first, I thought he looked like a porcupine, because his tail was on his back like that, but then I realized he's a squirrel. Isn't he cute? Do you think he's cold? Why do you think he didn't bring it back to his nest...do you think he just wanted to eat it before any other squirrels noticed it?"
Then she stopped talking, and we watched the squirrel. Just watched, silently.
Then we went downstairs and ate breakfast. The pancakes tasted extra good, on such a cold, cold day.
Madison was in her room early in the morning, reading. I was downstairs, working.
She came into the room. "Come quick, mom, you have to see this, but be quiet and move slowly when you get to my room."
We lay on her bed with our heads at just the right angle, and we could see a squirrel outside in the freezing (FREEZING! 4 degrees!) cold, on a branch, eating a nut. His tail was curled back over the top of his back.
"I saw him digging for the nut. When he found it, he just ran up to that branch and he's been eating it ever since. I bet that nut tastes extra good, on such a cold, cold day, don't you think? At first, I thought he looked like a porcupine, because his tail was on his back like that, but then I realized he's a squirrel. Isn't he cute? Do you think he's cold? Why do you think he didn't bring it back to his nest...do you think he just wanted to eat it before any other squirrels noticed it?"
Then she stopped talking, and we watched the squirrel. Just watched, silently.
Then we went downstairs and ate breakfast. The pancakes tasted extra good, on such a cold, cold day.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
A lot of work recently - mine, that is
It's been a real struggle to fit all my work in amongst all of the kids' stuff. I am working on some cool projects, which has slung me into thorough mental conflict all morning long; as the girls do their work, I can't get enough time to myself to get up any real momentum for my own stuff. I get it done, but it takes a lot longer than it would if I just had some solid minutes.
Let me also be perfectly honest about this: My work is more interesting to me than Madison's conversion of fractions into decimals, Ella's careful rendering of a cursive E, or the fact that today would be Laura Ingalls Wilder's birthday.
I love my work. But it involves a lot of keeping up with details for a lot of people, in addition to requiring a lot of thinking work on my own. And everyone needs "little fixes" on their reports. When these come in over the wire (so to speak), if I don't do them right away, then they get lost. So I try to do them right away.
So, often, too often it seems, I am putting my kids "on hold." Oh, you're done with that math? Ok, I'll look at it as soon as I'm done with this (and this and this if I can squeeze them in), why don't you start your handwriting?
And, often, too often it seems, I'm putting my clients "on hold." They understand, but no one is particularly thrilled about the "No, sorry, in the mornings after 9:15 until lunch I'm pretty taken up with the kids' work. Oh...and the afternoons? They're worse because I'm driving them all over creation to Spanish, chess, sign language, karate, dance, Brownie events, nature class, etc. How about between 12:30 and 1pm on Thursday? Or between 8:30 and 10:30pm on Wednesday? Or from 7:30-8:30am on Friday? Or I can get you on my cell when they're at karate, but I can't be in front of a computer then. Otherwise you'll just have to email me."
Yesterday, we were at their Spanish class, which they have at a friends' house in Pittsford. We went early because the other kids all had the day off of school due to excessive cold (!), and they hoped my kids could come over early and play. We were there more than 2 1/2 hours, and all that was going on in my mind when I was having a grown-up chat with Monica was how if I were in front of the computer, I'd be able to spend the time working on this and this and this, and oh geez I almost forgot THIS. And the schoolroom needs organizing, it's become a dumping ground because it's too cold to work in. And why is it that people keep wearing clothes...and then PUTTING THEM IN THE HAMPER which means they need washing. Why not wear the stuff two or three days?
At least I've been fairly successful about keeping the evenings for a nice dinner and some time with David.
But a good book, I'd kill for the time to read a good book. One that doesn't involve Harry or Hermione, not that I begrudge Ms. Rowling...there is a David Hackett Fisher history book that is calling me. Madison and I haven't worked on her chapter book in weeks. Or paint, I'd desperately love to paint. I have a wonderful photograph of Letchworth Park that I'd like to replicate in paint for the area above the fireplace in Tatiana's new house.
But the next thing that is coming up that will be when I get a stretch of time is TAXES. Have to get all my records together from last year. First I have to set up files from the move, haven't done that yet.
You know what really gets me? I know everyone will want to reassure me about this, because it sounds ridiculous from the outside, but really and truly I'm LAZY. Yes, I somehow manage to get all of this done which looks all good on paper and all. But I spend far too much time on the internet, reading other homeschooling or friends' or political blogs, time that could be spend filing or doing laundry or planning meals or even reading or painting. I can't even justify my internet time as particularly edifying, it's more a way of escaping from all of the details chasing me. I feel so guilty, thinking about how much I'd REALLY get done if I actually made the most efficient use of my time. I would rather be painting than lazily clicking through from one blog to the next, why don't I do it?
On the other hand, when I step back, I'm perfectly happy with what I've been able to accomplish in the last year. So go figure.
While you do that, I'm going back to decimals, and the way OW has two different sounds in English.
Let me also be perfectly honest about this: My work is more interesting to me than Madison's conversion of fractions into decimals, Ella's careful rendering of a cursive E, or the fact that today would be Laura Ingalls Wilder's birthday.
I love my work. But it involves a lot of keeping up with details for a lot of people, in addition to requiring a lot of thinking work on my own. And everyone needs "little fixes" on their reports. When these come in over the wire (so to speak), if I don't do them right away, then they get lost. So I try to do them right away.
So, often, too often it seems, I am putting my kids "on hold." Oh, you're done with that math? Ok, I'll look at it as soon as I'm done with this (and this and this if I can squeeze them in), why don't you start your handwriting?
And, often, too often it seems, I'm putting my clients "on hold." They understand, but no one is particularly thrilled about the "No, sorry, in the mornings after 9:15 until lunch I'm pretty taken up with the kids' work. Oh...and the afternoons? They're worse because I'm driving them all over creation to Spanish, chess, sign language, karate, dance, Brownie events, nature class, etc. How about between 12:30 and 1pm on Thursday? Or between 8:30 and 10:30pm on Wednesday? Or from 7:30-8:30am on Friday? Or I can get you on my cell when they're at karate, but I can't be in front of a computer then. Otherwise you'll just have to email me."
Yesterday, we were at their Spanish class, which they have at a friends' house in Pittsford. We went early because the other kids all had the day off of school due to excessive cold (!), and they hoped my kids could come over early and play. We were there more than 2 1/2 hours, and all that was going on in my mind when I was having a grown-up chat with Monica was how if I were in front of the computer, I'd be able to spend the time working on this and this and this, and oh geez I almost forgot THIS. And the schoolroom needs organizing, it's become a dumping ground because it's too cold to work in. And why is it that people keep wearing clothes...and then PUTTING THEM IN THE HAMPER which means they need washing. Why not wear the stuff two or three days?
At least I've been fairly successful about keeping the evenings for a nice dinner and some time with David.
But a good book, I'd kill for the time to read a good book. One that doesn't involve Harry or Hermione, not that I begrudge Ms. Rowling...there is a David Hackett Fisher history book that is calling me. Madison and I haven't worked on her chapter book in weeks. Or paint, I'd desperately love to paint. I have a wonderful photograph of Letchworth Park that I'd like to replicate in paint for the area above the fireplace in Tatiana's new house.
But the next thing that is coming up that will be when I get a stretch of time is TAXES. Have to get all my records together from last year. First I have to set up files from the move, haven't done that yet.
You know what really gets me? I know everyone will want to reassure me about this, because it sounds ridiculous from the outside, but really and truly I'm LAZY. Yes, I somehow manage to get all of this done which looks all good on paper and all. But I spend far too much time on the internet, reading other homeschooling or friends' or political blogs, time that could be spend filing or doing laundry or planning meals or even reading or painting. I can't even justify my internet time as particularly edifying, it's more a way of escaping from all of the details chasing me. I feel so guilty, thinking about how much I'd REALLY get done if I actually made the most efficient use of my time. I would rather be painting than lazily clicking through from one blog to the next, why don't I do it?
On the other hand, when I step back, I'm perfectly happy with what I've been able to accomplish in the last year. So go figure.
While you do that, I'm going back to decimals, and the way OW has two different sounds in English.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Early morning ZZZZZZ
I went to wake Madison up this morning, as it was 8:45 and she still wasn't up, and I didn't want to start a cycle where she'd be up late at night.
I snuggled in next to her.
"I love these Mommy-and-Madison moments," I began.
"Well, let's have a WHOLE LOT of them, right now," she mumbled, burrowing further under the covers.
I snuggled in next to her.
"I love these Mommy-and-Madison moments," I began.
"Well, let's have a WHOLE LOT of them, right now," she mumbled, burrowing further under the covers.
Story writing
It is so interesting how removing just one single impediment to the production process can really open the floodgates.
Madison had a project for Brownies, to get her "Her-story" badge: She had to write and illustrate a fractured fairy tale, set in modern times. This was assigned three weeks ago, to be completed for last night's meeting.
The resistance was amazing, and this from my little story writer. For "writer," though, you should probably substitute "composer," because the mechanics of writing and spelling absolutely still get in the way of her being able to say what she wants to say. It all ends up being an extremely frustrating experience.
So I had her do the first page one day for cursive handwriting practice -- this was considerably before my revelation the other day about how she was holding the pencil incorrectly -- but it really was only a small fraction of what she wanted to say.
So at the beginning of the week, with the deadline looming, I asked her if she actually wanted to do this. Remember, a badge is involved. She said yes, then no, then changed her mind to yes. That competitive, measurement-oriented child really loves the badges. So I set her up with her computer.
So here's the thing: After working at it (not without enjoyment) for an hour, she came down and showed me what she'd done. And then she told me the rest of the story. I realized that we were either in for 10 hours of painstaking typing and spell-checking, or I could type it for her.
So she narrated "The Real Story of Cinderella." I typed. It's on 15 pages, with about 3-4 sentences per page, and it's FUNNY. Cinderella had an attitude, she never applied herself to anything except her nails and her TV shows. Her mother was worried that if she went to the ball, she'd end up married to the king's son, who was an equal space cadet, and then the kingdom would be in trouble. She thought the ball would be boring, but after everyone left of course THEN it became appealing, so she peremptorily summoned her fairy godmother out of retirement and got a carriage. The prince wasn't handsome enough for her, so she ran away from him, but fortunately found her perfect match, a man who was both rich AND handsome.
Then she illustrated each page, and was very proud of the result.
She read it out loud at the Brownie meeting last night, apparently to great acclaim. She told me in the car that she intends to write some sequels, and when we got home, she tried to sequester herself in the attic room where her computer is so she could do just that. But it was bedtime.
Guess what she'll be doing for school, today.
Madison had a project for Brownies, to get her "Her-story" badge: She had to write and illustrate a fractured fairy tale, set in modern times. This was assigned three weeks ago, to be completed for last night's meeting.
The resistance was amazing, and this from my little story writer. For "writer," though, you should probably substitute "composer," because the mechanics of writing and spelling absolutely still get in the way of her being able to say what she wants to say. It all ends up being an extremely frustrating experience.
So I had her do the first page one day for cursive handwriting practice -- this was considerably before my revelation the other day about how she was holding the pencil incorrectly -- but it really was only a small fraction of what she wanted to say.
So at the beginning of the week, with the deadline looming, I asked her if she actually wanted to do this. Remember, a badge is involved. She said yes, then no, then changed her mind to yes. That competitive, measurement-oriented child really loves the badges. So I set her up with her computer.
So here's the thing: After working at it (not without enjoyment) for an hour, she came down and showed me what she'd done. And then she told me the rest of the story. I realized that we were either in for 10 hours of painstaking typing and spell-checking, or I could type it for her.
So she narrated "The Real Story of Cinderella." I typed. It's on 15 pages, with about 3-4 sentences per page, and it's FUNNY. Cinderella had an attitude, she never applied herself to anything except her nails and her TV shows. Her mother was worried that if she went to the ball, she'd end up married to the king's son, who was an equal space cadet, and then the kingdom would be in trouble. She thought the ball would be boring, but after everyone left of course THEN it became appealing, so she peremptorily summoned her fairy godmother out of retirement and got a carriage. The prince wasn't handsome enough for her, so she ran away from him, but fortunately found her perfect match, a man who was both rich AND handsome.
Then she illustrated each page, and was very proud of the result.
She read it out loud at the Brownie meeting last night, apparently to great acclaim. She told me in the car that she intends to write some sequels, and when we got home, she tried to sequester herself in the attic room where her computer is so she could do just that. But it was bedtime.
Guess what she'll be doing for school, today.
Graphing the lemonade stand
From Deb:
Inspired by Raymond's real-life marble business, Madison has been talking a lot about the lemonade stand she will have someday. She'd do it right now, but January in Rochester is not the most auspicious time to have a lemonade stand. She plans to do it at RIT, get sponsored by the math club there, and share half the profits with them. What self-respecting college student, she figures, wouldn't buy a quarter's worth of lemonade from a cute little blonde-haired girl?
Madison talks about the lemonade stand all the time, so I decided to make it our math project for a couple of days. I pretended she already had the stand, and had done it for two weeks. I said that I had given her $10 in quarters to start out, and then gave her the sum total of the cash drawer for each day of the two weeks of the business. From this, she first figured out her sales for each day (subtraction with decimals), then the number of glasses she'd sold each day (division), then the number of glasses she'd sold total (long addition). Then, given that it costed $.05/glass to make the lemonade, the profit (.20 x # glasses sold...and we also did it a different way, with multiplication of fractions: 4/5 of the sales was profit).
And then...she graphed total sales, sales per day, and glasses per day. She loves the graphing. And, I was stunned at this. She graphed sales per day, first, and noticed the zigzags, because some days she had more sales than others. And then, she graphed glasses sold per day, and noticed that the graph was the exact same pattern. Then, she graphed total sales, and at first expected that this graph, too, would be the same pattern. But then it was not. And then, she looked carefully at WHAT it was she was graphing, and explained perfectly why the first two graphs were the same graph, while the total sales couldn't be (specifically, it couldn't go down, she said, it always must go up, unless you spend the money in the middle of the time). Yes!
We're now graphing daily snow levels thanks to the great snow ruler our friends Tom and Susan gave us.
Sorry, Laura, but Madison likes this so much better than Saxon Math.
Inspired by Raymond's real-life marble business, Madison has been talking a lot about the lemonade stand she will have someday. She'd do it right now, but January in Rochester is not the most auspicious time to have a lemonade stand. She plans to do it at RIT, get sponsored by the math club there, and share half the profits with them. What self-respecting college student, she figures, wouldn't buy a quarter's worth of lemonade from a cute little blonde-haired girl?
Madison talks about the lemonade stand all the time, so I decided to make it our math project for a couple of days. I pretended she already had the stand, and had done it for two weeks. I said that I had given her $10 in quarters to start out, and then gave her the sum total of the cash drawer for each day of the two weeks of the business. From this, she first figured out her sales for each day (subtraction with decimals), then the number of glasses she'd sold each day (division), then the number of glasses she'd sold total (long addition). Then, given that it costed $.05/glass to make the lemonade, the profit (.20 x # glasses sold...and we also did it a different way, with multiplication of fractions: 4/5 of the sales was profit).
And then...she graphed total sales, sales per day, and glasses per day. She loves the graphing. And, I was stunned at this. She graphed sales per day, first, and noticed the zigzags, because some days she had more sales than others. And then, she graphed glasses sold per day, and noticed that the graph was the exact same pattern. Then, she graphed total sales, and at first expected that this graph, too, would be the same pattern. But then it was not. And then, she looked carefully at WHAT it was she was graphing, and explained perfectly why the first two graphs were the same graph, while the total sales couldn't be (specifically, it couldn't go down, she said, it always must go up, unless you spend the money in the middle of the time). Yes!
We're now graphing daily snow levels thanks to the great snow ruler our friends Tom and Susan gave us.
Sorry, Laura, but Madison likes this so much better than Saxon Math.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Handwriting breakthrough
Turns out MADISON HAS BEEN HOLDING THE PENCIL INCORRECTLY!
Yes!
I noticed this morning that she rests her middle finger over the pencil instead of under the pencil! So heretofore the pencil was resting on her ring finger rather than the more stable middle finger.
She corrected herself and YIPPEE finds it much easier! And it is FAR neater! So I'm hoping that soon she'll be able to write faster and neater, and be much more satisfied with her own work.
Yes!
I noticed this morning that she rests her middle finger over the pencil instead of under the pencil! So heretofore the pencil was resting on her ring finger rather than the more stable middle finger.
She corrected herself and YIPPEE finds it much easier! And it is FAR neater! So I'm hoping that soon she'll be able to write faster and neater, and be much more satisfied with her own work.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Signs of Language
We started sign language classes this week. Last summer, I had gotten Ella excited about possibly starting sign language because I saw how graceful she was with her hands, how expressive, and that idea really appealed to her. Plus, with Dario's hearing problem and Tatiana's plans eventually to find *him* a class so he has that extra dimension of communication, it would be cool for him to have people he loves to converse with. At least a little.
So the class I found for Ella is for ages 3-5. It's on Tuesday night at 5:30, which is a bad time so there was only one other kid in the class, another 5-year-old. So the director invited Madison to join, too, and she did. And I did. Apparently, the moms participate in this class. Which turned out to be a good thing, because it means I can practice with the kids.
It really jazzed them, and I am amazed at how fast they have learned. The stuff really sticks. They know (really know) the numbers up to 10; the colors red, blue, pink, yellow, orange, white; the words to "No more monkeys jumping on the bed"; the words snowman, shark, water, sun, orange, heart, apple; and most of the letters of the alphabet. I found it easy, too. They got these little books "My first signs" which I have incorporated into school a few days. The class is six weeks long and I think we'll take the next level, too, and then figure out where to go from there.
This morning, the girls have pottery while I have drawing. I am finding the drawing class absolutely fascinating; it's a "Drawing in the Galleries" class, which has us copying paintings or sculpture or what have you. I know this may sound really mundane, but what makes it fascinating to me is simply that I can do it. As a kid, I really couldn't. I always considered myself a non-artist. I can't picture things in my head, I can't remember details, and I'm so much more math-and-sciencey than artsy. But just as some good verbal instructions last year sent me just sailing into acrylics painting, this instructor at the Memorial Art Gallery gave some general technique instructions to the class, and some specific comments to each of us when she saw what we were doing, and away I went. This adult brain is really useful. I'll try to scan my cow from a Sorroyo painting. I'm really proud of that cow.
So the class I found for Ella is for ages 3-5. It's on Tuesday night at 5:30, which is a bad time so there was only one other kid in the class, another 5-year-old. So the director invited Madison to join, too, and she did. And I did. Apparently, the moms participate in this class. Which turned out to be a good thing, because it means I can practice with the kids.
It really jazzed them, and I am amazed at how fast they have learned. The stuff really sticks. They know (really know) the numbers up to 10; the colors red, blue, pink, yellow, orange, white; the words to "No more monkeys jumping on the bed"; the words snowman, shark, water, sun, orange, heart, apple; and most of the letters of the alphabet. I found it easy, too. They got these little books "My first signs" which I have incorporated into school a few days. The class is six weeks long and I think we'll take the next level, too, and then figure out where to go from there.
This morning, the girls have pottery while I have drawing. I am finding the drawing class absolutely fascinating; it's a "Drawing in the Galleries" class, which has us copying paintings or sculpture or what have you. I know this may sound really mundane, but what makes it fascinating to me is simply that I can do it. As a kid, I really couldn't. I always considered myself a non-artist. I can't picture things in my head, I can't remember details, and I'm so much more math-and-sciencey than artsy. But just as some good verbal instructions last year sent me just sailing into acrylics painting, this instructor at the Memorial Art Gallery gave some general technique instructions to the class, and some specific comments to each of us when she saw what we were doing, and away I went. This adult brain is really useful. I'll try to scan my cow from a Sorroyo painting. I'm really proud of that cow.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Handwriting everywhere
Almost everything was handwriting today, and it worked. Who'd've thunk it, after yesterday's fiasco.
Handwriting was handwriting.
Math was handwriting.
Spelling was handwriting.
Then we did more handwriting, cursive practice
Read-aloud about caves and layers of the earth wasn't handwriting.
Google research on 10 trees wasn't handwriting.
I explained to Madison at the beginning of the day that I think she's being held back by her handwriting, so we'll be doing a lot of that for the next month to give her practice.
She was actually happy about this. Go figure.
What she liked best was the page of numbers I had her do. One number per line, for 10 lines.
I had her write as many perfect numbers as she could on each line, then at the end of the line I counted up the number of numbers, then the number of which of those were good, and did the division problem with her to get the percentage that were good.
It was incentive to do it well, and that kind of thing works with her. She wants to see those percentages high.
And she was even interested, mildly, in the division equation.
Handwriting was handwriting.
Math was handwriting.
Spelling was handwriting.
Then we did more handwriting, cursive practice
Read-aloud about caves and layers of the earth wasn't handwriting.
Google research on 10 trees wasn't handwriting.
I explained to Madison at the beginning of the day that I think she's being held back by her handwriting, so we'll be doing a lot of that for the next month to give her practice.
She was actually happy about this. Go figure.
What she liked best was the page of numbers I had her do. One number per line, for 10 lines.
I had her write as many perfect numbers as she could on each line, then at the end of the line I counted up the number of numbers, then the number of which of those were good, and did the division problem with her to get the percentage that were good.
It was incentive to do it well, and that kind of thing works with her. She wants to see those percentages high.
And she was even interested, mildly, in the division equation.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Even we who consider our children just about perfect...
...have mornings in which their 7-year-old screams, whines, pouts, and carries on. All about doing some EASY math. It was too darned EASY! Boring!!Oh me oh my, you'd think I'd been sticking her with red hot pokers:
7 x 8 = 56
8 x 7 = 56
56/8 = 7
56/7 = 8
6 x 9 = 54
Now fill in the other 3 "math relationships."
__________
__________
__________
And do this for 10 other multiplication facts, the first of which is always GIVEN!
How freakin' hard is that? Not! Ella could have done it. But Madison got the sense that we're doing so much handwriting to give her practice because she has lousy handwriting (of course I never use that word) and it's holding her back.
Do you know how long it took her? An hour and a half, and that's after I told her that I am absolutely not working with her until she just does it, and she can't be in the schoolroom if she's carrying on. Many times in and out of the room carrying on.
So handwriting, handwriting, in all its guises is what we're doing this week. And possibly next week.
It's going to be one hell of a couple of weeks. She's got to get past this handwriting block. I am Just. So. Tempted. to make her competitive with Ella about this. Because Ella has great handwriting. I won't. But gosh darn it, it's so tempting...it would work...
It's a good thing I love this.
7 x 8 = 56
8 x 7 = 56
56/8 = 7
56/7 = 8
6 x 9 = 54
Now fill in the other 3 "math relationships."
__________
__________
__________
And do this for 10 other multiplication facts, the first of which is always GIVEN!
How freakin' hard is that? Not! Ella could have done it. But Madison got the sense that we're doing so much handwriting to give her practice because she has lousy handwriting (of course I never use that word) and it's holding her back.
Do you know how long it took her? An hour and a half, and that's after I told her that I am absolutely not working with her until she just does it, and she can't be in the schoolroom if she's carrying on. Many times in and out of the room carrying on.
So handwriting, handwriting, in all its guises is what we're doing this week. And possibly next week.
It's going to be one hell of a couple of weeks. She's got to get past this handwriting block. I am Just. So. Tempted. to make her competitive with Ella about this. Because Ella has great handwriting. I won't. But gosh darn it, it's so tempting...it would work...
It's a good thing I love this.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Nonsense from Charles Murray on I.Q.
From Deb:
I posted about this in a little article I wrote on KOA today, thought you might be interested in reading it. See if you agree with me that, contrary to Murray's assertion, intelligence is more a matter of free will than what you're handed at birth.
http://rochester.kidsoutandabout.com/main-articles/BrainFoodIntelligence.html
I posted about this in a little article I wrote on KOA today, thought you might be interested in reading it. See if you agree with me that, contrary to Murray's assertion, intelligence is more a matter of free will than what you're handed at birth.
http://rochester.kidsoutandabout.com/main-articles/BrainFoodIntelligence.html
It's happened sooner than I thought
Ella now wants piano lessons.
Actually, this is not a glad-eyed pie-in-the-sky wish, it's active. And she proved she's ready last night by taking Madison's hand-written guide to "This Land is Your Land" which she figured out on her own the other week
And this morning the very first thing she did was come over to the piano to practice. And she wants me to write out MORE songs. Right now.
The problem is, of course, that *I* still want piano lessons. :-) I'm paid up for the grown-up lessons until the end of the month, I have two more. I guess then she can have my slot.
Actually, this is not a glad-eyed pie-in-the-sky wish, it's active. And she proved she's ready last night by taking Madison's hand-written guide to "This Land is Your Land" which she figured out on her own the other week
G A B C Cand started playing it on her own. She then got me to write out the letter-notes to Twinkle Twinkle and has been playing it almost perfectly, with the right rhythm and hold to the notes and everything...and singing in tune along with it. (She often doesn't sing in tune, this has actually had her modulating her voice to match the piano.)
C G A B B
etc
And this morning the very first thing she did was come over to the piano to practice. And she wants me to write out MORE songs. Right now.
The problem is, of course, that *I* still want piano lessons. :-) I'm paid up for the grown-up lessons until the end of the month, I have two more. I guess then she can have my slot.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Prokofiev?
Yesterday, spontaneously, Madison went to the piano and was working on something for some time, with the headphones on. Then she went upstairs to her computer and worked on something on it for another long time.
Then she printed what she had, and it turned out to be a kind of composer's note to herself to remind herself of the storyline of the musical composition she had created. Here are the notes:
The only thing she would reveal about it is that the M stands for music.
She told her piano teacher all about it this morning. But none of us have heard it. She always has the headphones on.
Then she printed what she had, and it turned out to be a kind of composer's note to herself to remind herself of the storyline of the musical composition she had created. Here are the notes:
Once upon a time
M
The princess is coming (repeat 3)
I am not .... she is not content
I need a prince ..... Find a prince
A party
M
A true love at last
The only thing she would reveal about it is that the M stands for music.
She told her piano teacher all about it this morning. But none of us have heard it. She always has the headphones on.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Marrying two of Adrienne's ideas
Adrienne, children's librarian extraordinaire, has given us some good suggestions about grammar, and we took her up on both of them. Several weeks ago, I got Schoolhouse Rock out of the library, and the girls loved it. Of course, we had to return it after a week so I got David to order it in our latest Amazon order.
Yesterday, I decided to take her up on her second suggestion and do Mad Libs, of which we have several lying around. No sooner did I call out for someone to give me an adjective than Ella started singing,
Guess Schoolhouse Rock really stuck! The new one came today and the girls are watching it.
Very successful day, yesterday.
Yesterday, I decided to take her up on her second suggestion and do Mad Libs, of which we have several lying around. No sooner did I call out for someone to give me an adjective than Ella started singing,
Adjectives are words you use to really describe things,
Handy words to carry around.
Guess Schoolhouse Rock really stuck! The new one came today and the girls are watching it.
Very successful day, yesterday.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
On the Beach
David took Madison and Ella up to Lake Ontario this afternoon to do a little hiking, exploring, and beachcombing. (We adore this 45-degree winter!)
They found no shells, but got several good rocks and, apparently, saw lots of dead fish. Carp, some fairly eviscerated and disgusting. David says the girls were simultaneously appalled and fascinated.
Afterward, Madison was relating how she had seen, among the dead fish, a dead baby shark.
"Well, no," said David. "There are no sharks in Lake Ontario."
"Why?"
"Because it's fresh water, and sharks only live in salt water."
After only a short pause, she replied, "Well, I guess that's why it was dead!"
They found no shells, but got several good rocks and, apparently, saw lots of dead fish. Carp, some fairly eviscerated and disgusting. David says the girls were simultaneously appalled and fascinated.
Afterward, Madison was relating how she had seen, among the dead fish, a dead baby shark.
"Well, no," said David. "There are no sharks in Lake Ontario."
"Why?"
"Because it's fresh water, and sharks only live in salt water."
After only a short pause, she replied, "Well, I guess that's why it was dead!"
All I want is having you and music, music, music!
This week has been heavy on music. Madison started back up with piano lessons with Mrs. B, who comes to our house on Wednesday mornings. I take the slot right after hers, which I will relinquish to Ella when she begs me to do so, which will indicate she's ready to practice.
Madison is a LOT better than she was when she left off just before she turned 6. And I am far and away better than I was when I left off at the age of 10.
It's mostly, I think, that we both understand music so much better.
In the gap time, Madison grasped tune (to be able to match her voice to a note) and rhythm (well, to some extent). When she's playing something, she's now able to listen to herself play, and grasp the extent to which it matches her expectations for the melody.
In the (27-year) gap time for me, I not only learned a LOT of music theory from playing the cello (age 8-17...that sounds like a long time but really, I never got very good), but as a post-college adult I gained a lot of appreciation for different kinds of music, particularly jazz. So I can put together a whole composition much better than I used to--it parallels Madison's new grasp of the piece as a whole. I have a sense of how a piece is supposed to sound.
Plus, both hands work together now. I have a different brain now, and it enables me to use both hands at the same time. (This may be partly attributable to my ability to type fast.) It's fascinating, I can practically feel the new neural pathways forging in my brain every time I practice something difficult.
I just downloaded the piano part to Five For Fighting's song "100 Years." I love this song. It became my representative song when we moved to Virginia a year-and-a-half ago, and it's also my representative song for moving back to Rochester. One of those notice-whats-going-on-at-this-stage-in-life-because-one-day-all-you'll-have-is-your-memory songs. It's also a beautiful piano part.
One great aspect of my doing piano is that I want to practice ALL THE TIME. And that means that practicing has become something enjoyable and interesting for Madison, too. It's a new bond between us. It's no longer a chore for her, because it so obviously isn't a chore for me, as I steal over to the keyboard every chance I get. It's something that much more appealing.
Also, both girls have had the opportunity to hear me getting a LOT better at a couple of songs over the last couple of days, which is a marvelous lesson for them about the power that comes from working hard at something. Of course, it may not be totally realistic for them -- what would have taken me weeks and weeks of practice when I was 10 now takes me an hour or two.
The fact is, I'm paying attention to what I'm doing in a radically different way than I did when I was 10, and this gives me some insight to what's going on in a kid's brain. There is no way I was even close to this level of focus 27 years ago -- my brain would go in all directions. (Primarily: "How much longer do I have to practice? Am I at the half-hour mark yet?") So because my brain so clearly worked differently then, this reminds me that focus, like music, takes practice, practice, practice.
So...what has YOUR brain worked on today?
*P.S. The title of this post is from "Music, Music, Music" by Ray Charles. ("Put another nickel in...in the nickelodeon.") I had known the song, but hadn't known Ray wrote it! Another nice connection that I never would have made as a kid.
Madison is a LOT better than she was when she left off just before she turned 6. And I am far and away better than I was when I left off at the age of 10.
It's mostly, I think, that we both understand music so much better.
In the gap time, Madison grasped tune (to be able to match her voice to a note) and rhythm (well, to some extent). When she's playing something, she's now able to listen to herself play, and grasp the extent to which it matches her expectations for the melody.
In the (27-year) gap time for me, I not only learned a LOT of music theory from playing the cello (age 8-17...that sounds like a long time but really, I never got very good), but as a post-college adult I gained a lot of appreciation for different kinds of music, particularly jazz. So I can put together a whole composition much better than I used to--it parallels Madison's new grasp of the piece as a whole. I have a sense of how a piece is supposed to sound.
Plus, both hands work together now. I have a different brain now, and it enables me to use both hands at the same time. (This may be partly attributable to my ability to type fast.) It's fascinating, I can practically feel the new neural pathways forging in my brain every time I practice something difficult.
I just downloaded the piano part to Five For Fighting's song "100 Years." I love this song. It became my representative song when we moved to Virginia a year-and-a-half ago, and it's also my representative song for moving back to Rochester. One of those notice-whats-going-on-at-this-stage-in-life-because-one-day-all-you'll-have-is-your-memory songs. It's also a beautiful piano part.
One great aspect of my doing piano is that I want to practice ALL THE TIME. And that means that practicing has become something enjoyable and interesting for Madison, too. It's a new bond between us. It's no longer a chore for her, because it so obviously isn't a chore for me, as I steal over to the keyboard every chance I get. It's something that much more appealing.
Also, both girls have had the opportunity to hear me getting a LOT better at a couple of songs over the last couple of days, which is a marvelous lesson for them about the power that comes from working hard at something. Of course, it may not be totally realistic for them -- what would have taken me weeks and weeks of practice when I was 10 now takes me an hour or two.
The fact is, I'm paying attention to what I'm doing in a radically different way than I did when I was 10, and this gives me some insight to what's going on in a kid's brain. There is no way I was even close to this level of focus 27 years ago -- my brain would go in all directions. (Primarily: "How much longer do I have to practice? Am I at the half-hour mark yet?") So because my brain so clearly worked differently then, this reminds me that focus, like music, takes practice, practice, practice.
So...what has YOUR brain worked on today?
*P.S. The title of this post is from "Music, Music, Music" by Ray Charles. ("Put another nickel in...in the nickelodeon.") I had known the song, but hadn't known Ray wrote it! Another nice connection that I never would have made as a kid.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Darting ahead to fun math
This is probably terribly contrary to Saxon's recommendations, but now that we have the multiplication tables pretty much nailed, I wanted to fulfill my promise to Madison that the fun math comes after the tedious work of memorizing those tables. So we went on to fairly simple algebra:
3x + 2 = 29
6x - 3 = 15
x-squared - 5 = 20
Those kinds of equations.
She doesn't particularly like it that I make her do them out - i.e., for the first one, subtracting the 2 from both sides and then writing 3x=27, then x=9. She wants to do them in her head. David remembers having the same frustration all the way through school, but he agrees with my rationale to her: You need to know the method in order to be able to apply it to more complex problems. Also, I think it's a useful skill to be able to concretize what you're doing in your head so quickly.
And then, just over the weekend in casual conversation, we moved on to graphing X and Y and what a function is.
See, she'd made up her own function in her head, and was busy applying it all the time. So we decided to show her what it looks like in a graph. Just casually, over the lunch table. This is what happens in a mathematician's house.
David graphed it on Excel and it looks like this:
While he was working on the function, I gave her a basic introduction to graphing X and Y points, using the simple kinds of equations that she's been working on, but substituting Y for the answer:
3x + 2 = y
I first showed her what an X,Y coordinate was, then started at x=0 and started generating Y results. I told her in passing what a Y-intercept is. After four or so answers were graphed, she saw that it made a line, and was equally fascinated that you can simply extend the line with a ruler and you'll get the answers for all other values of X.
Then, she had enough background knowledge to be able to understand in general what the graph of her own function was all about.
3x + 2 = 29
6x - 3 = 15
x-squared - 5 = 20
Those kinds of equations.
She doesn't particularly like it that I make her do them out - i.e., for the first one, subtracting the 2 from both sides and then writing 3x=27, then x=9. She wants to do them in her head. David remembers having the same frustration all the way through school, but he agrees with my rationale to her: You need to know the method in order to be able to apply it to more complex problems. Also, I think it's a useful skill to be able to concretize what you're doing in your head so quickly.
And then, just over the weekend in casual conversation, we moved on to graphing X and Y and what a function is.
See, she'd made up her own function in her head, and was busy applying it all the time. So we decided to show her what it looks like in a graph. Just casually, over the lunch table. This is what happens in a mathematician's house.
- Madison's Function:
Take your favorite 2-digit number. To find your SECOND-favorite two digit number, here is the method: Take the two digits and add them together. Then subtract that result from your favorite number (unless your favorite is smaller, then subtract the favorite from that result), and add those together with the original number. That's your second favorite number.
David graphed it on Excel and it looks like this:
While he was working on the function, I gave her a basic introduction to graphing X and Y points, using the simple kinds of equations that she's been working on, but substituting Y for the answer:
3x + 2 = y
I first showed her what an X,Y coordinate was, then started at x=0 and started generating Y results. I told her in passing what a Y-intercept is. After four or so answers were graphed, she saw that it made a line, and was equally fascinated that you can simply extend the line with a ruler and you'll get the answers for all other values of X.
Then, she had enough background knowledge to be able to understand in general what the graph of her own function was all about.
I know it's morning, but...
I just went to wake up Madison, who loves to sleep in. But it's a school day!
Still 2/3 asleep, she muttered as she was turning back over:
"I know it's morning. But I feel like a carousel horse. It's like there is a pole through me and I can't go anywhere unless the carousel moves me there."
Still 2/3 asleep, she muttered as she was turning back over:
"I know it's morning. But I feel like a carousel horse. It's like there is a pole through me and I can't go anywhere unless the carousel moves me there."
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Get-Out-Of-God Free
Madison's first Brownie event is tomorrow, a hike in the park that is right across the street from our house!
I got the registration information yesterday, and saw to my chagrin that we both have to sign the Girl Scout Promise:
This is a good thing, because the info they sent us didn't give us this little Get-Out-Of-God-Free option, and David and I got a bit nervous about whether anyone was going to make a fuss about this. That's the last thing we wanted for Madison to have to experience. But given what the web site said, I didn't have the least problem signing off on it.
I got the registration information yesterday, and saw to my chagrin that we both have to sign the Girl Scout Promise:
The Girl Scout Promise
On my honor, I will try:
To serve God* and my country,
To help people at all times,
And to live by the Girl Scout Law.
The Girl Scout Law
I will do my best to be
honest and fair,
friendly and helpful,
considerate and caring,
courageous and strong, and
responsible for what I say and do,
and to
respect myself and others,
respect authority,
use resources wisely,
make the world a better place, and
be a sister to every Girl Scout.
- * The word "God" can be interpreted in a number of ways, depending on one's spiritual beliefs. When reciting the Girl Scout Promise, it is okay to replace the word "God" with whatever word your spiritual beliefs dictate.
This is a good thing, because the info they sent us didn't give us this little Get-Out-Of-God-Free option, and David and I got a bit nervous about whether anyone was going to make a fuss about this. That's the last thing we wanted for Madison to have to experience. But given what the web site said, I didn't have the least problem signing off on it.
A new spelling program, going to give it a shot
We've not been able to be at all systematic about spelling with Madison this year. I saw a post from another blogger about a program called AVKO (avko.org). It supposedly teaches using related word families rather the spelling lists. No memorization...you just have the child spell the word and immediately correct them if it is wrong. It relies strongly on seeing patterns, which is one of Madison's strengths. They have a seven-day tryout page, so we'll probably do that and see if it works.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Running out of Jesus
The St. Paul's ceremony last night was lovely, if a little long. The church was indeed beautiful, the priest actually made some engaging points in the sermon and delivered it well (probably the best we've heard in our quest for historic churches -- although almost all sermons we have heard are dismal, so that's really not saying much). The woman behind me sang alto, which helped me remember the alto parts to the various carols, which was fun.
We also went to the Episcopalians last year in Virginia. It was interesting that that service was much closer to Protestantism, while the one at St. Paul's was almost identical to Catholicism's. (Almost too close for the comfort of my psyche, actually.)
So of course, we had more theology discussion in the car on the way home. I explained that although the ceremony was extremely close to Catholicism, one of the differences is in their views on transubstantiation: The Episcopalians regard the breaking of the bread as a symbolic act by the priest, whereas the Catholics believe the priest has magic powers and ACTUALLY turns the communion wafer into the body of Jesus.
My little logician in the back seat said, "But that doesn't make any sense. After just a little while, wouldn't they run out of Jesus?"
We also went to the Episcopalians last year in Virginia. It was interesting that that service was much closer to Protestantism, while the one at St. Paul's was almost identical to Catholicism's. (Almost too close for the comfort of my psyche, actually.)
So of course, we had more theology discussion in the car on the way home. I explained that although the ceremony was extremely close to Catholicism, one of the differences is in their views on transubstantiation: The Episcopalians regard the breaking of the bread as a symbolic act by the priest, whereas the Catholics believe the priest has magic powers and ACTUALLY turns the communion wafer into the body of Jesus.
My little logician in the back seat said, "But that doesn't make any sense. After just a little while, wouldn't they run out of Jesus?"
Friday, December 22, 2006
Why not just hate the person they marry?
Each year, on Christmas Eve, we visit a different historic church and go to the family service to sing Christmas carols. This year, we're going to St. Paul's Episcopal Church.
We were explaining at dinner what it meant to be an Episcopalian, how they straddle the Catholics and the Protestants in terms of both theology and services. I was explaining that one dimension on which Episcopalians are different from Catholics is that their priests are allowed to marry, whereas Catholic priests aren't. Madison was interested in why the Catholics have this rule, and David said that the logic is that they're supposed to devote themselves completely to God, rather than to a wife.
She replied, "Well, how about if they just hate the person they marry, that would be ok, wouldn't it?"
We were explaining at dinner what it meant to be an Episcopalian, how they straddle the Catholics and the Protestants in terms of both theology and services. I was explaining that one dimension on which Episcopalians are different from Catholics is that their priests are allowed to marry, whereas Catholic priests aren't. Madison was interested in why the Catholics have this rule, and David said that the logic is that they're supposed to devote themselves completely to God, rather than to a wife.
She replied, "Well, how about if they just hate the person they marry, that would be ok, wouldn't it?"
Lightbulb Day
We had our Lightbulb Day celebration last night. It was a kind of modified Lightbulb Day, because I decided we needed to do the zoo for school instead of create our inventions game. So we didn't do games, just the usual gathering around the fire, lighting candles, talking about human inventiveness, and celebrating our favorite inventions. A little discussion about the invention of fire gave Madison the opportunity to give a little lecture about hominid development (she's been reading about human evolution lately) and then she remembered a Cherokee legend, Turquoise Boy, which talked about the invention of horses as transportation for American Indians. (We studied American Indians last month.) She regaled us for 10 minutes with the story, and remembered far more details than I had.
It was all fun, but perhaps not as much fun as in years past because I didn't really have my act together. And so, Madison, my little glass-half-empty-phase girl, designated it as "the worst holiday we've ever celebrated." Was it bad? No, it was good, it was just "the worst." I had to explain that we only use "worst" in cases in which something really is bad. Otherwise, it's "lowest ranked." She decided to continue on the negative track, though, and pronounced it "worst." She really liked the little hand-held computer game we gave her, though.
Anyway, we really did have a good time. Here is a photo of Ella whacking at the Lightbulb pinata. Yes, she's on a stool, yes, she's wearing a blindfold, yes, she's using a bat, yes, she's right in front of our brick fireplace. Yes, we're probably bad parents, especially after the brick-diving incident from earlier this year.
It was all fun, but perhaps not as much fun as in years past because I didn't really have my act together. And so, Madison, my little glass-half-empty-phase girl, designated it as "the worst holiday we've ever celebrated." Was it bad? No, it was good, it was just "the worst." I had to explain that we only use "worst" in cases in which something really is bad. Otherwise, it's "lowest ranked." She decided to continue on the negative track, though, and pronounced it "worst." She really liked the little hand-held computer game we gave her, though.
Anyway, we really did have a good time. Here is a photo of Ella whacking at the Lightbulb pinata. Yes, she's on a stool, yes, she's wearing a blindfold, yes, she's using a bat, yes, she's right in front of our brick fireplace. Yes, we're probably bad parents, especially after the brick-diving incident from earlier this year.
Going to the zoo, zoo, zoo -- how about you, you you?
Yesterday, we went to the Seneca Park Zoo for school. The Rochester Zoo in December, you ask? Sure! It was almost 50 degrees and sunny, but you can even go in the cold and it's still fun. Our real estate agent gave us a one-year membership to the zoo, and we decided to take advantage of it. Both girls brought notebooks, and Madison sketched some animals with the names upder them. But Ella really went to down, writing down the name of every single animal we visited. While I read about the animals, she wrote, very proudly and as neatly as she could. Really great, especially for 5 1/2. Here is a photo of the notebook page:
Monday, December 18, 2006
Grammar
I'm going to start Madison with the rules of grammar. I plan to use the Montessori method of assigning certain colored shapes to parts of speech, unless one of the four people who read this blog has another suggestion.
I wouldn't mind using a good book, too, I never mind shortcuts.
But I know grammar, I figure I'll do this by the seat of my pants for now.
(David, the comma and period go INSIDE the double-quotes except in very very special circumstances. Under the imaginary middle of the line, inside. Two marks or over the imaginary middle of the line (; : ! ? ), outside.)
I wouldn't mind using a good book, too, I never mind shortcuts.
But I know grammar, I figure I'll do this by the seat of my pants for now.
(David, the comma and period go INSIDE the double-quotes except in very very special circumstances. Under the imaginary middle of the line, inside. Two marks or over the imaginary middle of the line (; : ! ? ), outside.)
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Homeschooling, again, finally
From Deb:
We started homeschooling again today, for the first time in two weeks. I say TWO weeks, in the sense of, well, ok, THREE weeks, if you want to be picky.
Homeschooling in the dentist's office!
It was a day of completely on-the-go, as in two haircuts, three dental cleanings, four notarized documents, zero new driver's licenses (despite aborted attempt), and a partridge in a pear tree.
While each girl was in the chair getting checked, her sister was learning all about the structure of teeth in one of our human body books, and I made Dr. Parnes give them lectures about dentin and enamel. Then, while I was in the chair, they worked. Really did, out in the reception area on math and handwriting, and the receptionist comment on how well-behaved and sweet they were! I love this age. Possibly it was the carrot of a trip to McDonald's that made them that way, though.
(Madison will need rather immediate orthodonture work as a six-year molar is slamming diagonally into a baby tooth and consequently not growing. Sigh.)
By the way, concerning physiology, they both had checkups at their pediatrician on Monday. The P.A., who has known them since birth, pronounced them "perfect." Height, weight, spine, you name it. And, believe it or not, Ella decided she wasn't going to cry during her three 5-year-old vaccination shots, and SHE DIDN'T. Really. You should have seen the triumphant look on her face. She says they didn't really hurt all that much, especially not compared with the brick-diving nose injury back in February. Ouch.
We started homeschooling again today, for the first time in two weeks. I say TWO weeks, in the sense of, well, ok, THREE weeks, if you want to be picky.
Homeschooling in the dentist's office!
It was a day of completely on-the-go, as in two haircuts, three dental cleanings, four notarized documents, zero new driver's licenses (despite aborted attempt), and a partridge in a pear tree.
While each girl was in the chair getting checked, her sister was learning all about the structure of teeth in one of our human body books, and I made Dr. Parnes give them lectures about dentin and enamel. Then, while I was in the chair, they worked. Really did, out in the reception area on math and handwriting, and the receptionist comment on how well-behaved and sweet they were! I love this age. Possibly it was the carrot of a trip to McDonald's that made them that way, though.
(Madison will need rather immediate orthodonture work as a six-year molar is slamming diagonally into a baby tooth and consequently not growing. Sigh.)
By the way, concerning physiology, they both had checkups at their pediatrician on Monday. The P.A., who has known them since birth, pronounced them "perfect." Height, weight, spine, you name it. And, believe it or not, Ella decided she wasn't going to cry during her three 5-year-old vaccination shots, and SHE DIDN'T. Really. You should have seen the triumphant look on her face. She says they didn't really hurt all that much, especially not compared with the brick-diving nose injury back in February. Ouch.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Madison finished the multiplication tables!
Because of the moving chaos, I was not able to post that Madison finished memorizing her multiplication tables! She had about six to go in the week before we left, which sent her into a panic, because her big prize that she'd eyed for months was at the Toys R Us there, a stuffed-animal horse, and she couldn't stand the idea of having to move without it.
So she asked for a hand with the last six problems.
I came up with YET ANOTHER strategy for memorizing them, and it worked, she did those in one day. I am sure that it was more the motivation than my strategy, but here is what I did.
We have a whole bunch of stickers in a sticker box. I decided to use those, with a different type of sticker for each equation.
We took note cards and made flash cards, with the equations on one side, and the answers on the other, and put a certain kind of stickers on each card, on both sides, with a little story to go with both the numbers and the stickers. And lo and behold, it worked!
She got this horse at Toys R Us. An enormous stuffed horse which is almost as big as she is. She named it Rosebud, and it sleeps with her. The child adores that horse.
So she asked for a hand with the last six problems.
I came up with YET ANOTHER strategy for memorizing them, and it worked, she did those in one day. I am sure that it was more the motivation than my strategy, but here is what I did.
We have a whole bunch of stickers in a sticker box. I decided to use those, with a different type of sticker for each equation.
We took note cards and made flash cards, with the equations on one side, and the answers on the other, and put a certain kind of stickers on each card, on both sides, with a little story to go with both the numbers and the stickers. And lo and behold, it worked!
She got this horse at Toys R Us. An enormous stuffed horse which is almost as big as she is. She named it Rosebud, and it sleeps with her. The child adores that horse.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The "Time Before"
Throughout my life, I have always been keenly aware of when I'm actively in a "time before."
The time before college.
The time before I started work.
The time before I moved to Rochester to be with David.
The time before we had Madison.
The time before we moved to Virginia.
And now...
The time before we moved back to Rochester.
Each of these "times" has a crisp point at which life abruptly swings you around in a new direction, where to some extent life begins anew, and you get to re-evaluate, and start over. Because these moments are planned, we have the luxury of using the concentrated "time before" as a period of contemplation for who we will be in our new life.
But these are also the times when, because you're about to be swung around again, there's an odd void in your imagination when you try to visualize what's in store. Some things just defy projection, such as becoming a mother. Before Madison was born, I couldn't imagine what her face would look like, and then in an instant there she was, and life whirled around and clicked me into a new place.
In this case, of course, I can visualize our new life all over the place. I've seen photos of the beautiful house we're moving into, I run a web site with all of the kid-friendly details about the area. We'll experience the "Norm" barstool phenomenon all over the place when the girls and I go to the nature center, or gymnastics, or karate.
And yet...it's still one of those points. It's still immensely stressful. I'm sitting here in the family room in Charlottesville, and I almost can't believe that in less than 48 hours I'll never be here again. Never. A stark word, that.
It's a new life, again, only a year and a half after the last new life, which promptly got put on hold because of the mess with Archimedes. We're settling in, this time, though, for the long haul. I'm 37, David is 48, it's definitely time to settle in and live. I'm hoping very much that this is the last "time before" for a long, long time.
Until...
Oh dear, until the girls leave home.
Fortunately, I have the next decade to plan for that one.
The time before college.
The time before I started work.
The time before I moved to Rochester to be with David.
The time before we had Madison.
The time before we moved to Virginia.
And now...
The time before we moved back to Rochester.
Each of these "times" has a crisp point at which life abruptly swings you around in a new direction, where to some extent life begins anew, and you get to re-evaluate, and start over. Because these moments are planned, we have the luxury of using the concentrated "time before" as a period of contemplation for who we will be in our new life.
But these are also the times when, because you're about to be swung around again, there's an odd void in your imagination when you try to visualize what's in store. Some things just defy projection, such as becoming a mother. Before Madison was born, I couldn't imagine what her face would look like, and then in an instant there she was, and life whirled around and clicked me into a new place.
In this case, of course, I can visualize our new life all over the place. I've seen photos of the beautiful house we're moving into, I run a web site with all of the kid-friendly details about the area. We'll experience the "Norm" barstool phenomenon all over the place when the girls and I go to the nature center, or gymnastics, or karate.
And yet...it's still one of those points. It's still immensely stressful. I'm sitting here in the family room in Charlottesville, and I almost can't believe that in less than 48 hours I'll never be here again. Never. A stark word, that.
It's a new life, again, only a year and a half after the last new life, which promptly got put on hold because of the mess with Archimedes. We're settling in, this time, though, for the long haul. I'm 37, David is 48, it's definitely time to settle in and live. I'm hoping very much that this is the last "time before" for a long, long time.
Until...
Oh dear, until the girls leave home.
Fortunately, I have the next decade to plan for that one.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
In the throes
We're surrounded by boxes, and boy are the girls wired. The packers came today. We had thought there would be one person for two days, and turns out there were three people for one day. So now there are two days to wait. Fortunately, we have art and drama classes for the next two days, to get us out of the house.
One of the things I have to do is return library books. I have just discovered that of the seven we have out, four of them are Boxcar Children books that have been packed. Somewhere. I am assuming they got integrated with her regular books in her room, that's where all of the Boxcars are. Let's hope that the library will put some kind of a stop hold on them and I can mail them back from Rochester.
We have Mateo, the 7-year-old from across the street in the afternoons -- we persuaded his parents (easily) to let him come here instead of going to his after-school care so he and the girls could spend more time together before we leave. In between the great hide-and-seek among the boxes, though, they're all squabbling, particularly Mateo and Madison. "You just want to go to Rochester because everything is better there, and you'll have better friends and forget all about me!" And Madison saying that she wants to go to Chili's for dinner, as long as Mateo doesn't go too. Geez. It's as though all the kids were on a sugar high.
Which they may be, because we made krusciki yesterday, my grandmother's recipe, to give out as gifts to various teachers. The best dessert in the world. Everything sinful in there. Egg yolks, sour cream, vanilla, flour, sugar, a little salt...then kneaded for dozens of minutes, rolled out, shaped, and deep fried for a minute, then coated with powdered sugar. Ahhhhhh....
All really necessary, even for me...today I realized that we needed, good grief, homeowner's insurance before Thursday...
One of the things I have to do is return library books. I have just discovered that of the seven we have out, four of them are Boxcar Children books that have been packed. Somewhere. I am assuming they got integrated with her regular books in her room, that's where all of the Boxcars are. Let's hope that the library will put some kind of a stop hold on them and I can mail them back from Rochester.
We have Mateo, the 7-year-old from across the street in the afternoons -- we persuaded his parents (easily) to let him come here instead of going to his after-school care so he and the girls could spend more time together before we leave. In between the great hide-and-seek among the boxes, though, they're all squabbling, particularly Mateo and Madison. "You just want to go to Rochester because everything is better there, and you'll have better friends and forget all about me!" And Madison saying that she wants to go to Chili's for dinner, as long as Mateo doesn't go too. Geez. It's as though all the kids were on a sugar high.
Which they may be, because we made krusciki yesterday, my grandmother's recipe, to give out as gifts to various teachers. The best dessert in the world. Everything sinful in there. Egg yolks, sour cream, vanilla, flour, sugar, a little salt...then kneaded for dozens of minutes, rolled out, shaped, and deep fried for a minute, then coated with powdered sugar. Ahhhhhh....
All really necessary, even for me...today I realized that we needed, good grief, homeowner's insurance before Thursday...
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Making use of the husband
As many others have noted, when the spouse who is not the primary homeschooler is home on vacation, the whole routine tends to go right to pot. Last vacation time, we just gave up on home schooling altogether, because too much was going on. However, for the beginning of this week, I'm trying to keep it going, because the next couple of weeks are going to be so hectic, what with moving and everything.
So, I have found out that the first step is to ADMIT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. That is, to acknowledge right up front that David's being home is so exciting to the girls that adding him to the mix would really disrupt the routine we have established, making it harder for us to get done what we have to. That, plus he tends to make them feel the pressure of "performing" more than I do, which makes them nervous (ok, it makes Madison nervous; those things don't tend to rattle Ella). I will admit that my internal attitude about home schooling is akin to John Galt's: "Get the hell out of my way!" But, my admiration of Rand aside, this was the time for diplomacy. So, this time, I asked David to stay out of it unless I could find a way to incorporate him.
Fortunately, he understood, being a man who appreciates routine...and also fortunately, we have the luxury of doing our home schooling in our basement playroom. So it was easy for us to be out of the way.
And, I have to say, it has worked well. The girls both had things to show him and would pop upstairs when they had accomplished them, Ella asked if she could read her phonics book to David rather than to me, and they both practiced their drama class play for him. He read to them about Indians. Otherwise, we stayed below ground for the morning, and they weren't too distracted.
However, it did show me that I am definitely the one to do this. I gave Madison Thanksgiving-oriented spelling words this week: thanks, giving, potato, turkey, Pilgrim, and Indian. We practiced them below-ground, and then she wanted David to give her a little test. They spent some time going back-and-forth about the words, with her spelling them incorrectly much of the time.
Later on, he remarked to me, "Hey, you were pretty loose about making her do the spelling words."
"Well, she has the whole week to learn them," I said.
"Oh," he said.
So, I have found out that the first step is to ADMIT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. That is, to acknowledge right up front that David's being home is so exciting to the girls that adding him to the mix would really disrupt the routine we have established, making it harder for us to get done what we have to. That, plus he tends to make them feel the pressure of "performing" more than I do, which makes them nervous (ok, it makes Madison nervous; those things don't tend to rattle Ella). I will admit that my internal attitude about home schooling is akin to John Galt's: "Get the hell out of my way!" But, my admiration of Rand aside, this was the time for diplomacy. So, this time, I asked David to stay out of it unless I could find a way to incorporate him.
Fortunately, he understood, being a man who appreciates routine...and also fortunately, we have the luxury of doing our home schooling in our basement playroom. So it was easy for us to be out of the way.
And, I have to say, it has worked well. The girls both had things to show him and would pop upstairs when they had accomplished them, Ella asked if she could read her phonics book to David rather than to me, and they both practiced their drama class play for him. He read to them about Indians. Otherwise, we stayed below ground for the morning, and they weren't too distracted.
However, it did show me that I am definitely the one to do this. I gave Madison Thanksgiving-oriented spelling words this week: thanks, giving, potato, turkey, Pilgrim, and Indian. We practiced them below-ground, and then she wanted David to give her a little test. They spent some time going back-and-forth about the words, with her spelling them incorrectly much of the time.
Later on, he remarked to me, "Hey, you were pretty loose about making her do the spelling words."
"Well, she has the whole week to learn them," I said.
"Oh," he said.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Learning it by brain
Ella has been practicing hard for her part in her drama class' little play that will be performed in about 10 days. She has six or eight lines. She really likes to practice, especially since she can practice as part of school.
As we were laying in bed last night drifting off to sleep, she suddenly said to me:
"You know, if I were the one making up the words, I wouldn't call it 'learning it by heart.' I would call it 'learning it by brain.'"
We've been studying the human body for the last couple of weeks. I guess she's been paying attention!
As we were laying in bed last night drifting off to sleep, she suddenly said to me:
"You know, if I were the one making up the words, I wouldn't call it 'learning it by heart.' I would call it 'learning it by brain.'"
We've been studying the human body for the last couple of weeks. I guess she's been paying attention!
If she had a million dollars
Madison is starting to get an understanding of what things cost with respect to each other. I guess part of it comes from the fact of our buying the new house; she has been asking a lot of questions about what things cost as she's getting her mind around the relative value of numbers.
We were listening to "If I Had a Million Dollars" yesterday by the Bare Naked Ladies, and by the end of the song, she said, "That's impossible."
"What's impossible?"
"He can't buy all of those things with just a million dollars. He'd run out by the middle of the song."
We were listening to "If I Had a Million Dollars" yesterday by the Bare Naked Ladies, and by the end of the song, she said, "That's impossible."
"What's impossible?"
"He can't buy all of those things with just a million dollars. He'd run out by the middle of the song."
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