At the breakfast table this morning, Ella told me that she sometimes thinks about what things would be like if she didn't exist. And then, she tries to imagine what it would be like if nothing existed, if the universe hadn't existed, if the Big Bang had never happened.
"Sometimes I just imagine it all black," she said. "But, really, when I imagine it, it's all white. It's easier for me to imagine nothing as white."
How did she start thinking about this? I was wondering if it was because of having listened to some conversations with one of David's graduate students, a born-again Christian, who was over for dinner.
But she says it's because of when she plays with her friend Lara. Lara tends to make a big mess, flinging everything about, which I don't allow when they play here...Ella has had to be on Lara's case to make sure she doesn't do it, and she has to clean up after them if there's anything left after Lara leaves. "I sometimes think about what it would be like if I wasn't here...I wouldn't have to clean anything up, then," she said. "But I really do like playing with Lara."
Monday, July 16, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Harry Potter movie #5: The Order of the Phoenix
I took a deep breath and took both girls to see the fifth Harry Potter movie, The Order of the Phoenix. It was, I think, the first PG-13 movie they'd seen. I'd heard all of the hype about it being darker, scarier, and for more mature audiences than the first four. But even though I usually wait until someone who knows me sees the movie and says whether they think the girls could handle it, we decided to go. I wasn't going to get away with them not seeing it, for one thing. They've both loved the first four movies, and Madison has Book Five practically memorized. (She kept up a whispered running commentary throughout the movie about book scenes the movie left out or treated somewhat differently, although overall she says the movie was true to the book.)
All of us really liked the movie, and quite honestly I wasn't sure why it was rated PG-13. The "scary" bits were, yes, a bit more violent than we'd seen in previous movies vis-a-vis harm that was done to humans, but the Chamber of Secrets killing of the basilisk (HP #2) was definitely more gory and aroused more anxiety in viewers, at least in my kids. For those of us who understood more of the psychology -- i.e., Madison, who knows the book, and I, who am more aware -- we could tell that this was more grim and ended less on a note of triumph and more on a note of "good we got the bastards this time, but there's a lot worse to come." For me, the experience was very much like I was visiting with these old friends, the kids and adults at Hogwarts, and I felt a warm sense of familiarity that I wouldn't have felt had they not been able to retain the same actors (save for Dumbledore, as Richard Harris died, but his replacement, Michael Gambon, was perfectly serviceable and my kids can't tell the difference).
The best actress, in my opinion, was the creepy-creepy-creepy Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge. And I think the reason that she was so creepy is that we all have seen school administrators who have an Umbridge soul, so the fact that the kids mounted a very effective rebellion was immensely satisfying to the audience. Evanna Lynch was awesome as Luna Lovegood, and I read somewhere that she beat over 15,000 girls for the role.
When I asked the girls if they'd found it particularly scary, the response was a resounding "No!" I find this so interesting. "Well, what kinds of things DO you find scary?" I asked. Monsters lunging for the kill are pretty scary, Ella thinks, if you don't know whether they're going to succeed. But by far what both kids find most "scary" is when a protagonist they like is about to do the wrong thing, to get in trouble. When Harry ran away from the Dursleys at the beginning of #3, THAT was scary because he had just done magic in front of a Muggle and it could get him expelled from Hogwarts. So really, for my lovely little odd kids, many sitcoms are scarier than these kinds of movies. To be honest, I do get dreadfully embarrassed when that kind of thing happens in sitcoms, when you're shouting in your mind at the screen, "No! Don't do it! This is a sitcom and you know you're going to get your comeuppance! It will be embarrassing!" But I am almost positive that I've never expressed anything like this in front of the kids...we certainly don't watch much TV together, other than their shows and, say, the odd episode of "Trading Spaces" or "Mission Organization" or the Food Network.
Anyway, six mostly-enthusiastic thumbs-up for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. We'll probably see it again with Dario when he comes in a couple of weeks.
All of us really liked the movie, and quite honestly I wasn't sure why it was rated PG-13. The "scary" bits were, yes, a bit more violent than we'd seen in previous movies vis-a-vis harm that was done to humans, but the Chamber of Secrets killing of the basilisk (HP #2) was definitely more gory and aroused more anxiety in viewers, at least in my kids. For those of us who understood more of the psychology -- i.e., Madison, who knows the book, and I, who am more aware -- we could tell that this was more grim and ended less on a note of triumph and more on a note of "good we got the bastards this time, but there's a lot worse to come." For me, the experience was very much like I was visiting with these old friends, the kids and adults at Hogwarts, and I felt a warm sense of familiarity that I wouldn't have felt had they not been able to retain the same actors (save for Dumbledore, as Richard Harris died, but his replacement, Michael Gambon, was perfectly serviceable and my kids can't tell the difference).
The best actress, in my opinion, was the creepy-creepy-creepy Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge. And I think the reason that she was so creepy is that we all have seen school administrators who have an Umbridge soul, so the fact that the kids mounted a very effective rebellion was immensely satisfying to the audience. Evanna Lynch was awesome as Luna Lovegood, and I read somewhere that she beat over 15,000 girls for the role.
When I asked the girls if they'd found it particularly scary, the response was a resounding "No!" I find this so interesting. "Well, what kinds of things DO you find scary?" I asked. Monsters lunging for the kill are pretty scary, Ella thinks, if you don't know whether they're going to succeed. But by far what both kids find most "scary" is when a protagonist they like is about to do the wrong thing, to get in trouble. When Harry ran away from the Dursleys at the beginning of #3, THAT was scary because he had just done magic in front of a Muggle and it could get him expelled from Hogwarts. So really, for my lovely little odd kids, many sitcoms are scarier than these kinds of movies. To be honest, I do get dreadfully embarrassed when that kind of thing happens in sitcoms, when you're shouting in your mind at the screen, "No! Don't do it! This is a sitcom and you know you're going to get your comeuppance! It will be embarrassing!" But I am almost positive that I've never expressed anything like this in front of the kids...we certainly don't watch much TV together, other than their shows and, say, the odd episode of "Trading Spaces" or "Mission Organization" or the Food Network.
Anyway, six mostly-enthusiastic thumbs-up for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. We'll probably see it again with Dario when he comes in a couple of weeks.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Chickadee in the summer rain
Mama, this is the warmest, best rain EVER!
And it cooled off Rochester pretty darned well, too.
We created lemon-and-grapefruit sorbet in our new ice cream maker today, which turned out awesome.
And it's taken me three days, but the schoolroom/playroom/basement is almost completely reorganized and decluttered. Plus I got the dehumidifier to work down there and it's vastly more comfortable.
And it cooled off Rochester pretty darned well, too.
We created lemon-and-grapefruit sorbet in our new ice cream maker today, which turned out awesome.
And it's taken me three days, but the schoolroom/playroom/basement is almost completely reorganized and decluttered. Plus I got the dehumidifier to work down there and it's vastly more comfortable.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Chef Chickadee
Everything delights a chickadee.
--E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
While Madison is swishing through the heat in her 19th-century outfit this week in her Learning & Leisure camp at Genesee Country Village (photo coming later this week), Ella is spending the week at home with me. She is loving this so intensely, so passionately, that I wonder if I should try to find some more Ella-and-mom-alone-time during the year. (And maybe I should carve out some more Madison-and-mom-alone-time too.)
"After we drop Madison off, we're going to Wegman's and BJ's."
"YAY!"
"We'll go to the Wegman's up in Webster that has those "shopper in training" grocery carts you like."
"REALLY? Ohmygosh, THANK YOU, Mama, I love those, I really love those.
And indeed, the child is practically wiggling with delight as we get out of the car.
Then, yesterday, we spent the whole day cooking, while I got no work done. We made vanilla ice cream and strawberry ice cream and mango salsa and we tried to make lemon sorbet but it didn't work. She wore her apron and chef's cap. She picked mint from the garden. She tried everything, and really liked the raw red pepper that was in the salsa. She washed the dishes, splashing around happily and being mostly successful. And at various points, the most adorable child in the world would fling her arms around my waist and try to squeeze the bejesus out of me (there is no more left) and cry out, "I LOVE this, Mama. I LOVE spending the day with you. I LOVE cooking with you."
Wait till she finds out we're going to Strong Museum later in the week.
--E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
While Madison is swishing through the heat in her 19th-century outfit this week in her Learning & Leisure camp at Genesee Country Village (photo coming later this week), Ella is spending the week at home with me. She is loving this so intensely, so passionately, that I wonder if I should try to find some more Ella-and-mom-alone-time during the year. (And maybe I should carve out some more Madison-and-mom-alone-time too.)
"After we drop Madison off, we're going to Wegman's and BJ's."
"YAY!"
"We'll go to the Wegman's up in Webster that has those "shopper in training" grocery carts you like."
"REALLY? Ohmygosh, THANK YOU, Mama, I love those, I really love those.
And indeed, the child is practically wiggling with delight as we get out of the car.
Then, yesterday, we spent the whole day cooking, while I got no work done. We made vanilla ice cream and strawberry ice cream and mango salsa and we tried to make lemon sorbet but it didn't work. She wore her apron and chef's cap. She picked mint from the garden. She tried everything, and really liked the raw red pepper that was in the salsa. She washed the dishes, splashing around happily and being mostly successful. And at various points, the most adorable child in the world would fling her arms around my waist and try to squeeze the bejesus out of me (there is no more left) and cry out, "I LOVE this, Mama. I LOVE spending the day with you. I LOVE cooking with you."
Wait till she finds out we're going to Strong Museum later in the week.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Cherry- and strawberry-picking on the 4th
Madison, Dario, and Ella in their traditional Fourth-of-July pose in the wagon at Brown's Berry Patch:
Tatiana, Madison, and David on the way out to the strawberry patch:
Tatiana, Madison, and David on the way out to the strawberry patch:
Spanish dress for Ella
Tatiana has been here this week, and has made a Spanish dress for Ella, much to Ella's delight.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
First place for patriotism!
Some members of the girls' Brownie troop participated in Penfield's June-30-Fourth-of-July Parade this morning. We all brought our own decorations and decorated one family's truck. The seven girls sat in the back of the truck and threw candy to kids watching the parade, while David and I, and another mom and dad, walked behind.
The girls were thrilled that we won First Prize for Most Patriotic Float.
You might be able to tell that our contributions to the decoration were posterboards with phrases from the Declaration of Independence. We (ok, I) cut out all of the letters, pasted them on white posters, and painted them with coffee and tea to make them look like old documents.
Most patriotic, you'd better believe it!
WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF EVIDENT...
CERTAIN INALIENABLE RIGHTS
LIFE, LIBERTY
PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS
LET FACTS BE SUBMITTED TO A CANDID WORLD
The girls were thrilled that we won First Prize for Most Patriotic Float.
You might be able to tell that our contributions to the decoration were posterboards with phrases from the Declaration of Independence. We (ok, I) cut out all of the letters, pasted them on white posters, and painted them with coffee and tea to make them look like old documents.
Most patriotic, you'd better believe it!
WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF EVIDENT...
CERTAIN INALIENABLE RIGHTS
LIFE, LIBERTY
PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS
LET FACTS BE SUBMITTED TO A CANDID WORLD
Quote from the director of the girls' drama camp
Yesterday evening, the girls had their performance after a week of PUSH Pins drama camp. They thought the camp was terrific (there were about 50 kids, some of them actually quite talented), and had a marvelous time.
I introduced David to the director, Miss Heather. She shook David's hand and told him how much they'll all enjoyed having Madison and Ella in camp.
"And Madison makes us all feel undereducated," she added with a smile.
I introduced David to the director, Miss Heather. She shook David's hand and told him how much they'll all enjoyed having Madison and Ella in camp.
"And Madison makes us all feel undereducated," she added with a smile.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Getting fit and saving money this summer
Hey, here's some fun news which has also saved me money. There is a farm near Rochester (there are several like this, from what I understand, but this one is Windy Meadow Farms in Walworth) that will deliver 12-17lbs of fresh produce right to your door for $15/week, or to a close-by pickup location for $10/week, through November 23. What is in it varies each week...here is this week's as an example: http://www.windymeadowfarms.com/weekly%20selection.html.
Anyway, I thought this was a great deal and so I signed up for it last week. We got lots of great stuff, I cooked and made salads, etc. There is so much in your shipment that you can freeze it, too, so I froze the strawberries to use in smoothies. Anyway, you get amounts off for referring people...and so what I did was mention them in my e-newsletter last week, which goes out to 6000 parents. Well, the woman emailed me tonight and told me that the newsletter made such an impact, so many people signed up, that I get the whole 23 weeks of this year's season for FREE. I understand that if you act as a drop-off point, you get free produce, too...so maybe this is a national trend and there is a farm in your neck of the woods. Just an idea.
Cool, eh? How's that for saving money and eating healthful food all in one fell swoop.
And speaking of swoop, no, make that SCOOP:
A client who sells kitchen appliances sent me an ice cream maker. It arrived yesterday. It's a nice one that requires no rock salt or ice, all you do is freeze the main cannister overnight, mix up your ingredients, stick the cold canister on the turning mechanism, add the ingredients, and watch it mix and thicken for half an hour. We made ice cream today: 2 cups heavy cream, 1 cup milk, 3/4 cup sugar, and some vanilla. And MY GOD there is nothing like how delicious and fresh this was. Better than regular ice cream, and much cheaper, too. On the other hand, not so healthful. I can console myself on one dimension, but not the other. I have a recipe book with lower-cal recipes, though, so we'll probably try some of the fresh sorbets. Maybe with the strawberries I get from this Friday's delivery...
Anyway, I thought this was a great deal and so I signed up for it last week. We got lots of great stuff, I cooked and made salads, etc. There is so much in your shipment that you can freeze it, too, so I froze the strawberries to use in smoothies. Anyway, you get amounts off for referring people...and so what I did was mention them in my e-newsletter last week, which goes out to 6000 parents. Well, the woman emailed me tonight and told me that the newsletter made such an impact, so many people signed up, that I get the whole 23 weeks of this year's season for FREE. I understand that if you act as a drop-off point, you get free produce, too...so maybe this is a national trend and there is a farm in your neck of the woods. Just an idea.
Cool, eh? How's that for saving money and eating healthful food all in one fell swoop.
And speaking of swoop, no, make that SCOOP:
A client who sells kitchen appliances sent me an ice cream maker. It arrived yesterday. It's a nice one that requires no rock salt or ice, all you do is freeze the main cannister overnight, mix up your ingredients, stick the cold canister on the turning mechanism, add the ingredients, and watch it mix and thicken for half an hour. We made ice cream today: 2 cups heavy cream, 1 cup milk, 3/4 cup sugar, and some vanilla. And MY GOD there is nothing like how delicious and fresh this was. Better than regular ice cream, and much cheaper, too. On the other hand, not so healthful. I can console myself on one dimension, but not the other. I have a recipe book with lower-cal recipes, though, so we'll probably try some of the fresh sorbets. Maybe with the strawberries I get from this Friday's delivery...
Monday, June 25, 2007
Confession: The guilty pleasure of summer camp
Camp time! Madison and Ella are at the PUSH Pins drama camp this week, which is sponsored by PUSH physical theater, which has an emphasis on, well, physical theater. Mostly mime and dance, but also drums, arts and crafts, etc. They really liked it today.
Oh, the guilty, guilty pleasure I feel. Six blessed hours all to myself each day this week. SIX! I bought a smallish magenta notebook last night, which is to be my 2007 Summer Accomplishments notebook. In the front, I labeled the front-and-back of a page with each room in our house, and for a little while this morning, I wandered around, blissfully uninterrupted, writing down what needed to be done in each room, plus the garage, storage room, and outside. In the back, I started a to-do list, with all of my stuff (Axton Enterprises, KidsOutAndAbout.com, book writing, painting--which I vow to get back to this summer--academic planning for the girls, exercising at the gym, home organizing, financial organizing etc.) kind of intertwined as it occurred to me...and a LOT occurred to me all day. There are two-and-a-half solid pages of to-do. Then, I made a separate page of General Summer Goals, categories that encompass my to-do list, and tucked that into the front pocket so that it's handy (and revisable). I then took a separate sheet that represented this week, and made a sort of daily schedule. It's kind of nice, actually, that David is away through Wednesday, in that I can schedule in an extra hour of stuff to get done before the girls go to bed, and an hour after they go to bed.
There I was, working today, all the while alert for the inevitable "Mom!" that would call from any corner of the house. I even heard it occasionally, and would start up to find out what was needed as usual, when I'd realize THEY'RE NOT IN THE HOUSE, they're in Pittsford in the basement of the First Presbyterian Church. Then, in quick succession: Relief that I wasn't needed by someone, delight at being free to focus exclusively on what I was doing, guilt at my delight, a little rational work to override my guilt, and the plunge back into industry.
AAAAAAHHHHH summer.
P.S. And it's even cool because of the air conditioning.
Oh, the guilty, guilty pleasure I feel. Six blessed hours all to myself each day this week. SIX! I bought a smallish magenta notebook last night, which is to be my 2007 Summer Accomplishments notebook. In the front, I labeled the front-and-back of a page with each room in our house, and for a little while this morning, I wandered around, blissfully uninterrupted, writing down what needed to be done in each room, plus the garage, storage room, and outside. In the back, I started a to-do list, with all of my stuff (Axton Enterprises, KidsOutAndAbout.com, book writing, painting--which I vow to get back to this summer--academic planning for the girls, exercising at the gym, home organizing, financial organizing etc.) kind of intertwined as it occurred to me...and a LOT occurred to me all day. There are two-and-a-half solid pages of to-do. Then, I made a separate page of General Summer Goals, categories that encompass my to-do list, and tucked that into the front pocket so that it's handy (and revisable). I then took a separate sheet that represented this week, and made a sort of daily schedule. It's kind of nice, actually, that David is away through Wednesday, in that I can schedule in an extra hour of stuff to get done before the girls go to bed, and an hour after they go to bed.
There I was, working today, all the while alert for the inevitable "Mom!" that would call from any corner of the house. I even heard it occasionally, and would start up to find out what was needed as usual, when I'd realize THEY'RE NOT IN THE HOUSE, they're in Pittsford in the basement of the First Presbyterian Church. Then, in quick succession: Relief that I wasn't needed by someone, delight at being free to focus exclusively on what I was doing, guilt at my delight, a little rational work to override my guilt, and the plunge back into industry.
AAAAAAHHHHH summer.
P.S. And it's even cool because of the air conditioning.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Let's pretend...
From Madison, at this morning's breakfast table:
Let's pretend that Domino's powdered sugar is a special kind that lets dogs read hieroglyphics.
And I'm the dog.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Two great questions
At dinner tonight, these were two of Madison's questions.
1) Have you ever had a theory that someone convinced you was wrong, so you changed your mind, but which then you reworked later and realized that your first theory was right?
2) In response to a discussion about numbers that repeat infinitely in mathematics, like 1/3, she wanted to know if David had ever encountered an example of a number that had an infinitely repeating part, but completely by coincidence, without a mathematical cause.
So, friends, how about #1? Any examples?
As for #2, David says that he has seen some examples, and that he's going to try to work one up for her.
1) Have you ever had a theory that someone convinced you was wrong, so you changed your mind, but which then you reworked later and realized that your first theory was right?
2) In response to a discussion about numbers that repeat infinitely in mathematics, like 1/3, she wanted to know if David had ever encountered an example of a number that had an infinitely repeating part, but completely by coincidence, without a mathematical cause.
So, friends, how about #1? Any examples?
As for #2, David says that he has seen some examples, and that he's going to try to work one up for her.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Home Schooling (and Rosses) in the news
Rochester Democrat & Chronicle, June 15, 2007
In my neverending quest to get the word out about the viability and desirability of home schooling...
http://www.democratandchronicle.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070615/NEWS01/706150375
Update: When you read the article, check out the comments, too. Some of them are amusing...especially the one that took one of my comments -- that I'd be jealous if someone else educated my kids -- out of context and decided that I needed therapy.
In my neverending quest to get the word out about the viability and desirability of home schooling...
http://www.democratandchronicle.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070615/NEWS01/706150375
Update: When you read the article, check out the comments, too. Some of them are amusing...especially the one that took one of my comments -- that I'd be jealous if someone else educated my kids -- out of context and decided that I needed therapy.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Space school
I've been able to keep the kids in focus this week at school (when all of us really want to stop) by using a space theme. We spend a good (and fun) hour reading about space stuff from the books I brought home from KSC and also from the library. We have done space-themed spelling, which worked great. The girls are at different white boards, not able to see each other. We do the spelling words together (Ella's started that now). Moon, earth, sun, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn. Then, Madison erases, and Ella *reads* the spelling words to her and Madison spells them.
We've also been working on a difficult solar system puzzle for two days. We're in the difficult portion now, and frankly it has such tiny pictures that it's giving me a headache. We only do that for about a half hour until the girls' patience runs out. While we've been working on that, we listen to the CD for the Bach Children's Chorus. Madison got her official acceptance letter last week, and she's got to memorize the following three songs in the CD by the end of the summer.
With "space" as the focus this week, the girls have been able to get going at their schoolwork at such a good clip that I'm able to have them do regular math (non-space) without any trouble. Ella is doing 4-digit by 4-digit addition with carrying (and I'm not exaggerating: she always gets every single problem right, for the last two weeks). Madison is starting long division. I had started long division with her back in the winter, and realized she wasn't quite ready. After 3 days, she's starting to get the hang of it. But it's difficult, and she gets frustrated when she works on something that you can't just snap your fingers and know. That's ok, some things are like that.
So I guess I've got a end-of-kindergartner doing addition with carrying, and an end-of-second-grader doing long division. I'm satisfied!
The new Charlie Bone book (Book 6, Charlie Bone and the Beast) arrived on Monday afternoon. Madison started it at about 4:30. She had finished it by 10am the next morning. She started reading it again yesterday afternoon.
We've been listening to Book 3 in the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. We finished that yesterday. We were weeding out the front rose garden yesterday afternoon, and fortunately that's right next to the driveway. So we had the CDs in the car, opened the car door so the speaker was nearer us, and listened to the 3rd and 4th CDs of Prince Caspian while finishing the weeding. It really helped us continue the weeding, because we didn't want to stop listening. David arrived home while we were still thus engaged (OK, while *I* was still weeding, and the girls were sprawled around with juice boxes listening), and he got out some pistachios and sat down and listened to the end of the book with us.
I had been skeptical of C.S. Lewis, given all of the apologia nonsense he also produced. (According to David, in Mere Christianity he actually states that if you have any underlying motive for your good actions that benefit yourself, it doesn't count as good, only self-abnegation counts. Rand said that if you want to see the worst of Christian apologetics, just read Mere Christianity. I haven't been able to bring myself to think that it's worth my time, maybe someday.) But Lewis is a fabulous storyteller, it's all beautifully written, and what is in there are Biblical referents that the culturally literate adult can appreciate, rather than admonitions from a Christian ethical perspective. That is, the first few books are the retelling of Bible stories: The Magician's Nephew is a retelling of Genesis, and The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is a retelling of the crucifixion and the resurrection. I can't figure out what Prince Caspian is supposed to be retelling, unless it's Jesus's gathering of the 12 disciples, roughly. I wonder if he does The Flood in one of the other books. The girls are enjoying them enough that we'll continue, and I tell all who are interested (primarily Madison) about the parallel Bible stories.
Don't you think Ella looks better in my new sun hat than I do?
Now, that's a loaded question, isn't it?
We've also been working on a difficult solar system puzzle for two days. We're in the difficult portion now, and frankly it has such tiny pictures that it's giving me a headache. We only do that for about a half hour until the girls' patience runs out. While we've been working on that, we listen to the CD for the Bach Children's Chorus. Madison got her official acceptance letter last week, and she's got to memorize the following three songs in the CD by the end of the summer.
With "space" as the focus this week, the girls have been able to get going at their schoolwork at such a good clip that I'm able to have them do regular math (non-space) without any trouble. Ella is doing 4-digit by 4-digit addition with carrying (and I'm not exaggerating: she always gets every single problem right, for the last two weeks). Madison is starting long division. I had started long division with her back in the winter, and realized she wasn't quite ready. After 3 days, she's starting to get the hang of it. But it's difficult, and she gets frustrated when she works on something that you can't just snap your fingers and know. That's ok, some things are like that.
So I guess I've got a end-of-kindergartner doing addition with carrying, and an end-of-second-grader doing long division. I'm satisfied!
The new Charlie Bone book (Book 6, Charlie Bone and the Beast) arrived on Monday afternoon. Madison started it at about 4:30. She had finished it by 10am the next morning. She started reading it again yesterday afternoon.
We've been listening to Book 3 in the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. We finished that yesterday. We were weeding out the front rose garden yesterday afternoon, and fortunately that's right next to the driveway. So we had the CDs in the car, opened the car door so the speaker was nearer us, and listened to the 3rd and 4th CDs of Prince Caspian while finishing the weeding. It really helped us continue the weeding, because we didn't want to stop listening. David arrived home while we were still thus engaged (OK, while *I* was still weeding, and the girls were sprawled around with juice boxes listening), and he got out some pistachios and sat down and listened to the end of the book with us.
I had been skeptical of C.S. Lewis, given all of the apologia nonsense he also produced. (According to David, in Mere Christianity he actually states that if you have any underlying motive for your good actions that benefit yourself, it doesn't count as good, only self-abnegation counts. Rand said that if you want to see the worst of Christian apologetics, just read Mere Christianity. I haven't been able to bring myself to think that it's worth my time, maybe someday.) But Lewis is a fabulous storyteller, it's all beautifully written, and what is in there are Biblical referents that the culturally literate adult can appreciate, rather than admonitions from a Christian ethical perspective. That is, the first few books are the retelling of Bible stories: The Magician's Nephew is a retelling of Genesis, and The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is a retelling of the crucifixion and the resurrection. I can't figure out what Prince Caspian is supposed to be retelling, unless it's Jesus's gathering of the 12 disciples, roughly. I wonder if he does The Flood in one of the other books. The girls are enjoying them enough that we'll continue, and I tell all who are interested (primarily Madison) about the parallel Bible stories.
Don't you think Ella looks better in my new sun hat than I do?
Now, that's a loaded question, isn't it?
Monday, June 11, 2007
Blasting off into the summer
I took a short trip to Florida with some colleagues -- no kids -- and saw the shuttle launch on Friday evening. It was wonderful, marvelous inspiring, so much so that I have so much to say, too much for the brief time I have right now.
I can't wait to find some time to take the kids. Soon, it will have to be.
Hey, didn't my camera do a good job? If you look at the photo in its original context, Atlantis is only a small spec in the middle, as we're 6 miles away from the launch pad.
But my camera is a 7.1 megapixel, and so I was able to crop it and look at it, and hey presto, pretty cool.
I couldn't resist the books in the bookstore there at Kennedy Space Center. We're going really heavy on space, and the shuttle, this week at Mariposario. The books I got weren't enough, we had to go and load up on some more at the library this morning.
I can't wait to find some time to take the kids. Soon, it will have to be.
Hey, didn't my camera do a good job? If you look at the photo in its original context, Atlantis is only a small spec in the middle, as we're 6 miles away from the launch pad.
But my camera is a 7.1 megapixel, and so I was able to crop it and look at it, and hey presto, pretty cool.
I couldn't resist the books in the bookstore there at Kennedy Space Center. We're going really heavy on space, and the shuttle, this week at Mariposario. The books I got weren't enough, we had to go and load up on some more at the library this morning.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Winding up for the year - rambling post
I've discovered myself infected by the same end-of-the-school-year lassitude that always affected me when I was at school. Who wants to do lessons now that winter's over, our brief spring is waning, and summer is upon us? On the other hand, now we can move back into the basement, because it's no longer too cold down there to work (have to get a portable heater for next year), in fact it's downright wonderful when the rest of the house is steaming. (Speaking of which, I'm getting quotes today and tomorrow for central air installation...David is fairly determined to go a summer without it, we'll see.)
I've taken some of this wanting-to-be-out-of-doors restlessness and channeled it into school: I decided we should build a map of the neighborhood, so most mornings for the past two weeks we start the day with a walk. Sometimes we put on landmarks, sometimes we count steps with our pedometer, sometimes we time how long it is from here to there with our stopwatch, sometimes we put the houses with numbers on and color them in to match the color of the house.
We also are volunteering at the Nature Center in Mumford, once per week in June. Last week we (ok, mostly I) pulled garlic mustard, that invasive weed, that was cluttering up the main yard at the Nature Center. Today is our second day, we'll see what that brings.
On my birthday (May 5) we had gone for a walk down in Penn Yan, and along the trail Madison found a large bone, very old, quite clean. We decided to bring it with us. Madison dubbed it a Mammoth Bone and she persists in calling it that, although I thought it was horse. We brought it to the Nature Center last week for a diagnosis, and Liz thinks it's a cow bone -- either the tibia or the fibrula, whichever is the one that goes from the hip socket to the knee (note to self: for pity's sake, look this up!). We donated it to the Nature Center for their Touch Table. Surprisingly, Ella was a lot more reluctant than Madison to leave it there, couldn't figure out why, usually it's Madison who panics at the idea of being separated from something that's hers.
The other thing getting in the way of getting work done is MY work, which seems to have picked up lately. I keep having to talk with clients, or do actual work, or whatnot. Let me confess that school goes MUCH better when I forget about work and give the girls my full, planned attention for a couple of hours, rather than have them work and me intermittently check it while I'm doing my own.
So I long for the last week of June, when they start camp, and when I can REALLY get things done. They're going to drama camp the first week, off the second week when Tatiana and Dario will be here, then morning ballet (Ella)/ history (Madison), then history (both, though Ella only in the afternoons), then horseback riding (morning), then nature, then off to Chicago, then YMCA camp with the Maughlins, then down to Tata's for a few days so that I can look after the kids while she gets ready for the school year, then a couple weeks off, then off to the 5-day Homeschooling Cruise to the Bahamas over Madison's birthday, which is Sept 10. And the summer is over.
Have I officially signed them up for any of this? Of course not. Have to light a fire under me own arse.
I keep realizing how miserable Madison is at spelling, so we're focusing on that more lately. God, she's clueless. She does, though, remember some of the rules, so I'm seizing on that. Yesterday I did spelling for a long time with both her and Ella. We chose words from Harry Potter. Would you believe that this kid, who has been obsessed with Harry Potter for at least nine months, who can discuss the most intricate little logical details from the books, initially spelled his name HAARE POTTR yesterday morning? I find this absolutely fascinating. We spent a lot of time yesterday, after school at various times, discussing words that are like "POTTER" and "MUGGLE." We'll keep plugging away at it.
It's actually good for her to have things she's not good at. There's no pretending that she's good at spelling right now, and by not mincing words about this, it lets her know that when she's good at something, she REALLY IS, there is no artificial praise going on, she can take genuine pride in it. There's no shame in her not being good at spelling right now. She'll get better. She's getting better at handwriting, she really is, although she's still not good at that, either. (I think getting better at spelling will help her get better at handwriting, she hates writing things that are so badly spelled she can't read her own thoughts.)
I've taken some of this wanting-to-be-out-of-doors restlessness and channeled it into school: I decided we should build a map of the neighborhood, so most mornings for the past two weeks we start the day with a walk. Sometimes we put on landmarks, sometimes we count steps with our pedometer, sometimes we time how long it is from here to there with our stopwatch, sometimes we put the houses with numbers on and color them in to match the color of the house.
We also are volunteering at the Nature Center in Mumford, once per week in June. Last week we (ok, mostly I) pulled garlic mustard, that invasive weed, that was cluttering up the main yard at the Nature Center. Today is our second day, we'll see what that brings.
On my birthday (May 5) we had gone for a walk down in Penn Yan, and along the trail Madison found a large bone, very old, quite clean. We decided to bring it with us. Madison dubbed it a Mammoth Bone and she persists in calling it that, although I thought it was horse. We brought it to the Nature Center last week for a diagnosis, and Liz thinks it's a cow bone -- either the tibia or the fibrula, whichever is the one that goes from the hip socket to the knee (note to self: for pity's sake, look this up!). We donated it to the Nature Center for their Touch Table. Surprisingly, Ella was a lot more reluctant than Madison to leave it there, couldn't figure out why, usually it's Madison who panics at the idea of being separated from something that's hers.
The other thing getting in the way of getting work done is MY work, which seems to have picked up lately. I keep having to talk with clients, or do actual work, or whatnot. Let me confess that school goes MUCH better when I forget about work and give the girls my full, planned attention for a couple of hours, rather than have them work and me intermittently check it while I'm doing my own.
So I long for the last week of June, when they start camp, and when I can REALLY get things done. They're going to drama camp the first week, off the second week when Tatiana and Dario will be here, then morning ballet (Ella)/ history (Madison), then history (both, though Ella only in the afternoons), then horseback riding (morning), then nature, then off to Chicago, then YMCA camp with the Maughlins, then down to Tata's for a few days so that I can look after the kids while she gets ready for the school year, then a couple weeks off, then off to the 5-day Homeschooling Cruise to the Bahamas over Madison's birthday, which is Sept 10. And the summer is over.
Have I officially signed them up for any of this? Of course not. Have to light a fire under me own arse.
I keep realizing how miserable Madison is at spelling, so we're focusing on that more lately. God, she's clueless. She does, though, remember some of the rules, so I'm seizing on that. Yesterday I did spelling for a long time with both her and Ella. We chose words from Harry Potter. Would you believe that this kid, who has been obsessed with Harry Potter for at least nine months, who can discuss the most intricate little logical details from the books, initially spelled his name HAARE POTTR yesterday morning? I find this absolutely fascinating. We spent a lot of time yesterday, after school at various times, discussing words that are like "POTTER" and "MUGGLE." We'll keep plugging away at it.
It's actually good for her to have things she's not good at. There's no pretending that she's good at spelling right now, and by not mincing words about this, it lets her know that when she's good at something, she REALLY IS, there is no artificial praise going on, she can take genuine pride in it. There's no shame in her not being good at spelling right now. She'll get better. She's getting better at handwriting, she really is, although she's still not good at that, either. (I think getting better at spelling will help her get better at handwriting, she hates writing things that are so badly spelled she can't read her own thoughts.)
Chirp and Peep
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
