I have never seen such whiny, fidgety kids. What did I do to make them think that whining was a good idea. And Madison had a tantrum when I decided I wasn't going to work with her on a subject after she whined about it. I'm in the admittedly-enviable position of being able to say, "Ok, I am just not interested in educating you today as you're behaving this way," and the response is not "GREAT" but "Oh, no, please Mom, please educate us." Usually I let them get a grip and ask me to work with them on a particular subject, and I do it. But today we've tried that and it hasn't worked. So I've given up for today.
And what does one do when one has given up?
Well, first I'm going to make chrusciki, because I'm going on the radio for a "what's happening Easter weekend around here" couple of spots in the morning, and I'm going to take the Fickle 93.3 folks some chrusciki. We always had it at Easter when I was a kid.
(Long parenthetical: My cousins are visiting with their kids on Monday. It's the first time I'll have seen them in almost 20 years. They actually sound nice...imagine that, blood relatives of mine who are nice. They are two sisters in their late 40s who married brothers, and so their kids are first cousins twice. They decided to take their kids on a little trip to Niagara Falls and so they're stopping in for dinner here on Monday, they'll stay in Pittsford overnight, and continue on Tuesday morning. They're bringing an 8-year-old boy, 14-year-old boy, and 14-year-old girl. I hope it's fun, I'm trying not to put too much emotional stock into it just in case. My one cousin has Celiac and as she had been the only other chrusciki maker in the family before she found out, those kids haven't had chrusciki in years, if ever. So I asked Linda if it would be ok if I made chrusciki for the crew, and she said that would be GREAT. She appreciated how I'd tried to make gluten-free chrusciki with my friend Susan last month. She's going to give it a whirl, too, with a different flour mixture, and see what happens.
Never had chrusciki? Picture a sinful dough made with egg yolks, sour cream, sugar, salt, vanilla, and flour and kneaded until your arms fall off and the dough is smooth and dark yellow, then rolled out thin, shaped into bow ties, deep-fried in Crisco and drenched with powdered sugar. Nothing like it. Clearly the best part of a Polish heritage.)
So that's what we're doing today. I'll have them just sit around and read for a while to get a grip, then we can make chrusciki and go to karate.
Oh, damn, I also have to get Madison to work on the German song that engendered the tantrum last night.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Dumb idea
Never try to get an 8-year-old to start learning a complicated German song just before bedtime. It's a really dumb idea.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Owning more of my own precious time
I read blogs and columns. I'm inspired by them. I have a whole list of blogs that I read. I try to be inspiring in turn to the five or so of you who read this one.
When I wanted to read blogs, I used to zip from blog to blog in the my Favorites list in Internet Explorer. Click, click, click, click, wait for page to load, scan it to see if I've already read it, then move on to the next one.
And then, a few days ago, I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time but never sat down and figured out...I signed up for a blog reader/organizer, otherwise known as an RSS reader. Here's the simple definition from Wikipedia:
I signed up for Google Reader, one of many available, as because I'm on blogger.com (from Google) I already had an account. And...friends, it's magic. I know this is no news to perhaps all of you, but still I'm so delighted I had to post just in case someone didn't know about this.
Now...oh my, I just go to my one view page and whammo, it tells me how many of the blogs I read have new posts, and in just one click I see ALL of the new ones. I organized my blogs into category folders, so I know which categories have new posts, and then can see which specific blogs have them, all at one glance. It's awesome. It is definitely going to shave real tens of minutes off the time I spend not being productive each day.
I know my enthusiasm for this is so-10-minutes ago. I was never the first in a trend.
Of course, I could decide NOT to take my time reading blogs at all. Now THAT would shave a LOT off unproductive time. Hm.
But then I'd miss all of your great blogs.
When I wanted to read blogs, I used to zip from blog to blog in the my Favorites list in Internet Explorer. Click, click, click, click, wait for page to load, scan it to see if I've already read it, then move on to the next one.
And then, a few days ago, I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time but never sat down and figured out...I signed up for a blog reader/organizer, otherwise known as an RSS reader. Here's the simple definition from Wikipedia:
RSS (Really Simple Syndication) is a family of Web feed formats used to publish frequently updated content including, but not limited to, blog entries, news headlines, and podcasts.[2] An RSS document (which is called a "feed" or "web feed" [3] or "channel") contains either a summary of content from an associated web site or the full text. RSS makes it possible for people to keep up with their favorite web sites in an automated manner that can be piped into special programs or filtered displays
I signed up for Google Reader, one of many available, as because I'm on blogger.com (from Google) I already had an account. And...friends, it's magic. I know this is no news to perhaps all of you, but still I'm so delighted I had to post just in case someone didn't know about this.
Now...oh my, I just go to my one view page and whammo, it tells me how many of the blogs I read have new posts, and in just one click I see ALL of the new ones. I organized my blogs into category folders, so I know which categories have new posts, and then can see which specific blogs have them, all at one glance. It's awesome. It is definitely going to shave real tens of minutes off the time I spend not being productive each day.
I know my enthusiasm for this is so-10-minutes ago. I was never the first in a trend.
Of course, I could decide NOT to take my time reading blogs at all. Now THAT would shave a LOT off unproductive time. Hm.
But then I'd miss all of your great blogs.
Grover Cleveland
I gave Ella the choice of Rimsky-Korsakov or Grover Cleveland for today's birthday. She chose Grover Cleveland.
Hey, he seemed to be quite a good guy! I'm glad he was the Birthday of the Day, I really didn't know anything about him. Limited government, anti-expansionist, reversing tariffs (though not against income taxes), fighting corruption, his last words were "I have tried so hard to do right." This can give the kids a good answer to the admonition David dishes out when the kids bang their head into something, as they seem to do so frequently: "Careful, or you'll grow up to vote Democrat." ("Sure, how about Grover Cleveland?")
Reassurance from a 6-year-old
Yesterday's Birthday of the Day was Nat King Cole. We listened to his music at dinner, of course.
One of the songs was "Walking my Baby Back Home." David asked Ella, "Do you like Nat King Cole's version better, or Daddy's?"
After a small hesitation: "Well, Nat King Cole's," she acknowledged. "But Daddy, don't worry, you're really a very good mathematician."
One of the songs was "Walking my Baby Back Home." David asked Ella, "Do you like Nat King Cole's version better, or Daddy's?"
After a small hesitation: "Well, Nat King Cole's," she acknowledged. "But Daddy, don't worry, you're really a very good mathematician."
Sunday, March 16, 2008
More reading from Ella
I took the girls out to lunch on Friday. I try to do this once every three weeks or so, to break up the homeschooling routine. We almost always bring a book along that I read out loud while we're waiting for our food.
A little after we sat down, I saw Ella looking around, craning her neck to look every which way.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Trying to find more signs to read!" she replied.
I (just barely) refrained from doing the Chair Dance of Mommy Joy.
A little after we sat down, I saw Ella looking around, craning her neck to look every which way.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Trying to find more signs to read!" she replied.
I (just barely) refrained from doing the Chair Dance of Mommy Joy.
Clean, crisp capitalism for the homeschooler
One of the benefits about being a homeschooling parent is that you pay for most everything.
Yes, that's a benefit.
Books? Pay for them. (I include library fines.)
Classes? Pay for them. Karate, dance, musical theater, Gym and Swim, etc.
Museum Memberships? Pay for them. We are members at the science museum, nature center, living history museum, art museum, photography museum.
Events? Pay for them, except of course if you're getting free tickets because you're the publisher/editor/dictator of a popular event web site, which entails you pay for them in a different way, with a review, if the event inspires one.
When you pay for something, it's a clean transaction. It's the beauty of capitalism. You want something, they have it, they charge a certain amount, you get out your wallet, and you get what you pay for. If it's as great or greater than the value to you that you expected, you probably do it again. If it's less than the value you spent for it, you don't go back. Responsibilities and expectations are defined up front and clearly. Simple. And it usually requires no extra work on your part, no hidden costs, because that's the beauty of the free market -- those with hidden costs get their backs turned on them by consumers quick as not.
But...the clubs and organizations. Ah, the blurred line.
Take the Brownies. It costs very little to have your kids participate in girl scouts, but they expect parents to participate to make up the difference. Take the cookie sales. Ugh. I'd so much rather write a check. And you can opt out of it, technically, although no one does.
And then there are organizations that straddle that line, like the Bach Children's Chorus. Yes, it's true, you pay about $400 for the year to have your kid in it. But the transaction isn't quite as clean as that. Parents need to make kids practice hard outside of choir rehearsal, but of course I'm used to that and would do it as part of school, anyway. Parents rotate chaperone duty, which I will confess is one of my least favorite things to do. And then there is the fundraising. You don't have to do it, there isn't even pressure to do it. In the fall we had some kind of coupon book sales, which I didn't do. But this spring, there is a big fundraising Gala at a local hotel...a concert with the kids, and then the kids go off and have their own pizza party and entertainment in separate rooms while the adults have a grownup dinner and music and...an auction. And now, here, is where I have been spending all my free (ha) time lately: Gathering auction items from local businesses and organizations. I would normally have a principle against this, except for:
1) My kids have gotten such value from this group that I feel it exceeds the value we've paid, that it will be far more lasting than any of their other classes, and I want to do what I can to help the group.
2) I can do it better than anyone else, given my KOA web site. Organizations offer giveaways all the time through KOA to get local exposure, and all I've had to do is email about 70 of these folks a personal note asking if they'd like visibility to this group by donating something. It has worked...so far we have 53 items! And I know that I have spent much less effort on this than they had to with a big committee of parents last year. So I'm proud of being able to do it well. I will feel a personal sense of satisfaction/ownership over the amount of money that the donations I gathered will garner.
3) They're immensely grateful for what I've been able to do. So much so that if I ever need anything special, something that is an exception or a departure from what is expected, I know that it will be granted instantly and gladly. I told the manager I wanted to go early to the Boston trip with the girls and stay a day late, rather than take the bus with the rest of the choir. She had been skeptical when I mentioned this back in the fall, more hassle for her to keep track of, I think...but I found out yesterday that she'd actually gone to the trouble of reserving the Ross room a day early and a day late. And I noticed this week when the manager sent around the chaperoning assignments for the rest of the year that "Ross" was absent. Yes!
So there can be some external benefits to volunteering this way, which help make it not a sacrifice. On the other hand, if I were actually *pressured* to do this or were *expected* to do it, I'd rebel and refuse.
Which leads me to my main point: that public school parents are far more pressured than homeschooling parents to participate in all kinds of "volunteer" things like this, all the time, my friends tell me. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and parents of kids in "free" government schools are obligated to pay all the time. Fundraisers, bake sales, classroom time, send in more pencils, send in tissues and shop for craft supplies...and, most important, as David points out, HOMEWORK. It's ridiculous to sit there and try to teach your children things they should have learned in over 6 hours at school.
So, Brownies and the BCC notwithstanding, no one has an option on my time and money in the way the "free" public schools have an option on parents' time and money.
Capitalism is far cleaner.
Yes, that's a benefit.
Books? Pay for them. (I include library fines.)
Classes? Pay for them. Karate, dance, musical theater, Gym and Swim, etc.
Museum Memberships? Pay for them. We are members at the science museum, nature center, living history museum, art museum, photography museum.
Events? Pay for them, except of course if you're getting free tickets because you're the publisher/editor/dictator of a popular event web site, which entails you pay for them in a different way, with a review, if the event inspires one.
When you pay for something, it's a clean transaction. It's the beauty of capitalism. You want something, they have it, they charge a certain amount, you get out your wallet, and you get what you pay for. If it's as great or greater than the value to you that you expected, you probably do it again. If it's less than the value you spent for it, you don't go back. Responsibilities and expectations are defined up front and clearly. Simple. And it usually requires no extra work on your part, no hidden costs, because that's the beauty of the free market -- those with hidden costs get their backs turned on them by consumers quick as not.
But...the clubs and organizations. Ah, the blurred line.
Take the Brownies. It costs very little to have your kids participate in girl scouts, but they expect parents to participate to make up the difference. Take the cookie sales. Ugh. I'd so much rather write a check. And you can opt out of it, technically, although no one does.
And then there are organizations that straddle that line, like the Bach Children's Chorus. Yes, it's true, you pay about $400 for the year to have your kid in it. But the transaction isn't quite as clean as that. Parents need to make kids practice hard outside of choir rehearsal, but of course I'm used to that and would do it as part of school, anyway. Parents rotate chaperone duty, which I will confess is one of my least favorite things to do. And then there is the fundraising. You don't have to do it, there isn't even pressure to do it. In the fall we had some kind of coupon book sales, which I didn't do. But this spring, there is a big fundraising Gala at a local hotel...a concert with the kids, and then the kids go off and have their own pizza party and entertainment in separate rooms while the adults have a grownup dinner and music and...an auction. And now, here, is where I have been spending all my free (ha) time lately: Gathering auction items from local businesses and organizations. I would normally have a principle against this, except for:
1) My kids have gotten such value from this group that I feel it exceeds the value we've paid, that it will be far more lasting than any of their other classes, and I want to do what I can to help the group.
2) I can do it better than anyone else, given my KOA web site. Organizations offer giveaways all the time through KOA to get local exposure, and all I've had to do is email about 70 of these folks a personal note asking if they'd like visibility to this group by donating something. It has worked...so far we have 53 items! And I know that I have spent much less effort on this than they had to with a big committee of parents last year. So I'm proud of being able to do it well. I will feel a personal sense of satisfaction/ownership over the amount of money that the donations I gathered will garner.
3) They're immensely grateful for what I've been able to do. So much so that if I ever need anything special, something that is an exception or a departure from what is expected, I know that it will be granted instantly and gladly. I told the manager I wanted to go early to the Boston trip with the girls and stay a day late, rather than take the bus with the rest of the choir. She had been skeptical when I mentioned this back in the fall, more hassle for her to keep track of, I think...but I found out yesterday that she'd actually gone to the trouble of reserving the Ross room a day early and a day late. And I noticed this week when the manager sent around the chaperoning assignments for the rest of the year that "Ross" was absent. Yes!
So there can be some external benefits to volunteering this way, which help make it not a sacrifice. On the other hand, if I were actually *pressured* to do this or were *expected* to do it, I'd rebel and refuse.
Which leads me to my main point: that public school parents are far more pressured than homeschooling parents to participate in all kinds of "volunteer" things like this, all the time, my friends tell me. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and parents of kids in "free" government schools are obligated to pay all the time. Fundraisers, bake sales, classroom time, send in more pencils, send in tissues and shop for craft supplies...and, most important, as David points out, HOMEWORK. It's ridiculous to sit there and try to teach your children things they should have learned in over 6 hours at school.
So, Brownies and the BCC notwithstanding, no one has an option on my time and money in the way the "free" public schools have an option on parents' time and money.
Capitalism is far cleaner.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
We be just a family of logic chartin' fools
David, Madison, and I all love those logic puzzles where you try to find who sits next to the person wearing the green shirt and is the cobbler. You know, the ones that use charts.
Well, now that Ella can read, I got her an intro book. Good thing we did logic last this morning, otherwise she'd have been doing nothing else, she loves it so much.
Welcome to the obsession, Ella.
Well, now that Ella can read, I got her an intro book. Good thing we did logic last this morning, otherwise she'd have been doing nothing else, she loves it so much.
Welcome to the obsession, Ella.
Thane of Ross
For David's birthday a few weeks ago, we got him all the accoutrements he needed for the Ross tartan kilt he had inherited from his father. We got a hat, a spurin (a little purse), a shirt with leather ties, the socks, the flashes to go on the socks, and a Clan Ross pin. All that was missing were the cool shoes and the bagpipes. That's a nice glass of 18-year-old scotch in his hand.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Word on the street is that Spitzer is resigning
I will admit to more than a little schadenfreude.
He has been unrelenting in his persecution of people who committed no crime, Grasso, for instance. I hope they eat him alive.
Oh, I see my friend John Enright puts it better than I:
http://john-j-enright.livejournal.com/473842.html?.
He has been unrelenting in his persecution of people who committed no crime, Grasso, for instance. I hope they eat him alive.
Oh, I see my friend John Enright puts it better than I:
http://john-j-enright.livejournal.com/473842.html?.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Ella reading
I know I posted about a month ago that Ella can't help but read.
I was right, mostly, but it's REALLY true now. Even the words she doesn't recognize right off the bat she doesn't hesitate to sound out as quickly as she can. And then, the other words just flow right in, effortlessly; unlike last month, she doesn't need to deliberately focus on the word to see what it means. Much less energy is spent, now.
About 10 days ago, she finished Little House on the Prairie, with her reading all pages that are "short" (i.e., have a little picture) and me reading all that were long. For her prize, she chose a little Webkins dog that she named, appropriately enough, Jack.
I was right, mostly, but it's REALLY true now. Even the words she doesn't recognize right off the bat she doesn't hesitate to sound out as quickly as she can. And then, the other words just flow right in, effortlessly; unlike last month, she doesn't need to deliberately focus on the word to see what it means. Much less energy is spent, now.
About 10 days ago, she finished Little House on the Prairie, with her reading all pages that are "short" (i.e., have a little picture) and me reading all that were long. For her prize, she chose a little Webkins dog that she named, appropriately enough, Jack.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Math issues
I appreciate the rantings of Ned Vare on his blog School is Hell. Those who like John Taylor Gatto will like Ned.
I left some comments on his post from yesterday, Evelyn Russo is above average. Some of the comments were taken from part of my KOA newsletter, in which I wrote another Math Rant, using David's Winter Quarter experiences from his Calc III class that just finished.
I left some comments on his post from yesterday, Evelyn Russo is above average. Some of the comments were taken from part of my KOA newsletter, in which I wrote another Math Rant, using David's Winter Quarter experiences from his Calc III class that just finished.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Solitary confinement
You always hear about Solitary Confinement in prison being the utmost of punishing punishments.
My response to this is always one of skepticism. I think: Give me Solitary Confinement, as long as I had a computer, and it sounds like a vacation. I can only imagine how incredibly productive I'd be.
(Unless, of course, the computer has Minesweeper.)
My response to this is always one of skepticism. I think: Give me Solitary Confinement, as long as I had a computer, and it sounds like a vacation. I can only imagine how incredibly productive I'd be.
(Unless, of course, the computer has Minesweeper.)
I hate computer games
But what I really mean is, I love them.
Hello, my name is Deb, and I am a computer game addict.
Hi, Deb.
There is a part of my brain that is terribly, terribly happy when it's playing games that involve small bits of logic. I realized this in 1996 when I lost three business days to Minesweeper. You know, Minesweeper, the game that comes with every Windows system.
I can think when I'm playing Minesweeper. Not too profoundly, mind you, but I can think about other things with the part of my brain that is not playing Minesweeper, the way David can think about math when he's driving. For instance, I wrote this blog entry in my head while playing Minesweeper a few minutes ago.
I haven't played computer games in years. After I emerged from that 3-day loss 12 years ago, feeling as I imagine an alcoholic does after a binge, I banned all games from all computers I have ever owned. So I got out of playing them totally. Haven't played in years. Whenever the girls get a new game, I absolutely don't play it. They know that Mommy's brain is too happy playing games, and it takes away from actual productivity. Mommy is living far too close to the edge of the balance of running Axton, running KidsOutAndAbout, trying to learn new software to expand KidsOutAndAbout, writing a book, and homeschooling as it is.
And then, while I was lying in bed with Madison so sick this week and trying to come up with something I could do with her because her eyeballs and brain didn't feel like reading, I realized that there were the Windows games on this laptop I got last year.
Good heavens.
I showed Madison. I showed Ella. And then, two nights ago while I was sitting up with Madison at midnight trying to get her to sleep, I played Minesweeper as she tried to doze. And then, *an hour and a half later* I realized she was asleep and I should probably do the same. I was getting an average of 5 hours per night while up and down with her, I was exhausted, I desperately needed sleep, and there I was playing Minesweeper.
I got the medium level (40 mines) down to 98 seconds, though.
What an idiot.
It helps to write about it, you know?
Good thing I never tried drugs.
Hello, my name is Deb, and I am a computer game addict.
Hi, Deb.
There is a part of my brain that is terribly, terribly happy when it's playing games that involve small bits of logic. I realized this in 1996 when I lost three business days to Minesweeper. You know, Minesweeper, the game that comes with every Windows system.
I can think when I'm playing Minesweeper. Not too profoundly, mind you, but I can think about other things with the part of my brain that is not playing Minesweeper, the way David can think about math when he's driving. For instance, I wrote this blog entry in my head while playing Minesweeper a few minutes ago.
I haven't played computer games in years. After I emerged from that 3-day loss 12 years ago, feeling as I imagine an alcoholic does after a binge, I banned all games from all computers I have ever owned. So I got out of playing them totally. Haven't played in years. Whenever the girls get a new game, I absolutely don't play it. They know that Mommy's brain is too happy playing games, and it takes away from actual productivity. Mommy is living far too close to the edge of the balance of running Axton, running KidsOutAndAbout, trying to learn new software to expand KidsOutAndAbout, writing a book, and homeschooling as it is.
And then, while I was lying in bed with Madison so sick this week and trying to come up with something I could do with her because her eyeballs and brain didn't feel like reading, I realized that there were the Windows games on this laptop I got last year.
Good heavens.
I showed Madison. I showed Ella. And then, two nights ago while I was sitting up with Madison at midnight trying to get her to sleep, I played Minesweeper as she tried to doze. And then, *an hour and a half later* I realized she was asleep and I should probably do the same. I was getting an average of 5 hours per night while up and down with her, I was exhausted, I desperately needed sleep, and there I was playing Minesweeper.
I got the medium level (40 mines) down to 98 seconds, though.
What an idiot.
It helps to write about it, you know?
Good thing I never tried drugs.
Madison is...
...better. Not even close to 100% yet, but last night was the first night she wasn't up-and-down like a yo-yo, didn't babble at me in a foreign language (which used English syllables but wasn't English), and didn't need medicine several times. She's still feverish and dizzy today, but I was able to get some mashed potatoes and yogurt (not together) into her, and now she's strong enough to sit in front of the computer for a little while. It's Day 5 of this so it's About.Darned.Time.
Ella is well. And Ella wants OUT, out of this house. She wants to shop, oh my how that girl wants to shop. We have a favorite clothing store, called Lu's Back Door. (It's a second-hand store...funny how we really like the selection we find in this store better than almost any other place, and little girl dresses are only $4-$8. I remember how much I loathed shopping at thrift stores when I was a kid because my cheap cheap father decreed it, and now here I am with one as my favorite store. We always find nice things for them there, cute things that aren't trashy because the trashy stuff wears out too fast for people to consign it.) Anyway, I told Ella this morning that we could probably go tomorrow, and she's verifying this with me practically every hour.
Ella's gotten bored with entertaining herself for days, even though I've done modified school with her, so she's just asked me for formal school. Logic, she wants to do logic. Isn't that nice? I'd better go do it.
Ella is well. And Ella wants OUT, out of this house. She wants to shop, oh my how that girl wants to shop. We have a favorite clothing store, called Lu's Back Door. (It's a second-hand store...funny how we really like the selection we find in this store better than almost any other place, and little girl dresses are only $4-$8. I remember how much I loathed shopping at thrift stores when I was a kid because my cheap cheap father decreed it, and now here I am with one as my favorite store. We always find nice things for them there, cute things that aren't trashy because the trashy stuff wears out too fast for people to consign it.) Anyway, I told Ella this morning that we could probably go tomorrow, and she's verifying this with me practically every hour.
Ella's gotten bored with entertaining herself for days, even though I've done modified school with her, so she's just asked me for formal school. Logic, she wants to do logic. Isn't that nice? I'd better go do it.
Monday, March 03, 2008
One of those nights
It's early in the morning; I'm in bed with my laptop next to my feverish, wheezing, lightly sleeping 8-year-old; Madison's bronchitis is pretty bad, we've had several "incidents" over the past night. The humidifier is going, but I know that at some point she'll be catapulted awake and we'll make another trip into the bathroom where I'll let the steam from the shower give her some breathing relief. There will be no science club or gym-and-swim or karate today.
Thank goodness we home school; in order to have an "excused absence" I'd have to yank her out to the doctor, when it's obviously viral and all you can do is make her as comfortable as possible for the duration. This way we just get to spend all our time hanging around reading in bed or watching David Attenborough's wonderful nature videos from NetFlix.
I know a fair amount about anatomy, which is fortunate because they both have lots of questions about how our bodies work, particularly when they're sick. So we've been doing a lot of talking about lungs and the lymphatic system and white blood cells and viruses vs. bacteria and the color of mucus and why one drinks a lot of water at times like this, and the difference in effects between cough suppressants and expectorants.
Yesterday afternoon I gave Madison her first lesson in HTML, sitting in bed with the laptop; she cottoned on right away and made herself a master links page for the places she goes online.
Madison is stirring, snuggling into me. I think I'll put this aside and wrap myself around her -- like a big old leukocyte around a viral invader.
Thank goodness we home school; in order to have an "excused absence" I'd have to yank her out to the doctor, when it's obviously viral and all you can do is make her as comfortable as possible for the duration. This way we just get to spend all our time hanging around reading in bed or watching David Attenborough's wonderful nature videos from NetFlix.
I know a fair amount about anatomy, which is fortunate because they both have lots of questions about how our bodies work, particularly when they're sick. So we've been doing a lot of talking about lungs and the lymphatic system and white blood cells and viruses vs. bacteria and the color of mucus and why one drinks a lot of water at times like this, and the difference in effects between cough suppressants and expectorants.
Yesterday afternoon I gave Madison her first lesson in HTML, sitting in bed with the laptop; she cottoned on right away and made herself a master links page for the places she goes online.
Madison is stirring, snuggling into me. I think I'll put this aside and wrap myself around her -- like a big old leukocyte around a viral invader.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Reading weekend
I wrote about Dr. Seuss's birthday this week in the email to my Rochester list:
It also seems to be Sick Across America weekend, as practically everyone we know with kids is either sick, or just got over being sick, including all of us. So it's turned into Ross Reading Weekend. We just all have the icks, except Ella, who had the major icks when I was gone and who now is the only one who is well.
Madison has bad bronchitis. I slept/stayed up with her all last night. Breathing the steam from the shower is the only thing that holds the dreadful wheezing at bay for a little while. David--none too well himself--just took Ella to a birthday party that they'd been looking forward to for a while, because she really is over whatever it was that gripped her, something stomachy. I'm in Madison's bed with her--a feverish, wheezy, hacky baby. She's been bribed into finishing her bottle of water with promises that I'd show her some web programming stuff, but as soon as I climbed in next to her with the laptop she murmured, "A little snuggle first, Mom, ok?" and closed her eyes. She's now uneasily asleep next to me. A little while ago, her eyes popped open and she asked if I'd been talking to her. I hadn't. "Ok, I just didn't want you to think I was being rude if I didn't answer you," she said, and slipped under again.
They're so loving and clingy when they're sick. (Well, mine are pretty loving when they're well, actually.)
OK, I just got a call from David saying that the birthday party was YESTERDAY. Damn. I don't usually make those kinds of mistakes. Ah well. It was a party for a little boy from a seriously fundamentalist family, and the theme was *dinosaurs*. I was probably going to have to disabuse the girls of ideas about The Sixth Day and all, so maybe it's all for the best.
This is Read Across America weekend --and what better weekend to have it than what would be Dr. Seuss's 104th birthday? Think about ways your family can celebrate: I think we may have a little family read-a-thon on Sunday evening. This is one of those situations in which just announcing something in a special way can totally change the way your child sees a task; on the one hand, you can tell your beginning reader that it's time, now, to practice his reading. Groans! But...suppose you propose that the whole family celebrate Read Across America weekend by everyone gathering around the table with some books and a nice cup of hot cocoa! Or, you can ask for suggestions or let the kids design their own ritual. It becomes an entirely different affair.
It also seems to be Sick Across America weekend, as practically everyone we know with kids is either sick, or just got over being sick, including all of us. So it's turned into Ross Reading Weekend. We just all have the icks, except Ella, who had the major icks when I was gone and who now is the only one who is well.
Madison has bad bronchitis. I slept/stayed up with her all last night. Breathing the steam from the shower is the only thing that holds the dreadful wheezing at bay for a little while. David--none too well himself--just took Ella to a birthday party that they'd been looking forward to for a while, because she really is over whatever it was that gripped her, something stomachy. I'm in Madison's bed with her--a feverish, wheezy, hacky baby. She's been bribed into finishing her bottle of water with promises that I'd show her some web programming stuff, but as soon as I climbed in next to her with the laptop she murmured, "A little snuggle first, Mom, ok?" and closed her eyes. She's now uneasily asleep next to me. A little while ago, her eyes popped open and she asked if I'd been talking to her. I hadn't. "Ok, I just didn't want you to think I was being rude if I didn't answer you," she said, and slipped under again.
They're so loving and clingy when they're sick. (Well, mine are pretty loving when they're well, actually.)
OK, I just got a call from David saying that the birthday party was YESTERDAY. Damn. I don't usually make those kinds of mistakes. Ah well. It was a party for a little boy from a seriously fundamentalist family, and the theme was *dinosaurs*. I was probably going to have to disabuse the girls of ideas about The Sixth Day and all, so maybe it's all for the best.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
On helping Ella stand strong
I'm away at a software seminar in New Hampshire, and trying to stay up late so I can wake up late so I can stay up really late tomorrow night as I drive home, which is a 7-hour drive when the roads are good and (as I found out last night when driving here) a nearly 10-hour drive when the roads stink.
I hate driving in heavy snow, even in a Subaru with nice four-wheel drive.
Anyway, that's not what I'm writing about. I've been meaning to write about something that happened with Ella last Friday.
She had a lovely little friend over, Caroline. Caroline is a sweet little waif-like thing, if possible even shyer than Ella. And the thing is, I know Caroline is really a very nice little normal girl. But a game she insisted that she wanted to play while she was over here, despite Ella's objections, made Ella extremely uncomfortable. And Ella didn't know what to do about it. Moreover, Caroline insisted that it was a "secret" game.
I came upstairs while the secret game was being played. They giggled nervously, but didn't tell me what it was. I figured it was some silly role-playing game, and thought no more of it, letting them have their little secret. How bad could it be?
Later, after Caroline left, I found out that Ella had tried to get Caroline to stop playing the game, but Caroline wouldn't, and Ella felt compelled to go along with it. She wished I had been able to stop it.
What! What! I was shocked, but didn't act upset in front of Ella. "What was it?"
Ella burst into tears. "I can't tell you. I'm too embarrassed."
My GOD! What the HELL?
Thereafter ensued a full half hour of 60 Questions, gently put to my sweet baby, to which Ella, speechless, nodded or shook her head, sobbing, and eventual...thank goodness...a real anticlimax. "I just can't tell you, Mom. I can't, I'm too embarrassed."
I got worried, very worried. "Were there rules to this game?" Yes. "Is it played in a specific room?" Yes. "Is it the hall?" No. "Is it the bedroom?" No. "Is it the bathroom?" Yes. "Is it with your bodies?" Yes. "Is it pretend play, role play?" Yes. "Is it doctor or something like that? You know that little kids do that sometimes, Ella, it's natural." No. No one took off their clothes. Bathroom, bathroom...what the hell? I got scared. "Tell me you didn't do anything with the medicines, Ella." No, nothing like that. It was all pretend. You needed at least three people to do it, so they had to pretend one of the people. Ella was upset, Ella tried to tell Caroline that her Mom wouldn't like it but Caroline just kept playing it, over and over, and Ella wished she could get her to stop...
Finally, I got it out of her, after a lot of talk about what it means to have the courage to do the right thing, how if a little kid makes you promise not to tell the grownups you can promise not to tell AND STILL TELL THE GROWNUPS ANYWAY, you're allowed to do that...
Turns out it was a variation on the age-old cops-and-robbers kind of play...the goal of this weird little game was that you're supposed to run around the house and when you got to the bathroom, well, that was the edge of a cliff and you were supposed to push pretend people off the cliff into a pot.
Ick, yes, kind of. But WHEW!!! No weirder than other things kids play. Nothing that I had to be really concerned about, nothing I had to report to Caroline's parents or anything. The whole time Ella was sobbing in my arms I was envisioning calling up Kelli to give her the scary news about her little girl's games. Thank goodness.
But Ella, my beautiful sweet-souled angel, just couldn't stand the idea. This is something that might have gone over her head a while ago...but Ella, I think partly due to her new awareness about the implications of the things she does, her new awareness of her own efficacy in the big wide world, just couldn't stand the idea of pretending to hurt people. It was so confusing for her why someone would want to pretend that, she thought it was awful, just shamefully awful. My little girl who always wants to help, who always wants to make things better, felt herself compelled to participate in this weird little game.
And that's the thing that we have to consider now...how to be strong in the face of her friends' desires to do something she doesn't want to do. I think she was embarrassed not really at the fact of the game's having been played, but at her own inability to stop it. Not that she SHOULD have the skills to do this at her age, but she didn't know that. So that's my task for the next little while, to help Ella build up her strength of character so that when someone wants her to do something she doesn't want to do, she is able to refuse and to turn the situation around.
I think Nancy Reagan's admonition is too simplistic, though. Even for a 6-year-old. Suggestions would be more than welcome.
By the way, we went right out to Target afterward and I just got her lots of stuff, clothes, mostly, and a doll she really wanted. She was shocked, and very, very pleased. We never do that. (Well, she needed the clothes. The doll was to celebrate her courage.) I want her to remember how it feels, to associate pride and fun and happiness with the achievement of doing something right, a thing she found so very difficult.
Heartbreaking, though, from a parent's perspective. I thought we'd be able to wait awhile on this one.
I hate driving in heavy snow, even in a Subaru with nice four-wheel drive.
Anyway, that's not what I'm writing about. I've been meaning to write about something that happened with Ella last Friday.
She had a lovely little friend over, Caroline. Caroline is a sweet little waif-like thing, if possible even shyer than Ella. And the thing is, I know Caroline is really a very nice little normal girl. But a game she insisted that she wanted to play while she was over here, despite Ella's objections, made Ella extremely uncomfortable. And Ella didn't know what to do about it. Moreover, Caroline insisted that it was a "secret" game.
I came upstairs while the secret game was being played. They giggled nervously, but didn't tell me what it was. I figured it was some silly role-playing game, and thought no more of it, letting them have their little secret. How bad could it be?
Later, after Caroline left, I found out that Ella had tried to get Caroline to stop playing the game, but Caroline wouldn't, and Ella felt compelled to go along with it. She wished I had been able to stop it.
What! What! I was shocked, but didn't act upset in front of Ella. "What was it?"
Ella burst into tears. "I can't tell you. I'm too embarrassed."
My GOD! What the HELL?
Thereafter ensued a full half hour of 60 Questions, gently put to my sweet baby, to which Ella, speechless, nodded or shook her head, sobbing, and eventual...thank goodness...a real anticlimax. "I just can't tell you, Mom. I can't, I'm too embarrassed."
I got worried, very worried. "Were there rules to this game?" Yes. "Is it played in a specific room?" Yes. "Is it the hall?" No. "Is it the bedroom?" No. "Is it the bathroom?" Yes. "Is it with your bodies?" Yes. "Is it pretend play, role play?" Yes. "Is it doctor or something like that? You know that little kids do that sometimes, Ella, it's natural." No. No one took off their clothes. Bathroom, bathroom...what the hell? I got scared. "Tell me you didn't do anything with the medicines, Ella." No, nothing like that. It was all pretend. You needed at least three people to do it, so they had to pretend one of the people. Ella was upset, Ella tried to tell Caroline that her Mom wouldn't like it but Caroline just kept playing it, over and over, and Ella wished she could get her to stop...
Finally, I got it out of her, after a lot of talk about what it means to have the courage to do the right thing, how if a little kid makes you promise not to tell the grownups you can promise not to tell AND STILL TELL THE GROWNUPS ANYWAY, you're allowed to do that...
Turns out it was a variation on the age-old cops-and-robbers kind of play...the goal of this weird little game was that you're supposed to run around the house and when you got to the bathroom, well, that was the edge of a cliff and you were supposed to push pretend people off the cliff into a pot.
Ick, yes, kind of. But WHEW!!! No weirder than other things kids play. Nothing that I had to be really concerned about, nothing I had to report to Caroline's parents or anything. The whole time Ella was sobbing in my arms I was envisioning calling up Kelli to give her the scary news about her little girl's games. Thank goodness.
But Ella, my beautiful sweet-souled angel, just couldn't stand the idea. This is something that might have gone over her head a while ago...but Ella, I think partly due to her new awareness about the implications of the things she does, her new awareness of her own efficacy in the big wide world, just couldn't stand the idea of pretending to hurt people. It was so confusing for her why someone would want to pretend that, she thought it was awful, just shamefully awful. My little girl who always wants to help, who always wants to make things better, felt herself compelled to participate in this weird little game.
And that's the thing that we have to consider now...how to be strong in the face of her friends' desires to do something she doesn't want to do. I think she was embarrassed not really at the fact of the game's having been played, but at her own inability to stop it. Not that she SHOULD have the skills to do this at her age, but she didn't know that. So that's my task for the next little while, to help Ella build up her strength of character so that when someone wants her to do something she doesn't want to do, she is able to refuse and to turn the situation around.
I think Nancy Reagan's admonition is too simplistic, though. Even for a 6-year-old. Suggestions would be more than welcome.
By the way, we went right out to Target afterward and I just got her lots of stuff, clothes, mostly, and a doll she really wanted. She was shocked, and very, very pleased. We never do that. (Well, she needed the clothes. The doll was to celebrate her courage.) I want her to remember how it feels, to associate pride and fun and happiness with the achievement of doing something right, a thing she found so very difficult.
Heartbreaking, though, from a parent's perspective. I thought we'd be able to wait awhile on this one.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Ballet solution, I think
I think I have found a solution to Ella's ballet class issue, the one which resulted in her anxiety and crying, and the crying spilling over to other classes.
She started this afternoon at a new class, with a woman named Elizabeth Clark, a 60-odd-year-old woman who has had an ensemble here in Rochester for many years. She teaches in a church near here. The girls had taken a sample class with her at the Brighton library over a year ago, and I remember thinking at the time that she was much more of a "free spirit" dancer, more of a "dance what you feel" kind of instructor. I had thought that this wouldn't be the right kind of class for Ella, not formal or disciplined enough, but after the problem with the formality of the other class, I thought we should give it a try.
The woman is just a total darling, a grandmothery type who wants her students to love dancing. And the class was wonderful for Ella. Ella loved Elizabeth, Elizabeth loved her, I loved Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was very complimentary about Ella's dancing (and even about my web site). It was one big love-fest. Even if one of the other classes Elizabeth teaches is Diversity Dancing (or some such), I don't care. It's perfect. Ella finished the class looking so glowingly happy that I felt willing to empty my bank account for this woman. But I only had to part with $72. What a deal.
Thank goodness.
She started this afternoon at a new class, with a woman named Elizabeth Clark, a 60-odd-year-old woman who has had an ensemble here in Rochester for many years. She teaches in a church near here. The girls had taken a sample class with her at the Brighton library over a year ago, and I remember thinking at the time that she was much more of a "free spirit" dancer, more of a "dance what you feel" kind of instructor. I had thought that this wouldn't be the right kind of class for Ella, not formal or disciplined enough, but after the problem with the formality of the other class, I thought we should give it a try.
The woman is just a total darling, a grandmothery type who wants her students to love dancing. And the class was wonderful for Ella. Ella loved Elizabeth, Elizabeth loved her, I loved Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was very complimentary about Ella's dancing (and even about my web site). It was one big love-fest. Even if one of the other classes Elizabeth teaches is Diversity Dancing (or some such), I don't care. It's perfect. Ella finished the class looking so glowingly happy that I felt willing to empty my bank account for this woman. But I only had to part with $72. What a deal.
Thank goodness.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Lunar Eclipse
Of course we had to check out the eclipse with the kids. The Rochester Museum & Science Center was having an event with members of the Rochester Astronomy Club having telescopes in the parking lot, and a viewing of Saturn from the main telescope on top of the building.
We set out at 8:20 in, miracle of miracles, a clear night. One has very small odds of finding a clear night anywhere between November and April in Rochester, so we felt lucky. It was cold, even by Rochester's standards (17 degrees), but it felt a LOT colder with the wind. We bundled up in layers (and when Ella bundles up in layers, she means FOUR layers of everything...she smilingly imitated Randy in A Christmas Story--"I can't put my arms downs!"), but it still didn't stop the incredible bite of the wind.
As the eclipse wasn't scheduled to start for a little while, we spent a freezing 15 minutes up on the top of the planetarium waiting in line to see Saturn. Then we headed inside the building to play and wait for the Big Event.
We went outside at 8:45. To...a thick snowstorm. Welcome to Rochester. Yep, the car was mostly covered in a scant 10 minutes. It was "only" lake-effect snow, but clouds are clouds. The "photojournalist" from 10NBC was there (you can see that nothing happens in Rochester, when this kind of thing makes the news) to film all of the families crowded around the telescopes and excitedly watching the eclipse, but he mostly got shots of disappointed people crowded around the astronomer who was showing us printed-out charts of what *was* happening up there behind the clouds even though we couldn't see it.
The clouds thinned a little bit on the way home, enough that we could see a fuzzy outline of a moon that was no longer round.
But spirits were undaunted, let me tell you. We sort of saw the eclipse, and calculated how old they would be by the time the next one swings around. They'll remember it all the better for the bitter cold, and the sudden snowstorm.
The important thing the kids will take away from it is: We do stuff. Cool stuff. Even if it doesn't quite work out the way we originally intended.
We set out at 8:20 in, miracle of miracles, a clear night. One has very small odds of finding a clear night anywhere between November and April in Rochester, so we felt lucky. It was cold, even by Rochester's standards (17 degrees), but it felt a LOT colder with the wind. We bundled up in layers (and when Ella bundles up in layers, she means FOUR layers of everything...she smilingly imitated Randy in A Christmas Story--"I can't put my arms downs!"), but it still didn't stop the incredible bite of the wind.
As the eclipse wasn't scheduled to start for a little while, we spent a freezing 15 minutes up on the top of the planetarium waiting in line to see Saturn. Then we headed inside the building to play and wait for the Big Event.
We went outside at 8:45. To...a thick snowstorm. Welcome to Rochester. Yep, the car was mostly covered in a scant 10 minutes. It was "only" lake-effect snow, but clouds are clouds. The "photojournalist" from 10NBC was there (you can see that nothing happens in Rochester, when this kind of thing makes the news) to film all of the families crowded around the telescopes and excitedly watching the eclipse, but he mostly got shots of disappointed people crowded around the astronomer who was showing us printed-out charts of what *was* happening up there behind the clouds even though we couldn't see it.
The clouds thinned a little bit on the way home, enough that we could see a fuzzy outline of a moon that was no longer round.
But spirits were undaunted, let me tell you. We sort of saw the eclipse, and calculated how old they would be by the time the next one swings around. They'll remember it all the better for the bitter cold, and the sudden snowstorm.
The important thing the kids will take away from it is: We do stuff. Cool stuff. Even if it doesn't quite work out the way we originally intended.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
My third-grade diary
I was doing some major cleaning and reorganizing this past weekend, and found my third-grade diary. I had gotten it for Christmas of 1977. I wrote in it faithfully through February, and then in spurts until the summer. We sat around and read from it.
There are some great entries, the best of which are written DIRECTLY to my children. Yes, I had the sense that some day my kids would see the diary, and I was thinking about what they'd be like. So I had the foresight to say hello to them at various points. On Monday, February 20, 1978, I wrote this:
Madison immediately got inspired to start writing in her journal.
One small thing: As a homeschooler, I was a little flummoxed to see that my spelling and handwriting, as a third grader, clearly eclipsed Madison's now. I went to public school; Madison is supposed to be better than me in every respect. Right? Right? Now I know this isn't reasonable. But still.
I did actually seem to like school at the time. BUT...I loved this entry from June 28:
There are some great entries, the best of which are written DIRECTLY to my children. Yes, I had the sense that some day my kids would see the diary, and I was thinking about what they'd be like. So I had the foresight to say hello to them at various points. On Monday, February 20, 1978, I wrote this:
If it is my husband or my children reading it, you might ask me to show you my little girl sunbonnet. (As told about yesterday.)The girls were amazed; indeed, I *have* the sunbonnet my parents had brought back from their trip to Lancaster County Pennsylvania. The girls have used it for a couple of years. And to see it written about, in a note to THEM from 30 years ago...wow.
Madison immediately got inspired to start writing in her journal.
One small thing: As a homeschooler, I was a little flummoxed to see that my spelling and handwriting, as a third grader, clearly eclipsed Madison's now. I went to public school; Madison is supposed to be better than me in every respect. Right? Right? Now I know this isn't reasonable. But still.
I did actually seem to like school at the time. BUT...I loved this entry from June 28:
This is the last day of school. Boy am I glad to be out of the grind!
The guilty pleasure of winter drama camp
The local kids have off school this week for Winter Break. Madison started yesterday at a week-long musical theater camp run by a local director here in Rochester.Yesterday's theme was Mary Poppins, today it's Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, Thursday it's Annie and Friday it's High School Musical. (Tomorrow we're having friends over.) I know nothing about High School Musical. Yes, I am totally out of the loop. Anyway, Madison liked it so much that Ella is attending with her today. (It's a very flexible camp.)
I've already gotten out to the gym, exercised hard, went to Home Depot, put up some hooks and made a few repairs, and gotten some work done.
It's quiet.
AHHHHHHHHH.
I've already gotten out to the gym, exercised hard, went to Home Depot, put up some hooks and made a few repairs, and gotten some work done.
It's quiet.
AHHHHHHHHH.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Excellence
In my KOA newsletter last week, I wrote a little bit about excellence. My follow-up comments this week are getting some positive attention from the Rochester parents who read my email. That's good, because I need to be concerned about not coming on too strong, or seeming like I'm constantly complaining, or making regular people who just dump their kids in public school without a second thought to their education feel like I'm jabbing them (even though I am, implicitly). Here's what I wrote in today's e-newsletter:
After last week's email, which contained some of my thoughts about excellence, I received several comments to the effect that perhaps one problem is that we've actually been putting too much stress on kids, pushing them to compete and achieve and bulk up their portfolios for the all-important college admissions process. This gave me an excellent (ha!) opportunity to make clear a distinction which I have been thinking about for 20 years: Who gets to decide what "excellence" is? I, too, was one of "those kids"--the stressed-out, depressed, high achievers to whom getting A's and getting into a good college meant everything. Now, don't get me wrong, obsessive achievement at school beats failure any day of the week. But my problem was that all I was left with were the A's--not much knowledge or character, and certainly no good skills at thinking. Nowadays, of course, no one cares where I went to college. Why should they? People care that I do my job well: that I can write, and think, and know what the heck I'm talking about when I put fingers to keyboard. For my kids, my goal is to encourage real, objective excellence, so that they become bright, engaged, and culturally literate human beings--excellent, that is, at living life, not necessarily at living up to some organization's standard of academic achievement. I expect that if David and I can succeed at this, our girls' college-and-career-path issues will sort out themselves.
Happy birthday, my love
Today our Birthday of the Day is...
David Stewart Ross
born in 1958 in Queens, New York, 91 years after Laura Ingalls Wilder was born, and one year after she died.
He's not dead, yet. So, no one gets a nickel tonight for knowing when.
David Stewart Ross
born in 1958 in Queens, New York, 91 years after Laura Ingalls Wilder was born, and one year after she died.
He's not dead, yet. So, no one gets a nickel tonight for knowing when.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A Swiftly Tilting Planet
Here's an interesting question: What to do when you're reading a book out loud to your little kids and you get all choked up.
This happens to me all the time. I get emotional, my throat tightens, and my voice comes out sounding cracked and strained. But I have always had a conviction of trying not to lose control of my emotions in front of the kids (except for the positive ones...I have no problem with expressing joy or glee or having a giggle fit), because kids are supposed to feel protected by their parents, not protective.
So, what I do is that usually I just try to gloss over it, to take some deep breaths or rub my nose or cough, to divert the attention. Madison is pretty savvy, though, savvy enough to notice a corrollation between what's going on in the text and my coughing. (Ella is oblivious.) She noticed yesterday morning, when I was reading then A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle (one of my old favorites). And then today, at lunch, when Duthbert Mortmain hits Chuck and he falls down the stairs--and of course I know what is going to happen after that because I read this book dozens of times as a kid--well, it was just so sad that I just couldn't go on. I actually started crying.
I realized that part of the impetus behind the welling up of these emotions is that I'm experiencing the book on many different levels than I did as a child; I understand the implications of so much more than I did back then, so these books are far more meaningful. Plus, as I read them, I am remembering how I experienced them as a child, noting how I am experiencing them as an adult, and -- at the same time -- comparing the difference between my experiences then and now, and pondering what the difference means. So it's affecting me on many levels now, simultaneously, whereas it was a much simpler experience for me as a child. So, yes, it's no wonder I start crying.
But what to do about it? I don't want the kids to be too concerned.
And, frankly, they weren't, today. They were surprised. They didn't understand why I was actually crying, given what had just happened in the book.
"Does Chuck die?" they asked.
"No."
"What happens?"
"He gets brain damage, and experiences his universe as an oddly shifting one -- as a swiftly tilting planet."
The still didn't understand why it had affected me so deeply. I told them that adults experience books in many more ways than kids do. They seemed to accept that. They weren't particularly concerned that I was crying, which was a good thing. I think there's losing control and losing control; if I was clearly out of control, that would be scary. But as long as I'm still me, I think a few tears shed won't be a bad thing.
This happens to me all the time. I get emotional, my throat tightens, and my voice comes out sounding cracked and strained. But I have always had a conviction of trying not to lose control of my emotions in front of the kids (except for the positive ones...I have no problem with expressing joy or glee or having a giggle fit), because kids are supposed to feel protected by their parents, not protective.
So, what I do is that usually I just try to gloss over it, to take some deep breaths or rub my nose or cough, to divert the attention. Madison is pretty savvy, though, savvy enough to notice a corrollation between what's going on in the text and my coughing. (Ella is oblivious.) She noticed yesterday morning, when I was reading then A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle (one of my old favorites). And then today, at lunch, when Duthbert Mortmain hits Chuck and he falls down the stairs--and of course I know what is going to happen after that because I read this book dozens of times as a kid--well, it was just so sad that I just couldn't go on. I actually started crying.
I realized that part of the impetus behind the welling up of these emotions is that I'm experiencing the book on many different levels than I did as a child; I understand the implications of so much more than I did back then, so these books are far more meaningful. Plus, as I read them, I am remembering how I experienced them as a child, noting how I am experiencing them as an adult, and -- at the same time -- comparing the difference between my experiences then and now, and pondering what the difference means. So it's affecting me on many levels now, simultaneously, whereas it was a much simpler experience for me as a child. So, yes, it's no wonder I start crying.
But what to do about it? I don't want the kids to be too concerned.
And, frankly, they weren't, today. They were surprised. They didn't understand why I was actually crying, given what had just happened in the book.
"Does Chuck die?" they asked.
"No."
"What happens?"
"He gets brain damage, and experiences his universe as an oddly shifting one -- as a swiftly tilting planet."
The still didn't understand why it had affected me so deeply. I told them that adults experience books in many more ways than kids do. They seemed to accept that. They weren't particularly concerned that I was crying, which was a good thing. I think there's losing control and losing control; if I was clearly out of control, that would be scary. But as long as I'm still me, I think a few tears shed won't be a bad thing.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
A nice, non-hectic weekend
I don't remember any weekend recently when we didn't have anything pressing to do or accomplish, and it was wonderful. It was boring, though. This is a very boring post.
I'm wrong, actually, we did do something...but Friday night so it really doesn't count. We went to see the Harlem Globetrotters at the Blue Cross Arena. I still love those free press pass tickets that publicists keep giving me so I'll write reviews. I'm still inordinately pleased that I get all these tickets free...can't take the Jersey out of the girl, David says. The "game" was fun, but the sound quality wasn't good and the kids didn't really get the jokes, and they don't know the finer points of basketball, so a lot was lost on them. What a genial time, though; David pointed out that the Harlem Globetrotters are among the last vestiges of Vaudeville.
Then, Saturday, David took the kids to choir while I *read*, ye gads, for several hours. And then we just hung around the house and all did our thing. I sent off a bunch of free passes I'd received for my readers to see the Spiderwick Chronicles movie screening on Wednesday, making about 50 people happy, but otherwise didn't accomplish a blessed thing other than laundry. We watched David Attenborough and then a documentary on Ella Fitzgerald with the girls, and then went to bed.
Today, I organized a ton of financial papers while watching about four Bob Ross painting shows I'd taped (yay me, I've been wanting to accomplish this for a year...the paper sorting, not the painting show watching) and then we went over to the Rochester Central Library. I was looking for the one book on Tupperware history that exists, because a fine point in the book I'm writing revolves around a particular Tupperware lunch box manufactured in the 70s (though unfortunately the book wasn't very helpful). Then we went across the street to the Rundell Library, and the kids sat around and read while David and I and spent a nice hour browsing through some of their wonderful collection of local history books. (I was very proud of the girls, they're real sports about this kind of thing.) Then we ran through the eight-but-with-wind-chill-minus-13 degree wind over to the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que for dinner, came home, read, and put them to bed.
The most uneventful and relaxing weekend I've had in a long time. See, aren't you bored just reading about it?
I'm wrong, actually, we did do something...but Friday night so it really doesn't count. We went to see the Harlem Globetrotters at the Blue Cross Arena. I still love those free press pass tickets that publicists keep giving me so I'll write reviews. I'm still inordinately pleased that I get all these tickets free...can't take the Jersey out of the girl, David says. The "game" was fun, but the sound quality wasn't good and the kids didn't really get the jokes, and they don't know the finer points of basketball, so a lot was lost on them. What a genial time, though; David pointed out that the Harlem Globetrotters are among the last vestiges of Vaudeville.
Then, Saturday, David took the kids to choir while I *read*, ye gads, for several hours. And then we just hung around the house and all did our thing. I sent off a bunch of free passes I'd received for my readers to see the Spiderwick Chronicles movie screening on Wednesday, making about 50 people happy, but otherwise didn't accomplish a blessed thing other than laundry. We watched David Attenborough and then a documentary on Ella Fitzgerald with the girls, and then went to bed.
Today, I organized a ton of financial papers while watching about four Bob Ross painting shows I'd taped (yay me, I've been wanting to accomplish this for a year...the paper sorting, not the painting show watching) and then we went over to the Rochester Central Library. I was looking for the one book on Tupperware history that exists, because a fine point in the book I'm writing revolves around a particular Tupperware lunch box manufactured in the 70s (though unfortunately the book wasn't very helpful). Then we went across the street to the Rundell Library, and the kids sat around and read while David and I and spent a nice hour browsing through some of their wonderful collection of local history books. (I was very proud of the girls, they're real sports about this kind of thing.) Then we ran through the eight-but-with-wind-chill-minus-13 degree wind over to the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que for dinner, came home, read, and put them to bed.
The most uneventful and relaxing weekend I've had in a long time. See, aren't you bored just reading about it?
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Reproduce or die
The other night while we were out seeing Mandy Patinkin, Madison and Ella watched some of the new NetFlix video, David Attenborough's The Life of Mammals Disk 3 with the babysitter, Hye Yon. (We all love David Attenborough's series -- we can't decide whether this one is best or The Life of Birds.) We asked her after the kids had gone to bed how it was, and Hye Yon momentarily got an odd look on her face, though didn't comment specifically.
This morning, the girls were telling us that they'd finally seen the segment on whales, which we'd all been anticipating.
"And," Ella said enthusiastically, "the humpbacked whale has a penis that goes back all the way inside him! It stays there until he wants to mate."
(This may explain Hye Yon's uncertainty at how to answer our question.)
We all spent a few minutes musing about why the penis goes completely back inside most of the time. I said maybe it's a streamlining thing, how it might slow him down when swimming. "You know, things dangling off you probably get in the way of going fast." David said it may be to protect the whale's reproductive capacity; if he wasn't able to draw it back in, it might get damaged while swimming, and then it couldn't reproduce.
"In that case," said Madison, "he might as well kill himself."
This morning, the girls were telling us that they'd finally seen the segment on whales, which we'd all been anticipating.
"And," Ella said enthusiastically, "the humpbacked whale has a penis that goes back all the way inside him! It stays there until he wants to mate."
(This may explain Hye Yon's uncertainty at how to answer our question.)
We all spent a few minutes musing about why the penis goes completely back inside most of the time. I said maybe it's a streamlining thing, how it might slow him down when swimming. "You know, things dangling off you probably get in the way of going fast." David said it may be to protect the whale's reproductive capacity; if he wasn't able to draw it back in, it might get damaged while swimming, and then it couldn't reproduce.
"In that case," said Madison, "he might as well kill himself."
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Happy Birthday, LIW!
Laura Ingalls Wilder would be 141 years old today, were she still alive.
What value the woman provided the world in general, and kid lit in particular.
Every morning, when we do the Birthday of the Day, we always use LIW as the standard -- was Babe Ruth born before or after LIW? On February 7, though, the Birthday of the Day was born at exactly the same time and place as our standard. The girls enjoyed that.
They'll get rich with the nickels tonight, that's for sure.
On the other hand...they're having a babysitter tonight; Hye Yon (who now has a real job in a technology firm, but loves the babysitting anyway) will be coming at 5:30 so David and I can go see Mandy Patinkin. Yay and double yay. I think I'll let Hye Yon dole out the nickels, that will amuse her.
What value the woman provided the world in general, and kid lit in particular.
Every morning, when we do the Birthday of the Day, we always use LIW as the standard -- was Babe Ruth born before or after LIW? On February 7, though, the Birthday of the Day was born at exactly the same time and place as our standard. The girls enjoyed that.
They'll get rich with the nickels tonight, that's for sure.
On the other hand...they're having a babysitter tonight; Hye Yon (who now has a real job in a technology firm, but loves the babysitting anyway) will be coming at 5:30 so David and I can go see Mandy Patinkin. Yay and double yay. I think I'll let Hye Yon dole out the nickels, that will amuse her.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Who's on first?
Tuesday's Birthday of the Day was Hank Aaron and Wednesday's Birthday of the Day was Babe Ruth. So perhaps it's no coincidence that Madison took to doing "bases" in math like a duck to water. I had given her an overview of the idea even before we left Virginia in late 2006, but the re-introduction has really anchored the concept beautifully in her mind. She slurped it up with a fairly brief explanation from David and some strategy augmentation from me later in the morning. I made up a sheet with questions like:
Thirteen in base 2
Forty-nine in base 7
Fifty in base 5
One hundred in base 5
Madison ate these questions for lunch, with few mistakes.
I have to get this kid programming, soon. She's going to love it. Someone had recommended Alice.org. I will have to check this out.
Thirteen in base 2
Forty-nine in base 7
Fifty in base 5
One hundred in base 5
Madison ate these questions for lunch, with few mistakes.
I have to get this kid programming, soon. She's going to love it. Someone had recommended Alice.org. I will have to check this out.
Who knows what's next with this kid
More evidence for my theory that Ella is in some kind of big mental/emotional growth spurt: In recent days, she has, at my halfhearted suggestion but without any urging on my part, tried -- and liked -- lettuce, radishes, and now, wonder of wonders, brussels sprouts. Goodness. She even just ate the beef stir fry without complaining the other night (well, after she isolated the peppers and onions).
I did the Mommy Dance of Joy at the brussels sprouts. It vaguely resembled Hammer Time, though without the big pants or the big L. (What the heck WAS that L about, anyway?)
It was hard getting her to go into karate today, though, she was terribly anxious that she was going to cry again and be embarrassed. In the end, we were just in time and she had to change and the class was starting right up, so there was no time for her to come over to me and get worked up. She says she's always fine once she gets distracted, anyway. She has really good insight for something that seems to her still not easy to control.
I did the Mommy Dance of Joy at the brussels sprouts. It vaguely resembled Hammer Time, though without the big pants or the big L. (What the heck WAS that L about, anyway?)
It was hard getting her to go into karate today, though, she was terribly anxious that she was going to cry again and be embarrassed. In the end, we were just in time and she had to change and the class was starting right up, so there was no time for her to come over to me and get worked up. She says she's always fine once she gets distracted, anyway. She has really good insight for something that seems to her still not easy to control.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Spontaneous poetry (and an it's/its lesson)
A Rose is a Song
A rose is a song.
Its petals the tune
And its rhythm the bud.
Its beat is its stem.
Its sweet smell is the happiness sung.
And its thorns the mistakes that are made.
by Madison
-------------------------
At the Beach
bi Ella
At the beach there is sandy beaches
And the oshn so wid
And at the beach thars fan for evreawan.
A rose is a song.
Its petals the tune
And its rhythm the bud.
Its beat is its stem.
Its sweet smell is the happiness sung.
And its thorns the mistakes that are made.
by Madison
-------------------------
At the Beach
bi Ella
At the beach there is sandy beaches
And the oshn so wid
And at the beach thars fan for evreawan.
Ella still crying
Well, Ella is still crying. It's a very strange thing; it started with ballet the other week. The following week she went into ballet ok, but the week after THAT she couldn't even go into the room. Last week we didn't go out because of the ice storm. I'm simply going to stop taking her to class; there are only 4 classes left, and I don't think she needs the anxiety.
The anxiety has spilled over into other classes. She was skittish about it on the car ride to Gym and Swim yesterday, but once she was in she was fine (she actually has no trouble asking the teachers to be understanding in advance, in case she cries). And then, oddity of oddities, I couldn't get her to even go into karate (which she has been doing for over a year and loving) for the first 20 minutes of class yesterday. She just leaned against me miserably, tears rolling down her cheeks, until she felt ok enough to go into the class. The senseis were concerned but were terrific, especially once they realized it had nothing to do with karate.
She's even crying more at odd times that have nothing to do with anxiety per se, when "it's time" for her to make some kind of effort on her own. This morning she was working on some multiplication cards, and started sobbing because "her neck hurt when she was looking down so much."
Here is my interpretation:
I have watched the world suddenly open up for my 6 1/2-year-old over the past several months. She can read. We've been doing a lot of work about other cultures, she's having new experiences, and much less about what's going on in the world goes over her head. She's busy, busy, busy absorbing it all. She's dreaming in detail, all the time, and telling me about it...where she never used to remember her dreams at all. She's losing her baby teeth.
And so, suddenly, instead of this very safe, snuggly, SMALL world that she's used to, she's perched at the edge of this wide-open vista. And I think it's a little overwhelming.
That's my take on it. So I'm not too worried. I think it will resolve itself. But I feel for her.
The anxiety has spilled over into other classes. She was skittish about it on the car ride to Gym and Swim yesterday, but once she was in she was fine (she actually has no trouble asking the teachers to be understanding in advance, in case she cries). And then, oddity of oddities, I couldn't get her to even go into karate (which she has been doing for over a year and loving) for the first 20 minutes of class yesterday. She just leaned against me miserably, tears rolling down her cheeks, until she felt ok enough to go into the class. The senseis were concerned but were terrific, especially once they realized it had nothing to do with karate.
She's even crying more at odd times that have nothing to do with anxiety per se, when "it's time" for her to make some kind of effort on her own. This morning she was working on some multiplication cards, and started sobbing because "her neck hurt when she was looking down so much."
Here is my interpretation:
I have watched the world suddenly open up for my 6 1/2-year-old over the past several months. She can read. We've been doing a lot of work about other cultures, she's having new experiences, and much less about what's going on in the world goes over her head. She's busy, busy, busy absorbing it all. She's dreaming in detail, all the time, and telling me about it...where she never used to remember her dreams at all. She's losing her baby teeth.
And so, suddenly, instead of this very safe, snuggly, SMALL world that she's used to, she's perched at the edge of this wide-open vista. And I think it's a little overwhelming.
That's my take on it. So I'm not too worried. I think it will resolve itself. But I feel for her.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Thank you again, Laura Ingalls Wilder
Ella somehow suddenly got bit with the Laura Ingalls Wilder bug yesterday. She wanted her hair in braids, she put on the dress that Aunt Anne gave her for Christmas, we started reading Little House on the Prairie (again, but this time with a lot of enthusiasm on her part), SHE started reading LHP out loud with me, we got out the Little House cookbook yesterday and made Mother Wilder's doughnuts, we did math with a LHP theme.
We're on Day 2 of the craze. Who am I to argue.
Update: We've been reading all afternoon. I bow down to this woman as a children's writer. I'll never be close to that good.
We're on Day 2 of the craze. Who am I to argue.
Update: We've been reading all afternoon. I bow down to this woman as a children's writer. I'll never be close to that good.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Another scintillating mind in government
So it seems our progessive friends in Hawaii are trying to ban Diet Coke. Really.
There is more but you get the idea. I found out about this from an enthusiastic post to our local homeschooling list. Here was the response I posted:
Remember, I have to be diplomatic around Rochester. Most of those parents in the homeschooling list also read KidsOutAndAbout.com, and one of my goals is to be seen as Everywoman with whom people just want to agree.
HAWAII MOVES TO BAN ASPARTAME (NUTRASWEET)
Dr. Betty Martini, D.Hum.
Mission Possible World Health International
9270 River Club Parkway
Duluth, Georgia 30097
23rd January 2008
Senate Bill 2506 introduced by Senator Kalani English, and also signed by Senator Suzanne Chun-Oakland, as well as House Bill 2580 sponsored by Representative Millie Carroll will move to ban aspartame from the State of Hawaii.
Efforts continue to ban this deadly excitoneurotoxic carcinogenic drug that is addicting the public and triggering so many symptoms and diseases from MS, lupus and seizures to Parkinson's, diabetes, obesity and even blindness and death. An aspartame documentary, "_Sweet Misery: A Poisoned World_ (http://www.soundandfury.tv/pages/rumsfeld2.html)", explains how Donald Rumsfeld got this marketed when the FDA said no.
Masquerading as an additive it's a deadly drug that interacts with other drugs and vaccines. No one can forget the gallant efforts of Senator Gerald Ortizy Pino who sponsored the Senate bill to ban aspartame in New Mexico. One picture that remains in my mind is addressing the Senate with Senators sipping Diet Coke. Dr. Ken Stoller said "It's hard to believe we are going to get anywhere with you drinking this but consider the children (my emphasis). _"Aspartame is a teratogen triggering birth defects and mental retardation, reducing IQ, and triggering all types of behavioral and psychiatric problems."_ (http://www.mpwhi.com/report_on_aspartame_and_children.htm)
There is more but you get the idea. I found out about this from an enthusiastic post to our local homeschooling list. Here was the response I posted:
There definitely is a move to introduce this bill in Hawaii.
However, Snopes.com says that claims that research has shown aspartame to be a neurotoxin or carcinogen are false.
http://www.snopes.com/medical/toxins/aspartame.asp
Perhaps Snopes is outdated. If so, and if people know of scientifically-verifiable studies that demonstrate that aspartame really is the generally-deadly drug that it's being claimed to be (as opposed to something that might cause adverse affects in a small number of aspartame-sensitive individuals), I hope they alert Snopes. The Snopes folks are generally very energetic about searching for objectively-verifiable material.
I, personally, am wary of attempts to ban things like this, especially when the scientific/medical community has yet to demonstrate conclusive findings. I'm generally an anti-rubber-room mentality person, as it is.
It makes good discussion material for home education, on the other hand! What is evidence? How do we know things? How do we draw proper conclusions? How are various chemicals processed by the human body? What is the role of the liver? What is good nutrition? How does one select the most nutritious things to eat (and balance that with the most delicious things to eat)? What is the proper role of government in the lives of individuals? Does the fact of Congress declaring something to be true necessarily make it true? All great stuff to talk about, and doing so leads to the kinds of thinkers we home educators are trying to help our children become.
--Deb
"Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom."
--Louis the Swan to the Zoo Director
--The Trumpet of the Swan, E.B. White
Remember, I have to be diplomatic around Rochester. Most of those parents in the homeschooling list also read KidsOutAndAbout.com, and one of my goals is to be seen as Everywoman with whom people just want to agree.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Wind storm
"Wow, listen to the wind!" I just commented to Ella.
Up to 60-miles-per-hour gusts were forecast for today.
"I can't hear anything. You know why?"
"Why?"
"I'm mostly listening to my thoughts."
Up to 60-miles-per-hour gusts were forecast for today.
"I can't hear anything. You know why?"
"Why?"
"I'm mostly listening to my thoughts."
Penfield Library book club
Madison went to her third meeting last night of a little 3rd-4th-grade book club at the Penfield Library, Knights of the Reading Table. Last night they discussed The Tale of Devereaux by Kate DiCamillo. I didn't make the connection until David remarked yesterday that DiCamillo was also the author of Because of Winn-Dixie, which we all enjoyed on audio last week. Madison says the two books are VERY different, and that they had a good discussion last night. I hope she doesn't totally dominate the conversation (there were 9 8- and 9-year-olds), but the librarian didn't say anything about it to me on our way out. Madison also really likes a little 3rd-grade boy Ian, who shares her affection for the Secrets of Droon series.
They're reading C.S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew for next month. She brought it home. She was halfway through it by lights-out, and I'm letting her finish it before school starts this morning. We heard that one on audio about six or seven months ago, but, as Madison put it to the librarian on the way out of the meeting room, "I really need to read it because there's something about the logic that I didn't get on the first time around."
They're reading C.S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew for next month. She brought it home. She was halfway through it by lights-out, and I'm letting her finish it before school starts this morning. We heard that one on audio about six or seven months ago, but, as Madison put it to the librarian on the way out of the meeting room, "I really need to read it because there's something about the logic that I didn't get on the first time around."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
How bad an educator am I?
My children are blissfully cleaning up both of their rooms. Together.
They claim that they have decided that they're entering a new era of cooperation, that Ella is going to sleep in Madison's top bunk, that they're going to use Ella's room as a playroom.
So I'm letting them clean instead of do schoolwork. The happy sounds coming from upstairs are like music.
And, I'm fairly confident that they're doing this really in good faith, and not as a ploy for not having to do schoolwork.
Though how long it will last is anybody's guess.
Update: They're doing schoolwork now. But they're still the best of friends.
They claim that they have decided that they're entering a new era of cooperation, that Ella is going to sleep in Madison's top bunk, that they're going to use Ella's room as a playroom.
So I'm letting them clean instead of do schoolwork. The happy sounds coming from upstairs are like music.
And, I'm fairly confident that they're doing this really in good faith, and not as a ploy for not having to do schoolwork.
Though how long it will last is anybody's guess.
Update: They're doing schoolwork now. But they're still the best of friends.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Real-life logic
I've just printed out this story from WTOPNews.com: Photo Clues Lead to Camera's Owner for us and the kids.
Seems a woman found a digital camera left in a cab on New Year's Eve. When the cabbie didn't know whose it was and didn't seem to care, Erika and her fiance Brian set out to analyze the photos left on the camera to see whether they could find the owner.
Madison and I have been deep into the logic of piecing together mysteries, lately, as a result of working on the book and constructing this logic in a story ourselves. The reporter, Brian Bergstein, did a great job of tracing and reporting the logic Erika and Brian used to find the owner...whom they found in Sydney, Australia, in about 10 days.
People seem to be pointing to this story mainly as an example of good ethics. But I think it's much more interesting for the laying bare of the logic. How often do we see THAT these days?
Seems a woman found a digital camera left in a cab on New Year's Eve. When the cabbie didn't know whose it was and didn't seem to care, Erika and her fiance Brian set out to analyze the photos left on the camera to see whether they could find the owner.
Madison and I have been deep into the logic of piecing together mysteries, lately, as a result of working on the book and constructing this logic in a story ourselves. The reporter, Brian Bergstein, did a great job of tracing and reporting the logic Erika and Brian used to find the owner...whom they found in Sydney, Australia, in about 10 days.
People seem to be pointing to this story mainly as an example of good ethics. But I think it's much more interesting for the laying bare of the logic. How often do we see THAT these days?
Periodic table
Turns out it IS possible to teach atomic structure and the periodic table to little kids!
My chemist friend Monica had been skeptical, told me to skip all of that and just teach molecules and demonstrate them with a MAGZ magnet set, in the sense that 2 hydrogens bond to 1 oxygen to make water.
But there's a science writer, Teresa, who home schools, and she has a web site PrimaryPeriodicTable.com with a downloadable ($10) e-book that you can read to your kids.
No pictures in the e-book, turns out. I was skeptical.
But all I had to do was read to them, and then when we got to the part about the number of electrons possible in each shell, and show how the "missing" electrons made for the sharing possibilities to complete the outer shells with other elements to form molecules. All I had to do was show her that Sodium has an atomic number of 11, which means 2 electrons in the first shell, a complete 8 electrons in the second shell, and only 1 electron in the third shell, which means 7 slots are "available." And then along comes Chloride, with an atomic number of 17, which means 1 slot is available in his third shell, and whammo, then they get together, share the outer-shell electrons, and make salt. We did water, then, and then I explained why the inert gases are inert (complete outer shells).
She GOT it. She really got it.
Ella kind of got it, too.
My chemist friend Monica had been skeptical, told me to skip all of that and just teach molecules and demonstrate them with a MAGZ magnet set, in the sense that 2 hydrogens bond to 1 oxygen to make water.
But there's a science writer, Teresa, who home schools, and she has a web site PrimaryPeriodicTable.com with a downloadable ($10) e-book that you can read to your kids.
No pictures in the e-book, turns out. I was skeptical.
But all I had to do was read to them, and then when we got to the part about the number of electrons possible in each shell, and show how the "missing" electrons made for the sharing possibilities to complete the outer shells with other elements to form molecules. All I had to do was show her that Sodium has an atomic number of 11, which means 2 electrons in the first shell, a complete 8 electrons in the second shell, and only 1 electron in the third shell, which means 7 slots are "available." And then along comes Chloride, with an atomic number of 17, which means 1 slot is available in his third shell, and whammo, then they get together, share the outer-shell electrons, and make salt. We did water, then, and then I explained why the inert gases are inert (complete outer shells).
She GOT it. She really got it.
Ella kind of got it, too.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Poetry turns to paint
The Birthday of the Day yesterday, Robert Burns, got me to thinking of another Robert poet, Robert Frost. I love his poem Birches, I think it's my favorite.
Ella and I have been watching another Bob...Bob Ross. I've been taping all of this episodes way down in channel 433, and he's been inspiring us.
So, today, I finally painted, for real, for the first time in over a year. David took the kids around to their various activities and I spent the day blissfully painting. Birches.
It really makes me happy.
I started out listening to the radio, and that wasn't working at all. WFKL was having an '80s Weekend. A bad idea, to paint while listening to '80s music. Mostly for the memories it conjures up of who I was then. Trust me, don't try to paint while you're thinking of how everything used to suck (well, except for the president).
Then I switched to Copeland. Much better.
Ella and I have been watching another Bob...Bob Ross. I've been taping all of this episodes way down in channel 433, and he's been inspiring us.
So, today, I finally painted, for real, for the first time in over a year. David took the kids around to their various activities and I spent the day blissfully painting. Birches.
It really makes me happy.
I started out listening to the radio, and that wasn't working at all. WFKL was having an '80s Weekend. A bad idea, to paint while listening to '80s music. Mostly for the memories it conjures up of who I was then. Trust me, don't try to paint while you're thinking of how everything used to suck (well, except for the president).
Then I switched to Copeland. Much better.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Poetry Friday - Robert Burns
It's Robert Burns's birthday. He was born in Scotland (where else?) in 1759. He was only 37 when he died in 1796. The girls didn't really like "To a Louse," although I do. They liked "To A Mouse" marginally better. But they really liked "My Love is Like A Red, Red Rose."
My Love is Like A Red, Red Rose
O my luve is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my love
Though it were ten thousand mile
My Love is Like A Red, Red Rose
O my luve is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my love
Though it were ten thousand mile
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Arrogance?
There is an interesting post about "arrogance" on the Life Without School blog. Are we homeschoolers "arrogant"?
Homeschoolers seem to be rushing to say that we're not any more arrogant than the next person, that it is better to say that homeschooling is a "choice that works best for our family" rather than somehow advocate that everyone do it (as if those opposites were the only possibilities). This is because everyone who knows nothing about homeschooling and even some who do assume that we're doing it because we think they're better than them, that our doing so is in some way a commentary on their not doing it.
I just don't think arrogance is the issue.
These well-meaning folks are mistakenly blending two separate concepts: 1) the conviction that what one is doing is objectively best and 2) the strutting, snotty attitude of nyah-nyah I am better than you. At the Life Without School blog, Tammy says this:
I disagree. For me, it's a huge deal, although of course not the only one, but it's the one that matters most. And it is an affront to teachers; I don't think saying it's not makes it not true. Sure, the wonderful lifestyle that results from this choice is a marvelous bonus. But...am I educating the kids at home because I think I'm better at it than trained, certified teachers? Of course I am. I actually know stuff about the world. I have thought deeply about the way we acquire knowledge. I observe the way my kids learn best, and I tailor how I educate each child to that child's abilities and interests.
In contrast, the "training" that teachers receive sucks. It doesn't consist of knowledge, but of postmodern pedagogical "techniques"--I know, I took some of those Ed School classes in college. And, the brightest porch lights on the block most definitely do not go into teaching, anymore. My very own parents (who, mind you, I am not claiming WERE particularly bright), who were math teachers trained in the late 50s and early 60s, COULDN'T DO MATH. My mother taught eighth-grade algebra. She couldn't do geometry. David is organizing a Summer Math Institute at RIT for high-school math teachers *because they can't do math,* and the official standards do not prepare them to get their students prepared to do math in college.
Am I smarter than the average teacher? Yep. Can I educate my kids much better than the average teacher? Yep. Is this education that my kids are receiving superior to what regular kids in school are getting? Of course. Do I go around strutting about it? Nope. (At least, goodness, I don't think so.) Because that's not the point. In life, the point is never "I can do this and you can't." That approach to life is a waste of time and will never serve one well overall.
But if people read into my decision to homeschool the "arrogance" of my certainty that I can do it better, and that, implicitly, my kids are having a better childhood than others, so be it. They'd better be...a parent's job, having made these little critters, is to give them the best experience, the best start in life possible...and if I saw someone else doing it better, it's my responsibility to analyze what about it is better to see if it's something that my kids should experience too.
That of course doesn't mean that homeschooling is in any way the best option for all, or even most, families. There are other considerations that play in...do I think some of my friends should give up their careers and the money that comes from it, and educate their children at home? No! Parents can ensure that kids get educated in other ways, and therein provide the highest net happiness for the entire family. And, of course, in the ideal free society, the education industry wouldn't have descended into the crappiness that constitutes the majority of today's public schools, and division-of-labor would mean that others, rather than I, would be best suited to educating Madison and Ella.
But for now, it's I. Good thing I love it, and that it works best for our family, and that they don't have to deal with crappy people at a young age, and that they're not saturated with the dumbed-down pop culture and shallow values that one encounters at school, and that they can come into contact with far more people than they could in school, and all the other reasons that people educate their children at home. All of these are nice. But really, my job is to give these kids the best education I can find so that they have a good start in life. I think that this just happens to be me.
And, I think I can be proud of doing a good job, of raising happy, healthy, engaged, educated girls. Not being proud of doing a good job would be, to some extent, denying reality...and depriving myself of the reward that comes from doing something well. It has nothing to do with you, or the next-door neighbor, or the unschoolers down the street, or the Christian homeschoolers around the corner.
Homeschoolers seem to be rushing to say that we're not any more arrogant than the next person, that it is better to say that homeschooling is a "choice that works best for our family" rather than somehow advocate that everyone do it (as if those opposites were the only possibilities). This is because everyone who knows nothing about homeschooling and even some who do assume that we're doing it because we think they're better than them, that our doing so is in some way a commentary on their not doing it.
I just don't think arrogance is the issue.
These well-meaning folks are mistakenly blending two separate concepts: 1) the conviction that what one is doing is objectively best and 2) the strutting, snotty attitude of nyah-nyah I am better than you. At the Life Without School blog, Tammy says this:
Another implication in saying that homeschoolers are arrogant, is that we think we can educate our kids better than trained, certified teachers, merely by making the choice not to have teachers be our children's full time educators. Although that may be true from a certain perspective, the choice to rarely comes from *just* that opinion. It's not a personal affront to teachers. The choice to educate at home is much bigger than whether we think we're better than teachers. Saying that homeschoolers are arrogant because we think we're better than school teachers is taking a very small issue and making it into a huge deal.
I disagree. For me, it's a huge deal, although of course not the only one, but it's the one that matters most. And it is an affront to teachers; I don't think saying it's not makes it not true. Sure, the wonderful lifestyle that results from this choice is a marvelous bonus. But...am I educating the kids at home because I think I'm better at it than trained, certified teachers? Of course I am. I actually know stuff about the world. I have thought deeply about the way we acquire knowledge. I observe the way my kids learn best, and I tailor how I educate each child to that child's abilities and interests.
In contrast, the "training" that teachers receive sucks. It doesn't consist of knowledge, but of postmodern pedagogical "techniques"--I know, I took some of those Ed School classes in college. And, the brightest porch lights on the block most definitely do not go into teaching, anymore. My very own parents (who, mind you, I am not claiming WERE particularly bright), who were math teachers trained in the late 50s and early 60s, COULDN'T DO MATH. My mother taught eighth-grade algebra. She couldn't do geometry. David is organizing a Summer Math Institute at RIT for high-school math teachers *because they can't do math,* and the official standards do not prepare them to get their students prepared to do math in college.
Am I smarter than the average teacher? Yep. Can I educate my kids much better than the average teacher? Yep. Is this education that my kids are receiving superior to what regular kids in school are getting? Of course. Do I go around strutting about it? Nope. (At least, goodness, I don't think so.) Because that's not the point. In life, the point is never "I can do this and you can't." That approach to life is a waste of time and will never serve one well overall.
But if people read into my decision to homeschool the "arrogance" of my certainty that I can do it better, and that, implicitly, my kids are having a better childhood than others, so be it. They'd better be...a parent's job, having made these little critters, is to give them the best experience, the best start in life possible...and if I saw someone else doing it better, it's my responsibility to analyze what about it is better to see if it's something that my kids should experience too.
That of course doesn't mean that homeschooling is in any way the best option for all, or even most, families. There are other considerations that play in...do I think some of my friends should give up their careers and the money that comes from it, and educate their children at home? No! Parents can ensure that kids get educated in other ways, and therein provide the highest net happiness for the entire family. And, of course, in the ideal free society, the education industry wouldn't have descended into the crappiness that constitutes the majority of today's public schools, and division-of-labor would mean that others, rather than I, would be best suited to educating Madison and Ella.
But for now, it's I. Good thing I love it, and that it works best for our family, and that they don't have to deal with crappy people at a young age, and that they're not saturated with the dumbed-down pop culture and shallow values that one encounters at school, and that they can come into contact with far more people than they could in school, and all the other reasons that people educate their children at home. All of these are nice. But really, my job is to give these kids the best education I can find so that they have a good start in life. I think that this just happens to be me.
And, I think I can be proud of doing a good job, of raising happy, healthy, engaged, educated girls. Not being proud of doing a good job would be, to some extent, denying reality...and depriving myself of the reward that comes from doing something well. It has nothing to do with you, or the next-door neighbor, or the unschoolers down the street, or the Christian homeschoolers around the corner.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
An approach to housekeeping
I saw this on one of the homeschooling lists yesterday morning:
I like this woman. I should be more like this woman.
And speaking of housekeeping, I'm KEEPING our house in better working order by just having it majorly insulated in the attic. It should save our roof from the awful ice damming that happened last year and did serious damage to our dining room ceiling which I haven't fixed yet because what's the point if it's going to happen again. Instead of insulating the floor more, they insulated the roof, which is far more expensive but far more effective. Here is the coolest picture of them spraying it in:
They did the entire attic, and even staple-gunned in a fire blanket (or so they call it) over the whole thing so now the attic looks almost finished. It looks actually nice. It makes me want to take a couple more hundred dollars and get Mikel the Ukrainian Fixit Guy to put up some drywall. The best thing is, whereas when it was 25 degrees outside it used to feel like maybe 30 in the attic, now it feels like 60 and there is no heating up there. The girls have been playing in it.
Of course, it can't all be good, right? So it seems now that the house sealing trapped a mouse in our dining room ceiling. Which died. Which you can smell from the dining room. I had Greg the Squirrel Guy in and he said, "Yep. That's something dead." He said I had the option of opening the ceiling and trying to take it out, or letting it be, and the smell would totally dissipate in about a week because of it being so cold and dry. He said thank goodness it's not summer.
I opted for the cheap way. And actually, the smell is less, and it's only the 4th day.
The good part of it is that I haven't heard any squirrels or other critters since then, which says to me that possibly (fingers crossed) all their Ways In are blocked and this stone house may once more house just Rosses.
Our most successful tactic in joyful cleanup is to "do battle" with the clutter and dirt in a particular area. A sudden, conspiratorial whisper of "There's an enemy in the living room!" boosts the enthusiasm level right through the roof. I send them on a spy mission into the offending room, then they come back and report details of the mess and we make a battle plan (all in whispers, of course), gather our weapons (toy bins, wet wipes, dusters, or just our bare hands), and then ATTACK! It's loud and they run a lot and move fast, so it's best for quick decluttering jobs.
Amy in OH
I like this woman. I should be more like this woman.
And speaking of housekeeping, I'm KEEPING our house in better working order by just having it majorly insulated in the attic. It should save our roof from the awful ice damming that happened last year and did serious damage to our dining room ceiling which I haven't fixed yet because what's the point if it's going to happen again. Instead of insulating the floor more, they insulated the roof, which is far more expensive but far more effective. Here is the coolest picture of them spraying it in:
They did the entire attic, and even staple-gunned in a fire blanket (or so they call it) over the whole thing so now the attic looks almost finished. It looks actually nice. It makes me want to take a couple more hundred dollars and get Mikel the Ukrainian Fixit Guy to put up some drywall. The best thing is, whereas when it was 25 degrees outside it used to feel like maybe 30 in the attic, now it feels like 60 and there is no heating up there. The girls have been playing in it.
Of course, it can't all be good, right? So it seems now that the house sealing trapped a mouse in our dining room ceiling. Which died. Which you can smell from the dining room. I had Greg the Squirrel Guy in and he said, "Yep. That's something dead." He said I had the option of opening the ceiling and trying to take it out, or letting it be, and the smell would totally dissipate in about a week because of it being so cold and dry. He said thank goodness it's not summer.
I opted for the cheap way. And actually, the smell is less, and it's only the 4th day.
The good part of it is that I haven't heard any squirrels or other critters since then, which says to me that possibly (fingers crossed) all their Ways In are blocked and this stone house may once more house just Rosses.
What a snarly day
We had a miserable day yesterday. All of us snarling at each other, none of us feeling quite up to snuff health-wise. So I thought I'd start out with reading history. We're doing the Ancient Israelites, and I'd thought that we could do the section on Food and then maybe go to Wegmans and buy the kind of meal that the Ancient Israelites would have eaten (had they had a Wegmans). They listened edgily for a while, not really eating their breakfast, even when I reminded them that the Ancient Israelites would have killed for some Special K.
After trying for a little while and realizing this whole home-schooling deal wasn't working, I thought -- a shower! They need a shower. It would be a good conceptual break and we can get back to this from a fresh perspective. And they like to shower, particularly together; they make up whole little plays and things in this teeny-tiny shower stall that is in the master bath. (They like it because it has jets from the side as well as the top...a '50s-version of jets, that is, that spray too much water out of ugly pink tile, but it works, at least until the water gets cold.) Well, yesterday the teeny-tiny shower stall was too teeny-tiny for our collective mood and there was only fighting. Clean fighting, but fighting nonetheless. And after they got out, Madison worked herself up into a lather (har!) and had a naked whining fit for like 20 minutes, crouched over the floor heating vent in my bedroom the whole time to keep warm because my bedroom stays at a nice cozy 54 degrees what with all the circa-1920 windows and 15-degree weather outside. I have no idea what that was all about.
So, I gave up. Really. I told the girls that we were just going to listen to the CD we'd gotten the other day from the library, Because of Winn-Dixie (which is excellent and not only because it's read by Cherry Jones), and bake pumpkin pie, and forget about education.
Forget about education?!? You would think that a cheer would have lifted my now-insulated roof (more about that later). But no. They were appalled. "PLEASE, Mom!" they begged. "Please let's do school."
"Forget it," I said. "Don't worry about it. We'll just take a mental health day. Read. Listen to Winn-Dixie. Play Club Penguin. Whatever. I don't feel like educating you people, either."
They didn't much like it. They actually like the structure, the check marks on the list, the sense of minute-by-minute accomplishment. I said, "Pretend it's Saturday."
I got some work done that I needed to get done, but mostly I wasted time in the afternoon by trying to find Timber Rock Lake in Missouri. My Missouri client that sells peonies, daylilies, and irises, whom I spoke with yesterday morning for the first time in a while, has offered to let us use his log cabin on that lake for a few weekdays in May, and boy did I need a vacation yesterday.
Then they had Brownies last night, at which they decorated a couple of cakes for the Juliette Low Unbirthday Party which is Friday night, and all seemed well. David has a cold too, just like me, so we all went to bed with the girls last night. I slept from 9:30-7:15 and I feel like a new woman.
So I'd better get to the whole Education thing.
After trying for a little while and realizing this whole home-schooling deal wasn't working, I thought -- a shower! They need a shower. It would be a good conceptual break and we can get back to this from a fresh perspective. And they like to shower, particularly together; they make up whole little plays and things in this teeny-tiny shower stall that is in the master bath. (They like it because it has jets from the side as well as the top...a '50s-version of jets, that is, that spray too much water out of ugly pink tile, but it works, at least until the water gets cold.) Well, yesterday the teeny-tiny shower stall was too teeny-tiny for our collective mood and there was only fighting. Clean fighting, but fighting nonetheless. And after they got out, Madison worked herself up into a lather (har!) and had a naked whining fit for like 20 minutes, crouched over the floor heating vent in my bedroom the whole time to keep warm because my bedroom stays at a nice cozy 54 degrees what with all the circa-1920 windows and 15-degree weather outside. I have no idea what that was all about.
So, I gave up. Really. I told the girls that we were just going to listen to the CD we'd gotten the other day from the library, Because of Winn-Dixie (which is excellent and not only because it's read by Cherry Jones), and bake pumpkin pie, and forget about education.
Forget about education?!? You would think that a cheer would have lifted my now-insulated roof (more about that later). But no. They were appalled. "PLEASE, Mom!" they begged. "Please let's do school."
"Forget it," I said. "Don't worry about it. We'll just take a mental health day. Read. Listen to Winn-Dixie. Play Club Penguin. Whatever. I don't feel like educating you people, either."
They didn't much like it. They actually like the structure, the check marks on the list, the sense of minute-by-minute accomplishment. I said, "Pretend it's Saturday."
I got some work done that I needed to get done, but mostly I wasted time in the afternoon by trying to find Timber Rock Lake in Missouri. My Missouri client that sells peonies, daylilies, and irises, whom I spoke with yesterday morning for the first time in a while, has offered to let us use his log cabin on that lake for a few weekdays in May, and boy did I need a vacation yesterday.
Then they had Brownies last night, at which they decorated a couple of cakes for the Juliette Low Unbirthday Party which is Friday night, and all seemed well. David has a cold too, just like me, so we all went to bed with the girls last night. I slept from 9:30-7:15 and I feel like a new woman.
So I'd better get to the whole Education thing.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ella fine
Ella is fine, now.
But yesterday, she was really sick. So sick that when she was standing at the sink waiting to vomit, she fainted.
I wasn't there. David says it was just about the worst 30 seconds of his life, picking up Ella's limp body after she thunked her head on the stone floor as she collapsed. She came right around, though, thank goodness.
The fainting was just a result of what I'm sure was one of those sudden drops in blood pressure as a result of standing in one place too long when you have a 102 fever, so nothing serious. But still. Ugh. She was really sick the rest of the day yesterday, basically just hanging around in my arms on the couch, not even really wanting to open her eyes to watch a video, dozing sometimes on me, leaning over to vomit into a towel. Words can't describe how heart-wrenching it is for a parent to watch the suffering, so I won't try.
But she started getting better at about dinnertime, kept down some water and popsicles starting then, and was fine (and hungry) when she woke up this morning. One of those 24-hour viruses: miserable, but over quickly, thank goodness. None the worse for wear, aside from a lump on the side of her head from her quick trip to the floor.
The relief is enormous, for all of us.
(What was that, Fates? Oh, shut up.)
But yesterday, she was really sick. So sick that when she was standing at the sink waiting to vomit, she fainted.
I wasn't there. David says it was just about the worst 30 seconds of his life, picking up Ella's limp body after she thunked her head on the stone floor as she collapsed. She came right around, though, thank goodness.
The fainting was just a result of what I'm sure was one of those sudden drops in blood pressure as a result of standing in one place too long when you have a 102 fever, so nothing serious. But still. Ugh. She was really sick the rest of the day yesterday, basically just hanging around in my arms on the couch, not even really wanting to open her eyes to watch a video, dozing sometimes on me, leaning over to vomit into a towel. Words can't describe how heart-wrenching it is for a parent to watch the suffering, so I won't try.
But she started getting better at about dinnertime, kept down some water and popsicles starting then, and was fine (and hungry) when she woke up this morning. One of those 24-hour viruses: miserable, but over quickly, thank goodness. None the worse for wear, aside from a lump on the side of her head from her quick trip to the floor.
The relief is enormous, for all of us.
(What was that, Fates? Oh, shut up.)
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Ella sick
Ella is icky-sick, as in fever-started-last-night and throwing-up-started-this-morning sick.
She never gets fevers. I'm positive I could count the number of times she's had one on one hand. Actually, none of us ever gets fevers. I can't remember the last time any of us did.
So, I worry. A worry tempered by reason, because hey, people get fevers. And 101.3 is not much to worry. But still. I Am Mommy. And this 6-year-old is snuggling on my lap as I one-handed type this, with her hot little nose pressed into my neck.
She never gets fevers. I'm positive I could count the number of times she's had one on one hand. Actually, none of us ever gets fevers. I can't remember the last time any of us did.
So, I worry. A worry tempered by reason, because hey, people get fevers. And 101.3 is not much to worry. But still. I Am Mommy. And this 6-year-old is snuggling on my lap as I one-handed type this, with her hot little nose pressed into my neck.
My plants are coming back
I always thought I had kind of a black thumb, when it comes to indoor plants.
I got the idea at the beginning of the month to have watering the plants be part of the girls' morning chores, especially since they both got their very own lemon trees for Christmas.
Now my plants are starting to live again.
You can feel free to smack me in the back of the head.
I got the idea at the beginning of the month to have watering the plants be part of the girls' morning chores, especially since they both got their very own lemon trees for Christmas.
Now my plants are starting to live again.
You can feel free to smack me in the back of the head.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Ella lost her first tooth yesterday
I took a picture.
Tooth fairy brought $1. Headed to the Dollar Store today.
Tooth fairy brought $1. Headed to the Dollar Store today.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
More on crying
Given as I've written so much about crying lately, I thought I'd include this link to Moreena's very perceptive post yesterday, which included this passage:
Moreena's 6-year-old daughter has a liver condition and needs a transplant.
This post of John Enright's had the same effect on me, although of course he didn't mean for it to.
I guess it's the ex-Catholic in me that wants to be actively grateful for the health of my girls, grateful all the time, because somehow that will provide some magic protection against the Fates zapping them.
I am, actually, grateful all the time. And it really does help me not mind the small things.
In any case, I do know that back when I was at my very saddest, I didn't bother crying over sad melodies. I guess there was too much in real life to cry over, too much effort going into not crying all the damn time. When it comes down to it, crying over a song is really a total luxury. Crying over a song means you have a little sorrow to spare, enough left to spill over at the thought of the travails of True Love.
Moreena's 6-year-old daughter has a liver condition and needs a transplant.
This post of John Enright's had the same effect on me, although of course he didn't mean for it to.
I guess it's the ex-Catholic in me that wants to be actively grateful for the health of my girls, grateful all the time, because somehow that will provide some magic protection against the Fates zapping them.
I am, actually, grateful all the time. And it really does help me not mind the small things.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Taking a Stand in Texas
Laura loaned me the new documentary
Taking a Stand in Texas: The Battle for Home School Freedom
It was produced by the Texas Home School Coalition last year through Laurel Wilson Productions.
Wow, what a fabulous production, and a good education for us to boot. Even we non-Christians were amazed by it. I'm not a group joiner, especially a home school group joiner, but I almost feel compelled to gather a bunch of Rochester-area home schoolers to watch it together, all 76 minutes of it. It's really compelling. I hadn't realized how recently it was that home schoolers were so harassed, and it's so inspiring to hear how the government was fought against successfully in Texas in 1986. We surely benefit from their effort, no doubt about it.
Even the girls were spellbound by it. Madison, especially.
And David and I are still weeping over the NASA woman who testified at that trial how she gave up the opportunity to be the first woman -- the first black woman at that -- in space, in order to home school her kids.
Adrienne, the homeschool section of the Webster Library should DEFINITELY get this on the shelf. It's only $20.
Laura, I'm going to keep this for a very little while to show it to a couple of people, and then I'll send it back, I promise.
Taking a Stand in Texas: The Battle for Home School Freedom
It was produced by the Texas Home School Coalition last year through Laurel Wilson Productions.
Wow, what a fabulous production, and a good education for us to boot. Even we non-Christians were amazed by it. I'm not a group joiner, especially a home school group joiner, but I almost feel compelled to gather a bunch of Rochester-area home schoolers to watch it together, all 76 minutes of it. It's really compelling. I hadn't realized how recently it was that home schoolers were so harassed, and it's so inspiring to hear how the government was fought against successfully in Texas in 1986. We surely benefit from their effort, no doubt about it.
Even the girls were spellbound by it. Madison, especially.
And David and I are still weeping over the NASA woman who testified at that trial how she gave up the opportunity to be the first woman -- the first black woman at that -- in space, in order to home school her kids.
Adrienne, the homeschool section of the Webster Library should DEFINITELY get this on the shelf. It's only $20.
Laura, I'm going to keep this for a very little while to show it to a couple of people, and then I'll send it back, I promise.
Ella crying
Ella is in a crying phase lately. I can't quite figure it out. I'm wondering if maybe it's this in-between-ness that is 6 1/2.
She loves listening to the Nancy Drew books on CD, follows their logic perfectly, remembers details...but she says they've been making her nervous to go upstairs by herself, or go to sleep in her own room, and indeed she bursts into tears sometimes when she's asked to do this. So we're not having any more Nancys for a while.
My cheerful little I'll-try-anything-academic girl has been crying instead of settling down to do her math -- it's multiplication tables, nowadays, using the Math-U-See blocks to do the problem, and then putting little note cards (old business cards of mine written on the back) next to them, and saying the skip counts.
If there is something new for school, instead of figuring it out for herself or even trying to, she cries.
And, most dramatic, the other week when she started a new ballet class, she burst into tears 2/3 of the way in and couldn't go on. I had thought that was done, that she wouldn't go back, but the following week (last Friday) she decided to try again. And, apparently, she started crying right away in class, but told the teacher she just wanted to dance anyway, that she couldn't help it but she was fine. So strange.
She can basically read, now, but I got a sense of just how much she must have skipped in that Fairy book the other day because yesterday when she was reading the book Just Like a Baby that we love, she really struggled and it upset her.
She's still mostly cheerful, though. So I don't know.
She loves listening to the Nancy Drew books on CD, follows their logic perfectly, remembers details...but she says they've been making her nervous to go upstairs by herself, or go to sleep in her own room, and indeed she bursts into tears sometimes when she's asked to do this. So we're not having any more Nancys for a while.
My cheerful little I'll-try-anything-academic girl has been crying instead of settling down to do her math -- it's multiplication tables, nowadays, using the Math-U-See blocks to do the problem, and then putting little note cards (old business cards of mine written on the back) next to them, and saying the skip counts.
If there is something new for school, instead of figuring it out for herself or even trying to, she cries.
And, most dramatic, the other week when she started a new ballet class, she burst into tears 2/3 of the way in and couldn't go on. I had thought that was done, that she wouldn't go back, but the following week (last Friday) she decided to try again. And, apparently, she started crying right away in class, but told the teacher she just wanted to dance anyway, that she couldn't help it but she was fine. So strange.
She can basically read, now, but I got a sense of just how much she must have skipped in that Fairy book the other day because yesterday when she was reading the book Just Like a Baby that we love, she really struggled and it upset her.
She's still mostly cheerful, though. So I don't know.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Ancient Israelites
We've been proceeding not-very-systematically through Ancient History this year. We're reading a book on the ancient Israelites and we're at the section on writing.
The book, The Ancient Israelites and their Neighbors, has a chart of the ancient Hebrew alphabet, the modern Hebrew alphabet, and the sounds made by each letter, although some are untranslatable ("sound deep in the throat"). Madison, my little code lover, thought the whole section was cool, and was intrigued at the idea of there not being any vowels in the written language. What about words like pat, pet, pit, put, and put?
They are right now working with clay and little knives to carve their own names in ancient and modern Hebrew.
The book, The Ancient Israelites and their Neighbors, has a chart of the ancient Hebrew alphabet, the modern Hebrew alphabet, and the sounds made by each letter, although some are untranslatable ("sound deep in the throat"). Madison, my little code lover, thought the whole section was cool, and was intrigued at the idea of there not being any vowels in the written language. What about words like pat, pet, pit, put, and put?
They are right now working with clay and little knives to carve their own names in ancient and modern Hebrew.
Ella's first chapter book
Last week after spending her own $4 on a pair of cute doggy socks, Ella got it in her head that she wanted doggy pajamas. "Is there anything I could do that would get me doggy pajamas as a prize?" she asked.
I said she could read, on her own, a chapter book. She chose the first book in a popular series she likes and I hate: The Rainbow Fairies: The Ruby fairy.
I told her that the way Madison had gotten going on the Boxcar Children series was that she was so determined to read them on her own that she picked up the first one and read it through, skipping any words she didn't know. And Ella could do the same thing? Yes. But you have to actually read the book, not skip all of the words and just look at the pictures. OK.
Sunday, the child got going. She read, she whined, she wept, but she wanted those doggy PJ's so badly that she kept going. (I wasn't making her do anything, of course, this was all up to her.)
By Sunday evening, she'd read 17 of 65 pages. And then yesterday, she finished it. By noon. She was so happy.
She was even happier when we went to Target and found a terrific pair of pajamas with a dog on it. Here she is with the book, wearing the cute PJs:
I still hate those books, though. No literary value whatsoever.
On a higher-quality literary note, though, we finished reading The Trumpet of the Swan out loud yesterday. God, I love that book. It is one of my favorite books of all time. There is so much from that that chokes me up. I have to swallow hard before I can read certain things, such as where Louis says to the Zoo director, "Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom."
Madison had to read the last page for me because I just couldn't do it without my throat closing:
I said she could read, on her own, a chapter book. She chose the first book in a popular series she likes and I hate: The Rainbow Fairies: The Ruby fairy.
I told her that the way Madison had gotten going on the Boxcar Children series was that she was so determined to read them on her own that she picked up the first one and read it through, skipping any words she didn't know. And Ella could do the same thing? Yes. But you have to actually read the book, not skip all of the words and just look at the pictures. OK.
Sunday, the child got going. She read, she whined, she wept, but she wanted those doggy PJ's so badly that she kept going. (I wasn't making her do anything, of course, this was all up to her.)
By Sunday evening, she'd read 17 of 65 pages. And then yesterday, she finished it. By noon. She was so happy.
She was even happier when we went to Target and found a terrific pair of pajamas with a dog on it. Here she is with the book, wearing the cute PJs:
I still hate those books, though. No literary value whatsoever.
On a higher-quality literary note, though, we finished reading The Trumpet of the Swan out loud yesterday. God, I love that book. It is one of my favorite books of all time. There is so much from that that chokes me up. I have to swallow hard before I can read certain things, such as where Louis says to the Zoo director, "Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom."
Madison had to read the last page for me because I just couldn't do it without my throat closing:
As Louis relaxed and prepared for sleep, all his thoughts were of how lucky he was to inhabit such a beautiful earth, how lucky he had been to solve his problems with music, and how pleasant it was to look forward to another night of sleep and another day tomorrow, and the fresh morning, and the light that returns with the day.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Ron Paul controversy
I don't know enough about Ron Paul or the current controversy over the racist comments in one of his newsletters from some years ago to provide my own thoughts. But Peter Saint-Andre has a really nice essay about it over at his blog "one small voice":
https://stpeter.im/?p=2132
https://stpeter.im/?p=2132
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Please pinch your pencil
I say it all day long to Madison: "Please pinch your pencil." I say it calmly, pleasantly, reasonably, even the 40th time.
One of the things that had gotten in the way of Madison's handwriting for so long was that she was holding it wrong, in a more fist-like grip. She hated to write.
I realized it, and switched her grip, and her handwriting became much better, easier, and more legible.
But she still usually grabs the pencil and starts writing the wrong way. I have to remind her constantly. I mean, SHE sees that her handwriting is bad when she does it the wrong way, why doesn't she adjust on her own?
And while we're at it, why don't they get GET that you're always supposed to say Please and Thank-you automatically? When does THAT happen? :-)
One of the things that had gotten in the way of Madison's handwriting for so long was that she was holding it wrong, in a more fist-like grip. She hated to write.
I realized it, and switched her grip, and her handwriting became much better, easier, and more legible.
But she still usually grabs the pencil and starts writing the wrong way. I have to remind her constantly. I mean, SHE sees that her handwriting is bad when she does it the wrong way, why doesn't she adjust on her own?
And while we're at it, why don't they get GET that you're always supposed to say Please and Thank-you automatically? When does THAT happen? :-)
Multiplication - My goodness, my kids are so different
I'm teaching Ella the multiplication tables, and I can't believe what a difference it is from teaching Madison hers. I thought it was worth outlining.
It's fascinating to observe the difference in their approach to memorization, for instance. Madison memorizes something almost instantly -- IF it makes conceptual sense and is either words expressing whole thoughts, or set to music. She memorizes poetry almost effortlessly, and can practically quote passages from books she's read a few times. Memorizing her lines for drama took almost no effort.
But putting the answers to the equations for the multiplication tables, boy was that a struggle for her. She was her own worst enemy about it. I had to try method after method before we finally finished those tables.
In contrast, Ella seems to be decent but not startling at her ability to memorize poems and songs, but has picked up the memorization of the multiplication tables so fast she almost takes my breath away.
I didn't start either of them out memorizing until they both had a conceptual grasp of what multiplication is. They learned this approximately the same way, "4 rows of 3 block" or "7 groups of 5 M&Ms." Ella, now, thinks of it as "Four 3's" or "Seven 5's" and often says the equations that way.
Then, once they had the method, I set them about memorizing the tables, which Ella has just started. And they both use approximately the same method for that, too. I ask Ella what is 7 x 3. Well, she has memorized 7 x 2, so she counts up 7 from 14. Madison did about the same thing, I recall.
However, Ella has now realized that memorizing the numbers in the skip counting sequence makes it much, much easier. Madison was never one for skip counting, she prefered the more conceptual method, and regarded the skip counts (which we didn't focus on so much) as just one more memorization issue. But Ella, well, I had her derive the answers for the 4-times table yesterday by using the Math-U-See blocks and writing down the equations and answers on little note cards. And then, she simply proceeded (at a suggestion of mine) to memorize, in not even 10 minutes, the skip counting sequence of 4, 8, 12... up to 40. All day yesterday, at completely her own initiative, every so often she'd come out with "4, 8, 12, 16..." So now she has a method that is even EASIER for her, and if I ask her 4 x 6 she'll either know it because she knows 4 x 5 and that the next one, which is 24, must be 4 x 6, or she'll just use her fingers and count up the sequence of skip counting. This morning (she's been sleeping with us the last few days, the Nancy Drews have "freaked her out,") she snuggled over to me and the first thing she said was a triumphant whisper in my ear, "4, 8, 12, 16..."
If it is this easy, I'll thank my lucky stars.
Later on in the process, by the way, the fact of not knowing the answer would get in Madison's way terribly, because she takes a trip down the road of what the implications are of the fact that she doesn't know it, and ruminates about THAT, instead of putting her energy to solving it. So, I'd ask her:
What's 4 x 6?
She'd realize that she had forgotten the answer. And to my dramatic little girl, this became akin to disaster. I could almost hear the internal dialogue:
"What's 4 x 6? Okay, let's give this the fraction of a second of thought that this usually requires. Oh no! I don't know it! I can't believe I don't know this! I knew it the other day. Come on, Madison. You're blowing it, here! You SHOULD know this, Madison. You're supposed to be good at math, this is a big deal that you don't know 4 x 6. How are you going to do real math if you don't know 4 x 6? Maybe you're not as smart as you thought."
Whereas, I have this feeling that down the road if Ella doesn't know 4 x 6, she'll repeat to herself inside, "4...8...12...16...20...24!"
It's fascinating to observe the difference in their approach to memorization, for instance. Madison memorizes something almost instantly -- IF it makes conceptual sense and is either words expressing whole thoughts, or set to music. She memorizes poetry almost effortlessly, and can practically quote passages from books she's read a few times. Memorizing her lines for drama took almost no effort.
But putting the answers to the equations for the multiplication tables, boy was that a struggle for her. She was her own worst enemy about it. I had to try method after method before we finally finished those tables.
In contrast, Ella seems to be decent but not startling at her ability to memorize poems and songs, but has picked up the memorization of the multiplication tables so fast she almost takes my breath away.
I didn't start either of them out memorizing until they both had a conceptual grasp of what multiplication is. They learned this approximately the same way, "4 rows of 3 block" or "7 groups of 5 M&Ms." Ella, now, thinks of it as "Four 3's" or "Seven 5's" and often says the equations that way.
Then, once they had the method, I set them about memorizing the tables, which Ella has just started. And they both use approximately the same method for that, too. I ask Ella what is 7 x 3. Well, she has memorized 7 x 2, so she counts up 7 from 14. Madison did about the same thing, I recall.
However, Ella has now realized that memorizing the numbers in the skip counting sequence makes it much, much easier. Madison was never one for skip counting, she prefered the more conceptual method, and regarded the skip counts (which we didn't focus on so much) as just one more memorization issue. But Ella, well, I had her derive the answers for the 4-times table yesterday by using the Math-U-See blocks and writing down the equations and answers on little note cards. And then, she simply proceeded (at a suggestion of mine) to memorize, in not even 10 minutes, the skip counting sequence of 4, 8, 12... up to 40. All day yesterday, at completely her own initiative, every so often she'd come out with "4, 8, 12, 16..." So now she has a method that is even EASIER for her, and if I ask her 4 x 6 she'll either know it because she knows 4 x 5 and that the next one, which is 24, must be 4 x 6, or she'll just use her fingers and count up the sequence of skip counting. This morning (she's been sleeping with us the last few days, the Nancy Drews have "freaked her out,") she snuggled over to me and the first thing she said was a triumphant whisper in my ear, "4, 8, 12, 16..."
If it is this easy, I'll thank my lucky stars.
Later on in the process, by the way, the fact of not knowing the answer would get in Madison's way terribly, because she takes a trip down the road of what the implications are of the fact that she doesn't know it, and ruminates about THAT, instead of putting her energy to solving it. So, I'd ask her:
What's 4 x 6?
She'd realize that she had forgotten the answer. And to my dramatic little girl, this became akin to disaster. I could almost hear the internal dialogue:
"What's 4 x 6? Okay, let's give this the fraction of a second of thought that this usually requires. Oh no! I don't know it! I can't believe I don't know this! I knew it the other day. Come on, Madison. You're blowing it, here! You SHOULD know this, Madison. You're supposed to be good at math, this is a big deal that you don't know 4 x 6. How are you going to do real math if you don't know 4 x 6? Maybe you're not as smart as you thought."
Whereas, I have this feeling that down the road if Ella doesn't know 4 x 6, she'll repeat to herself inside, "4...8...12...16...20...24!"
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The Oddest Effect of Nancy Drew
We're in a phase of listening obsessively to Nancy Drew on CD (read by Laura Linney).
It is having the most unexpected effect on me: I feel the urge to dress better. More...precisely. Crisply, cleanly. As if there is a precise way to dress for each occasion. There is something so attractive about the way the books describe the trim '50s-era sports dresses, and polo shirts with jeans. It makes me want to go get some skirts with matching sweaters.
Really am not kidding. I want to go shopping.
It is having the most unexpected effect on me: I feel the urge to dress better. More...precisely. Crisply, cleanly. As if there is a precise way to dress for each occasion. There is something so attractive about the way the books describe the trim '50s-era sports dresses, and polo shirts with jeans. It makes me want to go get some skirts with matching sweaters.
Really am not kidding. I want to go shopping.
Lovely weather
The last two days have seen record-high temperatures here in Rochester, in the mid-60s. I have never seen it this warm in January. Everyone was rejoicing, everyone was outside, everyone was talking about it. There was a sense that we were all on furlough for a little while.
The fact is, the winter here really is something that must be endured. I've felt better about having to do so since returning from Virginia, which never felt like home to me, despite the mild winter we enjoyed there from 2005-2006. I really did enjoy that.
The wind is blowing hard from the northwest this morning, which means we're returning to "seasonal" temperatures. On the other hand, it's still not going to be much worse than the 30s for the next several days. "Endurance" doesn't really enter into the psyche here until we're only topping out at 20, or if it's snowing hard.
And, I shouldn't talk. I get to educate my kids at home. I get to work at home. Sure, we go out to a lot of classes, but the parking lots are always close to the door. And while the driving can be bad, it's never too far. I don't have to struggle in the bitter wind tunnels of a snowy campus on a long walk from parking lot U. David never complains, though, never.
The fact is, the winter here really is something that must be endured. I've felt better about having to do so since returning from Virginia, which never felt like home to me, despite the mild winter we enjoyed there from 2005-2006. I really did enjoy that.
The wind is blowing hard from the northwest this morning, which means we're returning to "seasonal" temperatures. On the other hand, it's still not going to be much worse than the 30s for the next several days. "Endurance" doesn't really enter into the psyche here until we're only topping out at 20, or if it's snowing hard.
And, I shouldn't talk. I get to educate my kids at home. I get to work at home. Sure, we go out to a lot of classes, but the parking lots are always close to the door. And while the driving can be bad, it's never too far. I don't have to struggle in the bitter wind tunnels of a snowy campus on a long walk from parking lot U. David never complains, though, never.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Odd people can be good with kids
Madison started going to a science club today for 8-to-11-year-olds, which is run for free by some homeschooling parents near here. They're strange people, though not fundies or anything. When they're talking to you, whether on the phone or in person, they talk and talk and talk and talk, with no sense of YOU being there as another human being with thoughts or ideas, until you want to run. They're like verbal quicksand.
BUT...
They seem to be really good with the kids. When Madison asked a science question when we first met them, they were great at drawing the answer out of her, with "What do you think?" and "What evidence is there for your hypothesis?" kinds of questions.
They take it seriously; they're going to send around a little email each week describing what they did and what scientific principles were involved so that we can follow up.
And, apparently, she had a good time today. I'm guessing that somehow they have a different section of their brains switched on so they don't just bury the kids in a pile of words.
And did I mention it's free?
I wouldn't have predicted, at first blush, that this could work well with those particular folks. But there it is. Just goes to show that you really can't necessarily judge the value of something at first glance.
BUT...
They seem to be really good with the kids. When Madison asked a science question when we first met them, they were great at drawing the answer out of her, with "What do you think?" and "What evidence is there for your hypothesis?" kinds of questions.
They take it seriously; they're going to send around a little email each week describing what they did and what scientific principles were involved so that we can follow up.
And, apparently, she had a good time today. I'm guessing that somehow they have a different section of their brains switched on so they don't just bury the kids in a pile of words.
And did I mention it's free?
I wouldn't have predicted, at first blush, that this could work well with those particular folks. But there it is. Just goes to show that you really can't necessarily judge the value of something at first glance.
School goes so much more smoothly when you're organized
Last night, I took the time to make the girls each a personal schedule for today, with subjects and activities to be accomplished where and when.
I must keep in mind how much they like this, how easy and smooth it makes life.
It's not even 10, they're done with what they needed to accomplish before 10, and now we're just about to be off to science club.
Madison is happy that this afternoon at the library we're having a little "mom and me" math lesson, not her doing it, just me showing her some stuff. We'll do that each Monday between Gym & Swim and karate.
They love them lists. They love them check marks. They love seeing concrete renderings of their accomplishments. And now that Ella can read her own list, she's happy and much more self-sufficient.
Yesterday, instead of spending the afternoon organizing as I'd intended, I took Madison to the Nature Center for a bird hike. It was wise. She needed to spend some time alone with me to chill out doing something she loved.
There were about 30 people on the hike (!) with our beloved nature center director, Linda Bender. Madison (who, Linda pointed out, is a regular camper) asked great questions and often answered Linda's general queries so accurately and enthusiastically that another family inquired about their summer camps for their own kids.
I must keep in mind how much they like this, how easy and smooth it makes life.
It's not even 10, they're done with what they needed to accomplish before 10, and now we're just about to be off to science club.
Madison is happy that this afternoon at the library we're having a little "mom and me" math lesson, not her doing it, just me showing her some stuff. We'll do that each Monday between Gym & Swim and karate.
They love them lists. They love them check marks. They love seeing concrete renderings of their accomplishments. And now that Ella can read her own list, she's happy and much more self-sufficient.
Yesterday, instead of spending the afternoon organizing as I'd intended, I took Madison to the Nature Center for a bird hike. It was wise. She needed to spend some time alone with me to chill out doing something she loved.
There were about 30 people on the hike (!) with our beloved nature center director, Linda Bender. Madison (who, Linda pointed out, is a regular camper) asked great questions and often answered Linda's general queries so accurately and enthusiastically that another family inquired about their summer camps for their own kids.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Madison's new schedule
Madison has been a cranking crankeroo recently. I'm newly sensitive to it and yesterday was miserable. An automatic negative or aggrieved reaction to situations. (E.g., "Hey! Where's the salt!?" (as if someone has been insulting her by witholding the salt from her immediate surroundings) rather than "Does someone know where the salt is?") It's really getting on my nerves. I hope that today is an easier day for her so that when we get back to school tomorrow, it doesn't affect that. I'm doing a big day of planning, today, so that the kids have their beloved lists of what will get accomplished. That should help.
On the other hand, tomorrow is Monday and Madison doesn't have much formal school because of a new science club for 8-to-11-year-olds (free, from a homeschool dad) that is starting up tomorrow. She'll do karate and piano practicing in the morning, but then will be at science club (fortunately only 1/2 mile away) from 10-12. Then Gym-and-Swim from 1-3, karate from 4:30-5:15. We'll probably be going to the library between Gym-and-Swim and karate, and so she'll do some of her work there with me, one-on-one, probably will be mostly math. And we'll try to work from 8:30-9:30 as well, mostly WRTR and handwriting.
Starting at the end of the month, Tuesdays will look somewhat similar for her, as she'll have a homeschool musical theater group from 10:30-2pm (I think she'll love it) and Spanish from 4-5pm.
I hope this isn't unwise. But I'm pretty sure I can compress what she needs to learn in other subjects into Wednesday-Friday. We'll see.
On the other hand, tomorrow is Monday and Madison doesn't have much formal school because of a new science club for 8-to-11-year-olds (free, from a homeschool dad) that is starting up tomorrow. She'll do karate and piano practicing in the morning, but then will be at science club (fortunately only 1/2 mile away) from 10-12. Then Gym-and-Swim from 1-3, karate from 4:30-5:15. We'll probably be going to the library between Gym-and-Swim and karate, and so she'll do some of her work there with me, one-on-one, probably will be mostly math. And we'll try to work from 8:30-9:30 as well, mostly WRTR and handwriting.
Starting at the end of the month, Tuesdays will look somewhat similar for her, as she'll have a homeschool musical theater group from 10:30-2pm (I think she'll love it) and Spanish from 4-5pm.
I hope this isn't unwise. But I'm pretty sure I can compress what she needs to learn in other subjects into Wednesday-Friday. We'll see.
Friday, January 04, 2008
A new food pyramid
Want to feel guilty? Here is a new alternative to the traditional Food Pyramid for kids.
http://www.kidshealth.org/kid/stay_healthy/food/go_slow_whoa.html
Instead of having interesting classifications of food into dairy, grains, meat, etc, they've simplified it for kids, and for we morons who feed them, into just three categories: "Go, Slow, and WHOA!"
It reminds me of the book What to Expect when You're Expecting, wherein they advise that SOMETIMES pregnant women should indulge themselves with something sweet. They suggest a fruit-juice-sweetened whole-grain muffin.
Let me tell you, as a product of approximately 14 years of GO food enforced by the Food Nazi that was my father, I'm in no better health than you are. Except I'm that much more likely to see sugar as a reward for good behavior.
The whole thing makes me want to go and make a big batch of crusciki.
http://www.kidshealth.org/kid/stay_healthy/food/go_slow_whoa.html
Instead of having interesting classifications of food into dairy, grains, meat, etc, they've simplified it for kids, and for we morons who feed them, into just three categories: "Go, Slow, and WHOA!"
It reminds me of the book What to Expect when You're Expecting, wherein they advise that SOMETIMES pregnant women should indulge themselves with something sweet. They suggest a fruit-juice-sweetened whole-grain muffin.
Let me tell you, as a product of approximately 14 years of GO food enforced by the Food Nazi that was my father, I'm in no better health than you are. Except I'm that much more likely to see sugar as a reward for good behavior.
The whole thing makes me want to go and make a big batch of crusciki.
Pediatrician
We visited the pediatrician yesterday for the girls' annual checkup. They hadn't been sick at all in the past year, and last year's checkup was with the PA, so they hadn't seen him in some time.
Our pediatrician isn't scintillatingly bright (he's fine for healthy children, if you know what I mean, but he wasn't able to diagnose Dario's hearing problem for years, it took a specialist to do that), but it turns out he's EXTREMELY homeschool friendly. He was SO impressed with the girls.
"What's your favorite topic in school?" he asked Ella.
"Logic."
His eyebrows flew up with surprise and pleasure. He was interested in how much time academics takes in the morning. He asked about all of the extra classes the girls are able to do. He commented that they get to do all of this stuff because they have the time and the energy from not going to school.
"I'm jealous," he said to the girls. "I wish I could go to your school."
I've heard about people struggling over homeschooling issues with their pediatricians, not that I would tolerate one whiff of that of course, but it certainly is pleasing to have someone so on one's side.
Our pediatrician isn't scintillatingly bright (he's fine for healthy children, if you know what I mean, but he wasn't able to diagnose Dario's hearing problem for years, it took a specialist to do that), but it turns out he's EXTREMELY homeschool friendly. He was SO impressed with the girls.
"What's your favorite topic in school?" he asked Ella.
"Logic."
His eyebrows flew up with surprise and pleasure. He was interested in how much time academics takes in the morning. He asked about all of the extra classes the girls are able to do. He commented that they get to do all of this stuff because they have the time and the energy from not going to school.
"I'm jealous," he said to the girls. "I wish I could go to your school."
I've heard about people struggling over homeschooling issues with their pediatricians, not that I would tolerate one whiff of that of course, but it certainly is pleasing to have someone so on one's side.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Art School
For this shortened week, we're doing Art School.
That is, yesterday, today, and tomorrow is filled with painting.
I had discovered some Bob Ross episodes being shown on some obscure PBS-like station on our cable network, channel 433. They're Tuesdays and Thursdays and I'm taping them. We have 4 so far. We love Bob Ross. His last name, too. (No relation, though.)
Yesterday the girls and I watched two of them, and today we're going to watch one more and try to paint one of them. We use acryllics, whereas he uses oils, so it will be a little different of a technique and color mixing. We'll see what the girls come up with.
Went to Michael's yesterday and stocked up on some paint, a really nice 1" brush for me, and a couple of painting knifes of which Bob makes such excellent use. We're ready.
Update at 6:30pm: One extremely interesting thing I discovered today is how well they are able to TALK about art, but how far they are from DOING it. I believe it's a hand-eye coordination developmental issue. We watch the shows together. They can comment very intelligently on how Bob does the artwork, how he makes it light on the right slope of all of the mountains in that painting so you can tell that the light is coming from the right, how he puts lots of different colors into one place so you see all of the interesting ways a tree can look. But they are ABSOLUTELY incapable of imitating him once they have the brush in hand.
It's as though what they know cerebrally completely switches off and is irrelevant to the enterprise at hand, which says something to me (though I'm not sure what) about how the brain develops. I'm sure that a conceptual understanding of the technique is important, but this made me see how much more there is to it.
We see how, step by step, Bob builds color into a work. His contention is that anyone can paint if you go step by step, and in fact I am living proof of that. We talk about painting all the time, the girls and I. THEY talk about how when you see a a tree it's not really just green. We talk about the various colors in the sky, the placement of color on the clouds as the sun is shining from different angles. We talk about layer method of painting, how the background goes on first, then it builds forward. But the most that they've been able to manage is that the sky is no longer just a 1-inch strip of bright blue, that it goes behind the mountains. They make uniform brown and green blobs instead of building dabs of color lightly on in layers, although Madison is better at organizing her blobs into a landscape than Ella. It's absolutely fascinating to see the difference between the two of them, and I'm sure that it has something to do with a simple 20-month age difference.
We'll keep at this. I will take photos of what they do and so I'll be able to watch their development on this dimension.
That is, yesterday, today, and tomorrow is filled with painting.
I had discovered some Bob Ross episodes being shown on some obscure PBS-like station on our cable network, channel 433. They're Tuesdays and Thursdays and I'm taping them. We have 4 so far. We love Bob Ross. His last name, too. (No relation, though.)
Yesterday the girls and I watched two of them, and today we're going to watch one more and try to paint one of them. We use acryllics, whereas he uses oils, so it will be a little different of a technique and color mixing. We'll see what the girls come up with.
Went to Michael's yesterday and stocked up on some paint, a really nice 1" brush for me, and a couple of painting knifes of which Bob makes such excellent use. We're ready.
Update at 6:30pm: One extremely interesting thing I discovered today is how well they are able to TALK about art, but how far they are from DOING it. I believe it's a hand-eye coordination developmental issue. We watch the shows together. They can comment very intelligently on how Bob does the artwork, how he makes it light on the right slope of all of the mountains in that painting so you can tell that the light is coming from the right, how he puts lots of different colors into one place so you see all of the interesting ways a tree can look. But they are ABSOLUTELY incapable of imitating him once they have the brush in hand.
It's as though what they know cerebrally completely switches off and is irrelevant to the enterprise at hand, which says something to me (though I'm not sure what) about how the brain develops. I'm sure that a conceptual understanding of the technique is important, but this made me see how much more there is to it.
We see how, step by step, Bob builds color into a work. His contention is that anyone can paint if you go step by step, and in fact I am living proof of that. We talk about painting all the time, the girls and I. THEY talk about how when you see a a tree it's not really just green. We talk about the various colors in the sky, the placement of color on the clouds as the sun is shining from different angles. We talk about layer method of painting, how the background goes on first, then it builds forward. But the most that they've been able to manage is that the sky is no longer just a 1-inch strip of bright blue, that it goes behind the mountains. They make uniform brown and green blobs instead of building dabs of color lightly on in layers, although Madison is better at organizing her blobs into a landscape than Ella. It's absolutely fascinating to see the difference between the two of them, and I'm sure that it has something to do with a simple 20-month age difference.
We'll keep at this. I will take photos of what they do and so I'll be able to watch their development on this dimension.
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