Madison and Ella had a cleaning at the dentist this morning. Madison had a very negative experience when Madison was 5 or so with my old dentist, who was pretty impatient with her. I moved them to the new dentist when we moved back to Rochester 2 years ago. The new dentist is specifically a pediatric dentist, and she's great.
But Madison, who remembered the first experience, always hated the whole trip to the dentist, thoroughly and completely. She has always explained it as a matter of the loss of control of something sticking in her mouth, coupled with a gag reflex. Both girls usually want me to bring their own toothpaste instead of using the ones at the dentists', and Madison has often requested just to bring her own toothbrush, too, instead of having the hygienists use theirs. This morning, though, I bundled them out the door without it, seemingly unintentionally, not mentioning it at all. And they were fine, absolutely fine, about the cleaning, even Madison.
But then at the end, the dentist told me that Madison had a cavity. Would I like them to do the X-ray and filling now, or wait and make another appointment? I put it to Madison and she told me she wanted it now. Good, I thought. Because there would be no time for her to investigate or ask too many questions in the interim, which might make her nervous. But also bad, because it really risked ruining her first Just-Like-Normal-Kids Dental Experience with the memory of the drill and filling.
Damn, damn, and blast, I thought to myself. It became one of those exercises in total parental self-control. I hated the idea that Madison might have inherited my proclivity toward cavities, and I myself loathe getting them filled. But I couldn't exhibit anything but cool normalcy about the whole thing, because that child's antennae are sensitive beyond belief when it comes to that. I succeeded. Good Mommy.
And, the whole filling turned out to be no big deal. The dentist didn't even need Novocaine. And it was on a baby tooth, which should fall out in 3 years or so. Whew. Escaped that one by...yes...the skin of my teeth.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
BEA agent pitch update
Revised entire manuscript for 8 hours yesterday. Added exciting new plot device of embedded code letters into the clues.
Around midnight last night, sent out manuscript to the four agents who requested it at the conference last week.
As of 12pm today had already heard back from TWO of them, thanking me for sending it, saying that they're really looking forward to reading it.
One response was even from the big hifallutin agency that also represents Hollywood talent types. (I looked the agent up and saw her pedigree last night, which convinced me that her enthusiasm must have been a result of my overselling the action in my book...but I got a nice note back from her this morning, so who knows.)
Trying not to be premature but
YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY
Around midnight last night, sent out manuscript to the four agents who requested it at the conference last week.
As of 12pm today had already heard back from TWO of them, thanking me for sending it, saying that they're really looking forward to reading it.
One response was even from the big hifallutin agency that also represents Hollywood talent types. (I looked the agent up and saw her pedigree last night, which convinced me that her enthusiasm must have been a result of my overselling the action in my book...but I got a nice note back from her this morning, so who knows.)
Trying not to be premature but
YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY
The trip after the Pitch Slam
After I made my 3-minute pitches to prospective literary agents at the Pitch Slam at Book Expo America in New York City last week, we didn't come home. We made our way down to Washington, DC. Madison and Ella sang in the Bach Children's Chorus at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site there, with baritone Derrick Smith.
The girls are smack in the middle, Ella on the lower level and Madison in the middle row:
And then the FDNHS had a wonderful Frederick Douglass actor do a fabulous presentation for us, including some of Douglass's speeches:
Sunday, they sang at Gettysburg, very near the spot where Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address. They sang the Gettysburg Address, actually; it was the children's chorus part of David Diamond's On Sacred Ground work for adult and children's chorus.
And then we stayed at Gettysburg with our friends and took an extra day really to "do" it.
The girls are smack in the middle, Ella on the lower level and Madison in the middle row:
And then the FDNHS had a wonderful Frederick Douglass actor do a fabulous presentation for us, including some of Douglass's speeches:
Sunday, they sang at Gettysburg, very near the spot where Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address. They sang the Gettysburg Address, actually; it was the children's chorus part of David Diamond's On Sacred Ground work for adult and children's chorus.
And then we stayed at Gettysburg with our friends and took an extra day really to "do" it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Okay, this is more like it
I pitched my book to seven agents today at the Book Expo America / Writer's Digest Pitch Slam, and came away with six thumbs-ups. Two invitations to query, two requests for the first three chapters, and two requests for the full manuscript!
The one who refused it said that she thought it had "commercial legs," but it just wasn't her kind of thing.
One of the requests for the full manuscript was accompanied by the loveliest of compliments: "I would ask you for an exclusive read, but I just know there are other agents who are going to request the manuscript today, so that wouldn't be fair. Just get it to me soon, I love it!"
AAHHHHHHHHH.
The one who refused it said that she thought it had "commercial legs," but it just wasn't her kind of thing.
One of the requests for the full manuscript was accompanied by the loveliest of compliments: "I would ask you for an exclusive read, but I just know there are other agents who are going to request the manuscript today, so that wouldn't be fair. Just get it to me soon, I love it!"
AAHHHHHHHHH.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sleepover
Madison and Ella are at a sleepover that their babysitter (a 25-year-old young mathematician whom David had taught, who also loves kids) is holding in her apartment for the five girls for whom she babysits.
The last time the girls had slept over at a friend's house, about two years ago, it was kind of a disaster. So this was the perfect occasion to launch them into nice sleepover experiences. They were looking forward to it, and they always had the option of calling me in the middle of the night to pick them up if there was a problem. We didn't get a call. I'll pick them up about 9 and we'll head over to our customary Memorial Day parade in Fairport.
I don't know why people always say things like, "Oh, so nice for you, getting the kids out of the house for a while." I mean, I don't want to argue, and I appreciate the intention, but we don't want the kids out of the house! We like them. We miss them. We want them around. I know it's a good thing for them to do, and I would never deny them the opportunity. But it's 6:45am, and I keep expecting Ella to come padding down the stairs and wrap herself up in my lap. She won't, she's at Hyeyon's. And it feels all wrong.
Think I'm dreading the Empty Nest Syndrome that will land on me starting in about 8 years? Yes indeedy. I try not to jump the gun on that. On the other hand, sometimes I feel as though I'm living in this wonderful open-air world of sunshine and flowers, but making my way slowly and inexorably toward a dark tunnel guarded by a monster. It makes me appreciate this time of life all the more. But still.
The last time the girls had slept over at a friend's house, about two years ago, it was kind of a disaster. So this was the perfect occasion to launch them into nice sleepover experiences. They were looking forward to it, and they always had the option of calling me in the middle of the night to pick them up if there was a problem. We didn't get a call. I'll pick them up about 9 and we'll head over to our customary Memorial Day parade in Fairport.
I don't know why people always say things like, "Oh, so nice for you, getting the kids out of the house for a while." I mean, I don't want to argue, and I appreciate the intention, but we don't want the kids out of the house! We like them. We miss them. We want them around. I know it's a good thing for them to do, and I would never deny them the opportunity. But it's 6:45am, and I keep expecting Ella to come padding down the stairs and wrap herself up in my lap. She won't, she's at Hyeyon's. And it feels all wrong.
Think I'm dreading the Empty Nest Syndrome that will land on me starting in about 8 years? Yes indeedy. I try not to jump the gun on that. On the other hand, sometimes I feel as though I'm living in this wonderful open-air world of sunshine and flowers, but making my way slowly and inexorably toward a dark tunnel guarded by a monster. It makes me appreciate this time of life all the more. But still.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
In this case, it really IS the process, not the product
For a nice little break in the home schooling routine yesterday, I decided that we should do something with the lily-of-the-valley plants that carpet our yard. I love lily-of-the-valley, and the girls are always looking for a flower craft. So I opened our nature crafts for kids book and found a method for making perfume from flowers.
Basically, you jam some fragrant petals in a bottle, and pour grain alcohol over them. Leave it for two weeks, then uncork and strain.
They didn't mention lily-of-the-valley as a good one, but it smells good, so I figured why not.
We went to Michael's. We bought some cute little bottles for $1 each.
We went to the liquor store to get grain alcohol. The problem: No one sells it.
I kind of couldn't believe it. I thought that when I was in college, people made punch and jello shots with grain alcohol. But when I asked one of the folks at one store how to get it, he said, "MAKE it. That's the only way." And we even got a little mini-dissertation from the next liquor store owner about why he won't sell it. (Basically, he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.) That guy said that we might be able to use 160-proof vodka, but he won't sell THAT, either, for the same reasons. But, he said, other people around here might sell 160-proof vodka, I'd have to call around.
So. No grain alcohol, and no energy to drive around town looking for 160-proof vodka that may or may not do the job.
The craft book said not to use rubbing alcohol, the scent is too disruptive.
So we looked in our own liquor cabinet. I found a small, clear bottle with words in Russian and only Russian. What could it be but vodka, right? And the Russians make it strong, right? So we crammed hundreds of lily-of-the-valley blossoms into a little bottle and poured the Russian stuff over it.
Before I corked it, I smelled it. It smelled vile.
Wonder what it will be like in 2 weeks. I'm betting not good.
But it's the process that counts. In this case, I bet we forget all about it until the end of the summer anyway. And then it will smell so bad that they'll remember the whole thing for the rest of their lives.
Basically, you jam some fragrant petals in a bottle, and pour grain alcohol over them. Leave it for two weeks, then uncork and strain.
They didn't mention lily-of-the-valley as a good one, but it smells good, so I figured why not.
We went to Michael's. We bought some cute little bottles for $1 each.
We went to the liquor store to get grain alcohol. The problem: No one sells it.
I kind of couldn't believe it. I thought that when I was in college, people made punch and jello shots with grain alcohol. But when I asked one of the folks at one store how to get it, he said, "MAKE it. That's the only way." And we even got a little mini-dissertation from the next liquor store owner about why he won't sell it. (Basically, he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.) That guy said that we might be able to use 160-proof vodka, but he won't sell THAT, either, for the same reasons. But, he said, other people around here might sell 160-proof vodka, I'd have to call around.
So. No grain alcohol, and no energy to drive around town looking for 160-proof vodka that may or may not do the job.
The craft book said not to use rubbing alcohol, the scent is too disruptive.
So we looked in our own liquor cabinet. I found a small, clear bottle with words in Russian and only Russian. What could it be but vodka, right? And the Russians make it strong, right? So we crammed hundreds of lily-of-the-valley blossoms into a little bottle and poured the Russian stuff over it.
Before I corked it, I smelled it. It smelled vile.
Wonder what it will be like in 2 weeks. I'm betting not good.
But it's the process that counts. In this case, I bet we forget all about it until the end of the summer anyway. And then it will smell so bad that they'll remember the whole thing for the rest of their lives.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Laura Ingalls Wilder letters newly online
I found out that some letters from Laura's family members from the early 1860s are newly online at the Wisconsin Historical Society. I've paged through a few of them: Very interesting, especially the letters from the front lines of the Civil War from Laura's uncles.
http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/highlights/archives/2009/05/laura_ingalls_w.asp
HT to Melissa Wiley, author of the "Martha" books.
http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/highlights/archives/2009/05/laura_ingalls_w.asp
HT to Melissa Wiley, author of the "Martha" books.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
An international writing sensation!
Madison is getting a real kick out of the fact that her "Hiking with Kids" article on my KidsOutAndAbout.com web page is getting exposure from all over the world, and it's only been on the web for 20 days! We decided to figure out why that is, and we discovered that if you Google "hiking with kids" or "kids hiking tips," that article appears on the first page. Totally cool.
Starting the day with sunshine
The first thing Ella did this morning is that she came and sat right down in front of me and said, rather meditatively, "You know, I'm almost always happy to hug someone."
(She had someone in mind right then. :-) )
(She had someone in mind right then. :-) )
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Cookin' right along
Madison has gotten into a cooking rhythm lately. She has always been very skittish about the stove (perhaps as a result of realizing that if one's body wacks into corners and walls with regularity, it's best to stay away from the stove). But lately, at the age of 9 1/2, she has started to cook, for real, from recipes, without me except for, you know, putting things on and off the big Stove Monster.
She is going about it recipe by recipe, trying to master each one, before moving on to the next one. She finds the recipe, reads it carefully, and goes about making the dish (usually dessert) s-l-o-w-l-y. The current rage is these peppermint patty candy things. Just at this moment she is melting chocolate in a double boiler to dip the mint candies in.
We did have a moment about 10 days ago when she was holding a hot metal bowl (using pot holders) and she held it out to Ella and said, "Here, Ella, will you do me a favor and hold this?" I saw, and in time, I shouted "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" She was startled, of course, and realized why I shouted. She has a very vivid imagination, so I could see it all over her face: The image of ten burned fingers had she actually given Ella the bowl. She was terribly, terribly upset. I didn't need to talk about it at all. I just told her what a good thing it was that this had happened, a PERFECT thing, because the lesson was totally learned without anything bad actually happening.
After a few minutes, she was able to get back on the horse, so to speak.
Anyway, a very funny thing that Madison has adopted while cooking is a smiling adamance about calling ounces "ozzes" because of its abbreviation. Also, she calls pounds "libs."
She is going about it recipe by recipe, trying to master each one, before moving on to the next one. She finds the recipe, reads it carefully, and goes about making the dish (usually dessert) s-l-o-w-l-y. The current rage is these peppermint patty candy things. Just at this moment she is melting chocolate in a double boiler to dip the mint candies in.
We did have a moment about 10 days ago when she was holding a hot metal bowl (using pot holders) and she held it out to Ella and said, "Here, Ella, will you do me a favor and hold this?" I saw, and in time, I shouted "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" She was startled, of course, and realized why I shouted. She has a very vivid imagination, so I could see it all over her face: The image of ten burned fingers had she actually given Ella the bowl. She was terribly, terribly upset. I didn't need to talk about it at all. I just told her what a good thing it was that this had happened, a PERFECT thing, because the lesson was totally learned without anything bad actually happening.
After a few minutes, she was able to get back on the horse, so to speak.
Anyway, a very funny thing that Madison has adopted while cooking is a smiling adamance about calling ounces "ozzes" because of its abbreviation. Also, she calls pounds "libs."
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Why and the Wherefore
My favorite baritone, Derrick Smith, came to my house yesterday. He's singing with the girls' chorus down in DC (at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site) and at Gettysburg in two weeks. The trip will be immeasurably better because he's singing with the chorus. Derrick will sing some songs on his own from his current project, a new Civil War Songs CD whose working title is The Army of the Free.
I've basically prodded Derrick into doing this CD after David suggested it last year because this year is Lincoln's Bicentennial. Derrick was very enthusiastic. He is, however, the kind of guy who has too much going and isn't a detail manager, so somehow I have slipped into the role of kick-in-the-pants checker-in with him to keep the project going. He's happy about this. And I'm happy about seeing the progress. He and I are going to do some research at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site when we're in DC; they have the hymnbook Douglass carried up with him from slavery in Maryland, and Derrick is going to choose one or two appropriate hymns to go on the CD.
He was here yesterday and sang some of the songs for me. (I love that I get these personal concerts.) There are a few songs I know, and a lot I don't, which makes it all the better.
The Why and the Wherefore
Run to Jesus (the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery)
We are coming Father Abram
The Battle Cry of Freedom
Tenting on the Old Campground
Lorena
The Yellow Rose of Texas
Follow the Drinking Gourd
Steal Away
Aura Lea
Twenty Years Ago
Let My People Go
The Army of the Free
It should be a beautiful and unique CD.
More to the point, though: Derrick left me photocopies of some of the music. One of the songs, called The Why and the Wherefore, is exceedingly beautiful when it's played fairly slowly, and, it so happens, the piano accompaniment is exactly at the level I can play, if I stretch. And that's what I've been doing this morning (for my own enjoyment, obviously, not to accompany Derrick!). I took half an hour when I probably should have been working, and played piano instead. It was wonderful. (I wasn't wonderful, but the experience was lovely.) It was hard to tear myself away.
Like I need a new hobby.
I mentioned to the girls' chorus director that I was working with Derrick on this, and she asked if I am producing the CD. I'm not, I said, I'm just the cheerleader. But she did plant that idea in my mind. Maybe I will.
Again...like I need a new hobby. But I could file this one under my personal way of celebrating Lincoln's Bicentennial.
I've basically prodded Derrick into doing this CD after David suggested it last year because this year is Lincoln's Bicentennial. Derrick was very enthusiastic. He is, however, the kind of guy who has too much going and isn't a detail manager, so somehow I have slipped into the role of kick-in-the-pants checker-in with him to keep the project going. He's happy about this. And I'm happy about seeing the progress. He and I are going to do some research at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site when we're in DC; they have the hymnbook Douglass carried up with him from slavery in Maryland, and Derrick is going to choose one or two appropriate hymns to go on the CD.
He was here yesterday and sang some of the songs for me. (I love that I get these personal concerts.) There are a few songs I know, and a lot I don't, which makes it all the better.
The Why and the Wherefore
Run to Jesus (the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery)
We are coming Father Abram
The Battle Cry of Freedom
Tenting on the Old Campground
Lorena
The Yellow Rose of Texas
Follow the Drinking Gourd
Steal Away
Aura Lea
Twenty Years Ago
Let My People Go
The Army of the Free
It should be a beautiful and unique CD.
More to the point, though: Derrick left me photocopies of some of the music. One of the songs, called The Why and the Wherefore, is exceedingly beautiful when it's played fairly slowly, and, it so happens, the piano accompaniment is exactly at the level I can play, if I stretch. And that's what I've been doing this morning (for my own enjoyment, obviously, not to accompany Derrick!). I took half an hour when I probably should have been working, and played piano instead. It was wonderful. (I wasn't wonderful, but the experience was lovely.) It was hard to tear myself away.
Like I need a new hobby.
I mentioned to the girls' chorus director that I was working with Derrick on this, and she asked if I am producing the CD. I'm not, I said, I'm just the cheerleader. But she did plant that idea in my mind. Maybe I will.
Again...like I need a new hobby. But I could file this one under my personal way of celebrating Lincoln's Bicentennial.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I can't decide
Not that I *have* to decide this, mind you. But I'm not sure which is harder to take: The impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried this morning, or the impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried 8 weeks ago.
Good thing I'm 40 and have, you know, decades of experience of other types of success under my belt, otherwise I might be getting a little down right about now.
Good thing I'm 40 and have, you know, decades of experience of other types of success under my belt, otherwise I might be getting a little down right about now.
Limericks for yesterday's celebration
Yesterday was National Limerick Day. John Enright wrote some.
Here are ours:
Madison's limerick:
Ella's not-quite-limerick but still fun poem:
Here are ours:
Madison's limerick:
Oh, Sally she hated her books:
They were all about little brooks.
The more Sally despised them,
The more her brother prized them,
So all of her brook books he took.
Ella's not-quite-limerick but still fun poem:
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I don't know how it happened that way
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I found out about it just today.
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
And that's all that I have to say.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Testing, testing
We both started and finished standardized testing today. I used the CAT--the California Achievement Test--for second and fourth grade. I thought it would be a lot more fuss than it actually was. The girls, even Ella, actually enjoyed themselves. (She read everything without fuss and usually finished even the language sections earlier than the allotted time. The test was quite a bit easier than the prep booklet. The math was laughably easy, Ella could have done all of Madison's except for the one long division problem.) I'll probably do this every year rather than write a year-end evaluation essay, even though in New York State we only are bound to do testing every other year starting in 4th grade.
I will send the tests and booklets back to Seton Home Study School Testing, and they'll give us a scorecard of sorts. Easy-peasy, and pretty cheap.
I will send the tests and booklets back to Seton Home Study School Testing, and they'll give us a scorecard of sorts. Easy-peasy, and pretty cheap.
Internal support network
Somehow unbeknownst to me, it seems that my neurons are conspiring on a project to demonstrate to my conscious mind how great it is that I'm 40.
As I may have said somewhere in this blog before, a majority of the dreams I remember are nightmares set back in high school. Or, less often, college. Except for senior year of college (which was finally the experience I'd been longing for because by then I'd put myself together intellectually, jettisoned my deadbeat dad, and gathered around me a bunch of really good friends), you couldn't pay me to relive any of those years from 14-21. Or, come to think of it, 12-21. Or maybe even 10-21. Anyway, in these dreams I am Back Then and I must complete an interminable amount of work ahead before I'll be released.
Last night, I dreamed that I was back at Penn with my college freshman roommate, and we were squeezed into a tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment that had a big waste-of-space bathroom, with two other girls. I had to hang out with these people. We were walking down the street in West Philadelphia, which was if possible even less attractive than it was 20 years ago, when suddenly I came upon Madison walking toward me with a group of kids. She was 18 or so, and seemed happy to be there.
But...wait...my brain started screaming...that's...Madison!...how could the time have gone so fast? What? She's in college? That means I can't be in college, oh thank god... But she can't be an adult yet, she's my baby ....AAAAAGHHHHH!
And then the dream dissolved, as they do when one's rational mind takes over. I woke up, tremendously grateful to be right here, where I am, right now.
40. Perfect.
As I may have said somewhere in this blog before, a majority of the dreams I remember are nightmares set back in high school. Or, less often, college. Except for senior year of college (which was finally the experience I'd been longing for because by then I'd put myself together intellectually, jettisoned my deadbeat dad, and gathered around me a bunch of really good friends), you couldn't pay me to relive any of those years from 14-21. Or, come to think of it, 12-21. Or maybe even 10-21. Anyway, in these dreams I am Back Then and I must complete an interminable amount of work ahead before I'll be released.
Last night, I dreamed that I was back at Penn with my college freshman roommate, and we were squeezed into a tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment that had a big waste-of-space bathroom, with two other girls. I had to hang out with these people. We were walking down the street in West Philadelphia, which was if possible even less attractive than it was 20 years ago, when suddenly I came upon Madison walking toward me with a group of kids. She was 18 or so, and seemed happy to be there.
But...wait...my brain started screaming...that's...Madison!...how could the time have gone so fast? What? She's in college? That means I can't be in college, oh thank god... But she can't be an adult yet, she's my baby ....AAAAAGHHHHH!
And then the dream dissolved, as they do when one's rational mind takes over. I woke up, tremendously grateful to be right here, where I am, right now.
40. Perfect.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Kids Education Free E-Books from CurrClick
CurrClick, which sells e-books for homeschooling, has a special Mother's Day giveaway of four free downloadable e-books per day. Each day up until Thursday, go to this link:
http://www.currclick.com/cclick_mothersday.php?SRC=mothersday
It will show you the four free books for that day. Some are religious, but others are totally secular.
http://www.currclick.com/cclick_mothersday.php?SRC=mothersday
It will show you the four free books for that day. Some are religious, but others are totally secular.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Inhibitions
One hard thing about homeschooling -- at least in my case -- is that in situations where schoolwork is frustrating, the child responds differently -- worse -- than she would in the classroom. At home, Ella feels free to break into tears when she's working on something that is difficult, that she can't understand in the first pass. At school or in public, she'd just suck it up, get going, and figure it out. But not here.
I'm never positive about exactly how to handle these situations, how much to jolly her into it. I mostly say, "Okay, I see you're frustrated. When you're ready, feel free to come to me with questions." (But sometimes, when I sense that she's just primed and ready to keep crying in a vaguely manipulative way, I do just tell her snappishly, "Get a grip, Ella.")
I'm never positive about exactly how to handle these situations, how much to jolly her into it. I mostly say, "Okay, I see you're frustrated. When you're ready, feel free to come to me with questions." (But sometimes, when I sense that she's just primed and ready to keep crying in a vaguely manipulative way, I do just tell her snappishly, "Get a grip, Ella.")
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Beware...you never know what may be hidden with your flowers
My friend Tatiana sent me a beautiful box of flowers yesterday from ProFlowers.com. Each lovely purple sprig had its own individual watering case at the bottom. There was a beautiful light-green vase securely wrapped at the base so there was no chance of breakage. There was a little box of delicious chocolates, with a daisy bow around the box. And there was...
...a Bible tract.
That's right: a folded-up little treatise (written in cartoons, of all things) produced by LivingWaters.com, reminding me that there was still time for me to repent of my sins, accept Jesus Christ as my Personal Lord and Savior, and be forgiven so that I'm not sentenced by The Big Ghost in the Sky to burn forevermore deep in the bowels of the earth.
I thought it was pretty funny.
Tatiana did NOT think it was pretty funny. Tatiana is pissed.
I called up ProFlowers.com and asked them if it was standard practice to include these things with their flowers. No, it most certainly was NOT, the customer service rep said.
"The thing is," I said, "today is my 40th birthday. And while this isn't traumatizing or anything, pretty much the last thing I want to be reminded of is, you know, how little time I have left before I have to DIE."
She could understand that, she said. (She was a well-trained CSR.)
"It's just a good thing this isn't a 'get-well' bunch of flowers," I continued. "Imagine being in the hospital with some awful disease, and getting THIS."
She reacted with appropriate horror.
"So, I think you probably have some person working in your warehouse who needs to be stopped from doing this kind of thing," I said.
She agreed. "There's a chain of action that I can start here. I'm making a note in the file. What's your email address? You can call in a couple of days if you haven't heard anything."
I have a feeling Tatiana is going to call today and give them a rapid-fire Latina-accent-enhanced earful, too, just to drive in the point that something should be done.
Not that I'm usually the type of person who is out to get people fired, but I really think the person who did this needs to be canned, pronto.
...a Bible tract.
That's right: a folded-up little treatise (written in cartoons, of all things) produced by LivingWaters.com, reminding me that there was still time for me to repent of my sins, accept Jesus Christ as my Personal Lord and Savior, and be forgiven so that I'm not sentenced by The Big Ghost in the Sky to burn forevermore deep in the bowels of the earth.
I thought it was pretty funny.
Tatiana did NOT think it was pretty funny. Tatiana is pissed.
I called up ProFlowers.com and asked them if it was standard practice to include these things with their flowers. No, it most certainly was NOT, the customer service rep said.
"The thing is," I said, "today is my 40th birthday. And while this isn't traumatizing or anything, pretty much the last thing I want to be reminded of is, you know, how little time I have left before I have to DIE."
She could understand that, she said. (She was a well-trained CSR.)
"It's just a good thing this isn't a 'get-well' bunch of flowers," I continued. "Imagine being in the hospital with some awful disease, and getting THIS."
She reacted with appropriate horror.
"So, I think you probably have some person working in your warehouse who needs to be stopped from doing this kind of thing," I said.
She agreed. "There's a chain of action that I can start here. I'm making a note in the file. What's your email address? You can call in a couple of days if you haven't heard anything."
I have a feeling Tatiana is going to call today and give them a rapid-fire Latina-accent-enhanced earful, too, just to drive in the point that something should be done.
Not that I'm usually the type of person who is out to get people fired, but I really think the person who did this needs to be canned, pronto.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Car irony
I always leave the every-two-year car inspection until the last minute, or over.
My inspection was due by the end of April, and I decided really to take the bull by the horns and get it done on April 29.
The car didn't pass, because the Check Engine light, which has been on without pause and without meaning since 2002, was lit as usual.
"Oh, don't fuss about that," I said. "It's been lit since 2002. It doesn't mean anything."
"Sorry, ma'am," said the Jiffy Lube people. "We're not allowed to pass it. You'll have to take it to your mechanic. Within 30 days we can re-inspect it for free and pass it if that light is off."
I grumbled to myself about a waste of time and $25. Because, of course, the mechanic is also an inspection station, it will just cost me more than the Jiffy Lube people, they're out of my way, and you have to make an appointment.
It turned out that the Jiffy Lube people had turned on these weird dashboard lights in the car, lights I never use. I didn't notice. So the next morning when I went to turn on the car, the battery was dead. I was pretty ticked off about the whole experience while David was jumping the car back to life.
But when I started driving, I noticed that something was different. The Check Engine light was OFF! For the first time in 7 years!
I high-tailed it back to the Jiffy Lube that afternoon, and they inspected it (for free, of course) and the car PASSED.
(When do Car Experience stories ever work out for the BEST?)
My inspection was due by the end of April, and I decided really to take the bull by the horns and get it done on April 29.
The car didn't pass, because the Check Engine light, which has been on without pause and without meaning since 2002, was lit as usual.
"Oh, don't fuss about that," I said. "It's been lit since 2002. It doesn't mean anything."
"Sorry, ma'am," said the Jiffy Lube people. "We're not allowed to pass it. You'll have to take it to your mechanic. Within 30 days we can re-inspect it for free and pass it if that light is off."
I grumbled to myself about a waste of time and $25. Because, of course, the mechanic is also an inspection station, it will just cost me more than the Jiffy Lube people, they're out of my way, and you have to make an appointment.
It turned out that the Jiffy Lube people had turned on these weird dashboard lights in the car, lights I never use. I didn't notice. So the next morning when I went to turn on the car, the battery was dead. I was pretty ticked off about the whole experience while David was jumping the car back to life.
But when I started driving, I noticed that something was different. The Check Engine light was OFF! For the first time in 7 years!
I high-tailed it back to the Jiffy Lube that afternoon, and they inspected it (for free, of course) and the car PASSED.
(When do Car Experience stories ever work out for the BEST?)
The latest parenting dilemma
What does one do when the go-with-the-flow YOUNGER sister is qualified to move up to the next level gymnastics class for next semester, but not the competitive older sister? They say I can hold Ella back with no problem, no one will really notice. I might do that. They both have a good time at gymnastics, but neither considers it fundamental to her happiness or anything. They could give it up easily. If Ella considered it the end-all and be-all of her existence, I'd have to let her go ahead. But as it is, I'm still not sure what to do.
The Puppy Place books
I love great kids literature.
But I can deal with it when my kids read kind of badly-written books -- especially in Ella's case.
I want her to WANT to read. I want it not to be a struggle.
I suggested that David get her a gift card to Barnes & Noble for her birthday this year, rather than buying her the books outright. A) Ella loves to shop and B) we stand a better chance of her wanting to read it if she buys the book.
I was right. Sunday, I took her to B&N and she got several of the new "Puppy Place" series of books. Oh, they are nothing books. But she loves them. She loves puppies, so that helps. She has been reading outside this morning, pretty happily.
(Oh, well...she just came in and asked, "Can I stop now? I'm on Chapter 8."
Sigh.
My answer was, "Sure, if you want to do handwriting." She fled back outside, book in hand.)
But I can deal with it when my kids read kind of badly-written books -- especially in Ella's case.
I want her to WANT to read. I want it not to be a struggle.
I suggested that David get her a gift card to Barnes & Noble for her birthday this year, rather than buying her the books outright. A) Ella loves to shop and B) we stand a better chance of her wanting to read it if she buys the book.
I was right. Sunday, I took her to B&N and she got several of the new "Puppy Place" series of books. Oh, they are nothing books. But she loves them. She loves puppies, so that helps. She has been reading outside this morning, pretty happily.
(Oh, well...she just came in and asked, "Can I stop now? I'm on Chapter 8."
Sigh.
My answer was, "Sure, if you want to do handwriting." She fled back outside, book in hand.)
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Start of a conversation you're not sure you want to have with your 9-year-old
"Hey, Mom! Lemme tell you why this book [holding up the 39 Clues book she started and finished today] succeeds while yours fails!"
Friday, May 01, 2009
Proud, proud, proud proud proud
Have I mentioned that I'm proud of my kids? Yes indeedy.Following Madison's spontaneous assistance with a talk I gave last year at a MOPS club (Mothers of Preschoolers) in which we all realized that the child has some kind of future in public speaking, Madison said she'd like to do it again, as often as possible.
An opportunity came this year to talk with another MOPS group, and we did it this morning. This time, Madison was officially on the schedule, and we did a bit of preparation. She made up a list of 14 tips you should remember when taking little kids hiking, based on her years of experience. She had her own little section of the talk this morning. It was fabulous, and so well received (boy, was it well received, I got tons more compliments than I would have had it just been me talking) that I decided we'd make the list into an article on KidsOutAndAbout.com. So we just worked through the HTML and FTP'ed it up to the server.
And here it is:
Tips to Remember When Hiking with Kids
Her first byline! Her first copyright! My baby!
You know, I feel quite carried away, sometimes, with how much I love her.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Watching spring
Watching spring as an adult seems to me very like watching my children's childhood. Winters are endless, summers lag lazily on and on, and even autumm has a certain gradual quality. But spring, that's different. Now, I don't mean the long-wet-muddy part of spring, I mean the payoff part of spring, which we're just entering here in Rochester. But, like our children's childhood, it's there and gone in the blink of an eye, way before we're ready for it to be gone.
So, spring produces both joy and anxiety at the same time. I keep wanting to find various ways to capture the experience. See this magnolia tree in my front yard? It blooms for just six and a half days each year, but it's this glory that everyone remembers the other three-hundred-fifty-eight-and-a-half days. I snapped this photo on Monday, and already today the blooms are raining down. I want to march outside and say, "Put those petals right back on, Young Lady."
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Ella from the very first
Today is Ella's 8th birthday. We named her Ella Simone, the "Ella" after Ella Fitzgerald, and "Simone" after my favorite character in my favorite book, Kay Nolte Smith's book A Tale of the Wind. I had practice labor in the mornings for 12 days before she finally emerged, 9 days after the official due date, at 7:50 in the evening on Sunday, April 29, 2001.
Ella has always been irrepressibly Ella (not that we'd want to repress her or anything!). Sunshine on a cold day, that girl is. Always happy, unless she's (temporarily) dramatically unhappy. Always up for a snuggle. Loves dogs. Loves to dance. Will still play Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdie with me. Favorite color is pink. She paints rainbows into everyone's life.
Ella 2001:
Ella 2002:
Ella 2003:
Ella 2004:
Ella 2005:
Ella 2006:
Ella 2007:
Ella 2008:
Ella 2009:
Ella has always been irrepressibly Ella (not that we'd want to repress her or anything!). Sunshine on a cold day, that girl is. Always happy, unless she's (temporarily) dramatically unhappy. Always up for a snuggle. Loves dogs. Loves to dance. Will still play Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdie with me. Favorite color is pink. She paints rainbows into everyone's life.
Ella 2001:
Ella 2002:
Ella 2003:
Ella 2004:
Ella 2005:
Ella 2006:
Ella 2007:
Ella 2008:
Ella 2009:
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Awareness of time and place
This academic year, one of the most noticeable developments Ella has had, aside from really learning to read, has been her awareness of time and place. I would say that before second grade she was essentially clueless about what time and date things happen, or where she was in time relative to upcoming events, or where she was in space relative to, say, her friend Dario in Pennsylvania. She might count down days on a calendar until Christmas, or even her birthday, but in a moment-to-moment way, she didn't really know what month followed this one, or what season followed spring, or what days she had karate, or how long it would be until she had to leave for dance class. But now, it's something on which she is rock-solid, and I would say that this solidity happened within the last few months. Other than that, she was go-with-the-flow of when things happened, looking forward to, say, Christmas, but more in the abstract.
Ella also has a much better sense of WHEN things happened...that is, she can locate the Revolution and the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, the Civil War and Laura Ingalls in the 19th century, and rapid technology development and the birth of her parents in the 20th century. She can use reasoning to compare something in history against one of these times ("well, that happened before Westward Expansion, so it's probably the 1700s" or "computers hadn't been invented yet, so it's probably the earlier 1900s").
I've noticed this development also in terms of Ella's awareness of herself in space...that streets are within cities, which are within states, which are within geographic regions, which are in countries, which are on continents. She's much less likely to guess "France" when we ask where Ella Fitzgerald was born. She can read a map and instead of my having to tell her how much longer the drive will be, I'll tell her where we are on the map, and then she can estimate easily on her own given how long we've already been in the car. Part of what has helped with this, I think, has been that we do a Birthday of the Day and always orient the person in both time and place. But I also chalk it up to natural expansion of one's personal borders.
Interestingly, I would say that it's only within the past year that Madison has really gotten a sense of these kinds of issues, too. So I don't know whether Ella is early or Madison is late. But last year, Madison totally relied on me to keep track of the schedule and requirements for, say, choir rehearsals, but now that stuff registers with her. It's as though she has developed an internal ticker or monitor that didn't exist before.
Ella also has a much better sense of WHEN things happened...that is, she can locate the Revolution and the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, the Civil War and Laura Ingalls in the 19th century, and rapid technology development and the birth of her parents in the 20th century. She can use reasoning to compare something in history against one of these times ("well, that happened before Westward Expansion, so it's probably the 1700s" or "computers hadn't been invented yet, so it's probably the earlier 1900s").
I've noticed this development also in terms of Ella's awareness of herself in space...that streets are within cities, which are within states, which are within geographic regions, which are in countries, which are on continents. She's much less likely to guess "France" when we ask where Ella Fitzgerald was born. She can read a map and instead of my having to tell her how much longer the drive will be, I'll tell her where we are on the map, and then she can estimate easily on her own given how long we've already been in the car. Part of what has helped with this, I think, has been that we do a Birthday of the Day and always orient the person in both time and place. But I also chalk it up to natural expansion of one's personal borders.
Interestingly, I would say that it's only within the past year that Madison has really gotten a sense of these kinds of issues, too. So I don't know whether Ella is early or Madison is late. But last year, Madison totally relied on me to keep track of the schedule and requirements for, say, choir rehearsals, but now that stuff registers with her. It's as though she has developed an internal ticker or monitor that didn't exist before.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A new computer: SnowyOwl
Yesterday, the UPS man (whom we female Rosses all love) brought Ella's new Netbook, an ASUS EEE.
It's not really just Ella's, it's the family's. I've been inwardly somewhat resentful that my laptop, where all of my work is stored, has been regarded as being The Family's laptop, with people feeling free to use it for, e.g., internet searching at the dinner table. No more! We now have a great, cute, sturdy little Netbook we can whip around the house easily. But, we got it in honor of Ella, and when no one else is using it, she gets first dibs.
It's not just that it's Ella's 8th birthday next week, although that is handy because this seems like the start of a series of celebrations. In March, Ella worked hard, so very hard, on an original story with illustrations for the annual Reading Rainbow contest. She really wanted the first prize, which was a laptop. And when she saw the Netbook at Best Buy and then one that her friends had, she really, really wanted the Netbook. She had a hankering for the computer in a way she never had before. She'd bring it up at odd moments, ways she might use her Netbook if only she had one.
At one point when she was writing her story, called "The Shy Snowy Owl," she was stuck. The end seemed a long way away. "I'm so motivated by that prize," she said. "But what if I don't win it? Imagining that I don't win is getting in my way right now."
"Don't worry," I said. "I'm so impressed with all of your hard work here that if you finish it and don't win, there will be a Mommy Prize."
The story really was good. I thought she had a chance of at least placing in the Rochester competition. But no, last week we got the word that she hadn't. So, that afternoon we went over to Best Buy. I led her to the Netbook section. She was elated. But they didn't have any ASUSes in stock. That night, I placed my order for the Netbook and it came yesterday.
The child is happy, happy, happy with her Netbook. Can you tell from that face? And we may enter the story in another competition some time.
As a matter of principle, I don't go buying stuff (much less computers!) for the kids when there are disappointments, and very few things that they accomplish are motivated by anything other than how good they'll feel for having accomplished it. But sometimes, when very hard work has gone into something, a concrete representation of the work can serve as a great future reminder of how hard something had been and yet had been accomplished. Ella named the computer SnowyOwl, and she is very proud of the work she put into "The Shy Snowy Owl." Not having won doesn't bother her. It may be partly because she's watched my own experience of the last few months: I know that my own book is good, but it's been rejected by a dozen agents so far, and I was completely prepared for that to happen. So, it can happen to anyone, and I think she gets it.
A friend mentioned that she'd heard there are services out there to bind your child's story into a real book. Anyone know where I can do that?
It's not really just Ella's, it's the family's. I've been inwardly somewhat resentful that my laptop, where all of my work is stored, has been regarded as being The Family's laptop, with people feeling free to use it for, e.g., internet searching at the dinner table. No more! We now have a great, cute, sturdy little Netbook we can whip around the house easily. But, we got it in honor of Ella, and when no one else is using it, she gets first dibs.
It's not just that it's Ella's 8th birthday next week, although that is handy because this seems like the start of a series of celebrations. In March, Ella worked hard, so very hard, on an original story with illustrations for the annual Reading Rainbow contest. She really wanted the first prize, which was a laptop. And when she saw the Netbook at Best Buy and then one that her friends had, she really, really wanted the Netbook. She had a hankering for the computer in a way she never had before. She'd bring it up at odd moments, ways she might use her Netbook if only she had one.
At one point when she was writing her story, called "The Shy Snowy Owl," she was stuck. The end seemed a long way away. "I'm so motivated by that prize," she said. "But what if I don't win it? Imagining that I don't win is getting in my way right now."
"Don't worry," I said. "I'm so impressed with all of your hard work here that if you finish it and don't win, there will be a Mommy Prize."
The story really was good. I thought she had a chance of at least placing in the Rochester competition. But no, last week we got the word that she hadn't. So, that afternoon we went over to Best Buy. I led her to the Netbook section. She was elated. But they didn't have any ASUSes in stock. That night, I placed my order for the Netbook and it came yesterday.
The child is happy, happy, happy with her Netbook. Can you tell from that face? And we may enter the story in another competition some time.
As a matter of principle, I don't go buying stuff (much less computers!) for the kids when there are disappointments, and very few things that they accomplish are motivated by anything other than how good they'll feel for having accomplished it. But sometimes, when very hard work has gone into something, a concrete representation of the work can serve as a great future reminder of how hard something had been and yet had been accomplished. Ella named the computer SnowyOwl, and she is very proud of the work she put into "The Shy Snowy Owl." Not having won doesn't bother her. It may be partly because she's watched my own experience of the last few months: I know that my own book is good, but it's been rejected by a dozen agents so far, and I was completely prepared for that to happen. So, it can happen to anyone, and I think she gets it.
A friend mentioned that she'd heard there are services out there to bind your child's story into a real book. Anyone know where I can do that?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Kids' authors really do write back
As part of Madison's poetry explosion last week, she wrote (in a flash, it seemed) a poem about Cam Jansen, the heroine of David Adler's "Cam Jansen" series of detective books for kids. Cam has a photographic memory; when she goes "click," it's her mental camera taking a perfect image of the scene in front of her. Madison wrote this poem:
I suggested she look up David Adler's web site and see if there is a contact email for him. There was! She wrote him a nice note, including the poem. He wrote back a gracious note to her the other day, telling her the poem is great, and he's happy she likes his books.
One of the lessons I took away from the children's book writers' conference in January is just how much the feedback from readers means to writers. And it works both ways, too: It's exciting to get a personal note back from an author! It's a good lesson: Just a little effort on the part of a 9-year-old to express appreciation adds quite a lot of value to at least two people in the world. I'm going to try to have the girls write more to the authors they care about; it's a cost-free effort that can only do good.
Cam Jansen is an alien! An alien from outer space!
She is here using her memory to save the human race!
Soon many clickers just like her will be spread across the world!
And every single one of them will be a red haired little girl!
I suggested she look up David Adler's web site and see if there is a contact email for him. There was! She wrote him a nice note, including the poem. He wrote back a gracious note to her the other day, telling her the poem is great, and he's happy she likes his books.
One of the lessons I took away from the children's book writers' conference in January is just how much the feedback from readers means to writers. And it works both ways, too: It's exciting to get a personal note back from an author! It's a good lesson: Just a little effort on the part of a 9-year-old to express appreciation adds quite a lot of value to at least two people in the world. I'm going to try to have the girls write more to the authors they care about; it's a cost-free effort that can only do good.
Monday, April 20, 2009
A new hobby for Madison
Last Friday, the girls and I made majority of the third of four quilts for my friend Anne's children. I made one when Charlotte was born in 1992, then for Wyatt in 2006 the girls "helped" me make a lovely yellow-and-blue quilt that we got in time for the baby shower three months before he was born. Duncan was born in late 2007, but life has been such a busy ride since then that poor Duncan hadn't gotten one, and here he is 16 months old. Now that Anne is expecting the fourth (a girl!) in August, I decided that busy or no, Baby #3 needed his quilt before Baby #4 arrived. And so I give you the Froggy Good Friday quilt (or Lucky Friday, as Ella has taken to calling it):
Can you tell that it is meant to be "boxes of frogs"? That's a frog pattern within the boxes.
That quilt is now winging its way downstate, and we hope Duncan loves it. I have a feeling that having mastered an easy quilt, the girls will have some bigger plans for New Girl Baby Quilt a little later on in the season.
As a result, Madison has taken to the sewing machine in a big way. She has liked hand-sewing, but mastering the use of the sewing machine is a Big Step. (She's always been somewhat skittish about things that could potentially hurt her in some way.) She now sees all of her old hand-sewing efforts as terribly clumsy compared with what she is able to do on the machine. She's very excited, and today she started sewing a tiny quilt on her own with some of the scraps from Duncan's quilt. One seam had to be ripped out 3 times, but she still didn't get discouraged. I think maybe this is a new obsession.
Can you tell that it is meant to be "boxes of frogs"? That's a frog pattern within the boxes.
That quilt is now winging its way downstate, and we hope Duncan loves it. I have a feeling that having mastered an easy quilt, the girls will have some bigger plans for New Girl Baby Quilt a little later on in the season.
As a result, Madison has taken to the sewing machine in a big way. She has liked hand-sewing, but mastering the use of the sewing machine is a Big Step. (She's always been somewhat skittish about things that could potentially hurt her in some way.) She now sees all of her old hand-sewing efforts as terribly clumsy compared with what she is able to do on the machine. She's very excited, and today she started sewing a tiny quilt on her own with some of the scraps from Duncan's quilt. One seam had to be ripped out 3 times, but she still didn't get discouraged. I think maybe this is a new obsession.
How different non-crappy people are
I have a friend who is dealing with a weird student-student stalking problem at her daughter's school -- not something truly dangerous, I think, but enough that she's pulling all of her own biographical information and anything that pertains to her daughter off the web. She writes for my KidsOutAndAbout.com web site, so I just went through some removals for her this morning.
I did let her know, just in case she didn't, that she's perfectly within her rights to pull her daughter out at the drop of a hat, and home school her for the rest of the year. I just wanted to let her know that there IS another option.
We are so lucky, we who home educate. We are so NOT trapped. My kids get to choose exactly who they hang out with, just like in the real world. They can turn their backs on any crappy people. In general, the other kids in all their homeschooling classes are very nice, and they have made some real friends. My kids went to a birthday party yesterday at the home of their best friends (two other homeschooling sisters) and, you know, the kids just get to be KIDS. There is no pressure to grow up too soon, so all of them (they're age 8 through 10) played Littlest Pet Shop together, without anyone worrying that it might be too babyish.
It makes life so much easier, and I think the difference between my parenting concerns and the parenting concerns of traditionally-schooled 'tween and teen girls will grow that much more stark over the next several years.
I did let her know, just in case she didn't, that she's perfectly within her rights to pull her daughter out at the drop of a hat, and home school her for the rest of the year. I just wanted to let her know that there IS another option.
We are so lucky, we who home educate. We are so NOT trapped. My kids get to choose exactly who they hang out with, just like in the real world. They can turn their backs on any crappy people. In general, the other kids in all their homeschooling classes are very nice, and they have made some real friends. My kids went to a birthday party yesterday at the home of their best friends (two other homeschooling sisters) and, you know, the kids just get to be KIDS. There is no pressure to grow up too soon, so all of them (they're age 8 through 10) played Littlest Pet Shop together, without anyone worrying that it might be too babyish.
It makes life so much easier, and I think the difference between my parenting concerns and the parenting concerns of traditionally-schooled 'tween and teen girls will grow that much more stark over the next several years.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
True fans
Madison and Ella say they prefer MY out-loud reading of Noel Streatfeild's Theater Shoes to the audio book for the same title that we've gotten out of the library. This despite my very creaky froggy voice (result of a cold that is now in Day 12), whose accent is decidedly not British. They've asked for me to read at meals, bedtime, and in between for the last five days. I comply, of course. I'll soak in any evidence that I'm still Numero Uno in their eyes.
People warn that it can't last that much longer, now that I have TWO 'tweens. I'm betting otherwise; we really LIKE each other, those Small People and I. I'll keep ya posted.
People warn that it can't last that much longer, now that I have TWO 'tweens. I'm betting otherwise; we really LIKE each other, those Small People and I. I'll keep ya posted.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Reading ability makes ALL the difference in standardized testing
In New York, every other year starting in the 4th grade (or 5th grade), the end of the year home school evaluation needs to be a standardized test. In Virginia, I chose to give Madison the CAT (California Achievement Test) at the end of her 1st grade year.
I was always a whiz at standardized tests. They never caused me any stress. I actually liked them. I took the SAT 7 times, starting in 7th grade, so by the time I took it early senior year I had no trouble or worries.
By the time Madison was at the end of first grade, she was devouring books like Harry Potter. Madison took to standardized testing like a duck to water, or at least like a challenge-loving kid to a challenge. She tested at a 6th grade level at the end of 1st grade.
Ella never took a standardized test before. But because it's time for Madison to take one to fulfill state requirements, I've ordered the CAT tests for 2nd grade and 4th grade this year. We just got them. I also ordered the 2nd grade test prep book for Ella, figuring that Madison wouldn't need to prepare.
So why do I care if ELLA prepares, given that I don't need to send her test scores anywhere? When I look at it this way, it seems that I am being foolish.
Now, as she winds up her second grade year, Ella is about an average reader, I estimate. But SO MUCH of the CAT depends on reading ability that it's really all they are testing. Ella has come very far this year; she NEVER could have managed this test at the beginning of the year, and that's saying something. So I have no idea how half of the kids even manage to take this test. Even the math has to do with reading. I don't really care if Ella knows that eight thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four translates to 8,784. I'd much rather she knows the answer to 7x+1=50. But the first one is a test question, not the second.
So why am I doing this if I don't really care about someone else's arbitrary standards? The answer is, I'm not sure.
It's good to have a sense of where my kid measures up against what other second graders are being tested for in the country. I guess. But to my surprise and somewhat to my dismay, I'm caring, much more than maybe I should. (Ella, of course, has no idea that I do, I'm very careful not to show it.) I see a problem to which she doesn't know the answer (or a subject that we haven't covered), and I wince, inside. What does it mean about her education, that I haven't taught her that yet? Oh, goodness, she's forgotten how to read a clock, she knew that back in the fall, maybe I'm letting her be too much a child of the digital age..." I worry about whether I can read the directions out loud with her, or whether she must read them herself, and let the chips fall where they may if she doesn't understand.
And, worst of all, this test makes it thoroughly apparent to me that Ella's reading level is way far behind where Madison's was at the end of first grade. Now, I'm not all hyped up on my kids being precocious in everything, or even in anything. But there's no question that Madison takes in far more information per unit time than Ella does, simply because she reads voraciously. I was the same way at her age, and it made for a very rich intellectual life.
Ella is fine. Ella is exactly where she should be in some things, and beyond in others, such as math, history, science, and general cultural literacy. But the kid won't read on her own, for pleasure. And maybe this is an instance of Bad Mommy surfacing, but it privately drives me nuts. It makes me worry. Madison's reading (combined with the tenacity with which she tackles ideas she wants to understand) makes her so smart; she's got these two great tools for learning that Ella hasn't really cultivated yet. I can't exactly say to Ella, "Read, damn it, and start enjoying it, QUICK, because I don't want it ever to be apparent to you that your sister is way beyond where you are when she was the same age." I can't exactly say, "CARE MORE about ideas!" I can lead, we can all serve as her models, but I can't exhort the child to be "more like the rest of your family." I mean, she's not even 8 yet, for pity's sake. She's going to lead a perfectly smart, rich life. I'm not in the least worried about that. But I do worry that Madison is going continually to come off as this brainy genius through her life, and Ella will be regarded as Madison's Little Sister. I don't want her EVER to see herself in that light.
Interestingly enough, Ella actually LIKES working in the test preparation booklet. I was prepared for her to like most of the math, because it is, as she calls it, mostly "easy-puhleasy." But she even likes the reading comprehension. She's not having much trouble with it, she's doing fine even if not stellar, and she's been perfectly willing to work on these with me for a couple of hours each day.
But I still almost feel as though I'm betraying my own educational philosophy, that I'm falling into the same trap as today's public school teachers subject to No Child Left Behind are -- and who would have thought that I would ever feel THEIR pain? Today, we didn't get to reading about the American Revolution because we worked on test prep and then had to go out to science class. That has to be wrong, right?
As you can tell, I'm still working through this issue. Comments welcome.
I was always a whiz at standardized tests. They never caused me any stress. I actually liked them. I took the SAT 7 times, starting in 7th grade, so by the time I took it early senior year I had no trouble or worries.
By the time Madison was at the end of first grade, she was devouring books like Harry Potter. Madison took to standardized testing like a duck to water, or at least like a challenge-loving kid to a challenge. She tested at a 6th grade level at the end of 1st grade.
Ella never took a standardized test before. But because it's time for Madison to take one to fulfill state requirements, I've ordered the CAT tests for 2nd grade and 4th grade this year. We just got them. I also ordered the 2nd grade test prep book for Ella, figuring that Madison wouldn't need to prepare.
So why do I care if ELLA prepares, given that I don't need to send her test scores anywhere? When I look at it this way, it seems that I am being foolish.
Now, as she winds up her second grade year, Ella is about an average reader, I estimate. But SO MUCH of the CAT depends on reading ability that it's really all they are testing. Ella has come very far this year; she NEVER could have managed this test at the beginning of the year, and that's saying something. So I have no idea how half of the kids even manage to take this test. Even the math has to do with reading. I don't really care if Ella knows that eight thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four translates to 8,784. I'd much rather she knows the answer to 7x+1=50. But the first one is a test question, not the second.
So why am I doing this if I don't really care about someone else's arbitrary standards? The answer is, I'm not sure.
It's good to have a sense of where my kid measures up against what other second graders are being tested for in the country. I guess. But to my surprise and somewhat to my dismay, I'm caring, much more than maybe I should. (Ella, of course, has no idea that I do, I'm very careful not to show it.) I see a problem to which she doesn't know the answer (or a subject that we haven't covered), and I wince, inside. What does it mean about her education, that I haven't taught her that yet? Oh, goodness, she's forgotten how to read a clock, she knew that back in the fall, maybe I'm letting her be too much a child of the digital age..." I worry about whether I can read the directions out loud with her, or whether she must read them herself, and let the chips fall where they may if she doesn't understand.
And, worst of all, this test makes it thoroughly apparent to me that Ella's reading level is way far behind where Madison's was at the end of first grade. Now, I'm not all hyped up on my kids being precocious in everything, or even in anything. But there's no question that Madison takes in far more information per unit time than Ella does, simply because she reads voraciously. I was the same way at her age, and it made for a very rich intellectual life.
Ella is fine. Ella is exactly where she should be in some things, and beyond in others, such as math, history, science, and general cultural literacy. But the kid won't read on her own, for pleasure. And maybe this is an instance of Bad Mommy surfacing, but it privately drives me nuts. It makes me worry. Madison's reading (combined with the tenacity with which she tackles ideas she wants to understand) makes her so smart; she's got these two great tools for learning that Ella hasn't really cultivated yet. I can't exactly say to Ella, "Read, damn it, and start enjoying it, QUICK, because I don't want it ever to be apparent to you that your sister is way beyond where you are when she was the same age." I can't exactly say, "CARE MORE about ideas!" I can lead, we can all serve as her models, but I can't exhort the child to be "more like the rest of your family." I mean, she's not even 8 yet, for pity's sake. She's going to lead a perfectly smart, rich life. I'm not in the least worried about that. But I do worry that Madison is going continually to come off as this brainy genius through her life, and Ella will be regarded as Madison's Little Sister. I don't want her EVER to see herself in that light.
Interestingly enough, Ella actually LIKES working in the test preparation booklet. I was prepared for her to like most of the math, because it is, as she calls it, mostly "easy-puhleasy." But she even likes the reading comprehension. She's not having much trouble with it, she's doing fine even if not stellar, and she's been perfectly willing to work on these with me for a couple of hours each day.
But I still almost feel as though I'm betraying my own educational philosophy, that I'm falling into the same trap as today's public school teachers subject to No Child Left Behind are -- and who would have thought that I would ever feel THEIR pain? Today, we didn't get to reading about the American Revolution because we worked on test prep and then had to go out to science class. That has to be wrong, right?
As you can tell, I'm still working through this issue. Comments welcome.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
It's the Nash-Silverstein-Enright influence, I think
We haven't been paying an unusual amount of attention to poetry, lately, but Madison has been excited about writing it in the last week or so. Her poetry used to aim at flowery free-verse language, but now she's playing with rhythm and rhyme and cleverly-made-up words more than she used to. (Not at my behest, this is her own doing.)
She's quite pleased with what she wrote today:
She loved this Easter rhyme of John Enright's from the other day:
I'm thinking it's partly this little poem that has gotten her writing a lot in the last several days. Thanks, John!
She's quite pleased with what she wrote today:
I am always happy.
I am always gleeful.
And it's that happy gladness
That makes me so me-ful!
She loved this Easter rhyme of John Enright's from the other day:
If you see a chocolate rabbit,
grab it.
And, calmly, with aplomb,
go nom nom nom.
I'm thinking it's partly this little poem that has gotten her writing a lot in the last several days. Thanks, John!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Nicer Easter reflections, by Ella and Madison
Cute Little Bunnies
by Madison
Bunny, bunny, oh how funny
Hop around all day.
Bunny, bunny, you're sweet as honey
In your bunny way.
All the bunnies are so fuzzy
As soon as the spring starts,
All the bunnies big and small
Make their way into our hearts.
The Easter Bunny
by Ella
The feeling of spring has finally arrived
Bunnies are hopping everywhere
And the humming of bees are in the air
Tomorrow is Easter
And the Easter Bunny is hiding away
So keep your eyes peeled, I am telling you here
And to the Easter Bunny...
Beware.
by Madison
Bunny, bunny, oh how funny
Hop around all day.
Bunny, bunny, you're sweet as honey
In your bunny way.
All the bunnies are so fuzzy
As soon as the spring starts,
All the bunnies big and small
Make their way into our hearts.
The Easter Bunny
by Ella
The feeling of spring has finally arrived
Bunnies are hopping everywhere
And the humming of bees are in the air
Tomorrow is Easter
And the Easter Bunny is hiding away
So keep your eyes peeled, I am telling you here
And to the Easter Bunny...
Beware.
Some Easter reflections
We have a tendency in our society to equate SUFFERING with GOODNESS.
I know. Saying it in that bald way, it seems obvious. We shouldn't do this. But we do.
It takes this form: We take the extent to which we fuss or feel angst about something as a direct measure of our own personal goodness. We often reassure ourselves and others, "But I CARE," as if our caring is just as important as doing the right thing. Moreover, this itself becomes an excuse not to act, in two ways: As long as we're suffering, we're doing SOMETHING, and it's easier than acting to change it. And, if we act to change it, we won't have the opportunity to suffer and demonstrate our obvious goodness any more.
I know, this in no way seems profound to some of you. But I recently dropped this observation casually into a conversation with two different friends, smart people I love and respect. To them, it was literally jaw-dropping.
Obviously, this springs directly from the Judeo-Christian influence on our culture. It's definitely there in Catholicism, but despite the obvious Christian equation of suffering with divinity, my Jewish friend heartily affirmed that it's a big part of Jewish culture, too. When I brought it up to her this way, she understood in a flash just how unhealthful this is: She's the type that "takes things to heart" -- literally -- which has actually caused her some cardiac stress. How much better to calmly deal with life than to ruminate about it!
The second friend was raised Catholic, and it really resonated with her as well. She reflected that our culture actually places angst on the same level of ethics with action.
It seems to me that so often people use this psychologically as a free pass not to act: "At least I'm *stressed out* about it! It's causing me a lot of grief, so that must mean I'm a good person."
I jettisoned this sense of life a long time ago, mostly thanks to Rand. But I hadn't grasped, at the time, how very important it is to reject this attitude, or the variety of ways in which society reinforces the idea. I certainly hadn't understood how good it would be for my physical, not just psychological, health.
I know. Saying it in that bald way, it seems obvious. We shouldn't do this. But we do.
It takes this form: We take the extent to which we fuss or feel angst about something as a direct measure of our own personal goodness. We often reassure ourselves and others, "But I CARE," as if our caring is just as important as doing the right thing. Moreover, this itself becomes an excuse not to act, in two ways: As long as we're suffering, we're doing SOMETHING, and it's easier than acting to change it. And, if we act to change it, we won't have the opportunity to suffer and demonstrate our obvious goodness any more.
I know, this in no way seems profound to some of you. But I recently dropped this observation casually into a conversation with two different friends, smart people I love and respect. To them, it was literally jaw-dropping.
Obviously, this springs directly from the Judeo-Christian influence on our culture. It's definitely there in Catholicism, but despite the obvious Christian equation of suffering with divinity, my Jewish friend heartily affirmed that it's a big part of Jewish culture, too. When I brought it up to her this way, she understood in a flash just how unhealthful this is: She's the type that "takes things to heart" -- literally -- which has actually caused her some cardiac stress. How much better to calmly deal with life than to ruminate about it!
The second friend was raised Catholic, and it really resonated with her as well. She reflected that our culture actually places angst on the same level of ethics with action.
It seems to me that so often people use this psychologically as a free pass not to act: "At least I'm *stressed out* about it! It's causing me a lot of grief, so that must mean I'm a good person."
I jettisoned this sense of life a long time ago, mostly thanks to Rand. But I hadn't grasped, at the time, how very important it is to reject this attitude, or the variety of ways in which society reinforces the idea. I certainly hadn't understood how good it would be for my physical, not just psychological, health.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
So cute I wish I knew where Madison put the camera
This evening, the girls decided to make a "fort" in our bedroom: They dragged ottomans and chairs and large pillows and the like about 2 feet away from the windows, and pulled the floor-length curtains over the tops of these makeshift fort walls. They draped more blankets and sheets around to make doors and reinforce the fort ceiling. They snuggled in more blankets and pillows, and despite my predictions to the contrary, they are now peacefully sleeping inside their fort.
I'm so grateful they're still young enough to want to do this!
I really hope they don't wake up in the middle of the very dark night and panic, not knowing where they are. At least I'll only be 5 feet away.
Anyway, it's a good thing they're doing this now, because last night David and I pulled up a corner of the dirty-beige carpet in the bedroom and discovered that the hardwood floors underneath are great. We're thinking this weekend might be a big get-rid-of-ugly-carpet weekend. Colder, to be sure, in an already-cold room, but we'll manage.
I'm so grateful they're still young enough to want to do this!
I really hope they don't wake up in the middle of the very dark night and panic, not knowing where they are. At least I'll only be 5 feet away.
Anyway, it's a good thing they're doing this now, because last night David and I pulled up a corner of the dirty-beige carpet in the bedroom and discovered that the hardwood floors underneath are great. We're thinking this weekend might be a big get-rid-of-ugly-carpet weekend. Colder, to be sure, in an already-cold room, but we'll manage.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Beat that logic
This morning, David broached the idea of going to church this Sunday with the girls.
"Dad," said Ella, in, apparently, a lecturing sort of tone, "Easter is about bunnies, and springtime, and candy, and eggs, and chicks, and stuff like that. Why would we ruin it by going to hear someone give a talk about a guy who was murdered?"
Me, I'm with her.
"Dad," said Ella, in, apparently, a lecturing sort of tone, "Easter is about bunnies, and springtime, and candy, and eggs, and chicks, and stuff like that. Why would we ruin it by going to hear someone give a talk about a guy who was murdered?"
Me, I'm with her.
Sketch-up
Last week was an insanely busy week, culminating in a Gala on Saturday night that I helped coordinate. At the beginning of the week, I was vaulted into the position of Acting President of the board of directors of the kids' choir because of health problems on the part of the president. Then, the night before the Gala, the Master of Ceremonies, a local baritone, called with the news that he had pneumonia. So I had to be not only Acting President but Acting MC. Then I promptly got sick. But this morning I really feel on my way up.
My kids have been using a wonderful free program of late called Sketch-Up. It lets you draw in 3-D. Here is what Ella did this morning: "My Summer House." (Actually, "My Summr Hows")
Can you see the little garden, the deck, the house, and the pond? I love it!
Madison has been redesigning the layout of her room using Sketch-Up. I had seen a notice about it with a note that it is also wonderful for kids with autism, a really neat and not-too-difficult way to express oneself in ways that look just beautiful.
If you download it, the free version is great, don't try for the Pro version; you have to pay for that.
My kids have been using a wonderful free program of late called Sketch-Up. It lets you draw in 3-D. Here is what Ella did this morning: "My Summer House." (Actually, "My Summr Hows")
Can you see the little garden, the deck, the house, and the pond? I love it!
Madison has been redesigning the layout of her room using Sketch-Up. I had seen a notice about it with a note that it is also wonderful for kids with autism, a really neat and not-too-difficult way to express oneself in ways that look just beautiful.
If you download it, the free version is great, don't try for the Pro version; you have to pay for that.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Welcome to my homeschooling life
Me: Okay, we've just distributed the negative three into (6x - 11) to make -18x + 33. What would you do now?
Madison: Go out and play.
Madison: Go out and play.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Lincoln into Art
A few months ago, I decided to bring Wendy Allen, an artist who paints Abraham Lincoln (and ONLY Lincoln...that's her only subject) to Rochester. She is on a tour of cities in the U.S. for the Lincoln Bicentennial. Wendy conceived of an enormous Lincoln Birthday Card signed by the people. At each city, she has the public sign these enormous white panels (switching them out when they get full), with birthday messages for Abraham Lincoln. She also paints one portrait of Lincoln over the several days she is in the city, and she also has a program called One Brushstroke, wherein she draws in an outline of Lincoln on a canvas, and then the entire community helps paint the portrait.
I say *I* decided to bring Wendy.
Okay, how could *I* decide to bring her?
The answer is testament to the power of one individual to make things happen. Well, two, actually, if you count Wendy, and three, if you count her partner Elaine.
I talked with various committees (it's also Rochester's 175th anniversary) and organizations about bringing Wendy. It wasn't going to cost that much, just some shipping expenses, supplies, and putting her up for four nights in a hotel. Everyone was interested, but then everyone declined because of The Money.
But I wanted her. I knew it would be awesome. And I wanted to Do Something. You know, to celebrate the Big Guy on his 200th. If there's anyone worth celebrating, it's Lincoln.
So I decided to bring her. KidsOutAndAbout.com would pay for the supplies and shipping and overnight (she's just driving from CT). The Rochester Museum & Science Center agreed to host her from 12-4 today through Sunday. And the Strathallan hotel put her up in a lovely executive suite for four nights, free. (Amazing what you can get when you ask.)
So wham, there it is. She's here. And the event is not only a National Lincoln Bicentennial event, it's also an official Rochester 175th Anniversary event. I took Wendy and Elaine out to dinner last night. They're great people, true Lincoln aficionados, and we had a lovely time. It made the Democrat & Chronicle. I've faxed the TV stations; we'll see if they show up.
This morning, I helped her set up. Ella was the first person to paint One Brushstroke on the portrait of Lincoln that the community gets to keep. Actually, technically, I think *I* get to keep it, because I'm the one who bought the supplies and got her to do it in the first place. But I'm going to donate it either to the RMSC if they want it, or to the Memorial Art Gallery if the RMSC doesn't want it.
Here are some photos:
Wendy's web site is LincolnIntoArt.com.
I say *I* decided to bring Wendy.
Okay, how could *I* decide to bring her?
The answer is testament to the power of one individual to make things happen. Well, two, actually, if you count Wendy, and three, if you count her partner Elaine.
I talked with various committees (it's also Rochester's 175th anniversary) and organizations about bringing Wendy. It wasn't going to cost that much, just some shipping expenses, supplies, and putting her up for four nights in a hotel. Everyone was interested, but then everyone declined because of The Money.
But I wanted her. I knew it would be awesome. And I wanted to Do Something. You know, to celebrate the Big Guy on his 200th. If there's anyone worth celebrating, it's Lincoln.
So I decided to bring her. KidsOutAndAbout.com would pay for the supplies and shipping and overnight (she's just driving from CT). The Rochester Museum & Science Center agreed to host her from 12-4 today through Sunday. And the Strathallan hotel put her up in a lovely executive suite for four nights, free. (Amazing what you can get when you ask.)
So wham, there it is. She's here. And the event is not only a National Lincoln Bicentennial event, it's also an official Rochester 175th Anniversary event. I took Wendy and Elaine out to dinner last night. They're great people, true Lincoln aficionados, and we had a lovely time. It made the Democrat & Chronicle. I've faxed the TV stations; we'll see if they show up.
This morning, I helped her set up. Ella was the first person to paint One Brushstroke on the portrait of Lincoln that the community gets to keep. Actually, technically, I think *I* get to keep it, because I'm the one who bought the supplies and got her to do it in the first place. But I'm going to donate it either to the RMSC if they want it, or to the Memorial Art Gallery if the RMSC doesn't want it.
Here are some photos:
Wendy's web site is LincolnIntoArt.com.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Have I mentioned I have the best kids?
A friend of mine has been having some odd chest and neck pain, and had what is known as a "nuclear stress test" on Thursday afternoon.
After the doctors at the clinic viewed the test results, they chose to rush her to the hospital, thereby giving all of her friends (figurative) heart attacks.
She had an angiogram yesterday. Her heart seems to be fine, and no artery blockages. "You seem to be fine," they told her. "You can probably go home this afternoon."
Of course, in the late afternoon, they told her they wanted her to stay overnight for observation.
God damn the medical profession.
To cover themselves and make themselves seem like they really knew what they were talking about, they loaded my friend up with all kinds of precautions about not gripping things or picking things up for days because they had to insert the catheter in her wrist and it all has to heal.
My friend is a much better patient than I am. I'm so skeptical of the medical profession that I would pretty much ignore all of that nit-picky cautionary advice and go on my own proprioception instead, at least as long as the tests showed I was relatively healthy. My friend, though, has a host of other medical issues, and so she doesn't monkey around.
She got released from the hospital this afternoon and will be staying with us for a day or two. I can tell you this, my house is a LOT more relaxing than the hospital. She's on the couch in the TV room, and has been asleep for 3 hours.
Anyway, the girls and I spent the better part of two days in the hospital, and not a peep of complaint from either of them. They hung out and read and did their work. So I took the Best Kids in the Whole World to Chili's last night. I am feeling very fortunate right now, to have my health, fairly low stress, a lovely husband, and wonderful children. I don't need anything else. Not even a beautiful piece of stained glass for my bathroom. Really, I don't need it.
After the doctors at the clinic viewed the test results, they chose to rush her to the hospital, thereby giving all of her friends (figurative) heart attacks.
She had an angiogram yesterday. Her heart seems to be fine, and no artery blockages. "You seem to be fine," they told her. "You can probably go home this afternoon."
Of course, in the late afternoon, they told her they wanted her to stay overnight for observation.
God damn the medical profession.
To cover themselves and make themselves seem like they really knew what they were talking about, they loaded my friend up with all kinds of precautions about not gripping things or picking things up for days because they had to insert the catheter in her wrist and it all has to heal.
My friend is a much better patient than I am. I'm so skeptical of the medical profession that I would pretty much ignore all of that nit-picky cautionary advice and go on my own proprioception instead, at least as long as the tests showed I was relatively healthy. My friend, though, has a host of other medical issues, and so she doesn't monkey around.
She got released from the hospital this afternoon and will be staying with us for a day or two. I can tell you this, my house is a LOT more relaxing than the hospital. She's on the couch in the TV room, and has been asleep for 3 hours.
Anyway, the girls and I spent the better part of two days in the hospital, and not a peep of complaint from either of them. They hung out and read and did their work. So I took the Best Kids in the Whole World to Chili's last night. I am feeling very fortunate right now, to have my health, fairly low stress, a lovely husband, and wonderful children. I don't need anything else. Not even a beautiful piece of stained glass for my bathroom. Really, I don't need it.
Don't suck a plastic cup really hard up to your face for an extended period of time
Madison was experimenting the other night. She was taking a hard plastic cup -- one of those Tupperware ones -- and creating a vacuum, sucking it up against her mouth and chin really hard for a few minutes.
She now has a giant purple bruise all over her chin, from her mouth downward. She looks something like a 3-year-old who has just slobbered over a giant purple lollypop.
Of course, I don't tell her that. "Why, no, Madison, it looks fine, you don't even notice unless you look up close."
Of course, when you DO look up close, you want to laugh.
As a result, we had some interesting anatomy explanations about capillaries and what might cause them to break, and what happens when the blood leaks out from them. (She found out, obviously.)
Talk about reality generating consequences.
She now has a giant purple bruise all over her chin, from her mouth downward. She looks something like a 3-year-old who has just slobbered over a giant purple lollypop.
Of course, I don't tell her that. "Why, no, Madison, it looks fine, you don't even notice unless you look up close."
Of course, when you DO look up close, you want to laugh.
As a result, we had some interesting anatomy explanations about capillaries and what might cause them to break, and what happens when the blood leaks out from them. (She found out, obviously.)
Talk about reality generating consequences.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
#@!#$!#% Taxes
Is anyone else having a harder time than usual getting together the information to do taxes?
I always hate accounting, but this year I hate it so much I haven't even gotten started pulling everything together. I sit down and just can't make myself do it. I'm envisioning all of the idiots who are going to be getting my money and doing with it what they please. The fury just overwhelms me.
I always hate accounting, but this year I hate it so much I haven't even gotten started pulling everything together. I sit down and just can't make myself do it. I'm envisioning all of the idiots who are going to be getting my money and doing with it what they please. The fury just overwhelms me.
Mr. iPhone again
Mr. or Ms. iPhone looked at my Frontier Team book web site again yesterday.
That was two accesses, three days apart.
I guess it means that someone is at least CONSIDERING representing me. Wonder if I'll find out who.
I'm not nervous, though. I'm still steadily sending out queries. They say it's just as hard to find a good agent as it is to find a publisher, and I believe it.
That was two accesses, three days apart.
I guess it means that someone is at least CONSIDERING representing me. Wonder if I'll find out who.
I'm not nervous, though. I'm still steadily sending out queries. They say it's just as hard to find a good agent as it is to find a publisher, and I believe it.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ella is over her "scared" phase
It actually took over a year for Ella to outgrow her "scared" phase.
In January 2008, when she was 6, I took her to a new ballet class where she and the instructor immediately didn't click. She had to leave, she was sobbing.
I thought it was a very temporary case of nerves, but the next week, and the following week, she was really upset during the class and had to manage herself. I took her out permanently after the third week.
What followed was a semester in which she didn't want me to leave her anywhere, at any time, at any class alone, even karate, where she'd been going for over a year. This was very odd because Ella had always been far and away more secure and flexible than Madison in new situations.
Boy, was that one unexpectedly gradual decline in fear; it was only as of THIS January, a year later, that I no longer give thought to whether Ella is going to have a problem if I leave her at a class. I will admit that I cut out two classes for her in the fall semester because I a) didn't want the hassle of having to stay put in the lobby for an hour or an hour and a half and b) I wanted her to have only the classes she loved so that she would stop having the experiences of anxiety entirely.
I had had to decide between using it as a time to teach her to manage her anxiety, versus having her not have it at all, and I chose the latter.
It seems to have been the right choice. She's really secure and happy. I think I could leave her anywhere -- anywhere reasonable, of course -- without the anxiety.
This experience does show how one bad experience can really seize the mind of a child and cause dramatic changes.
In January 2008, when she was 6, I took her to a new ballet class where she and the instructor immediately didn't click. She had to leave, she was sobbing.
I thought it was a very temporary case of nerves, but the next week, and the following week, she was really upset during the class and had to manage herself. I took her out permanently after the third week.
What followed was a semester in which she didn't want me to leave her anywhere, at any time, at any class alone, even karate, where she'd been going for over a year. This was very odd because Ella had always been far and away more secure and flexible than Madison in new situations.
Boy, was that one unexpectedly gradual decline in fear; it was only as of THIS January, a year later, that I no longer give thought to whether Ella is going to have a problem if I leave her at a class. I will admit that I cut out two classes for her in the fall semester because I a) didn't want the hassle of having to stay put in the lobby for an hour or an hour and a half and b) I wanted her to have only the classes she loved so that she would stop having the experiences of anxiety entirely.
I had had to decide between using it as a time to teach her to manage her anxiety, versus having her not have it at all, and I chose the latter.
It seems to have been the right choice. She's really secure and happy. I think I could leave her anywhere -- anywhere reasonable, of course -- without the anxiety.
This experience does show how one bad experience can really seize the mind of a child and cause dramatic changes.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Madison can spell
Sometime in the last couple of months, Madison flipped from being someone who can't really spell to someone who can spell just fine.
I'm not sure how it happened. It's not as though she's somehow reading any better or more than she was a year ago; she's as equally obsessed with reading now as then. She's not reading that much more complicated things, not any higher level of nonfiction than a year ago, she reads about 1/4 nonfiction and 3/4 fiction.
It's not as though I have been pressing the spellng issue. We don't do it every day. She's been writing pretty steadily, although even a little less than she was in September.
I can't identify any single element in her education that changed, except possibly that recently I've been doing somewhat more writing on the Frontier Team Book 2 with her sitting next to me.
It really does feel as though she suddenly switched over to knowing how to spell things. She wrote an email note to our nature guide, Liz, on Wednesday. I check things before she sends them out--mostly at her request--and there wasn't a single misspelling or grammar problem.
So, I'm happy, but hmmmmm. It all kind of works in with those learning readiness points I've been noticing, that we have a slow-paced gradual rate of improvement and suddenly shoot up to a plateau. I think I notice these more now than when they were toddlers and preschoolers; then, the new learning rate was out of sight, and while I certainly noticed the milestones, they were closer together and I had already identified them as potential milestones. With Madison, I had resigned myself to gradual improvement in spelling, which has been happening for the past three years. And then, whammo, it takes me by surprise.
I'm not sure how it happened. It's not as though she's somehow reading any better or more than she was a year ago; she's as equally obsessed with reading now as then. She's not reading that much more complicated things, not any higher level of nonfiction than a year ago, she reads about 1/4 nonfiction and 3/4 fiction.
It's not as though I have been pressing the spellng issue. We don't do it every day. She's been writing pretty steadily, although even a little less than she was in September.
I can't identify any single element in her education that changed, except possibly that recently I've been doing somewhat more writing on the Frontier Team Book 2 with her sitting next to me.
It really does feel as though she suddenly switched over to knowing how to spell things. She wrote an email note to our nature guide, Liz, on Wednesday. I check things before she sends them out--mostly at her request--and there wasn't a single misspelling or grammar problem.
So, I'm happy, but hmmmmm. It all kind of works in with those learning readiness points I've been noticing, that we have a slow-paced gradual rate of improvement and suddenly shoot up to a plateau. I think I notice these more now than when they were toddlers and preschoolers; then, the new learning rate was out of sight, and while I certainly noticed the milestones, they were closer together and I had already identified them as potential milestones. With Madison, I had resigned myself to gradual improvement in spelling, which has been happening for the past three years. And then, whammo, it takes me by surprise.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Ella's flock of bats
Last night, we had Rochester bat expert Liz Thompson over to our house, along with 15 little Brownie Girl Scouts, for a hike to complete the Watching Wildlife badge. We love Liz, she had been at our favorite nature center until the place was deemed less than necessary by the administration. Anyway, a great hike was had by all, although we weren't searching for bats, of course, not at this time of the year.
Ella drew a bat on the computer for Liz this morning, and then she worked with me in Photo Impact to create this:
We love technology here at Mariposario.
Ella drew a bat on the computer for Liz this morning, and then she worked with me in Photo Impact to create this:
We love technology here at Mariposario.
School Specialty Publications sale
For fellow home schoolers:
School Specialty Publications is having a big sale on over 900 items. I went through and got some terrific deals.
And if you spend over $35 (which actually took some doing because a lot of things are going CHEAP), you can get free shipping if you use promotional code HPFS3078.
Here is a link to get to the sale items:
http://www.schoolspecialtypublishing.com/store/default.aspx?DepartmentId=49
School Specialty Publications is having a big sale on over 900 items. I went through and got some terrific deals.
And if you spend over $35 (which actually took some doing because a lot of things are going CHEAP), you can get free shipping if you use promotional code HPFS3078.
Here is a link to get to the sale items:
http://www.schoolspecialtypublishing.com/store/default.aspx?DepartmentId=49
I'll take my good news in tiny chunks
I've been sending out about a query per day to mostly agents and a few publishers. And, getting rejections at a slower clip.
I started an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of everything.
Interestingly, yesterday I noticed that of the rejections I've received, NO ONE had looked at The-Frontier-Team.com web site I'd set up to help sell the book. I send them the standard email query according to their specifications, with a link to my web site. Of the few prompt-ish (within 3 weeks) rejections I've received so far, no one had even bothered clicking through to the web site.
But this morning, someone on an iPhone somewhere in the U.S. looked at it at 6:16 in the morning.
I hope it wasn't one of YOU! :-)
I started an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of everything.
Interestingly, yesterday I noticed that of the rejections I've received, NO ONE had looked at The-Frontier-Team.com web site I'd set up to help sell the book. I send them the standard email query according to their specifications, with a link to my web site. Of the few prompt-ish (within 3 weeks) rejections I've received so far, no one had even bothered clicking through to the web site.
But this morning, someone on an iPhone somewhere in the U.S. looked at it at 6:16 in the morning.
I hope it wasn't one of YOU! :-)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Swaying
In recent weeks, Madison has begun swaying. She shifts her weight back and forth from foot to foot when she should be just standing still, and sometimes even lifts each foot off the ground.
She looks like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. And it's driving me nuts. I see her doing it out of the corner of my eye, and it makes me feel just like those IMax movies do, the ones that are supposed to make you feel like you're flying or on a roller coaster. I literally start to get motion sick.
When Madison focuses on her body, she's fine. But when she's thinking about something else or talking or whatever, that's when it starts. I remind her to have a sense of her body, and it stops for a minute or two, then it starts up again. I sometimes take hold of her shoulders and bring the swaying to a halt, to make her notice how very much her body is moving when she doesn't notice. I have even been guilty of a "Madison, for pity's sake! You're making me dizzy!" at the third or fourth reminder.
It doesn't happen when she's sitting, only when she's standing. She explained it once as an urge to feel her legs (knees, I think) moving against each other.
I feel as though I have to nip this in the bud or it could become an ingrained habit. I just can't have her going through life moving like Rain Man. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill here, but it's just driving me crazy. I hope it's a phase.
She looks like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. And it's driving me nuts. I see her doing it out of the corner of my eye, and it makes me feel just like those IMax movies do, the ones that are supposed to make you feel like you're flying or on a roller coaster. I literally start to get motion sick.
When Madison focuses on her body, she's fine. But when she's thinking about something else or talking or whatever, that's when it starts. I remind her to have a sense of her body, and it stops for a minute or two, then it starts up again. I sometimes take hold of her shoulders and bring the swaying to a halt, to make her notice how very much her body is moving when she doesn't notice. I have even been guilty of a "Madison, for pity's sake! You're making me dizzy!" at the third or fourth reminder.
It doesn't happen when she's sitting, only when she's standing. She explained it once as an urge to feel her legs (knees, I think) moving against each other.
I feel as though I have to nip this in the bud or it could become an ingrained habit. I just can't have her going through life moving like Rain Man. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill here, but it's just driving me crazy. I hope it's a phase.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Under the most benevolent of pressure...
Bowing to convention (in the person of Donald Heath), I have joined Facebook.
Is this the right way for you all to find me?
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1201271669&ref=profile
Is this the right way for you all to find me?
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1201271669&ref=profile
Saturday, March 14, 2009
This is actually good news
The literary agent to whom I submitted a query about 3 weeks ago just rejected me.
This was really good news, because I had made a couple of mistakes in submitting:
1) I shouldn't have discounted the fact that this guy preferred funkier stuff than I write.
2) I shouldn't have given him exclusivity in reviewing it. That usually gets more and quicker attention from the agent when you submit your stuff. But you have to wait up until about 3 months without hearing from him before you can submit your stuff elsewhere, when you grant exclusivity.
3) I should have gathered my list of prospective agents ahead of time, to take the time to decide to whom it would have made sense to submit first. See, only a day or so after I submitted my query to this agent, I found another agent who would probably be a lot better.
Last week, at the 2 week point, I spoke with the author whom the agent loves, whose books he edited about 5 years ago. She said that not only does he prefer really funky, off-beat stuff, but that he is SLOW and could take up to the full 3 months to get back to me.
Yikes.
So, I resigned myself to submitting to publishers, rather than agents, for the next couple of months. But yesterday, I got an email from the first agent. He rejected me very kindly, saying that it wasn't anything he could see wrong with my book, just that he likes edgier material.
YAY! I'm free.
So today, I submitted to the agent I REALLY want to sell my books. Non-exclusively, of course...I've learned my lesson.
Fingers crossed. If she accepts me, it might mean that my Penn degree means something, for the first time in 18 years. (She went to Penn, too.)
And today, I spent a blissful 3 hours in the University of Rochester library, researching Washington Medals that were given to American Indians in 1789, 1792, and 1793, for the next book in the series. I even wrote a couple of scenes for this book, and planned even more. It was quiet. I need more quiet. (Not that I'm going to GET more quiet, but I need it.)
A good book day.
This was really good news, because I had made a couple of mistakes in submitting:
1) I shouldn't have discounted the fact that this guy preferred funkier stuff than I write.
2) I shouldn't have given him exclusivity in reviewing it. That usually gets more and quicker attention from the agent when you submit your stuff. But you have to wait up until about 3 months without hearing from him before you can submit your stuff elsewhere, when you grant exclusivity.
3) I should have gathered my list of prospective agents ahead of time, to take the time to decide to whom it would have made sense to submit first. See, only a day or so after I submitted my query to this agent, I found another agent who would probably be a lot better.
Last week, at the 2 week point, I spoke with the author whom the agent loves, whose books he edited about 5 years ago. She said that not only does he prefer really funky, off-beat stuff, but that he is SLOW and could take up to the full 3 months to get back to me.
Yikes.
So, I resigned myself to submitting to publishers, rather than agents, for the next couple of months. But yesterday, I got an email from the first agent. He rejected me very kindly, saying that it wasn't anything he could see wrong with my book, just that he likes edgier material.
YAY! I'm free.
So today, I submitted to the agent I REALLY want to sell my books. Non-exclusively, of course...I've learned my lesson.
Fingers crossed. If she accepts me, it might mean that my Penn degree means something, for the first time in 18 years. (She went to Penn, too.)
And today, I spent a blissful 3 hours in the University of Rochester library, researching Washington Medals that were given to American Indians in 1789, 1792, and 1793, for the next book in the series. I even wrote a couple of scenes for this book, and planned even more. It was quiet. I need more quiet. (Not that I'm going to GET more quiet, but I need it.)
A good book day.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Overheard this morning
David, to Ella: "Are you really this cute?"
Ella: "If I AM as cute as I am, how can I NOT be as cute as I am?"
I guess A is A.
Ella: "If I AM as cute as I am, how can I NOT be as cute as I am?"
I guess A is A.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Below-board capitalism alive and well in our neighborhood
We had a fierce windstorm yesterday here in Rochester that knocked down a big cherry tree near the sidewalk in our front yard. It also ripped out the phone lines.
I was just coming home with the kids around noon and found our block completely blocked off at the end. There were a bunch of fire engines. They were in front of MY house.
The cop wouldn't let me through. "But that's MY house!" I said, insistantly. I couldn't say it with too much tension in my voice because the kids were in the car with me. I had no idea what was going on.
"Sorry, lady, you'll have to go around the block."
So I did, but that end was blocked off, too. So I turned around, parked in front of my back-yard neighbor's house, and we all trooped through together.
"I heard a tremendous crack," said Lou as we walked. "It's across the street, I think."
But no, there it was, a large cherry tree laying diagonally across my front yard, from southwest to northeast. It WASN'T the magnolia tree next to the house, thank goodness. I love that magnolia, it's beautiful in the spring, and both the kids and I were grateful that it was unharmed, only a few small limbs down. The cherry tree didn't hit the house when it came down, because of the angle. AND, it was mostly ripped out, stump and all. So no need for any of that. If we had to lose a tree, it was the best way.
The best part, though, is that the fallen tree attracted attention, the right kind. The kind that represents the best part of America's get-up-and-hustle mentality. I had no fewer than four different groups of guys knock on the door yesterday and today to ask if I wanted to hire someone to chop it all up and haul it away.
Today, two groups came (coincidentally) together: One was a pair of guys named Jim (both of them) who had been by yesterday. At the same time, the ex-chief of the local fire department came by. HE said he'd be happy to cut it all apart on Saturday for NOTHING, if he could have the firewood. The Jims originally wanted $200 to cut and stack it (one of them does this one his own as a contractor). All together, we negotiated that the Jims would clear all of the twigs and brush today, lop off some of the smaller limbs and stack them for firewood for me, for $100. And then the fireman would come back on Saturday and chop up and take the rest with him.
Sold! ("Boy, you're getting a great deal," the fireman said to me in an aside. I agreed.)
The Jims got to work, after I had them sign a waiver stating that they wouldn't sue me if they got hurt. (Because, who knows.)
It was great. Here is a photo of them with my tree:
The undamaged magnolia is the one on the right side, still standing.
But it gets better yet. I only had $85 in cash on me. I told the Jims I'd have to go to a cash machine for the extra, unless they wanted me to raid the girls' piggy banks for nickels.
"No problem," said Main Jim, after a bit of consultation with Other Jim. "We'll do it for $85 if you give me the opportunity to quote you on getting off the dead limbs on the huge tree in the back."
Sold, again!
So, for $85, I got firewood for all of next year, I got to meet some nice Jims and a fireman, and the other guys who came by but didn't get the job. I found a cheap, spunky guy I like to fix the trees in the back yard soon. And, the Frontier Telephone guy ran a new wire for free to us today. All in all, the best kind of Natural Disaster to experience.
And those gentlemen, they had good, hard, firm handshakes when they left.
I felt so American.
I was just coming home with the kids around noon and found our block completely blocked off at the end. There were a bunch of fire engines. They were in front of MY house.
The cop wouldn't let me through. "But that's MY house!" I said, insistantly. I couldn't say it with too much tension in my voice because the kids were in the car with me. I had no idea what was going on.
"Sorry, lady, you'll have to go around the block."
So I did, but that end was blocked off, too. So I turned around, parked in front of my back-yard neighbor's house, and we all trooped through together.
"I heard a tremendous crack," said Lou as we walked. "It's across the street, I think."
But no, there it was, a large cherry tree laying diagonally across my front yard, from southwest to northeast. It WASN'T the magnolia tree next to the house, thank goodness. I love that magnolia, it's beautiful in the spring, and both the kids and I were grateful that it was unharmed, only a few small limbs down. The cherry tree didn't hit the house when it came down, because of the angle. AND, it was mostly ripped out, stump and all. So no need for any of that. If we had to lose a tree, it was the best way.
The best part, though, is that the fallen tree attracted attention, the right kind. The kind that represents the best part of America's get-up-and-hustle mentality. I had no fewer than four different groups of guys knock on the door yesterday and today to ask if I wanted to hire someone to chop it all up and haul it away.
Today, two groups came (coincidentally) together: One was a pair of guys named Jim (both of them) who had been by yesterday. At the same time, the ex-chief of the local fire department came by. HE said he'd be happy to cut it all apart on Saturday for NOTHING, if he could have the firewood. The Jims originally wanted $200 to cut and stack it (one of them does this one his own as a contractor). All together, we negotiated that the Jims would clear all of the twigs and brush today, lop off some of the smaller limbs and stack them for firewood for me, for $100. And then the fireman would come back on Saturday and chop up and take the rest with him.
Sold! ("Boy, you're getting a great deal," the fireman said to me in an aside. I agreed.)
The Jims got to work, after I had them sign a waiver stating that they wouldn't sue me if they got hurt. (Because, who knows.)
It was great. Here is a photo of them with my tree:
The undamaged magnolia is the one on the right side, still standing.
But it gets better yet. I only had $85 in cash on me. I told the Jims I'd have to go to a cash machine for the extra, unless they wanted me to raid the girls' piggy banks for nickels.
"No problem," said Main Jim, after a bit of consultation with Other Jim. "We'll do it for $85 if you give me the opportunity to quote you on getting off the dead limbs on the huge tree in the back."
Sold, again!
So, for $85, I got firewood for all of next year, I got to meet some nice Jims and a fireman, and the other guys who came by but didn't get the job. I found a cheap, spunky guy I like to fix the trees in the back yard soon. And, the Frontier Telephone guy ran a new wire for free to us today. All in all, the best kind of Natural Disaster to experience.
And those gentlemen, they had good, hard, firm handshakes when they left.
I felt so American.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Appreciation
Hand-in-hand with my observations about immersing oneself in what nurtures the soul, I'd like to address an important corollary: expressing appreciation.
I don't mean communicating my appreciation of the beautiful to my kids; that's important, of course, but I'm thinking about something else here:
I mean that one should, if possible, find the person who created the beauty in the first place, and thank him or her for doing so. It's not only justice; it also encourages that person to do more.
I have been thinking about this hard ever since I attended the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference in January. One thing that struck me is how incredibly appreciative of good feedback from readers were even the most famous of the authors speaking. They used them as examples in their talks of the real kind of payback an author receives. Royalties are fine, was the implication, but letters from readers are food for the soul.
So, this morning, I emailed the composer who wrote the piece that especially moved me at the concert last night. He is still living. His web site was the easiest thing in the world to find. He lives in California, but he must get up early, because only an hour or so after I sent him a note of appreciation for his artistry, I received this:
Authors, composers, educators, poets, thinkers, journalists, builders, scientists, entrepreneurs, performers, politicians who do the right thing in the face of opposition... who deserves your appreciation today?
I don't mean communicating my appreciation of the beautiful to my kids; that's important, of course, but I'm thinking about something else here:
I mean that one should, if possible, find the person who created the beauty in the first place, and thank him or her for doing so. It's not only justice; it also encourages that person to do more.
I have been thinking about this hard ever since I attended the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference in January. One thing that struck me is how incredibly appreciative of good feedback from readers were even the most famous of the authors speaking. They used them as examples in their talks of the real kind of payback an author receives. Royalties are fine, was the implication, but letters from readers are food for the soul.
So, this morning, I emailed the composer who wrote the piece that especially moved me at the concert last night. He is still living. His web site was the easiest thing in the world to find. He lives in California, but he must get up early, because only an hour or so after I sent him a note of appreciation for his artistry, I received this:
Many, many thanks to you for taking the time to express your feelings about Songs of The Slave. That is the kind of letter that brightens the day of every composer. Even when things are not going well, we can remember such a letter and realize that what we are doing does really touch the hearts of many people that we do not even know. That is the best reward of all!So my point for this post is that we should always try to think about the creator of what we appreciate, and see what we can do to express our appreciation. Especially in times like now, creators need encouragement, and what better encouragement is there than the appreciation for the good they have created? I'm reminded of a passage in Atlas Shrugged where Francisco is talking to Rearden about Rearden's creation, and who it is for:
"Did you want to see it used by men...who could never invent your Metal, but who would do their best, work as hard as you did, live by their own effort, and--riding on your rail--give a moment's silent thanks to the man who gave them more than they could give him?"All I'm adding here is that the thanks needn't be silent.
"Yes," said Rearden eagerly.
Authors, composers, educators, poets, thinkers, journalists, builders, scientists, entrepreneurs, performers, politicians who do the right thing in the face of opposition... who deserves your appreciation today?
Immersion
My friend Peter Saint-Andre has been writing of late about the need to immerse ourselves in that which is most beautiful in order to have a happy life despite what sometimes seems to be crumbling around us. Remembering this has been comforting. It seems to me that it is my job as a parent both to do this for my kids and to teach them to do this for themselves.
Last night, Madison's Bach Children's Chorus concert was with, as it mostly is, adult choruses and an orchestra; this time, it was the Rochester Oratorio Society hosting the BCC and also the Morgan State University Chorus from Baltimore. The concert's title was "Partners in Freedom: Lincoln & Douglass," and (even to Lincoln- and Douglass-lovers like David and me) it didn't disappoint. The combined choruses did a piece called “Sacred Ground,” which was the Gettysburg Address set to music by David Diamond, some spirituals, and a Mendelssohn piece called Laudate Pueri Dominum. Then, the two adult choirs did a version of Ave Maria I’d never heard and Kirke Mechem’s “Songs of the Slave” from his John Brown’s Opera.
Immersing myself in the music didn't exactly make me forget what is going on in the world, but it did allow the appreciation of The Best Within Us to take the active place in my consciousness. We need more of this. We need more of this in DEFIANCE of other things crumbling.
I hope Madison and Ella look back on their childhood as a time when their parents surrounded them with The Best that is within human beings, and showed them how to do this on their own. There are times and places for kids gradually to start grappling with ugliness, but it's not now. There is no need, yet. The girls will learn about how to deal with ugliness and strife later; now is the time for them to conquer the minor (or major, depending on how you look at it) challenges of learning how to learn, and how to navigate in what is still mostly a beneficent universe. To the extent that they can learn to surround themselves with what is beautiful, they will be able to find those fulfilling pockets of beauty, and create more of them, even if the world is not an ideal place later on.
Last night, Madison's Bach Children's Chorus concert was with, as it mostly is, adult choruses and an orchestra; this time, it was the Rochester Oratorio Society hosting the BCC and also the Morgan State University Chorus from Baltimore. The concert's title was "Partners in Freedom: Lincoln & Douglass," and (even to Lincoln- and Douglass-lovers like David and me) it didn't disappoint. The combined choruses did a piece called “Sacred Ground,” which was the Gettysburg Address set to music by David Diamond, some spirituals, and a Mendelssohn piece called Laudate Pueri Dominum. Then, the two adult choirs did a version of Ave Maria I’d never heard and Kirke Mechem’s “Songs of the Slave” from his John Brown’s Opera.
Immersing myself in the music didn't exactly make me forget what is going on in the world, but it did allow the appreciation of The Best Within Us to take the active place in my consciousness. We need more of this. We need more of this in DEFIANCE of other things crumbling.
I hope Madison and Ella look back on their childhood as a time when their parents surrounded them with The Best that is within human beings, and showed them how to do this on their own. There are times and places for kids gradually to start grappling with ugliness, but it's not now. There is no need, yet. The girls will learn about how to deal with ugliness and strife later; now is the time for them to conquer the minor (or major, depending on how you look at it) challenges of learning how to learn, and how to navigate in what is still mostly a beneficent universe. To the extent that they can learn to surround themselves with what is beautiful, they will be able to find those fulfilling pockets of beauty, and create more of them, even if the world is not an ideal place later on.
Friday, March 06, 2009
How quick they learn when the time is right
I realized this week that I hadn't reviewed division of fractions with Madison in a long time, and that I'd never taught her how to compute averages. We have been working our way through a sixth-grade assessment test that I gave her in January, working on the bits of math that she didn't remember or had never learned how to do.
Earlier this week, in 10 minutes, we did division of fractions.
Then, yesterday, in 10 minutes, we did averages.
The same thing happened this morning with Ella. She knows the multiplication tables, so today was the day to move on to multiple-digit multiplication (2 by 1). First I did some where there is no carrying (e.g., 22 x 3), then some where the tens answer has more than one digit (73 x 2) and then finally moved on to the need to carry the tens place (63 x 4).
She needed to be shown it once, and then did a dozen problems on her own, all of which she got exactly right.
I remember spending weeks in elementary school on things like these.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to spend the months it took Ella to learn the multiplication tables. But it's amazing how quickly they learn something new when they are rock-solid on what they need to know in order to learn it, and there is only one more little concept or strategy to employ to get the new skill. A lot of learning isn't like that; you have to learn two or three or even more concepts all at once in order to learn the new idea. We still do that kind of learning, with a lot being thrown at you all at once. But it's worthwhile remembering how pleasurable it is to do exactly-the-next-step learning. I'll try to do more of that with the girls.
Earlier this week, in 10 minutes, we did division of fractions.
Then, yesterday, in 10 minutes, we did averages.
The same thing happened this morning with Ella. She knows the multiplication tables, so today was the day to move on to multiple-digit multiplication (2 by 1). First I did some where there is no carrying (e.g., 22 x 3), then some where the tens answer has more than one digit (73 x 2) and then finally moved on to the need to carry the tens place (63 x 4).
She needed to be shown it once, and then did a dozen problems on her own, all of which she got exactly right.
I remember spending weeks in elementary school on things like these.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to spend the months it took Ella to learn the multiplication tables. But it's amazing how quickly they learn something new when they are rock-solid on what they need to know in order to learn it, and there is only one more little concept or strategy to employ to get the new skill. A lot of learning isn't like that; you have to learn two or three or even more concepts all at once in order to learn the new idea. We still do that kind of learning, with a lot being thrown at you all at once. But it's worthwhile remembering how pleasurable it is to do exactly-the-next-step learning. I'll try to do more of that with the girls.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Rand books for charity!
Hi, folks. I wanted to let all the Ayn Rand fans out there know that you can bid for FIVE Rand brand-spanking new books on MissionFish, which the Bach Children's Chorus is using for fund raising.
These five books, plus The Literary Art of Ayn Rand, retail for $132 and were donated by The Objectivist Store. I just put them up on the web, and am hoping that the BCC can get at least $65 for them. What a bargain! You KNOW you need some extra (and beautiful, and cheap) Rand books lying around in case someone you love needs a gift, right?
In hardcover, we have:
Atlas Shrugged
The Fountainhead
and
We the Living
In softcover, we have:
Capitalism, the Unknown Ideal
Philosophy, Who Needs It?
and
The Literary Art of Ayn Rand
Here is the link to see how much is being bid currently for these books. Right now, the starting bid is only $25.
I'm advertising them on KidsOutAndAbout.com, as I am with all of the other auctions, partly as my little personal means of raising visibility among thousands of readers. It will be interesting to see whether people go for them. But I'm kind of hoping that they will go to someone for whom it actually means something.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Ella finished her multiplication tables!
Imagine waking peacefully in the morning, and opening your eyes lazily.
"Test me, Mom," Ella insisted early this morning. So I gave her the test, and she got every thing right. Still made some backwards 3's and 5's, but who cares.
We're off to Toys-Backwards-R-Us a little later today, a family tradition. When the child finishes the multiplication tables, she gets to pick (pretty much) anything she wants as a prize. I hope it isn't some plastic crap. Madison chose a lovely big stuffed horse when she finished her multiplication tables in December 06.
There is a cute little girl not six inches away from your face, who has clearly been waiting.
"I finished the multiplication table this morning, Daddy," she said.
That was the first several seconds of David's morning.
"Test me, Mom," Ella insisted early this morning. So I gave her the test, and she got every thing right. Still made some backwards 3's and 5's, but who cares.
We're off to Toys-Backwards-R-Us a little later today, a family tradition. When the child finishes the multiplication tables, she gets to pick (pretty much) anything she wants as a prize. I hope it isn't some plastic crap. Madison chose a lovely big stuffed horse when she finished her multiplication tables in December 06.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Kitty in a Package
One of my girls' favorite bedtime games for the last 4-5 years has been "Kitty in a Package." I don't remember who invented it, probably Madison.
"I'm going to be a kitty in a package!" one of them will call down the stairs as they're running up to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. "We'll tell you when we're ready."
Mostly, these days, it's Ella who is the kitty in the package. (Or the bunny. Or the puppy. But mostly the kitty.) Madison wraps her up snugly in blankets, head and all, in a big lump on my bed, and turns out the lights. I walk in, and turn on the lights. What follows afterward is always exactly the same:
I'm really going to miss Kitty in a Package when they get older. No sign of them wanting to quit it, thank goodness, even though Madison is 9 1/2. I'm enjoying it while I can.
"I'm going to be a kitty in a package!" one of them will call down the stairs as they're running up to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. "We'll tell you when we're ready."
Mostly, these days, it's Ella who is the kitty in the package. (Or the bunny. Or the puppy. But mostly the kitty.) Madison wraps her up snugly in blankets, head and all, in a big lump on my bed, and turns out the lights. I walk in, and turn on the lights. What follows afterward is always exactly the same:
"Oh! Wow! Do you see that on my bed? What do you suppose it is? Why...it's a package! An awfully lumpy package, here. Hmmmm...(poke poke) what could it be? Oh, gee, look, here's a label! Oh, it's for ME! What do you think it is? Who could have sent it? I guess there's nothing to do but open it... Oh, my goodness, look! It's a beautiful little kitty! Oh, don't be scared, little kitty! I'm your new owner! Come here, right into my arms...Oh, look, she likes me! She's purring! She's nuzzling me! Do you want something, kitty? Would you like...would you like some milk? I just happen to have a mug here...you would? She likes it! "
I'm going to keep you and take care of you forever and ever. I'm such a lucky owner."
I'm really going to miss Kitty in a Package when they get older. No sign of them wanting to quit it, thank goodness, even though Madison is 9 1/2. I'm enjoying it while I can.
"Crazy Eights" karate multiplication
Ella is ALMOST done with the multiplication tables. She's still missing 6 x 4, 4 x 8, 9 x 4, 9 x 5, 9 x 6, 9 x 7, and 9 x 9. Yay! Almost there. We haven't really focused on the 9's yet, although she knows several tricks to derive the 9's on the fly, so she figures out the 9's when she needs to, but doesn't have them memorized yet.
For some reason, the eight times tables were particularly hard for her. She is a very touchy-feely learner, and so I suggested that she find a way to use karate to learn it.
Last week, she devised a kata that takes her through each element of the eight times tables. Wow, did that work! She learned the whole group in about 20 minutes and will never forget them again. She says the answer as she's doing each move.
8 x 1 : Figure eight (with imaginary nunchucks)
8 x 2: crescent kick
8 x 3: jump kick
8 x 4: back
8 x 5: uppercut
8 x 6: scoop block
8 x 7: reverse punch
8 x 8: front kick and spearhand
8 x 9: four kicks: front, back, side, side
8 x 10: bow
Isn't that fun?
For some reason, the eight times tables were particularly hard for her. She is a very touchy-feely learner, and so I suggested that she find a way to use karate to learn it.
Last week, she devised a kata that takes her through each element of the eight times tables. Wow, did that work! She learned the whole group in about 20 minutes and will never forget them again. She says the answer as she's doing each move.
8 x 1 : Figure eight (with imaginary nunchucks)
8 x 2: crescent kick
8 x 3: jump kick
8 x 4: back
8 x 5: uppercut
8 x 6: scoop block
8 x 7: reverse punch
8 x 8: front kick and spearhand
8 x 9: four kicks: front, back, side, side
8 x 10: bow
Isn't that fun?
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Why would I blog about cookies?
I know, it seems a little unusual, to be blogging about cookies. But, frankly, I've been getting anxious and depressed about the state of the economy. I can't believe that my worries over the economy have now trumped my worries over defense, but there it is. I now realize it may have been a poor decision for my psychological health to start home delivery of the Wall Street Journal back up again last week. Can it really be true that we've got to parry Keynesian arguments again, for goodness' sake? And socialized freakin' medicine? And when it all starts really to collapse, they're really going to do it, aren't they, they're really going to print paper money. It makes me want to spend NOW on home improvements at a time when my dollar is still worth something. It makes me want to plow under my yard and make it a garden. And buy a wood-burning stove. And store drinkable water.
Anyway, working on something concrete -- like creative and delicious ways to raise funds for the girls' chorus in a way that everyone wins -- helps take my mind off it all. I also scrubbed the bathroom and reorganized the schoolroom this weekend, because although I couldn't manage brainy stuff what with how I've been feeling, I had to get *something* accomplished.
Back to more fun stuff tomorrow, I promise.
Anyway, working on something concrete -- like creative and delicious ways to raise funds for the girls' chorus in a way that everyone wins -- helps take my mind off it all. I also scrubbed the bathroom and reorganized the schoolroom this weekend, because although I couldn't manage brainy stuff what with how I've been feeling, I had to get *something* accomplished.
Back to more fun stuff tomorrow, I promise.
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