Throughout my life, I have always been keenly aware of when I'm actively in a "time before."
The time before college.
The time before I started work.
The time before I moved to Rochester to be with David.
The time before we had Madison.
The time before we moved to Virginia.
And now...
The time before we moved back to Rochester.
Each of these "times" has a crisp point at which life abruptly swings you around in a new direction, where to some extent life begins anew, and you get to re-evaluate, and start over. Because these moments are planned, we have the luxury of using the concentrated "time before" as a period of contemplation for who we will be in our new life.
But these are also the times when, because you're about to be swung around again, there's an odd void in your imagination when you try to visualize what's in store. Some things just defy projection, such as becoming a mother. Before Madison was born, I couldn't imagine what her face would look like, and then in an instant there she was, and life whirled around and clicked me into a new place.
In this case, of course, I can visualize our new life all over the place. I've seen photos of the beautiful house we're moving into, I run a web site with all of the kid-friendly details about the area. We'll experience the "Norm" barstool phenomenon all over the place when the girls and I go to the nature center, or gymnastics, or karate.
And yet...it's still one of those points. It's still immensely stressful. I'm sitting here in the family room in Charlottesville, and I almost can't believe that in less than 48 hours I'll never be here again. Never. A stark word, that.
It's a new life, again, only a year and a half after the last new life, which promptly got put on hold because of the mess with Archimedes. We're settling in, this time, though, for the long haul. I'm 37, David is 48, it's definitely time to settle in and live. I'm hoping very much that this is the last "time before" for a long, long time.
Until...
Oh dear, until the girls leave home.
Fortunately, I have the next decade to plan for that one.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
In the throes
We're surrounded by boxes, and boy are the girls wired. The packers came today. We had thought there would be one person for two days, and turns out there were three people for one day. So now there are two days to wait. Fortunately, we have art and drama classes for the next two days, to get us out of the house.
One of the things I have to do is return library books. I have just discovered that of the seven we have out, four of them are Boxcar Children books that have been packed. Somewhere. I am assuming they got integrated with her regular books in her room, that's where all of the Boxcars are. Let's hope that the library will put some kind of a stop hold on them and I can mail them back from Rochester.
We have Mateo, the 7-year-old from across the street in the afternoons -- we persuaded his parents (easily) to let him come here instead of going to his after-school care so he and the girls could spend more time together before we leave. In between the great hide-and-seek among the boxes, though, they're all squabbling, particularly Mateo and Madison. "You just want to go to Rochester because everything is better there, and you'll have better friends and forget all about me!" And Madison saying that she wants to go to Chili's for dinner, as long as Mateo doesn't go too. Geez. It's as though all the kids were on a sugar high.
Which they may be, because we made krusciki yesterday, my grandmother's recipe, to give out as gifts to various teachers. The best dessert in the world. Everything sinful in there. Egg yolks, sour cream, vanilla, flour, sugar, a little salt...then kneaded for dozens of minutes, rolled out, shaped, and deep fried for a minute, then coated with powdered sugar. Ahhhhhh....
All really necessary, even for me...today I realized that we needed, good grief, homeowner's insurance before Thursday...
One of the things I have to do is return library books. I have just discovered that of the seven we have out, four of them are Boxcar Children books that have been packed. Somewhere. I am assuming they got integrated with her regular books in her room, that's where all of the Boxcars are. Let's hope that the library will put some kind of a stop hold on them and I can mail them back from Rochester.
We have Mateo, the 7-year-old from across the street in the afternoons -- we persuaded his parents (easily) to let him come here instead of going to his after-school care so he and the girls could spend more time together before we leave. In between the great hide-and-seek among the boxes, though, they're all squabbling, particularly Mateo and Madison. "You just want to go to Rochester because everything is better there, and you'll have better friends and forget all about me!" And Madison saying that she wants to go to Chili's for dinner, as long as Mateo doesn't go too. Geez. It's as though all the kids were on a sugar high.
Which they may be, because we made krusciki yesterday, my grandmother's recipe, to give out as gifts to various teachers. The best dessert in the world. Everything sinful in there. Egg yolks, sour cream, vanilla, flour, sugar, a little salt...then kneaded for dozens of minutes, rolled out, shaped, and deep fried for a minute, then coated with powdered sugar. Ahhhhhh....
All really necessary, even for me...today I realized that we needed, good grief, homeowner's insurance before Thursday...
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Making use of the husband
As many others have noted, when the spouse who is not the primary homeschooler is home on vacation, the whole routine tends to go right to pot. Last vacation time, we just gave up on home schooling altogether, because too much was going on. However, for the beginning of this week, I'm trying to keep it going, because the next couple of weeks are going to be so hectic, what with moving and everything.
So, I have found out that the first step is to ADMIT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. That is, to acknowledge right up front that David's being home is so exciting to the girls that adding him to the mix would really disrupt the routine we have established, making it harder for us to get done what we have to. That, plus he tends to make them feel the pressure of "performing" more than I do, which makes them nervous (ok, it makes Madison nervous; those things don't tend to rattle Ella). I will admit that my internal attitude about home schooling is akin to John Galt's: "Get the hell out of my way!" But, my admiration of Rand aside, this was the time for diplomacy. So, this time, I asked David to stay out of it unless I could find a way to incorporate him.
Fortunately, he understood, being a man who appreciates routine...and also fortunately, we have the luxury of doing our home schooling in our basement playroom. So it was easy for us to be out of the way.
And, I have to say, it has worked well. The girls both had things to show him and would pop upstairs when they had accomplished them, Ella asked if she could read her phonics book to David rather than to me, and they both practiced their drama class play for him. He read to them about Indians. Otherwise, we stayed below ground for the morning, and they weren't too distracted.
However, it did show me that I am definitely the one to do this. I gave Madison Thanksgiving-oriented spelling words this week: thanks, giving, potato, turkey, Pilgrim, and Indian. We practiced them below-ground, and then she wanted David to give her a little test. They spent some time going back-and-forth about the words, with her spelling them incorrectly much of the time.
Later on, he remarked to me, "Hey, you were pretty loose about making her do the spelling words."
"Well, she has the whole week to learn them," I said.
"Oh," he said.
So, I have found out that the first step is to ADMIT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. That is, to acknowledge right up front that David's being home is so exciting to the girls that adding him to the mix would really disrupt the routine we have established, making it harder for us to get done what we have to. That, plus he tends to make them feel the pressure of "performing" more than I do, which makes them nervous (ok, it makes Madison nervous; those things don't tend to rattle Ella). I will admit that my internal attitude about home schooling is akin to John Galt's: "Get the hell out of my way!" But, my admiration of Rand aside, this was the time for diplomacy. So, this time, I asked David to stay out of it unless I could find a way to incorporate him.
Fortunately, he understood, being a man who appreciates routine...and also fortunately, we have the luxury of doing our home schooling in our basement playroom. So it was easy for us to be out of the way.
And, I have to say, it has worked well. The girls both had things to show him and would pop upstairs when they had accomplished them, Ella asked if she could read her phonics book to David rather than to me, and they both practiced their drama class play for him. He read to them about Indians. Otherwise, we stayed below ground for the morning, and they weren't too distracted.
However, it did show me that I am definitely the one to do this. I gave Madison Thanksgiving-oriented spelling words this week: thanks, giving, potato, turkey, Pilgrim, and Indian. We practiced them below-ground, and then she wanted David to give her a little test. They spent some time going back-and-forth about the words, with her spelling them incorrectly much of the time.
Later on, he remarked to me, "Hey, you were pretty loose about making her do the spelling words."
"Well, she has the whole week to learn them," I said.
"Oh," he said.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Learning it by brain
Ella has been practicing hard for her part in her drama class' little play that will be performed in about 10 days. She has six or eight lines. She really likes to practice, especially since she can practice as part of school.
As we were laying in bed last night drifting off to sleep, she suddenly said to me:
"You know, if I were the one making up the words, I wouldn't call it 'learning it by heart.' I would call it 'learning it by brain.'"
We've been studying the human body for the last couple of weeks. I guess she's been paying attention!
As we were laying in bed last night drifting off to sleep, she suddenly said to me:
"You know, if I were the one making up the words, I wouldn't call it 'learning it by heart.' I would call it 'learning it by brain.'"
We've been studying the human body for the last couple of weeks. I guess she's been paying attention!
If she had a million dollars
Madison is starting to get an understanding of what things cost with respect to each other. I guess part of it comes from the fact of our buying the new house; she has been asking a lot of questions about what things cost as she's getting her mind around the relative value of numbers.
We were listening to "If I Had a Million Dollars" yesterday by the Bare Naked Ladies, and by the end of the song, she said, "That's impossible."
"What's impossible?"
"He can't buy all of those things with just a million dollars. He'd run out by the middle of the song."
We were listening to "If I Had a Million Dollars" yesterday by the Bare Naked Ladies, and by the end of the song, she said, "That's impossible."
"What's impossible?"
"He can't buy all of those things with just a million dollars. He'd run out by the middle of the song."
Friday, November 17, 2006
Playing Pretend - and insight into Madison's character
From Deb:
Confession: I don't like to "play pretend" with my girls, except in two circumstances, in which I love playing pretend.
I don't like to play with them with puppets, or dollhouse people, or Barbies, or Polly Pocket, or play a fantasy game in which we're all superheroines or kids lost in the woods or queens and princesses.
I'm actually, in theory, a big proponent of playing these kinds of games with kids. I think it gives the parent a chance to model great behavior and solutions in a fantasy context...you don't have to lecture about what the right thing is to do in a certain situation, you model it in a fantasy game that gives the lesson without the preaching.
I LOVED to play Pretend as a child. My sister and I, for some reason, would pretend we were ducks in a royal family. We could make duck faces with our lips, and if I remember right her name was "Duckie" and mine was "Marsha" (?!?). I have vivid memories of us having climbed up the sycamore tree in my grandparents' back yard and saying, "Let's 'tend that Duckie and Marshy were trying to figure out why Prince Drake from the other kingdom gave one of them a necklace."
I cannot for the life of me figure out why I don't like to do this now. It's as if my mind goes blank and I can't think of anything to say, especially since I have to try hard not to take command of the situation and direct the role play myself. And I find myself bored and oddly embarrassed. Weird, huh?
Maybe I'm just LAZY.
But there are two pretend games that I love to play, mostly because they're played in bed (giving validation to my laziness idea): Mommy birdie and baby birdies, and Mommy kitty (or owner) and baby kitties. The action in each game is exactly the same each time:
For Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdies, the girls get under the covers into "eggs" and crowd close to me.
"Here I am, a mommy bird sitting on her eggs," I say. "Eggs are fine, but what I can't wait for is for my baby birds to hatch. I can't wait to be a mommy bird. I've been sitting on these eggs for so many days...35 days in all...and soon, very very soon, I think they will hatch."
"Cold egg! Cold egg!" squeaks one of the eggs. I snuggle them closer to me.
"Oh! Do I hear something?" I say.
"Peep, peep!" comes from one of the eggs, which starts to wiggle.
"They're hatching! They're hatching! Oh, baby birdie, welcome to the world! I'm your mommy..."
And then I proceed to get them food and teach them how to fly. Sometimes there is a monster or predator and then I protect the birdies, becoming aggressive at whatever the thing is, squawking and making a fuss so that it goes away.
Lately, they have been wanting to be kitties that have been left on my doorstep (my bed) in a package, usually at bedtime. I wait outside the room until they are ready.
"Oh. What's this? A package! What's a package doing here? I don't remember ordering anything. Hey, it has my name on it! I guess it must be for me. Well, I guess I'd better open it..."
"Oh my goodness! It's two little kitties! They're so young that their eyes are just barely open."
The girls snuggle up against me and mew and purr.
"Oh! I think they like me! Little kitties, would you like some nice milk?"
They nod and mew some more. I go get sippies of milk, warm for Ella, cold for Madison. Then we snuggle in bed and read.
Lately, there has been a variation of this at Madison's instigation: She warns me before the game that she's going to be a very shy and scared kitty who will have to be won over with some extra attention. So as soon as I open the package, she bolts, mewing in fear. She wants me basically to chase her, pick her up, reassure her as she fights me, stroke her, talk to her gently, kiss her, and overall calm her down.
We play these games over and over. The kitty game has been dominant lately. Madison is 7, and we have been playing Baby Birdies since she was just 2. These games show no sign of going away.
The key here, I think, is that she fights me but wants me to persist anyway in calming her down. I really think that we can take this as validation of something I have long suspected: When Madison tries to fight us and run away from us when she is upset, she really wants us to pursue her and take her in our arms and soothe her, no matter that she protests so vigorously.
Confession: I don't like to "play pretend" with my girls, except in two circumstances, in which I love playing pretend.
I don't like to play with them with puppets, or dollhouse people, or Barbies, or Polly Pocket, or play a fantasy game in which we're all superheroines or kids lost in the woods or queens and princesses.
I'm actually, in theory, a big proponent of playing these kinds of games with kids. I think it gives the parent a chance to model great behavior and solutions in a fantasy context...you don't have to lecture about what the right thing is to do in a certain situation, you model it in a fantasy game that gives the lesson without the preaching.
I LOVED to play Pretend as a child. My sister and I, for some reason, would pretend we were ducks in a royal family. We could make duck faces with our lips, and if I remember right her name was "Duckie" and mine was "Marsha" (?!?). I have vivid memories of us having climbed up the sycamore tree in my grandparents' back yard and saying, "Let's 'tend that Duckie and Marshy were trying to figure out why Prince Drake from the other kingdom gave one of them a necklace."
I cannot for the life of me figure out why I don't like to do this now. It's as if my mind goes blank and I can't think of anything to say, especially since I have to try hard not to take command of the situation and direct the role play myself. And I find myself bored and oddly embarrassed. Weird, huh?
Maybe I'm just LAZY.
But there are two pretend games that I love to play, mostly because they're played in bed (giving validation to my laziness idea): Mommy birdie and baby birdies, and Mommy kitty (or owner) and baby kitties. The action in each game is exactly the same each time:
For Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdies, the girls get under the covers into "eggs" and crowd close to me.
"Here I am, a mommy bird sitting on her eggs," I say. "Eggs are fine, but what I can't wait for is for my baby birds to hatch. I can't wait to be a mommy bird. I've been sitting on these eggs for so many days...35 days in all...and soon, very very soon, I think they will hatch."
"Cold egg! Cold egg!" squeaks one of the eggs. I snuggle them closer to me.
"Oh! Do I hear something?" I say.
"Peep, peep!" comes from one of the eggs, which starts to wiggle.
"They're hatching! They're hatching! Oh, baby birdie, welcome to the world! I'm your mommy..."
And then I proceed to get them food and teach them how to fly. Sometimes there is a monster or predator and then I protect the birdies, becoming aggressive at whatever the thing is, squawking and making a fuss so that it goes away.
Lately, they have been wanting to be kitties that have been left on my doorstep (my bed) in a package, usually at bedtime. I wait outside the room until they are ready.
"Oh. What's this? A package! What's a package doing here? I don't remember ordering anything. Hey, it has my name on it! I guess it must be for me. Well, I guess I'd better open it..."
"Oh my goodness! It's two little kitties! They're so young that their eyes are just barely open."
The girls snuggle up against me and mew and purr.
"Oh! I think they like me! Little kitties, would you like some nice milk?"
They nod and mew some more. I go get sippies of milk, warm for Ella, cold for Madison. Then we snuggle in bed and read.
Lately, there has been a variation of this at Madison's instigation: She warns me before the game that she's going to be a very shy and scared kitty who will have to be won over with some extra attention. So as soon as I open the package, she bolts, mewing in fear. She wants me basically to chase her, pick her up, reassure her as she fights me, stroke her, talk to her gently, kiss her, and overall calm her down.
We play these games over and over. The kitty game has been dominant lately. Madison is 7, and we have been playing Baby Birdies since she was just 2. These games show no sign of going away.
The key here, I think, is that she fights me but wants me to persist anyway in calming her down. I really think that we can take this as validation of something I have long suspected: When Madison tries to fight us and run away from us when she is upset, she really wants us to pursue her and take her in our arms and soothe her, no matter that she protests so vigorously.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
For the Rest of Their Lives
Mateo is the 7-year-old boy across the street who is great friends with Madison and Ella, particularly Madison. I thought it would be nice to have him come here after school rather than have him go to his after-school care as usual, for the next couple of weeks until we move, so that the kids have as much time together as possible. So the bus dropped him off in front of our house after school.
And what do you think the boy wanted to do? School! That is, home school. He wanted me to teach him math, math that his class isn't learning yet. And handwriting, too, though we never got to the handwriting part.
I taught him multiple-digit subtraction. He got the concept right away. Because in his class they're learning to put the commas in the right place when naming numbers, so that they can read the units, tens, thousands, millions, billions, and trillions properly, I decided to combine the subtraction with that. I took him, to his intense satisfaction, into the BILLIONS -- he was subtracting 145,420,334,541 from 368,584,865,972. He thought this was way cool.
Then he wanted to learn borrowing. He thought that was really hard, but he wants me to teach him the same thing over and over every day until we leave, so he gets it.
Then he wanted me to teach him multiplication, because he's been hearing Madison say she's been doing it. Fortunately, he already knows how to count by 2's, 3's, 4's, and 5's, so he at least got the concept.
He wanted to work for well over an hour. It was intensely satisfying to me.
His dad had found out that he had off school next Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. I had offered to have him and his sister spend that day here if indeed they had off. So I gave Mateo the good news this afternoon.
He counted on his fingers. "That's 1-2-3-4-5 days that I have off. Great." Then a thought struck him. "Hey! No fair! Madison and Ella have off...like...for the rest of their lives."
And what do you think the boy wanted to do? School! That is, home school. He wanted me to teach him math, math that his class isn't learning yet. And handwriting, too, though we never got to the handwriting part.
I taught him multiple-digit subtraction. He got the concept right away. Because in his class they're learning to put the commas in the right place when naming numbers, so that they can read the units, tens, thousands, millions, billions, and trillions properly, I decided to combine the subtraction with that. I took him, to his intense satisfaction, into the BILLIONS -- he was subtracting 145,420,334,541 from 368,584,865,972. He thought this was way cool.
Then he wanted to learn borrowing. He thought that was really hard, but he wants me to teach him the same thing over and over every day until we leave, so he gets it.
Then he wanted me to teach him multiplication, because he's been hearing Madison say she's been doing it. Fortunately, he already knows how to count by 2's, 3's, 4's, and 5's, so he at least got the concept.
He wanted to work for well over an hour. It was intensely satisfying to me.
His dad had found out that he had off school next Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. I had offered to have him and his sister spend that day here if indeed they had off. So I gave Mateo the good news this afternoon.
He counted on his fingers. "That's 1-2-3-4-5 days that I have off. Great." Then a thought struck him. "Hey! No fair! Madison and Ella have off...like...for the rest of their lives."
Monday, November 13, 2006
Birthday of the Day: Paul Simon
Paul Simon is 65 today.
65!
It's just not possible that Paul Simon is 65. Heck, it's not even possible that he's 55.
(Then again, is it possible that I'm 37?)
This one was an easy birthday for the girls to remember, as I sing his Kathy's Song to them every night before bed, and we have a Muppets video that he's on. They both got several nickels tonight, I think three apiece (we "do the birthday" at breakfast and then they get 5 cents for every fact they remember at dinner). They were happy that they got to watch the Muppets as part of school.
Actually, they did a great job yesterday of remembering that it was Rodin's birthday, and details about who Rodin was and what he did. It didn't hurt that his Eternal Spring is my favorite sculpture and that David had gotten me a small replica of it for Christmas last year, and I let it decorate the breakfast table. We'll probably visit the Rodin Museum in Philadelphia this coming year when we visit Los Cubanos.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Ella and listening comprehension
Up until recently, Ella, who just turned 5-and-a-half, has been mostly uninterested in listening to chapter books. It is as though (and I'm really saying "as though," not that this is definitely the case) she wasn't able to form the images in her mind that the words should evoke. I also say "as though" because at a much earlier age than 5 1/2, Madison was clearly doing exactly that--seeing the images vividly in her mind. It has been standard for the past year or so, when I read Madison her book at bedtime, Ella tunes out and looks at a picture book.
Well, recently, with both the Boxcar Children and the Little House books, which I've been reading out loud, Ella has been tuning IN. It's been a pleasure to watch her start to discover listening.
One manifestation of this is that she often breaks in suddenly with "WHY?" about something that has just been said, when to the rest of us it is obvious that the reason is about to follow in the next sentence. As in:
Instead of answering, I continue,
To clarify: She doesn't ask "Why" about the larger picture, as in something like, "Why, when the kids were looking for the lost Indian village, did they not like the television producer?" No, the "Why" is extremely localized, relevant only to my last sentence.
I'm sure this will change soon, but it's fascinating to see, because it's like a little window into her consciousness.
Well, recently, with both the Boxcar Children and the Little House books, which I've been reading out loud, Ella has been tuning IN. It's been a pleasure to watch her start to discover listening.
One manifestation of this is that she often breaks in suddenly with "WHY?" about something that has just been said, when to the rest of us it is obvious that the reason is about to follow in the next sentence. As in:
"All of a sudden, Benny shouted excitedly.""Why, Mommy?"
Instead of answering, I continue,
"He had just discovered the very first clue."
To clarify: She doesn't ask "Why" about the larger picture, as in something like, "Why, when the kids were looking for the lost Indian village, did they not like the television producer?" No, the "Why" is extremely localized, relevant only to my last sentence.
I'm sure this will change soon, but it's fascinating to see, because it's like a little window into her consciousness.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Revamping math yet again
From Deb:
Madison is almost finished with the multiplication tables. I took Laura's suggestion to take a break from Saxon, so instead I have on my own been helping her take the math she's been learning a little farther.
We have two parts to math each day: The first part, she has on her own to learn her one or two multiplication equations by whatever method she chooses. Then, she also does a section with me.
I've been writing 2-digit by 1-digit multiplication problems on the big white board, 18 problems per day. Today I mixed them up with multi-digit addition problems just to see "if I can trick her." At first, I just sat her in front of the white board to have her do them alone, and that worked only semi-ok. She had a lot of trouble maintaining focus. But then, this week, I got the idea to *time* how long it takes her to do each problem, and that really works a charm to get her focused. As she's gazing at the problem, I count down the seconds, saying, "5-4-3-2-1-go" and then she does the problem. She tries as hard as she can to figure out what's involved in the problem as I'm doing the countdown, to try to impress me with how fast she can do it. She thinks she's cheating. Ha!
A little bit of minutiae about this -- she was having trouble remembering, when doing the multi-digit multiplication, which digit to "put down" and which digit to carry. Then I showed her that she can remember this by just making sure that the number she's working with reads correctly left-to-right, even though it's broken up between the one that is "put down" and the one that is carried. So I noticed today that she's taken to writing the number that's carried, first (the tens digit) and putting down the units digit second. I've always done it in the reverse order, but in this case there is no conceptual reason for her not to do it this way, and it seems to work for her.
I will admit that a part of me wishes I didn't have to resort to these tricks and manipulation, and then the other part of me slaps the first part of me upside the head and tells it to shut up, that so much of parenting young children is finding clever ways to get them to want to do tedious stuff that ultimately they'll do by habit.
Speaking of tricks, the two checklists I mentioned last week that I'd downloaded from ChartJungle.com are still magic, total magic. I completely attribute all of the schoolwork that the girls accomplished this week to these charts. I think the magic consists in it seeming less to them that I'm arbitrarily selecting stuff they should do than that there is a objective plan for their individual education. Removing it a step or two from Mom really has done the trick, I think, and it's easy for them to see where the end will be each day. We stick a tiny sticker in the relevant column each time they complete a subject, and they have loved seeing the weekly chart fill up with stickers. Madison's subjects are
Multiplication
Other math
Handwriting
Spelling
Logic
Philosophy/History
Science
Economics
Reading out loud
Pleasure reading
Exercise
Cooking
Drama (class)
Fine motor skills (crafts)
Cleaning/beautification
Story writing (The Frontier Team book)
Music (piano)
Of course, we don't do every subject every day, but every day we do multiplication tables, other math, handwriting, and spelling. She does piano every day, too, on her own initiative, which is really encouraging for when we move back to Rochester and actually start her back on lessons. They really like the unit we're doing on American Indians, too, so we have been doing history every day as well.
Ella's subject list is smaller:
Reading
Math
Handwriting
Logic
Philosophy/History
Science
Exercise
Cooking
Fine motor skills (crafts)
Cleaning/beautification
Story writing (she dictates to me)
Drama (class)
Madison is almost finished with the multiplication tables. I took Laura's suggestion to take a break from Saxon, so instead I have on my own been helping her take the math she's been learning a little farther.
We have two parts to math each day: The first part, she has on her own to learn her one or two multiplication equations by whatever method she chooses. Then, she also does a section with me.
I've been writing 2-digit by 1-digit multiplication problems on the big white board, 18 problems per day. Today I mixed them up with multi-digit addition problems just to see "if I can trick her." At first, I just sat her in front of the white board to have her do them alone, and that worked only semi-ok. She had a lot of trouble maintaining focus. But then, this week, I got the idea to *time* how long it takes her to do each problem, and that really works a charm to get her focused. As she's gazing at the problem, I count down the seconds, saying, "5-4-3-2-1-go" and then she does the problem. She tries as hard as she can to figure out what's involved in the problem as I'm doing the countdown, to try to impress me with how fast she can do it. She thinks she's cheating. Ha!
A little bit of minutiae about this -- she was having trouble remembering, when doing the multi-digit multiplication, which digit to "put down" and which digit to carry. Then I showed her that she can remember this by just making sure that the number she's working with reads correctly left-to-right, even though it's broken up between the one that is "put down" and the one that is carried. So I noticed today that she's taken to writing the number that's carried, first (the tens digit) and putting down the units digit second. I've always done it in the reverse order, but in this case there is no conceptual reason for her not to do it this way, and it seems to work for her.
I will admit that a part of me wishes I didn't have to resort to these tricks and manipulation, and then the other part of me slaps the first part of me upside the head and tells it to shut up, that so much of parenting young children is finding clever ways to get them to want to do tedious stuff that ultimately they'll do by habit.
Speaking of tricks, the two checklists I mentioned last week that I'd downloaded from ChartJungle.com are still magic, total magic. I completely attribute all of the schoolwork that the girls accomplished this week to these charts. I think the magic consists in it seeming less to them that I'm arbitrarily selecting stuff they should do than that there is a objective plan for their individual education. Removing it a step or two from Mom really has done the trick, I think, and it's easy for them to see where the end will be each day. We stick a tiny sticker in the relevant column each time they complete a subject, and they have loved seeing the weekly chart fill up with stickers. Madison's subjects are
Multiplication
Other math
Handwriting
Spelling
Logic
Philosophy/History
Science
Economics
Reading out loud
Pleasure reading
Exercise
Cooking
Drama (class)
Fine motor skills (crafts)
Cleaning/beautification
Story writing (The Frontier Team book)
Music (piano)
Of course, we don't do every subject every day, but every day we do multiplication tables, other math, handwriting, and spelling. She does piano every day, too, on her own initiative, which is really encouraging for when we move back to Rochester and actually start her back on lessons. They really like the unit we're doing on American Indians, too, so we have been doing history every day as well.
Ella's subject list is smaller:
Reading
Math
Handwriting
Logic
Philosophy/History
Science
Exercise
Cooking
Fine motor skills (crafts)
Cleaning/beautification
Story writing (she dictates to me)
Drama (class)
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Does Ella have perspective, or does she just not care?
The worst thing didn't happen today, but the second-worst thing did: Madison got into the play The Little Mermaid from the Missoula Children's Theatre, but Ella didn't.
However, Madison and I were far more crushed than Ella was. Ella was a little disappointed, but she wasn't upset. No tears or anything, far from it, although I don't think Madison and I were far from tears. I had to do a little work to pull Madison away from her guilt over the whole thing. But Ella just seems to have this attitude that she'll do things in her own time, just like Madison, that being in the play was not the end-all and be-all of her existence, she's ok just to watch it. On the other hand, if Madison hadn't gotten in (especially if Ella had) she would be crushed--this is the outcome I most feared. But with Ella, it just seemed to be water off a duck's back. She had exactly the "right" attitude, but one wouldn't normally expect that from a 5-year-old.
Sometimes I rejoice in how easy this child is, sometimes I worry about it. What if Ella never develops a passion for ANYTHING? But then I remind myself she loves to do many things -- dancing, and playing dress-up princesses, for example, but especially dancing -- and the fact that not everything is a swaying to and fro of passion really makes her life just that much easier. In fact, it's often easier for her to learn academic stuff because there's no emotions to get in the way as there is for Madison. Ella has absolutely no fear of failure, she does what she can, and doesn't much mind if she fails. She's not competitive with Madison, she knows she's younger so things come later. She's cool about that. She's the most laid-back kid I know, except if Madison (or I) push her too far--then, she has a short fretting session. And, let's face it, she still has a passion for me. She's wonderfully snuggly and loves to experience things with all her senses, especially touch. Maybe it was the two-and-a-half years of breastfeeding.
I was so afraid that one kid wouldn't get in, and that the other would have to learn the extremely hard lesson of how to be gracious about it. But somehow Ella is just naturally gracious. I almost can't believe it.
This is a fantastic lesson for Madison. She sees how calmly Ella is reacting to not getting chosen, and she'll remember this well. Because, as I reminded them, if they like to do plays, there will be plenty of times where Ella will be picked and Madison won't. (Although the criteria for getting selected for this play were, I believe, the following: 1) that they can follow directions, 2) that they are confident, 3) that they are smiley, 4) that they have a bit of presence, and 5) they are loud. Ella has 1, 2, and 3 for sure, but can't compare with Madison on 4 and 5. She still has that somewhat-quiet baby voice, and I think that's what did her in.)
The week after we get back to Rochester, the MCT will actually be up in Rochester, doing Robin Hood, the same production they did last year here when Madison got in. I had told the girls that they could try out up there, too...but frankly, I think that I'm not going to have them audition. One reason is that the fee for acting in that production is *seven times* what it is down here, and it just doesn't seem worth it. Add to that the fact that the competition is MUCH greater up there just because of the sheer numbers, which would mean that almost certainly Ella wouldn't get in. And it seems just not worth the $ to have Madison just be in it, just to have a repeat of last year's experience. No, I think we'll wait until next year.
However, Madison and I were far more crushed than Ella was. Ella was a little disappointed, but she wasn't upset. No tears or anything, far from it, although I don't think Madison and I were far from tears. I had to do a little work to pull Madison away from her guilt over the whole thing. But Ella just seems to have this attitude that she'll do things in her own time, just like Madison, that being in the play was not the end-all and be-all of her existence, she's ok just to watch it. On the other hand, if Madison hadn't gotten in (especially if Ella had) she would be crushed--this is the outcome I most feared. But with Ella, it just seemed to be water off a duck's back. She had exactly the "right" attitude, but one wouldn't normally expect that from a 5-year-old.
Sometimes I rejoice in how easy this child is, sometimes I worry about it. What if Ella never develops a passion for ANYTHING? But then I remind myself she loves to do many things -- dancing, and playing dress-up princesses, for example, but especially dancing -- and the fact that not everything is a swaying to and fro of passion really makes her life just that much easier. In fact, it's often easier for her to learn academic stuff because there's no emotions to get in the way as there is for Madison. Ella has absolutely no fear of failure, she does what she can, and doesn't much mind if she fails. She's not competitive with Madison, she knows she's younger so things come later. She's cool about that. She's the most laid-back kid I know, except if Madison (or I) push her too far--then, she has a short fretting session. And, let's face it, she still has a passion for me. She's wonderfully snuggly and loves to experience things with all her senses, especially touch. Maybe it was the two-and-a-half years of breastfeeding.
I was so afraid that one kid wouldn't get in, and that the other would have to learn the extremely hard lesson of how to be gracious about it. But somehow Ella is just naturally gracious. I almost can't believe it.
This is a fantastic lesson for Madison. She sees how calmly Ella is reacting to not getting chosen, and she'll remember this well. Because, as I reminded them, if they like to do plays, there will be plenty of times where Ella will be picked and Madison won't. (Although the criteria for getting selected for this play were, I believe, the following: 1) that they can follow directions, 2) that they are confident, 3) that they are smiley, 4) that they have a bit of presence, and 5) they are loud. Ella has 1, 2, and 3 for sure, but can't compare with Madison on 4 and 5. She still has that somewhat-quiet baby voice, and I think that's what did her in.)
The week after we get back to Rochester, the MCT will actually be up in Rochester, doing Robin Hood, the same production they did last year here when Madison got in. I had told the girls that they could try out up there, too...but frankly, I think that I'm not going to have them audition. One reason is that the fee for acting in that production is *seven times* what it is down here, and it just doesn't seem worth it. Add to that the fact that the competition is MUCH greater up there just because of the sheer numbers, which would mean that almost certainly Ella wouldn't get in. And it seems just not worth the $ to have Madison just be in it, just to have a repeat of last year's experience. No, I think we'll wait until next year.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Julia Sweeney
This afternoon, when I was cleaning out the craft closet and Madison was doing an art project with some newly-discovered supplies from the back of said closet, we had on Terri Gross's Fresh Air on NPR. She was interviewing Julia Sweeney, the comedienne of "Pat" fame from SNL.
Turns out Julia is an atheist, and she has just released a new CD called Letting Go of God, an audio CD of her stand-up show of the same name.
Terri was interviewing her about the process of evolving from a Catholic to a Buddhist to an atheist, and Madison was absolutely entranced. Fascinated. They played a clip from the CD in which Julia describes what she did when presented with the argument that "only God could have created an eye, because it is so complex." What did Sweeney do? She read science. She talked about her findings, in a unique Julia-Sweeney humorous kind of way. Turns out that if God created the human eye, he did a really bad job -- squid and octopus, which evolved their eye separately from the human eye, have a lot better of an apparatus, there.
When Madison heard that there is a CD for sale, she insisted we find it on the internet. We found JuliaSweeney.com and then found a place where we could listen to a few more clips from the CD. I thought that she would like the clip "There is no Santa Claus" best, because it describes an experience that Sweeney had on her seventh birthday (September 10!). But no, she liked the "eye" clip ("Intelligent Design") the best.
She wanted the CD so badly that she said she'd spend her own money on it; she has almost exactly the amount necessary. But I said I'd buy it for her, how could I not, with my little philosopher looking at me eagerly like that. She says we (David and I) can listen to it, but she wants to keep it in her room so that she can listen to it on her CD-alarm clock that Aunt Anne gave her for her birthday, September 10. And if we find any more CDs like that, she wants them, too.
When it comes, I will listen to it before I give it to her; in the clips we heard there was one (but only one!) inconveniently-worded phrase ("And do you know what I discovered? That Deepak Chopra is full of shit!")
"Full of WHAT? What did she say?" Madison asked. I had to explain that it is an impolite word for "poop." I'm kind of pleased, frankly, that this is her first encounter with the word, it shows we've done a good job of exposing her to people who don't use foul language. Anyway, I will make sure that the other bits of the CD don't contain more of the same before I hand it over.
Turns out Julia is an atheist, and she has just released a new CD called Letting Go of God, an audio CD of her stand-up show of the same name.
Terri was interviewing her about the process of evolving from a Catholic to a Buddhist to an atheist, and Madison was absolutely entranced. Fascinated. They played a clip from the CD in which Julia describes what she did when presented with the argument that "only God could have created an eye, because it is so complex." What did Sweeney do? She read science. She talked about her findings, in a unique Julia-Sweeney humorous kind of way. Turns out that if God created the human eye, he did a really bad job -- squid and octopus, which evolved their eye separately from the human eye, have a lot better of an apparatus, there.
When Madison heard that there is a CD for sale, she insisted we find it on the internet. We found JuliaSweeney.com and then found a place where we could listen to a few more clips from the CD. I thought that she would like the clip "There is no Santa Claus" best, because it describes an experience that Sweeney had on her seventh birthday (September 10!). But no, she liked the "eye" clip ("Intelligent Design") the best.
She wanted the CD so badly that she said she'd spend her own money on it; she has almost exactly the amount necessary. But I said I'd buy it for her, how could I not, with my little philosopher looking at me eagerly like that. She says we (David and I) can listen to it, but she wants to keep it in her room so that she can listen to it on her CD-alarm clock that Aunt Anne gave her for her birthday, September 10. And if we find any more CDs like that, she wants them, too.
When it comes, I will listen to it before I give it to her; in the clips we heard there was one (but only one!) inconveniently-worded phrase ("And do you know what I discovered? That Deepak Chopra is full of shit!")
"Full of WHAT? What did she say?" Madison asked. I had to explain that it is an impolite word for "poop." I'm kind of pleased, frankly, that this is her first encounter with the word, it shows we've done a good job of exposing her to people who don't use foul language. Anyway, I will make sure that the other bits of the CD don't contain more of the same before I hand it over.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Magic revisited
Well, it's like night (yesterday) and day (today).
The morning isn't over yet, but I'm still going to check it off as a plus. And I say this because the thing that worked the magic for the girls this morning was these two free printable lists from ChartJungle.com, thanks to this entry on Dy's blog:
Ready for school checklist
Learning checklist
The kids have just dived right in enthusiastically, checking off accomplishments left and right. We even baked our bread this morning -- well, Ella and I baked Teddy Bear Bread. Madison hovered with good grace, despite having lost bread-baking due to her behavior yesterday. They each get to rip off a hunk of warm, delicious bread after checking "done" on each subject on the learning checklist. It's working.
Peace and contentment reigns. Contrary to my post from the other day, maybe there is such a thing as magic.
The morning isn't over yet, but I'm still going to check it off as a plus. And I say this because the thing that worked the magic for the girls this morning was these two free printable lists from ChartJungle.com, thanks to this entry on Dy's blog:
Ready for school checklist
Learning checklist
The kids have just dived right in enthusiastically, checking off accomplishments left and right. We even baked our bread this morning -- well, Ella and I baked Teddy Bear Bread. Madison hovered with good grace, despite having lost bread-baking due to her behavior yesterday. They each get to rip off a hunk of warm, delicious bread after checking "done" on each subject on the learning checklist. It's working.
Peace and contentment reigns. Contrary to my post from the other day, maybe there is such a thing as magic.
Home schooling day from Hell
It must have been the sugar from Halloween. Or maybe the kids are coming down with something.
Whatever it was, Thursday was the home schooling day from Hell. Madison was beside herself with angst over everything. I made what seems to have been a mistake, letting her read for an hour and a half (finishing up Maida's Little House) first thing in the morning. Skipping from that right to breakfast, then to math, was a disaster. The worst always happens when I decide that enough is enough, I'm not going to LET her continue in the subject that's causing her grief that day, then we have a 20-minute tantrum because I'm not letting her do math. Good grief.
Even Handwriting Without Tears turned on the waterworks.
The only thing that didn't cause tears today was, oddly, her SRA cards that we use for reading/logic. I often get outright rebellion over those, though they're quite easy for her.
The worst thing for Madison is that I told her that if she got finished with her work by noon, she could bake bread in the afternoon after we got back from the gym, as long as there were no more tantrums. She finished the SRA work in record time. Then, so help me, as we *pull into the driveway* from gym/errands, the child has a squawking fit over something I can't even remember, and she lost bread baking. Good grief.
It may also be that we had a nice long weekend with David last weekend, and she's experiencing the loss of his being back in Rochester.
Proof that even those of us who have brilliant children who get on great rolls sometimes, have days of total failure. :-)
Well, maybe not total failure. We're studying American Indians during the month of November, and I'm reading from a nice series of kids books I got from the Southwest Indian Foundation almost a decade ago. The kids love to be read to during lunch, and today we did myths from the Navajos and the Eskimos. They sure love legends. There's even an Atlas parallel figure in the Eskimo legend we read, so it was a nice connection to the Greeks.
Whatever it was, Thursday was the home schooling day from Hell. Madison was beside herself with angst over everything. I made what seems to have been a mistake, letting her read for an hour and a half (finishing up Maida's Little House) first thing in the morning. Skipping from that right to breakfast, then to math, was a disaster. The worst always happens when I decide that enough is enough, I'm not going to LET her continue in the subject that's causing her grief that day, then we have a 20-minute tantrum because I'm not letting her do math. Good grief.
Even Handwriting Without Tears turned on the waterworks.
The only thing that didn't cause tears today was, oddly, her SRA cards that we use for reading/logic. I often get outright rebellion over those, though they're quite easy for her.
The worst thing for Madison is that I told her that if she got finished with her work by noon, she could bake bread in the afternoon after we got back from the gym, as long as there were no more tantrums. She finished the SRA work in record time. Then, so help me, as we *pull into the driveway* from gym/errands, the child has a squawking fit over something I can't even remember, and she lost bread baking. Good grief.
It may also be that we had a nice long weekend with David last weekend, and she's experiencing the loss of his being back in Rochester.
Proof that even those of us who have brilliant children who get on great rolls sometimes, have days of total failure. :-)
Well, maybe not total failure. We're studying American Indians during the month of November, and I'm reading from a nice series of kids books I got from the Southwest Indian Foundation almost a decade ago. The kids love to be read to during lunch, and today we did myths from the Navajos and the Eskimos. They sure love legends. There's even an Atlas parallel figure in the Eskimo legend we read, so it was a nice connection to the Greeks.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Ella reading progress
From Deb:
Watching Ella learn to read may be one of the most fascinating developmental milestones I've ever watched take place. Because she is on the younger end of kids who are doing this, the process is probably a little slower for her than for those who are a little older. There haven't yet been too many "magic" points at which she has suddenly switched from being a non-reader to being a reader. On the other hand, maybe some of this would be viewed by someone without my geeky way of picking it all apart as "magic." Not having home schooled Madison for kindergarten, it did seem quite a bit more magical.
Ella has been working her way through Set 3 of the EPS Phonics Books, which, as I have mentioned before, we did this spring as well. But this fall, when we started with Set 2, I had her read a whole book (16 pages) each day rather than half, as we had been doing. Doing so was really no problem for her, and it helped build up her confidence.
We started Set 3 just last week, after Tatiana sent me them back (I'm borrowing them back from her; Dario is finishing up Set 4, I think, and I'll get those back soon). She was reading one book per day. I noticed that she definitely has had a sense of momentum with Set 3 that she hadn't had before, in the following ways:
1) She is sounding words out faster, which is increasing her speed.
2) She is recognizing *many* more words on sight, which is increasing her speed.
3) Because she is increasing her speed and it takes less brain space to sound out a word, she is able almost simultaneously to eyeball a word and *also* check out the picture on the page to ensure that the word she is about to say works with the context. And she can use what she then sees in the picture as a clue to what the following word is. I see her doing this, now in a split second, almost unconsciously, where it used to be a much more deliberate process. And this further increases her speed.
Well, yesterday, she had four down and six more to go in the series. I said to her yesterday that if she put her mind to it she might be able to do *all six* in a day and therefore get the prize she always gets to choose at the end of a series. Well, that kid just went to town. She was able to finish four of the books, and then swiftly read the other two first thing this morning. My goodness, I was proud of her. She was proud of herself. And we went out after her acting class this morning and she chose a fluffy pink tutu. My princess.
I feel so privileged to be up-close-and-personal with this. The one down side of this is that by dissecting it so carefully and getting to know so well what she's doing, I'm probably taking a little of the sense of "magic" out of the whole process. Ah, well. I appreciate the "magic of childhood" as well as the next mom, but being witness to the minute details of this process is just so darned fulfilling for someone like me.
Watching Ella learn to read may be one of the most fascinating developmental milestones I've ever watched take place. Because she is on the younger end of kids who are doing this, the process is probably a little slower for her than for those who are a little older. There haven't yet been too many "magic" points at which she has suddenly switched from being a non-reader to being a reader. On the other hand, maybe some of this would be viewed by someone without my geeky way of picking it all apart as "magic." Not having home schooled Madison for kindergarten, it did seem quite a bit more magical.
Ella has been working her way through Set 3 of the EPS Phonics Books, which, as I have mentioned before, we did this spring as well. But this fall, when we started with Set 2, I had her read a whole book (16 pages) each day rather than half, as we had been doing. Doing so was really no problem for her, and it helped build up her confidence.
We started Set 3 just last week, after Tatiana sent me them back (I'm borrowing them back from her; Dario is finishing up Set 4, I think, and I'll get those back soon). She was reading one book per day. I noticed that she definitely has had a sense of momentum with Set 3 that she hadn't had before, in the following ways:
1) She is sounding words out faster, which is increasing her speed.
2) She is recognizing *many* more words on sight, which is increasing her speed.
3) Because she is increasing her speed and it takes less brain space to sound out a word, she is able almost simultaneously to eyeball a word and *also* check out the picture on the page to ensure that the word she is about to say works with the context. And she can use what she then sees in the picture as a clue to what the following word is. I see her doing this, now in a split second, almost unconsciously, where it used to be a much more deliberate process. And this further increases her speed.
Well, yesterday, she had four down and six more to go in the series. I said to her yesterday that if she put her mind to it she might be able to do *all six* in a day and therefore get the prize she always gets to choose at the end of a series. Well, that kid just went to town. She was able to finish four of the books, and then swiftly read the other two first thing this morning. My goodness, I was proud of her. She was proud of herself. And we went out after her acting class this morning and she chose a fluffy pink tutu. My princess.
I feel so privileged to be up-close-and-personal with this. The one down side of this is that by dissecting it so carefully and getting to know so well what she's doing, I'm probably taking a little of the sense of "magic" out of the whole process. Ah, well. I appreciate the "magic of childhood" as well as the next mom, but being witness to the minute details of this process is just so darned fulfilling for someone like me.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
This counts as home schooling, right?
They sorted the candy, categorized it by type, and then we input the values into Excel and then made cool charts like this:
I'm sure this counts as math.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
What piano lessons have shown me about readiness
Madison took piano lessons during her kindergarten year. She really loved the lessons. She approached the piano like a mathematician; I can tell that (like her mother) she grasps math spatially, and this was very useful for piano. She liked the challenge of matching up the notes on the staff to the notes on the keyboard, and she liked the reward of the tune she made.
But getting her to practice was like pulling teeth. It was horrible for both of us. (In fact, I was so frustrated that I had her teacher write an article for KidsOutAndAbout.com, tips for getting kids to practice music. You'll see some really cute photos of Madison if you click on that link.) She liked being taught by Mrs. B, and she liked to show off, but doing so in the absence of an adult's bottom right there on the piano bench next to her was not rewarding for her. She learned, of course, but not as much as she would have had she been motivated to practice each day.
At the same time, I was fascinated to discover that when I sat down at the piano, I was instantly better than I was at any point in my youth. I took piano lessons from age 7-10, at which point I gave it up. I just couldn't get both hands to work together at the same time. But I have always considered myself to have learned music from the piano. In high school, I approached choral sight reading by visualizing the piano keys in the treble clef; somehow, I translated that spatial relationship into what my vocal chords were doing. Even as an adult, visualizing the piano keys while I'm singing is the only way I stay moderately in tune.
When we moved to Virginia last year, I decided to stop Madison's piano lessons for a while, because it had turned into something stressful for both of us. I figured we'd settle into life here first. I set up the keyboard, though, for anyone to play whenever she wanted. Well, as soon as we were settled enough for me to consider whether she was ready to resume lessons, there we were, making plans to leave again. So I decided to put it off again, until we are settled back in Rochester in December.
But interestingly enough, just recently Madison started sitting down at the keyboard for long stretches, picking out her own little tunes and just fooling around with the keys. (She has been doing this, I discovered, partly as a way of remembering the multiplication table, of all things -- she has made up little tiny tunes to help her remember certain equations.)
And today, she picked up her old American songbook, and actively started looking at the notes (well, she looks at the written-out letter-note below the staff to figure out what note it is, not actually at the staff itself, she never got far enough to know what a note was from sight), and picking out the songs.
I sat next to her and realized something remarkable: Even after not practicing for 16 months (other than "Happy Birthday"), her playing is dramatically superior to what it used to be. There are two dimensions on which she is better:
1) She hears the song in her head that she is playing, and is using her knowledge of the song -- whether the next note is higher in pitch or lower in pitch -- to guide whether the next keyboard note is to the left or to the right.
2) Hearing the song in her head guides her to how long to hold down the note. Before, there was no way to explain a quarter note or a whole note to her; actually, she understood it intellectually but she just couldn't translate that into holding down the note.
Before, I now realize, she wasn't playing a song, she was following the letters written on the page and figuring out how that translated into finger movement, and then hearing the song *after* the notes were played. Now, in her mind's ear, she is hearing what the note should be *before* she strikes the key, and this helps her know which one to strike. She is able to hold in her mind the overriding purpose of playing a song. It is, I think, an entirely new experience for her.
This provides marvelous evidence about how important it is to be sensitive to what kids are ready for, and not pushing or having expectations in advance of when they're ready.
Before, the exercise of learning piano was somewhat valuable as an intellectual exercise, and (moderately) as a lesson in how working hard at something can get results. But I can see that now, she's really ready. I honestly think that she would have been at this same point had she started just a month ago rather than two years ago.
There are several lessons to be learned from this:
1) There really are sensitive periods when a particular child's brain is ready for a certain kind of activity. There is nothing that we did, between when Madison stopped taking lessons and now, that can account for her dramatic advance. It is slightly possible that we primed her for this by having the lessons in the first place, but I attribute her readiness much more to how her brain has developed in the intervening 16 months.
2) More mundanely, I am certain that Ella, who is 5 1/2, is not ready for piano. A better way of saying it is that she'll get far more value out of lessons in a year or two rather than immediately upon our return to Rochester. I'm going to wait until she positively asks for lessons and shows that she's ready. I think she will.
3) This strengthens my conviction that there are certain times that kids are ready for certain academic pursuits, and that pushing them when they aren't ready or positively disinterested is time and energy better spent teaching them something else.
4) Interest follows ability. Madison is FAR more interested in working on the piano now, when she has this new, natural, more conceptually mature approach to music. So strong interest in something probably indicates a readiness for it.
5) Although figuring out when kids are ready for certain things does rely, to a large extent, on the child's self-report of their own interests and desires, it can't substitute for the parent's careful observation of the child. It's so important that we consider who she is, and where she is intellectually, before we push.
6) Even if a child rejects something early or says it's not for her, try it again later on if you think she'll find it valuable. She just may have developed enough, or have gathered enough information in the meantime, to be ready for it.
7) This has serious implications for teaching math, which should be obvious.
But getting her to practice was like pulling teeth. It was horrible for both of us. (In fact, I was so frustrated that I had her teacher write an article for KidsOutAndAbout.com, tips for getting kids to practice music. You'll see some really cute photos of Madison if you click on that link.) She liked being taught by Mrs. B, and she liked to show off, but doing so in the absence of an adult's bottom right there on the piano bench next to her was not rewarding for her. She learned, of course, but not as much as she would have had she been motivated to practice each day.
At the same time, I was fascinated to discover that when I sat down at the piano, I was instantly better than I was at any point in my youth. I took piano lessons from age 7-10, at which point I gave it up. I just couldn't get both hands to work together at the same time. But I have always considered myself to have learned music from the piano. In high school, I approached choral sight reading by visualizing the piano keys in the treble clef; somehow, I translated that spatial relationship into what my vocal chords were doing. Even as an adult, visualizing the piano keys while I'm singing is the only way I stay moderately in tune.
When we moved to Virginia last year, I decided to stop Madison's piano lessons for a while, because it had turned into something stressful for both of us. I figured we'd settle into life here first. I set up the keyboard, though, for anyone to play whenever she wanted. Well, as soon as we were settled enough for me to consider whether she was ready to resume lessons, there we were, making plans to leave again. So I decided to put it off again, until we are settled back in Rochester in December.
But interestingly enough, just recently Madison started sitting down at the keyboard for long stretches, picking out her own little tunes and just fooling around with the keys. (She has been doing this, I discovered, partly as a way of remembering the multiplication table, of all things -- she has made up little tiny tunes to help her remember certain equations.)
And today, she picked up her old American songbook, and actively started looking at the notes (well, she looks at the written-out letter-note below the staff to figure out what note it is, not actually at the staff itself, she never got far enough to know what a note was from sight), and picking out the songs.
I sat next to her and realized something remarkable: Even after not practicing for 16 months (other than "Happy Birthday"), her playing is dramatically superior to what it used to be. There are two dimensions on which she is better:
1) She hears the song in her head that she is playing, and is using her knowledge of the song -- whether the next note is higher in pitch or lower in pitch -- to guide whether the next keyboard note is to the left or to the right.
2) Hearing the song in her head guides her to how long to hold down the note. Before, there was no way to explain a quarter note or a whole note to her; actually, she understood it intellectually but she just couldn't translate that into holding down the note.
Before, I now realize, she wasn't playing a song, she was following the letters written on the page and figuring out how that translated into finger movement, and then hearing the song *after* the notes were played. Now, in her mind's ear, she is hearing what the note should be *before* she strikes the key, and this helps her know which one to strike. She is able to hold in her mind the overriding purpose of playing a song. It is, I think, an entirely new experience for her.
This provides marvelous evidence about how important it is to be sensitive to what kids are ready for, and not pushing or having expectations in advance of when they're ready.
Before, the exercise of learning piano was somewhat valuable as an intellectual exercise, and (moderately) as a lesson in how working hard at something can get results. But I can see that now, she's really ready. I honestly think that she would have been at this same point had she started just a month ago rather than two years ago.
There are several lessons to be learned from this:
1) There really are sensitive periods when a particular child's brain is ready for a certain kind of activity. There is nothing that we did, between when Madison stopped taking lessons and now, that can account for her dramatic advance. It is slightly possible that we primed her for this by having the lessons in the first place, but I attribute her readiness much more to how her brain has developed in the intervening 16 months.
2) More mundanely, I am certain that Ella, who is 5 1/2, is not ready for piano. A better way of saying it is that she'll get far more value out of lessons in a year or two rather than immediately upon our return to Rochester. I'm going to wait until she positively asks for lessons and shows that she's ready. I think she will.
3) This strengthens my conviction that there are certain times that kids are ready for certain academic pursuits, and that pushing them when they aren't ready or positively disinterested is time and energy better spent teaching them something else.
4) Interest follows ability. Madison is FAR more interested in working on the piano now, when she has this new, natural, more conceptually mature approach to music. So strong interest in something probably indicates a readiness for it.
5) Although figuring out when kids are ready for certain things does rely, to a large extent, on the child's self-report of their own interests and desires, it can't substitute for the parent's careful observation of the child. It's so important that we consider who she is, and where she is intellectually, before we push.
6) Even if a child rejects something early or says it's not for her, try it again later on if you think she'll find it valuable. She just may have developed enough, or have gathered enough information in the meantime, to be ready for it.
7) This has serious implications for teaching math, which should be obvious.
Ella
Ella has just been going gangbusters on the schoolwork lately. She takes to everything with such enthusiasm, except her reading of the Phonics series. Even that, though, has been done much more readily lately. She reads a whole book now each day (16 pages) rather than half, and she's quite impressed with herself (lots of "hey, I'm already on page 11!"), so in some ways the thing she likes to do least is having the strongest effect. But yesterday, she listened with enthusiasm to the geography section of What Your Kindergartner Needs to Know, which lead to me getting down the globe, and then we have two map puzzles that she just had to do. Then she got into the directions: North, South, East, and West, and started looking at maps to find where the compass is printed, and how ornately. I've got to find a web resource to download color-in map printables. And I've got to hunt down Madison's old compass that we used to have in the car.
Ella loves Handwriting without Tears. She's always been justly proud of her handwriting, focusing on it as she does.
And she also likes the Ancient Greeks, even Greek culture stuff other than the myths. She doesn't get the philosophy or politics parts at all, but that's ok with me.
It takes Ella much less time to do schoolwork than Madison, not simply because I give her slightly less (she's technically only in kindergarten, you know) but she really gets down to business and gets done what she needs to get done.
I'm very proud of her.
Ella loves Handwriting without Tears. She's always been justly proud of her handwriting, focusing on it as she does.
And she also likes the Ancient Greeks, even Greek culture stuff other than the myths. She doesn't get the philosophy or politics parts at all, but that's ok with me.
It takes Ella much less time to do schoolwork than Madison, not simply because I give her slightly less (she's technically only in kindergarten, you know) but she really gets down to business and gets done what she needs to get done.
I'm very proud of her.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Three Cheers for Handwriting Without Tears!
We got the Handwriting Without Tears program yesterday, and the Madison and Ella started it this morning.
I know it's a little premature to say it, but so far the kids love it, Madison especially. One thing that Madison particularly likes about it is that there is a definite method, starting letters and numbers from the top. The other thing that they both like about it is that I'm learning right along with them...I got the parent/teacher guide for the various programs, and I was calling out little tidbits that I learned along the way, such as
Madison only has 17 equations left to learn her multiplication to 10 x 10. When I asked her her method today, she let me in on the little songs she's been making up to remember them, two at a time. She's up at the piano right now, trying to match her little tunes to keyed notes. (She can't wait to start piano again when we get back to Rochester.) Today was 7 x 6 is 42 and 7 x 7 is 49.
In math, Ella worked on equalities yesterday, and today is back to odds and evens.
We watched a video from the library about the digestive and excretory systems this morning.
I know it's a little premature to say it, but so far the kids love it, Madison especially. One thing that Madison particularly likes about it is that there is a definite method, starting letters and numbers from the top. The other thing that they both like about it is that I'm learning right along with them...I got the parent/teacher guide for the various programs, and I was calling out little tidbits that I learned along the way, such as
The top to bottom habit is the key to printing quickly and neatly. Children who start letters at the top don't have to think about making letters. They print automatically and are able to print quickly without becoming sloppy. Starting at the bottom causes difficulty because it is impossible to write with speed without becoming sloppy.
Madison only has 17 equations left to learn her multiplication to 10 x 10. When I asked her her method today, she let me in on the little songs she's been making up to remember them, two at a time. She's up at the piano right now, trying to match her little tunes to keyed notes. (She can't wait to start piano again when we get back to Rochester.) Today was 7 x 6 is 42 and 7 x 7 is 49.
In math, Ella worked on equalities yesterday, and today is back to odds and evens.
We watched a video from the library about the digestive and excretory systems this morning.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
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