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Archive for the ‘Parenthood’ Category

How Do You Achieve a Peaceful Holiday Season with Kids?

Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010

Am I the only one that thinks much of the Christmas season sucks ass now that I have kids? Sure, as long as I am stuffing them full of sugar and butter products, and when they are opening gifts, they are having a blast. The rest of the time? They are just whining about things they want, want, want.

Am I doing something wrong? We’ve given to multiple charities, donated toys to needy children, and our kids know about it and why we are doing it.

We don’t go crazy with gifts, and in fact, my kids get way less than most children I know.

I spend time with them, wrapping gifts, singing Christmas carols in the car (a once a year thing, really, as I force them to listen to decent music in the car all other times of the year – it is for their own good in the long run), making cookies, filling the birdfeeders together (birdies need yummy Christmas food too!), etc.

So what am I doing wrong? Is it just normal to feel like a failure as a parent this time of year? It never felt this stressful before kids. Am I asking too much of them, at 7 and 5 years of age, to understand how very and truly lucky they are to be born in this time, in this country, to well-educated and loving parents? (I know that it is not something they can really comprehend. It was, like, rhetorical and stuff.)

If you are able to have a peaceful season with your kids, please share with the class. Because i am feeling like a complete failure.

Nobody Even Knocked Over the Baby Jesus

Friday, December 17th, 2010

Tiller’s Christmas program was this morning at St. Bede’s. I, of course, ran completely late and didn’t get to drink any coffee before, during, or after the program. So, one part of me was all sad that it was Tiller’s last “little girl” Christmas program, and the other half was just holding on to a thread of sanity until I could find a coffee.

First of all, the 4s class came out and did some songs. (Jingle Bells and some other stuff.) Very cute. Unfortunately, by the time they are this age, they don’t really do anything wild, like start talking to their mom during the program, or start wailing when they see all the people stare at them, or accidentally knock the baby Jesus out of the cradle.

And let’s be honest: That is what we show up for.

Merry Christmas. Hope You Don’t Die.

Tuesday, December 14th, 2010

This is so sweet and earnest and honest, in a heartbreaking way, that I wanted to document it here in on Dogwood Girl, even though Todd already posted it on Facebook.

Todd:

At Cub Scouts last night, the boys made Xmas cards to send to troops overseas…I look away for a couple minutes, and R has written “Merry Christmas, I hope you don’t die”….took some gentle coaxing to get him to change it….

Of course, it is also very funny, too. The story is slightly funnier when Todd tells it in person: Evidently, some of the other kids were struggling with the concept of war, and saying things like, “They use guns. I can draw a gun on my card!” and one kid, who has been watching WWII documentaries (?), wanted to draw a Japanese Rising Sun flag on one of his cards.

We were trying to decide if a soldier would bust out laughing upon reading Rollie’s, or burst into tears. I am guessing there is a fine line between laughter and fear and sadness over there, and it might elicit a little of both.

But, really, isn’t Rollie right, if not exactly tactful? (Not sure where he gets that from.) Don’t we want them to have a Merry Christmas, and not die? I guess I’d probably add that I want them to come home safe to their families. I can’t help but think that their own fathers might have been helping them write cards to soldiers just ten years ago, too. And I can’t help but think of the constant fear their mothers must be in every moment of the day.

Merry Christmas to all those serving our country this year. And to their mamas and daddies.

I’ve Got a Spelling Bee in my Bonnet

Thursday, December 9th, 2010

You remember those, right? They still do them. (And if you haven’t seen Spellbound, you are missing out. What a thriller!)

So, Rollie’s school had a spelling bee. I guess all schools have them this time of year and then the finalists go on to County, or state, or whatever. A few weeks beforehand, the principal sent home a note explaining that only 4th and 5th graders would compete in the school-wide spelling bee. First through third graders would have bees in their classroom and the winners from those spelling bees would have the honor of sitting in on the 4th and 5th grade finals. The reason, which I don’t remember exactly now, had something to do with testing, or scheduling, or timing.

I was mad.

God forbid that we let younger children compete against older ones, I thought. Someone might get their damn feelings hurt. Really, i think the only feelings hurt were mine. You see, my kid is a kickass speller.

There. I said it.

My kid is a really, really great speller!

I tend to not talk about it much, because. . . well, we all know how parents are. Playground Wars. Mommy Wars. Blah Blah Blah. Parenting is a fucking battleground of whose parenting techniques are most effective, whose methods create the best citizens, or whose kids are the most intelligent. Some parents put their thoughts out as landmines, others as bombs going off, but it is always there. The comparisons, and the subtle bragging, and the “well, my kid” and the “Oh, my daughter, too!” I am guilty of it too, sometimes.

And I don’t want to be that parent who thinks their kid is perfect, or that does nothing but brag on their kid. That parent is annoying. And sometimes, frankly, I look at their kid and think, “well, he seems pretty average to me.”

So for me to come out and say strongly that my kid is anything but average is really hard for me. I am starting to realize, though, that part of being a good parent is speaking up for your child, and making sure they get what they need.

My kid needs a bit of a challenge. He is in first grade and he reads on about a 4th grade level, and he can spell like a motherfucker.

Take for instance, the day that my sister and i were discussing spelling with him. He had brought home a practice list, and few of the words stumped him. Example: He had trouble with “merry,” because I had not explained to him that you could ask for its usage in a sentence, or the definition, and he assumed it was “marry.” So, Lisa and I, also pretty good spellers in our own right, and definitely word nerds, were telling him about the words that stumped us. Lisa lost a spelling bee on the word “cemetery.” I cannot remember the word that I lost the seventh grade bee on. I do remember I lost to Kenneth Walter. Damn you, Ken! (Yes, it would have been more productive to remember the word and learn to spell it, but I have always been more about holding a grudge.) Instead, i used another example: I failed a ninth grade paper, because I misspelled “separate” in the paper; A paper on the book, A Separate Peace. It was not pretty. A very low moment in my spelling career, one from which the scars will never heal. (I would like to add that I passed the class, and believe that the teacher did the right thing in failing me on the paper. At the time, i wanted to egg her house.)

Rollie could spell both cemetery and separate, without pause. There are many adults who still cannot spell these words.

Now, spelling well does not make one a genius, and any parent worth their salt knows that reading levels out as kids get older – slower readers catch up, etc. Also, it is easier to spell when one has read more and longer books. It is just a matter of having seen the words. The more you read, the more likely you are to be able to spell something, right? Right.

So going back on what I said earlier, I would like to put in the disclaimer that I am not calling my kid a genius, or even highly intelligent. I have never seen a test score from him yet, and have no idea how he will test. He is in the Discovery program, which is the Talented and Gifted of today. (Again, god forbid that the kids who don’t test into a gifted program think that they are not “talented” or “gifted.” No. Better to just give them the message that they are not worthy of “discovery.” I digress. Wait. Let me do it again: “Personal Record Day.” Instead of Field Day, a friend’s school had “Personal Record Day!” Are you fucking kidding me? Digression complete.) So, he’s not stupid. But i have no way of knowing how smart he is. Schools don’t really help you with that too much, as far as I can tell.

I do know he is not perfect. He has trouble controlling his emotions. He can be self-centered, controlling, stubborn, angry, and disrespectful. He still has some trouble sharing, and he gets jealous of others. He has acted out in class to the extent that he has thrown a chair. He got in-school fucking suspension, for God’s sake, for fighting. One of my relatives thinks he needs to see a therapist. (This is ironic, because he is more like that person than anyone else in my family!) There have been a couple of times that I have cried on the phone with my mother or sister, wondering if I am raising a Sociopath. I have no idea whether this fear is normal or not, because I have not done this parenting thing before, and as far as I know, no one else at the bus stop or playground or the coffee shop or Bunco seems to wonder if they are raising sociopaths. It just doesn’t come up very often in polite mommy conversation.

My kid is far from perfect.

Also? He is a shitty artist, he can’t carry a tune, and he looks a little like he is having a seizure when he dances.

But when he is sweet and charming? He is the most perfect child in the world. That, I know, is universal. They win our hearts at birth, and then keep us guessing for, I am guessing, the rest of our lives. His beautiful, warm, laughing brown eyes make my heart hurt and my throat constrict sometimes.

And I owe it to him to make sure that he learns and has the opportunity to excel at what he enjoys and gravitates toward. Don’t I? Is it any less honorable to fight for my gifted child to have opportunities, attention, and appropriate lessons and curriculum, than for the mom of an Autistic child or a dyslexic child, or a child with some handicap to fight for her child to get the resources that he or she needs?

Shouldn’t the needs of all of those children be met?

And I have to be honest. I have had my reservations about how well the public schools are doing for children. I held those back, though. I chose my house based on the schools my kids would go to, picking schools that are rated highly, and that have high parental involvement. I thought, I am going to send my kid to public school and he is going to do great. How could he not, if I am involved, and i have a good relationship with his teachers, and I stay on top of things, and stay informed.

You know what? It is my third year with R. at his elementary school. He had two great years, Pre-K and K. Those teachers were great. His K teacher was probably the best teacher he will ever have. She was amazing. She made sure that he (and the other advanced kids in the class – and there are a good number of them in this class) was challenged, busy, motivated. He didn’t have any trouble with any of the curriculum. He did great.

I was more than happy with him not being forced to learn things that were hard for him, with easy homework, with him just being allowed to be a kid, and learn how to perform in a social setting.

I thought, okay, first grade will start to challenge him. They will realize that some of these kids learned the stuff in this curriculum a year, or two, or even three years ago, and they will alter the lessons appropriately.

That has not happened.

Sure, when parents complained that the homework was too easy, they created a second tier of homework for the more advanced kids. Rollie doesn’t study the words on his homework, even the “challenging” words. He reads it over once, and makes an A on the test.

Am I happy my kid is making As and not struggling? Well, yeah. But when I asked my kid’s teacher how he is doing academically, if he is struggling with anything, her reply was, “He is meeting standards!” She said this with a smile on her face, as if I should be as happy as she is. I was not, because how well I am doing as a parent is not tied to standards. I understand that her paycheck is. I sympathize with that.

But wouldn’t a great teacher realize that I don’t just want my kid to “meet standards?” I was tempted to ask her, “But what is he learning?” For the most part, he has learned all of this already. I did not ask her that.

So, we continue to feed him books that are more challenging, at home. He continues to whip through his Accelerated Reading and Lit Guild books, which he has to reread for the tests many times, because he already read the books, but doesn’t remember them at all, because he read them when he was four. But you have to finish the “first grade” level lists to move on to the higher lists. I told him, “this is just how school is sometimes. You just have to do some stuff that is busy work, and you have to finish it to get the grade. Part of life is doing things you don’t want to do, and learning to knock them out is a life skill.”

We continue to let him play computer games that do more difficult lessons in math and language. It can’t hurt, i think, but what if it is just creating a bigger gap between him and “the standard?” Not that I am going to stop enriching his life, but at what point does the school start challenging him more? He goes to school with a good night’s sleep, a full belly, ready to learn, and then he has eight hours of learning “standard curriculum.”

Are those eight hours just a waste? No, he is learning some valuable lessons where he is weaker, in his interpersonal relationships. But wouldn’t it be cool if he was really, truly, feeding his brain? Learning to fail at things? Then learning how to do them better a second time?

And that is why, when I read that bit about the Spelling Bee, i was immediately mad. They have the framework for a competition, based on a skill, where kids are allowed to excel, move on to the next level, test the waters, see how well they can do, push themselves to be the best they can be! To learn to be a humble and modest winner, or a gracious loser! Would it really have taken that much extra time or work to let four kids from each grade move on to the next level? The framework was already there!

I was mad, and I didn’t even know if my kid would win the spelling bee in his class. I knew he had a good chance at it, but that there were a number of other really advanced readers, and that a spelling bee can be a complete crap shoot. All it takes is one word you have never come across before to stump you and knock you out.

And part of me? Part of me thought that my kid losing a spelling bee would be a better lesson for him than winning one.

He didn’t lose. He won.

He won his class Spelling Bee. (Not his grade. They didn’t get to see who the best speller in the first grade would be.) And the next day, he and the winners from the other first, second, and third grade classes sat and watched the 4th and 5th graders compete in the school Spelling Bee. There are four first grade classes. Probably the same number for the other grades. So, there sit about twelve kids who excel at spelling. Who probably wondered if they could have gone on to win the whole thing. (Doubtful, but who knows?)

Twelve kids who were not even given a chance to try. Twelve kids sidelined. Why? I just don’t understand how the school could let this opportunity pass these kids by. (MY KID! – make no mistake about it – I am mad for MY kid most of all! That’s my job!)

And that sucks. And it is just a symptom of a much larger problem that we have in education. We are allowing standards and curriculum to drag these kids down, just as if we had tied a cement block around their necks and dumped them in a lake.

And it just plain sucks.

The real question is, what are we – what am I – going to do about it?

Oh. And it goes without saying that if you remember the words that you lost spelling bees on, you gots to post them in the comments. I love spelling bee stories!

Our Tooth Fairy is Retarded

Thursday, December 2nd, 2010

So, Rollie came home from school having lost another tooth. I think it’s his . . .fourth? They are becoming a blur. Interestingly, only one was pulled at home – the rest were at school. I guess maybe he gets bored in class and decides to wiggle it until it comes out.

toofs

Oh, and the Tooth Fairy? Well, ours is retarded. . .

Rollie woke up this morning, ran downstairs all excited that the Tooth Fairy had left him a dollar, and left his tooth, too! Upon being questioned in isolation, the Tooth Fairy confirmed that the tooth was indeed taken last night when the dollar was left. . . so. . . there must have been an older tooth still in the pillow, one that she missed on a previous visit.

So, the Tooth Fairy cost us a dollar. Good thing I coupon to make up for fiscal disasters of this nature.

The Blends Project

Tuesday, November 16th, 2010

Anybody else get this in their head while doing the Blends project?

For those of you who don’t have a first grader at my kid’s school, the Blends Project is 30% of their grade. Basically, the teacher gives you a list of 20 “blends” – blends are letter combinations, such as “br” and “ch.” The kids have to come up with four words for each blend (CH: Choir, Chorus, Chorizo, Chair). Then, the kids have to draw or cut out pictures representing each of the words. Each cutout must be of a size that it will fit into one fourth of one 20th of a large piece of poster board. Confused? Yeah, the kids are supposed to divide their poster board into 20 equal parts, and each of those parts will contain four pictures. The pictures are then labeled with the name of the word they represent.

Note that I say “the kids” are supposed to be doing all of this. As if kids in first grade can do all of this. Me? I am lucky, in that my kid learned all his blends two to three years ago, so he had no problem coming up with his own words. (Don’t even get me started on the fact that they are not differentiating this project at all for the kids who are strong readers and already know their blends.) Other parents are not so lucky – they have to help their kids figure out four words for each blend.

What ends up happening is that the parents then go to the computer and google clipart that corresponds to the word. Then they print it all out for the kid to cut out. Then the parent has to divide the squares on the poster board. (I mean, come on! How many first graders could figure that out?)

So, basically, if the kids don’t know their blends yet, then the parents end up doing half the work. Even for my kid, who knows his, I end up having to do the clip art portion (took me TWO HOURS last night to google, and cut and paste, and print, the 80 images.) The plus to this is that Rollie and I spent some quality time together. By quality time, I mean that he and i did the images, while Tiller cried under the computer desk, rolling around at my feet, wailing about how bored she was, and I didn’t finish my laundry.

A negative to this whole thing might be that my son did not learn a DAMN thing. Oh! Except for the following “enlightening” images that came up while searching for words he already knew how to spell.

Interesting things that come up on Google Images while searching for pictures of words for Blends project:

drug (people smoking pot, shooting heroin, laying passed out next to an open and spilled bottle of pills with a bottle of bourbon in hand, pot leaf, bong, bag of weed, cartoons with needles hanging out of people’s arms.)
brown (pile of poop, naked African American woman, James Brown mugshot)
Drown (pictures of drowning victims, scary illustrations of drowning people)
Drink (OH GOD, Alt+Tab!)
frenzy (wolves tearing apart some animal, creepy cartoons with people foaming at the mouth, zombie melee)
prank – (one KKK poster, a rear end mooning the camera)
glowstick (rave photos, symbols of hands holding glowsticks up in the air, Rollie: “What’s a rave?”)
spank (Are you kidding me? Me: Don’t you want to pick another word? That one is kind of negative. Rollie: Why? It’s just hitting on the bottom? Me: sigh. Ok. [praying as i hit google], Oh, no, that one is not good. Rollie: Mama, what is? Me: Don’t worry about that one, honey.)
spa (who knew there were so many asian “spa” pictures online?)
blonde? (I don’t even need to describe what came up for this one, right?)
Slip (lots of disturbing photos and cartoons about the band slipknot. R: Mama, what is a slipknot? Me: A kind of knot. R: For putting around your neck?)

Gee. Education is great.

Of Star Talkers and Cavemen

Monday, November 8th, 2010

Tiller Bundled Up On Swing
Tiller and I went to the lake on Friday, while Todd stayed home with Rollie for Sat. soccer. We got there late, so we went to Bojo’s for a late dinner. On the way home, driving back across the lake’s twin bridges, I heard her whispering,

“You stars are so small. You must be very, very far away.”

I love the little things that I hear her say when we remove big brother from the situation. He is so . . .older child (i can say that; I am one.) He talks over her, directs her, tells her what to do. She listens, apes, mimics, follows directions, does as she is told. Only when she is on her own, does her true and very own thought process become evident.

I am always amazed at her and the things she says and comes up with when I get a chance to listen to just her. Tiller sees the world in a very funny and colorful way. The filter that Tiller sees the world through is like no one else’s. It gives her a unique view on things. Take this exchange from Saturday morning . . . .

Tiller and I decided to hit up Waffle House, so that we didn’t have to do dishes and could get out and do our yardwork faster when we got back to the lakehouse. We walked into the Waffle House. It was full for a winter day at the lake. Full of hunters. In fact, the only people not dressed in camo or a Waffle House uniform were Tiller and I. I noticed that she pulled up for a second when we came in the door. I saw her take in the scene as we were walking to our table. When we got there, we took off our coats. I helped her with hers first, and then started to take mine off. As I did, arms trapped in my coatsleeves, I was alarmed as Tiller raised her finger to point at the two hunters closest to us, a man and woman.

As all parents know, it is never good when their kid raises a finger to point at a stranger in a restaurant. Not only is it, in the immortal words of Southern mamas everywhere, “not nice to point, dear,” but you never know what is going to come out of a kid’s mouth when they point something out. The only thing you can bank on is that there will be a lull in conversation and that it’s going to be said loud as hell.

It is usually something completely embarrassing, such as these gems i have experienced firsthand:

“Why doesn’t he have a leg?”
“Why are her eyes like that?”
“That person is really, really big, Mama.”
“That is the oldest person I have ever seen!”

Saturday morning, as I struggled to get my arms out of my coat, and at the same time hiss at Tiller, quietly enough where no one else in the room would hear, but firmly enough that she would know I meant business, “It’s not polite to point, baby,” she dropped her finger, and then gave me the dismayed look that she is famous for. She accompanies this look with two hands out to the side like the Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil statue. Her hands bounce up and down slightly as she says at full volume,

“What are those people? Cavemen??”

That’s my Tiller for ya. That’s my Tills.

Fantastic Friday

Friday, October 29th, 2010

Get 5-year-old dressed as Dorothy Gale.
Take pics of kid in driveway, trying to elicit smiles by making husband do flying monkey impersonation. Check
Get to school barely on time. Check.
Try to complete work for job that actually pays; Get only about 1/4 done. Stress about it rest of day. Check.
Deal with fallout for calling neighbor a jackass. Check.
Pick daughter up from school. Check.
Take daughter to lunch. Leave before being seated due to bad manners. (Hers, not mine.) Check.
Drive wailing daughter home and make peanut butter sandwiches for us. Check.
Fold clothes, put over load of laundry, let dog out. Check.
Load Tiller in car, along with stuff for errands. Check.
Drop candy off at pinata house. Check.
Drive to school, hang banner and other stuff for Fantastic Friday. Drop off baked goods. Check.
Get Rollie from class, take him to library to take Lit Guild tests. Check.
Drive home. Make snack. Eat own snack. Read email. Check.
Break up fight between kids. Check.
Put kids in car, call husband to meet us and get cut off before making plans, pull out of driveway. Realize kid left shoes at house. Drive back to house. Turn off car, go back in. Check.
Meet husband in garage coming back out. Snap at husband unnecessarily to get into car because we are late. Check.
Get husband to drop off close to school so won’t miss volunteering timeslot. Check.
Man duck pond AND Go Fish because other volunteer doesn’t show up. Check.
Explain to high school kids who help out and finally get to sit for a minute. Check.
Explain to next shift. Check.
Stand with daughter watching people come out of Haunted house looking scared, and laughing at them. Check.
Watch as son comes out, not looking scared. Worry about his mental state. Check.
Eat BBQ with family, watch children eat too much cotton candy, get blue faces and hands. Check.
Do cakewalk, but fail to win anything. Check.
Reluctantly take tickets from friend with twin babies so she can get her kids out faster. Check.
Find way to burn tickets fastest (Bingo). Check.
Play Bingo with whole family, actually have fun. Check.
Watch husband win Bingo and get restaurant gift certificate. Check.
Play another round with big gambler son, win another gift certificate (manicure). Check!
Decide with son that final tickets should be used for big cakewalk win, just like last year. Son wins cakewalk! Check.
Drive home, find secret gift at doorstep. Check.
Eat cupcakes won at cakewalk with family. Check.
Feel sick. Check.
Clean kitchen. Check.
Put kids to bed. Check.
Open beer. Check.
Watch Red Dawn with husband until time to drink with neighbors. Check.

I’m outtie. Night night.

Do I Seem Stupid to You?

Wednesday, September 29th, 2010

I’m not stupid. I know I am fairly intelligent, because as a young student, they give you tests in school, and I scored in the very highest percentiles on those tests. I was “gifted.” They put me in gifted classes, called TAG. I think I went for an hour a day, five days a week, from fourth grade through seventh grade. The rest of the time, I was in regular classes, with regular kids. We all learned the same stuff. Most of it came easily to me. Until we got to fifth grade math.

In fifth grade math, I spent a lot of time doing exercises, over and over, with no apparent reason for doing any of them. I wasn’t figuring anything out. I was just given a formula or an example of some sort, and then I was supposed to learn how to plug things in to make the “problem” and the answer look the way the teacher wanted it to look so that she could mark it correct. Except that there really was no problem; I wasn’t expected to figure out how to do anything. I was just expected to learn how to solve a problem that they were already telling me how to solve. So, i remember spending every spare moment I could find at school reading books.

I probably didn’t explain this very well. You are probably thinking, aren’t those math problems you were doing? What I’m saying probably doesn’t make much sense to you. It will if you read the article I read this morning, which explains it pretty damn well. I felt like i was reading an article written about me. I actually almost cried a couple of times while reading it.

The article was given to me by a friend. She and I both have kids in first grade. Kids who are, to be honest, kind of bored with the school curriculum in general. Take the following example. For homework, my son was supposed to use his weekly spelling words to create five sentences. Each sentence had to have a spelling word in it. (He has not received a spelling word yet that he couldn’t spell. He does not have to study his spelling words. He already knows all of them. They also get “robust vocabulary” words which are supposed to be difficult, and he has also been able to spell every one of those. He has not had a challenging spelling word yet, and he is receiving the “advanced” homework packet.)

Rollie can read the instructions for his homework on his own, meaning i don’t sit with him and do his homework with him, but rather tell him to do his homework, he does it, then I check it and discuss anything amiss. (Which is usually a problem of a) legibility or b) not reading the instructions closely and missing a step in them. I attribute both of these to rushing through the work, because he finds nothing particularly challenging to slow him down.)

So, on this particular day, he produces the following:
sentences

This was a crappy scan job, and I am too impatient to fix it, but it basically is as follows:

? ? ? ? Rollie
Who is she?
Is he nice?
Isn’t school supposed
to be fun?
Why do we have to do
homework?
Why is it not fun
at school?

Below that, it reads,

Look back here, mom. ————>
Outside on Scooter.

Do i think my kid doesn’t read instructions well? Well, i think he read it. I think he just thought it was fucking stupid, and so he did something different. I think he was trying to tell me that he thinks it’s stupid. I think he would rather be outside riding his scooter.

I also think he needs to work on his penmanship.

And then there’s the math. School started up in early August. It is almost October. They are still doing simple addition with single digits. One of his homework sheets is a page of five columns of addition exercises. Each column has 25 very simple addition problems. It is supposed to be completed as a drill. Meaning that the kid is supposed to do the column as fast as he can, see how many he gets correct and how quickly. (There is a total for x/25 at the bottom, and for the minutes and seconds it takes to complete.) They do it five times, once for each column. I time him, he rushes through, he misses none of them, he tries to beat his time.

What is he learning? As far as I can tell, not a damn thing.

He learns nothing new. No creative juices flow. He doesn’t have to struggle for anything. No light bulb goes off in his head when he figures something out.

Do you like Math? I never did. I hated Math. Turns out maybe no one ever taught me anything about Mathematics. Turns out I just learned some sad shell of math, and that all along, I detected the senselessness in it all, and I checked out. That “smart kid” (according to their tests) that I was should have been able to do this stuff easily. But I didn’t do it, because I had no motivation to do it.

I ended up in remedial Math in 9th grade. Remedial Math. And I truly believe that it was because I was bored, uninspired, and totally saw through the curriculum to the pointlessness of learning that way. There was no learning going on.

Do I seem stupid to you? I’m not stupid. But I was failed, in a way, by the very same state that I am entrusting to educate my kids.

I don’t want my kids to check out. I want them to get excited about learning. Is that too much to ask? I hope not. Because I am going to fucking ask it, and I am going to ask it a lot.

Here is a page with an introduction to the article, A Mathematician’s Lament, and a little information about the author of the article, a Mathematician and teacher, named Paul Lockhart. It is long (a 25 page PDF), and I think that if you have a kid and you don’t take the hour to read it, you are doing your kid a serious disservice, if only in refusing to take a fresh look at the way we teach math in our country. Please read it. Please.

I included a few quotations from the article below. . .

Sadly . . . if I had to design a mechanism for the express purpose of destroying a child’s natural curiosity and love of pattern-making, I couldn’t possibly do as good a job as is currently being done— I simply wouldn’t have the imagination to come up with the kind of senseless, soul-crushing ideas that constitute contemporary mathematics education. Everyone knows that something is wrong. The politicians say, “we need higher standards.” The schools say, “we need more money and equipment.” Educators say one thing, and teachers say another. They are all wrong. The only people who understand what is going on are the ones most often blamed and least often heard: the students. They say, “math class is stupid and boring,” and they are right.

And when I read that, I thought of the boredom and frustration that ten-year-old Anne felt sitting at a desk in elementary school. And I got weepy.

And this, echoing the senselessness of what i was learning. I remember thinking, but why am i doing with this?

By concentrating on what, and leaving out why, mathematics is reduced to an empty shell. The art is not in the “truth” but in the explanation, the argument. It is the argument itself which gives the truth its context, and determines what is really being said and meant. Mathematics is the art of explanation. If you deny students the opportunity to engage in this activity— to pose their own problems, make their own conjectures and discoveries, to be wrong, to be creatively frustrated, to have an inspiration, and to cobble together their own explanations and proofs— you deny them mathematics itself.

And these interesting dialogues are interspersed through the article. They are too lengthy to put them all here.

SIMPLICIO: Are you really trying to claim that mathematics offers no useful or
practical applications to society?

SALVIATI: Of course not. I’m merely suggesting that just because something
happens to have practical consequences, doesn’t mean that’s what it is
about. Music can lead armies into battle, but that’s not why people
write symphonies. Michelangelo decorated a ceiling, but I’m sure he
had loftier things on his mind.

SIMPLICIO: But don’t we need people to learn those useful consequences of math?
Don’t we need accountants and carpenters and such?

SALVIATI: How many people actually use any of this “practical math” they
supposedly learn in school? Do you think carpenters are out there
using trigonometry? How many adults remember how to divide
fractions, or solve a quadratic equation? Obviously the current
practical training program isn’t working, and for good reason: it is
excruciatingly boring, and nobody ever uses it anyway. So why do
people think it’s so important? I don’t see how it’s doing society any
good to have its members walking around with vague memories of
algebraic formulas and geometric diagrams, and clear memories of
hating them. It might do some good, though, to show them
something beautiful and give them an opportunity to enjoy being
creative, flexible, open-minded thinkers— the kind of thing a real
mathematical education might provide.

SIMPLICIO: But people need to be able to balance their checkbooks, don’t they?

SALVIATI: I’m sure most people use a calculator for everyday arithmetic. And
why not? It’s certainly easier and more reliable. But my point is not
just that the current system is so terribly bad, it’s that what it’s missing
is so wonderfully good! Mathematics should be taught as art for art’s
sake. These mundane “useful” aspects would follow naturally as a
trivial by-product. Beethoven could easily write an advertising jingle,
but his motivation for learning music was to create something
beautiful.

SIMPLICIO: But not everyone is cut out to be an artist. What about the kids who
aren’t “math people?” How would they fit into your scheme?

SALVIATI: If everyone were exposed to mathematics in its natural state, with all
the challenging fun and surprises that that entails, I think we would
see a dramatic change both in the attitude of students toward
mathematics, and in our conception of what it means to be “good at
math.” We are losing so many potentially gifted mathematicians—
creative, intelligent people who rightly reject what appears to be a
meaningless and sterile subject. They are simply too smart to waste
their time on such piffle.

SIMPLICIO: But don’t you think that if math class were made more like art class
that a lot of kids just wouldn’t learn anything?

SALVIATI: They’re not learning anything now! Better to not have math classes at
all than to do what is currently being done. At least some people
might have a chance to discover something beautiful on their own.

SIMPLICIO: So you would remove mathematics from the school curriculum?
SALVIATI: The mathematics has already been removed! The only question is
what to do with the vapid, hollow shell that remains. Of course I
would prefer to replace it with an active and joyful engagement with
mathematical ideas.

SIMPLICIO: But how many math teachers know enough about their subject to
teach it that way?

SALVIATI: Very few. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg…

And I am struck by the memory of a discussion with my child’s teacher, wherein she admitted feeling “overwhelmed” by the curriculum. Where, in the past, she could rely on her teacher’s workbook to tell her how to challenge the more advanced students, now, she was completely overwhelmed by the technology, and the websites, and she couldn’t find time to learn how to use them to differentiate instruction for the more advanced kids. And I thought, what if the person who was teaching my child had a love of math, and just started, i don’t know, getting my kid excited with thoughts that challenged him, rather than looking for the next level in the math ladder that the website tells her my son should be doing?

It is far easier to be a passive conduit of some publisher’s “materials” and to follow the shampoo-bottle instruction “lecture, test, repeat” than to think deeply and thoughtfully about the meaning of one’s subject and how best to convey that meaning directly and honestly to one’s students. We are encouraged to forego the difficult task of making decisions based on our individual wisdom and conscience, and to “get with the program.” It is simply the path of least resistance:

TEXTBOOK PUBLISHERS : TEACHERS ::

A) pharmaceutical companies : doctors
B) record companies : disk jockeys
C) corporations : congressmen
D) all of the above

I don’t want to pick D. But i pick D. I cannot deny that it is all of the above.

If teaching is reduced to mere data transmission, if there is no sharing of excitement and wonder, if teachers themselves are passive recipients of information and not creators of new ideas, what hope is there for their students? If adding fractions is to the teacher an arbitrary set of rules, and not the outcome of a creative process and the result of aesthetic choices and desires, then of course it will feel that way to the poor students.

I also must admit that there is more than one issue here: Commingled with this fear of faulty math curriculum is also the fact that I fear my special needs child (and very intelligent children do have special needs, too) is being or will be failed by the system, simply because he is too far on one end of the spectrum.

One last thing. I am not criticizing teachers here. I know they work hard. I know they are overworked and that they have limitations in what they can do based on the curriculum, testing, standards-based crap, student/teacher ratios, and class sizes. I know this.

But it does not change that I fear for my child’s education, and ultimately for his imagination and love of learning.

Did you love Math in school? Hate it? Feel failed by the math curriculum in your school system? Were you in a gifted program? What was your experience? Are you a teacher, with a different take on this? Are you a parent struggling with these issues? And if you read the article, I would love to know your thoughts on it. I am really curious.

First Day of the Last Year

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

That Tiller will be at her preschool. I can’t believe that she has been at St. Bede’s for three years now. She will go every day of the week, which is good for me, because The Shadow was really starting to drive me a little nuts. She followed me everywhere.

But then again, we were together all the time. It will take some time getting used to not having her here every morning. And I will still have her here three days a week for lunch. The other two, she will do Lunch Bunch at school, until one. Which means I get two lunches by myself every week. Not bad.

First Day of Preschool, 2010