*whine*
OK. Got that out of my system. We worked more on the nursery today. I painted the ceiling. Then, because the kids hadn't figured out yet that I was doing something productive, I was able to go ahead and work on the edge of the ceiling in the living/kitchen/dining space. Yes, I know. We painted that months ago. Actually, I got one coat on, and then Zorak realized he ceiling needs some work. So he asked me to hold off on the second coat until he could get to that... well, it's not caving in on us, so it hasn't migrated to the top of the Priority List yet. And... months later, there you have it. A manic woman with a plastic tub of paint in one hand, a paint brush clutched between her teeth, hauling a step stool around the room with a toddler in hot pursuit. The ugly side of home repair. I got all but the spot above the TV. Didn't have the courage to attempt the lateral air maneuvers required for that one.
Then... I just wandered around for a bit. Felt like I should be doing something, but wasn't sure what. (This happens far more often than I'd like to admit.) Zorak build the jamb for the closet door, got it all squared and shimmed and solid (the studs have an amazing twist to them!) He got the door hung. He unplugged the buzzer on the washing machine. (Remember, when the Sears guy came out, he only unplugged the dryer buzzer, but I didn't know that til I put EmBaby down for a nap and threw in a load of wash. Short nap, that day.)
We took a break to watch Over the Hedge with the kidlets, who needed some 'nuggling. Enjoyed a delicious supper. Fretted over the temperatures and the heater. Zorak fiddled with his latest creation, a gift for Ward. I stained a coat rack for the nursery. We got all the children cleaned and loved on and put to bed. I straightened the kitchen, then cleaned the stove (unless you have the housekeeping skills of a German housemaid, do NOT buy an unsealed burner stove - just a tip from Auntie Dy)... and, and... gosh, I feel like we simply did not stop today, other than the movie break with the kids. Even that involved a lot of up-down-wrestle-move-up-down-chase-the-dog-off-the-futon (when did he get in??) Not much quiet time today. At all.
And we didn't call Gram. :-( We need to call her in the morning.
But now, I've got to go over lesson plans for the week. And sweep the floor. And try to figure out where the day went... hmpf.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, February 5
Saturday, February 3
The Remodel, Day 506
Sheesh, talk about a drawn out process! (I still wonder what on earth made me start out doing days, oh, so long ago, but it's fun, in a self-deprecating way, to figure up the days every once in a while.)
Pulled the ceiling fan in the nursery today. Ew. Zorak took the boys to get supplies and I put EmBaby down, then went to work. Got the windows scraped of paint smears, cleaned out one of the closets and prepped it for putting in a closet door. I think just getting doors in there will make such a difference. Right now, it looks like two gaping holes where an explosion in a children's clothing factory took place.
EmBaby was still asleep, so I put chicken leftovers into a pot for soup and started in with the paint. Sixty hours later... (ok, ok, one hour, but it felt like sixty), I found all the stuff and got started. Cleaned the ceiling, then cut in the ceiling paint around the walls and over where the ceiling fan will go. By then, Baby Girl was up and ready to try that whole toddler headfirst into a 5-gal bucket thing. Somehow, I didn't think we were quite ready for that, so I packed up the paint supplies and poured a bit of paint into a Glad Ware tub to work with. She was compliant enough that I could put the second coat on the school room windows, but decided I was taking advantage of her patience when I moved on to the apron.
Ah, well.
Zorak called from one of his stops to tell me he didn't want to do this anymore. (His exact words were, "If I could have left an hour ago, I would have. They're coming unwound. ALL of them!") I suggested food. He called back an hour later, from Chic-Fil-A, to let me know they're all doing much better ("The boys and the Daddy"), and, if I wasn't stalled and waiting for them to return, he had a few more things to do before coming home.
So now, it's almost seven, and I'm going to go watch The Lawrence Welk Show with Baby Girl. Down below freezing again tonight, and I am ever so thankful for our heater. And our floors. It's all been worth it so far.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Pulled the ceiling fan in the nursery today. Ew. Zorak took the boys to get supplies and I put EmBaby down, then went to work. Got the windows scraped of paint smears, cleaned out one of the closets and prepped it for putting in a closet door. I think just getting doors in there will make such a difference. Right now, it looks like two gaping holes where an explosion in a children's clothing factory took place.
EmBaby was still asleep, so I put chicken leftovers into a pot for soup and started in with the paint. Sixty hours later... (ok, ok, one hour, but it felt like sixty), I found all the stuff and got started. Cleaned the ceiling, then cut in the ceiling paint around the walls and over where the ceiling fan will go. By then, Baby Girl was up and ready to try that whole toddler headfirst into a 5-gal bucket thing. Somehow, I didn't think we were quite ready for that, so I packed up the paint supplies and poured a bit of paint into a Glad Ware tub to work with. She was compliant enough that I could put the second coat on the school room windows, but decided I was taking advantage of her patience when I moved on to the apron.
Ah, well.
Zorak called from one of his stops to tell me he didn't want to do this anymore. (His exact words were, "If I could have left an hour ago, I would have. They're coming unwound. ALL of them!") I suggested food. He called back an hour later, from Chic-Fil-A, to let me know they're all doing much better ("The boys and the Daddy"), and, if I wasn't stalled and waiting for them to return, he had a few more things to do before coming home.
So now, it's almost seven, and I'm going to go watch The Lawrence Welk Show with Baby Girl. Down below freezing again tonight, and I am ever so thankful for our heater. And our floors. It's all been worth it so far.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I needed that.
You know how sometimes you don't mind a gritty ending to a book or a novel? Some stories simply must end that way. (OK, I still rail against the way King's Tower series ended, but like he said, he warned us not to read that last bit. Serves me right, but I won't ever learn. This much, I know.)
However, sometimes you watch a movie and you just need a Very Good Ending?
We watched one like that tonight. It was awesome. Even if it had ended badly for the characters, it was still a great flick. But I really didn't *want* it to end badly for them. I liked them. I reacted somewhat rabidly to the villian. I cheered for the redemption factor (always cheer for the redemption factor - I couldn't have been the only one to come literally out of my seat when Alfred returned to the family in Legends of the Fall, right?). So yes, I, the semi-invested viewer (one without a backup comedy, to boot!) desperately needed the movie to end just the way it did.
Indeed.
I do so appreciate that every once in a while.
However, sometimes you watch a movie and you just need a Very Good Ending?
We watched one like that tonight. It was awesome. Even if it had ended badly for the characters, it was still a great flick. But I really didn't *want* it to end badly for them. I liked them. I reacted somewhat rabidly to the villian. I cheered for the redemption factor (always cheer for the redemption factor - I couldn't have been the only one to come literally out of my seat when Alfred returned to the family in Legends of the Fall, right?). So yes, I, the semi-invested viewer (one without a backup comedy, to boot!) desperately needed the movie to end just the way it did.
Indeed.
I do so appreciate that every once in a while.
Friday, February 2
Soup
I'm trying to keep our budget for groceries down to a reasonable level, but even with the discovery of the Far East Asian Market on Memorial Parkway, it's still pretty pricy. The trouble with a wheat-free menu is that many of the traditionally low-cost meals, such as pasta, breads, casseroles, all contain wheat. WF alternatives are available, and we've actually mastered the use of many of them, but they can be budget busters. Which brings us to soups.
Well, we've gone a little nutty on the soups lately. Soup is so filling, so comforting on a chilly fall or winter evening. Yup, we love soup. What we really love is soup that's thick and chunky and filled with huge chunks of meat and thick, solid vegetables. However, the bigger and more plentiful the chunks, the bigger and more painful the overall price of the meal. Huh. We've been playing around with homemade versions of ramen and chicken noodle soup, though, with delightful success. (And approximately 1/60th the sodium content!) Mostly, it's Zorak. I need a base food to start with, and build from there. I'll stare at an empty pot for hours and still draw a blank. Zorak works a little differently. He wanders into the kitchen, grabs the seasoning he wants to use and creates a dish around it. (It's really a rather attractive feature. One of the things I love about him.)
Anyway, I gave into it last night and gave it a shot, as well. It turned out okay. We'll call it... mmm... soup. (Can't think of a catchy name, sorry.) I've heard that some of the rice sticks have wheat flour sprinkled on them. I've contacted two companies, with less-than-wonderful results in trying ascertain whether it's true. From what I can gather, no. Still, be careful if you are very sensitive, or have celiac. We haven't had a reaction from John using them. So, we've been using them, and plan to continue to do so, but if you're highly sensitive, you may want to double check before hand.
Start with rice sticks. There are a bazillion kinds. We like the Zhongshan Laifen rice stick for soups. It's a thick and round noodle that holds up well to simmering. (From what I can gather "Laifen" is either an Asian rice vermicelli, or an undergarment factory. "Zhongshan" is a district, a town, an historical figure, and... I have no idea why it's on the package label. We don't claim to be experts, here, we just work with what we've got.) No clue what "Bun Gao Kho" (with an accent mark over the U, and a caret over the last O) means... Anyone? Anyone? However, the pho or pad thai noodles will also work well. The round ones are simply a little meatier, I think.
Ok, so moving on, prepare the rice sticks - boil water, add noodles, bring back to a boil. Cover, remove from heat, and let sit ten minutes. (Package says 15, but if you only do ten, they'll hold up better in the end.)
Meanwhile, clear out your veggie stash: carrots, celery, whatever. Even leafy things would work - cabbage would be delicious. Slice everything very thinly. This will serve several purposes: reduce cooking time (thus, fuel use and also, nutrient retention), and make it pretty (because we shouldn't ditch aesthetics if we don't have to). Set it all aside in whatever you use to set things aside (I just push 'em over to the edge of the cutting board.)
One onion - dice it up nice and small, set aside. (Again with the shoving.)
Meat. I used one pork rib last night. Could've used two, but we weren't awfully hungry. Plus, it's mostly for flavor, I think. Of course, I'm still mentally comparing it to a nice, thick beef stew, which, this isn't. So. Yeah. Slice the meat very thinly - think thin, like, um, philly cheesesteak sandwiches. Then cut the thin slices crosswise, into small, thin... mmm, "bits". Bits of meat is what you should have. Season and brown in a hot cast iron skillet. Add the onions and brown to caramelize a bit.
OK, your rice should be done now. Rinse the everlovin' snot out of it. This is the starchiest stuff you've ever seen. You could, theoretically, reserve the water to make wallpaper glue, but I don't. Or, if you're hideously frugal, you could save it for making something that would normally require potato water. I guess. Anyway, rinse, rinse, rinse. Throw it back into a pot with hot water, a little bullion (or seasoning of your choice), add the hot meat and onions, the thin and uniformly cut veggies (I just like saying that - I've never actually pulled off uniform cuts in my life. If yours are not uniform, just throw 'em in anyway and don't sweat it. If there are any gargantuan chunks that look obviously wrong, pull them out and trim them up a bit. You're good to go.)
Cover the whole thing and let it simmer stil it smells good. You could eat it right away, but try to give it at least five minutes while you clean the kitchen. That whole mingled flavors thing, you know. And it's nice to have a clean kitchen while you eat your warm soup.
Well, we've gone a little nutty on the soups lately. Soup is so filling, so comforting on a chilly fall or winter evening. Yup, we love soup. What we really love is soup that's thick and chunky and filled with huge chunks of meat and thick, solid vegetables. However, the bigger and more plentiful the chunks, the bigger and more painful the overall price of the meal. Huh. We've been playing around with homemade versions of ramen and chicken noodle soup, though, with delightful success. (And approximately 1/60th the sodium content!) Mostly, it's Zorak. I need a base food to start with, and build from there. I'll stare at an empty pot for hours and still draw a blank. Zorak works a little differently. He wanders into the kitchen, grabs the seasoning he wants to use and creates a dish around it. (It's really a rather attractive feature. One of the things I love about him.)
Anyway, I gave into it last night and gave it a shot, as well. It turned out okay. We'll call it... mmm... soup. (Can't think of a catchy name, sorry.) I've heard that some of the rice sticks have wheat flour sprinkled on them. I've contacted two companies, with less-than-wonderful results in trying ascertain whether it's true. From what I can gather, no. Still, be careful if you are very sensitive, or have celiac. We haven't had a reaction from John using them. So, we've been using them, and plan to continue to do so, but if you're highly sensitive, you may want to double check before hand.
Start with rice sticks. There are a bazillion kinds. We like the Zhongshan Laifen rice stick for soups. It's a thick and round noodle that holds up well to simmering. (From what I can gather "Laifen" is either an Asian rice vermicelli, or an undergarment factory. "Zhongshan" is a district, a town, an historical figure, and... I have no idea why it's on the package label. We don't claim to be experts, here, we just work with what we've got.) No clue what "Bun Gao Kho" (with an accent mark over the U, and a caret over the last O) means... Anyone? Anyone? However, the pho or pad thai noodles will also work well. The round ones are simply a little meatier, I think.
Ok, so moving on, prepare the rice sticks - boil water, add noodles, bring back to a boil. Cover, remove from heat, and let sit ten minutes. (Package says 15, but if you only do ten, they'll hold up better in the end.)
Meanwhile, clear out your veggie stash: carrots, celery, whatever. Even leafy things would work - cabbage would be delicious. Slice everything very thinly. This will serve several purposes: reduce cooking time (thus, fuel use and also, nutrient retention), and make it pretty (because we shouldn't ditch aesthetics if we don't have to). Set it all aside in whatever you use to set things aside (I just push 'em over to the edge of the cutting board.)
One onion - dice it up nice and small, set aside. (Again with the shoving.)
Meat. I used one pork rib last night. Could've used two, but we weren't awfully hungry. Plus, it's mostly for flavor, I think. Of course, I'm still mentally comparing it to a nice, thick beef stew, which, this isn't. So. Yeah. Slice the meat very thinly - think thin, like, um, philly cheesesteak sandwiches. Then cut the thin slices crosswise, into small, thin... mmm, "bits". Bits of meat is what you should have. Season and brown in a hot cast iron skillet. Add the onions and brown to caramelize a bit.
OK, your rice should be done now. Rinse the everlovin' snot out of it. This is the starchiest stuff you've ever seen. You could, theoretically, reserve the water to make wallpaper glue, but I don't. Or, if you're hideously frugal, you could save it for making something that would normally require potato water. I guess. Anyway, rinse, rinse, rinse. Throw it back into a pot with hot water, a little bullion (or seasoning of your choice), add the hot meat and onions, the thin and uniformly cut veggies (I just like saying that - I've never actually pulled off uniform cuts in my life. If yours are not uniform, just throw 'em in anyway and don't sweat it. If there are any gargantuan chunks that look obviously wrong, pull them out and trim them up a bit. You're good to go.)
Cover the whole thing and let it simmer stil it smells good. You could eat it right away, but try to give it at least five minutes while you clean the kitchen. That whole mingled flavors thing, you know. And it's nice to have a clean kitchen while you eat your warm soup.
Thursday, February 1
Kids & Weather
Every time we have a nice day, I usher the children outside. Then we spend the next two hours or more playing King of the Hill in the doorway. You'd think I'd sent them to their death on Mars. But today? Today is one of the coldest days we've had so far. And the kids are playing outside, soaked to the skin, covered in mud, happy... happy... weird kids.
We awoke to "snow", or what passes for it in Alabama, anyway. Quarter inch of fairly small ice balls scattered about the property.
You'd think the boys awoke in the North Pole. Did I mention they're muddy? It's been drizzling a slushy, sleety rainy substance since about seven this morning. I'm cold just watching them out the window. But bless their little hearts, they just don't know any better.
There's a slush man on top of the Suburban.
Balto seems to have decided it's time to panic and eat the children. (I listened in, he was laughing. It just looks a bit heinous, though, doesn't it?)
And, while I was snapping pictures of the boy-eating dog, I realized, yes, that's Smidge without his coat! He has gloves, but where'd the coat go? Argh.
I tell ya, the next time they come to me, whining over being out in the cold, cold 60' weather, I'm going to pull up these pictures and tell them,
I tell ya, the next time they come to me, whining over being out in the cold, cold 60' weather, I'm going to pull up these pictures and tell them,
"I WIN! I'm king of the hill! Out!"
I'm glad to see that EmBaby at least has inherited some sense... she's the most comfortable one in the house!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, January 31
Cinderella, Brother-Style
Gosh, what a few days it's been. We've been busy. Some of it good-busy. Some of it, not so much. But in general, not bad. The kids have been a riot.
The boys decided to put on a puppet show for BabyGirl the other day. They wanted to do Cinderella, but thought we'd have to make puppets for it first. "Nah," I said (trying to convey more "creative, fun mom" than "really lazy, don't wanna do it mom," which was closer to the truth).
Look, we've got a lion. That could be the wicked stepmother. And an elephant, which sister could the elephant be?
Pretty soon, we had the full ensemble:
MonkeyPrince
Pigerella
Wicked Steplioness
Step-donkey
Step-elephant
Fairy Frog Who Makes Milk Shakes (Smidge's theatrical interpretation of the role)
Two sea serpents served for glass slippers.
Most of the action was ad-libbed, and I had to bow out about half way through the production because the boys had me in stitches too badly to perform my part as narrator.
I wish I'd filmed it. I really do need to find the camcorder, because these are the things that simply do not transfer well to words. I'd like to watch it again, too, as I'm sure I missed a good part of the action in the background. The frog stayed pretty busy. And one day, I think it will be sweet for Miss Emily to hear stories of how utterly devoted to her happiness her brothers have always been. But you know, a little visual aid wouldn't hurt.
Yep, gotta find that thing.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The boys decided to put on a puppet show for BabyGirl the other day. They wanted to do Cinderella, but thought we'd have to make puppets for it first. "Nah," I said (trying to convey more "creative, fun mom" than "really lazy, don't wanna do it mom," which was closer to the truth).
Look, we've got a lion. That could be the wicked stepmother. And an elephant, which sister could the elephant be?
Pretty soon, we had the full ensemble:
MonkeyPrince
Pigerella
Wicked Steplioness
Step-donkey
Step-elephant
Fairy Frog Who Makes Milk Shakes (Smidge's theatrical interpretation of the role)
Two sea serpents served for glass slippers.
Most of the action was ad-libbed, and I had to bow out about half way through the production because the boys had me in stitches too badly to perform my part as narrator.
I wish I'd filmed it. I really do need to find the camcorder, because these are the things that simply do not transfer well to words. I'd like to watch it again, too, as I'm sure I missed a good part of the action in the background. The frog stayed pretty busy. And one day, I think it will be sweet for Miss Emily to hear stories of how utterly devoted to her happiness her brothers have always been. But you know, a little visual aid wouldn't hurt.
Yep, gotta find that thing.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Books
Yesterday, as a treat for surviving my LAST trip to (this) dentist, I stopped at the local bookstore to browse a bit. I've only been there three times, and every time, it's after a trip to the dentist. I'm pretty sure the owner is beginning to suspect I'm a stroke victim in utter denial, as it's always the left side of my face that doesn't work when I go in.
I picked up The Chamber of Secrets for James, and a Nate the Great book for John. Grabbed a couple of biographies. Passed on a few books that looked interesting, but upon further inspection seemed a little graphic for our guys. Chose The Indian in the Cupboard for our next read aloud.
Someone had recommend the Dragonriders of Pern series for James, so I did grab the first in that series (Lessa of Pern). Read it last night. Um... Not a good recommendation for an eight-year old. Perhaps I'm more conservative on the sex issues than I thought, but I don't think I'd recommend the Pern books for anybody under the age of, say 13. The writing is easy to follow. The vocabulary isn't terribly difficult. The plot seems to be your typical action-adventure-fantasy plot, along the lines of Terry Brooks (who is the only author I can remember off the top of my head). It would be great stuff, if it weren't for little bits here and there that leave images a bit too graphic for such an age, at least for my children. (It's not the mating, or the multiple women in a Hold, or even that the Weyrwoman sleeps with the rider of whichever dragon her queen dragon has mated with this time. Those, we could handle comfortably. Some, we already have.)
At first, I thought I wouldn't be able to keep up with pre-reading books for James. The child is voracious in his reading. However, it seems that, at least for a while, I'll have to. Not such a bad arrangement, really, as I get to enjoy a wider variety of books than I would probably choose for myself. I'd kind of like to see if they've got the next book in the series. ;-)
Another great option this bookstore offers is that they'll order new books. WOOHOO! I hate going to the big chain stores, as they never have what I need, and then I get distracted by the eye-candy and walk out w/o the things I needed. So, this will be handy. I can take my order list down, pay with a check, and then browse with a few bucks cash while they process my order. Doesn't that sound heavenly?
Haven't taken the boys in yet, as it doesn't seem too child-friendly (the signs are EVERYWHERE!) but as much as the boys love a good bookstore, we'll all be making a trek down soon. I think they'll do fine once the owners have a chance to observe them in action a few times. It's definitely no Bay Books, but I think we may have found our local vendor!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I picked up The Chamber of Secrets for James, and a Nate the Great book for John. Grabbed a couple of biographies. Passed on a few books that looked interesting, but upon further inspection seemed a little graphic for our guys. Chose The Indian in the Cupboard for our next read aloud.
Someone had recommend the Dragonriders of Pern series for James, so I did grab the first in that series (Lessa of Pern). Read it last night. Um... Not a good recommendation for an eight-year old. Perhaps I'm more conservative on the sex issues than I thought, but I don't think I'd recommend the Pern books for anybody under the age of, say 13. The writing is easy to follow. The vocabulary isn't terribly difficult. The plot seems to be your typical action-adventure-fantasy plot, along the lines of Terry Brooks (who is the only author I can remember off the top of my head). It would be great stuff, if it weren't for little bits here and there that leave images a bit too graphic for such an age, at least for my children. (It's not the mating, or the multiple women in a Hold, or even that the Weyrwoman sleeps with the rider of whichever dragon her queen dragon has mated with this time. Those, we could handle comfortably. Some, we already have.)
At first, I thought I wouldn't be able to keep up with pre-reading books for James. The child is voracious in his reading. However, it seems that, at least for a while, I'll have to. Not such a bad arrangement, really, as I get to enjoy a wider variety of books than I would probably choose for myself. I'd kind of like to see if they've got the next book in the series. ;-)
Another great option this bookstore offers is that they'll order new books. WOOHOO! I hate going to the big chain stores, as they never have what I need, and then I get distracted by the eye-candy and walk out w/o the things I needed. So, this will be handy. I can take my order list down, pay with a check, and then browse with a few bucks cash while they process my order. Doesn't that sound heavenly?
Haven't taken the boys in yet, as it doesn't seem too child-friendly (the signs are EVERYWHERE!) but as much as the boys love a good bookstore, we'll all be making a trek down soon. I think they'll do fine once the owners have a chance to observe them in action a few times. It's definitely no Bay Books, but I think we may have found our local vendor!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, January 29
Homeschool Meme
Well, I never did this one. But I've enjoyed reading the tips and mini-reviews other homeschoolers have shared. And since I'm really stalling on doing any actual work to the blog itself, here you go!
ONE HOMESCHOOL BOOK YOU HAVE ENJOYED:
Hmmm. Really, I think The Well-Trained Mind is my favorite. It's the one I can go back to when I need to re-calibrate. It's the one that first made Zorak and I look at one another and whisper, "THIS is what we were looking for!" Of course, that little eureka moment was followed by, "... and if we don't get to go to Idaho, this means we're going to have to do this ourselves!" (We'd found the book as required reading for parents at a Classical school in Idaho.) Obviously, we're not in Idaho, and we're doing it ourselves, and boy-howdy, am I glad I've still got my much-loved copy.
ONE RESOURCE YOU WOULDN'T BE WITHOUT:
Going to have to echo Amy on this one: "Well, duh, the internet."
But offline resources? I'd have to say the library is our favorite. It ought to be, for as much money as we, erm, donate.
ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BOUGHT:
You know, I'm almost afraid to answer this one. So far, nothing. But then, fortunately, we were lucky with what we started off using. Since then, we've been very fortunate with our picks. So far, no stinkers!
ONE RESOURCE YOU ENJOYED LAST YEAR:
Museum memberships. I wish we could afford to maintain memberships to all of them locally - the Gardens, the Space and Rocket Center, Early Works, Burritt, Sci-Quest, Huntsville Museum of Art. We're really in a fantastic spot for excellent places that are just full of resources, and the boys are so easy to do these things with (huge bonus, there!) My mid-range goal is to maintain memberships to at least two each year, rotating out as we go. Someday, I'd like to maintain them all, year-round!
ONE RESOURCE YOU'LL BE USING NEXT YEAR:
Oops. I was going to say "everything in my sidebar", but I haven't replenished that portion of it yet.
Math-U-See, for both boys
Story of the World Vol II (yes, FINALLY!) and the Activity Guide for History,
Latin for Children, Primer B,
Writing Road to Reading, for spelling, phonics, general language arts
I think we'll start a more aggressive nature study of the Wildlife Refuge and make better use of the microscope for science. Would love to have us all keeping nature journals eventually.
And, with that goal in mind, I hope to start Drawing With Children. (not an affiliate link) We've had the book for a while, but things have just recently slowed down to the point that Zorak has agreed to take the two small ones for me once or twice a week, so we can maintain some semblance of quiet for the lessons.
I'm sorry, did you say "one"? I like to think of it as "one plan", or, say "one overall approach"... (not buyin' it, huh?)
ONE RESOURCE YOU'D LIKE TO BUY:
ONE? Just... one? Would somebody kindly round up all the recommended books in SOTW Vol. II for me, please? Can we call that One?
ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH EXISTED:
That book collection I mentioned above? Yeah. That'd be it.
ONE HOMESCHOOL CATALOG YOU ENJOY READING:
Oh, that's a hard one. I intentionally didn't tell Rainbow Resources our new address this year, just because I knew I wouldn't be buying anything, and I waste SO many hours thumbing through all the materials. That catalog is to me like a margarita to an alcoholic. And then, as I've mentioned here, American Science & Surplus. Now that one is fun - fun to read, and fun to buy from!
ONE WEBSITE YOU USE REGULARLY:
Old-Fashioned Education is one I go back to regularly, in large part because I'm too lazy to download and save all the great ideas, but also because she includes links to the gutenberg and mainlesson books.
TAG OTHER HOMESCHOOLERS:
Who hasn't done this yet? If you want to, you're it!
ONE HOMESCHOOL BOOK YOU HAVE ENJOYED:
Hmmm. Really, I think The Well-Trained Mind is my favorite. It's the one I can go back to when I need to re-calibrate. It's the one that first made Zorak and I look at one another and whisper, "THIS is what we were looking for!" Of course, that little eureka moment was followed by, "... and if we don't get to go to Idaho, this means we're going to have to do this ourselves!" (We'd found the book as required reading for parents at a Classical school in Idaho.) Obviously, we're not in Idaho, and we're doing it ourselves, and boy-howdy, am I glad I've still got my much-loved copy.
ONE RESOURCE YOU WOULDN'T BE WITHOUT:
Going to have to echo Amy on this one: "Well, duh, the internet."
But offline resources? I'd have to say the library is our favorite. It ought to be, for as much money as we, erm, donate.
ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BOUGHT:
You know, I'm almost afraid to answer this one. So far, nothing. But then, fortunately, we were lucky with what we started off using. Since then, we've been very fortunate with our picks. So far, no stinkers!
ONE RESOURCE YOU ENJOYED LAST YEAR:
Museum memberships. I wish we could afford to maintain memberships to all of them locally - the Gardens, the Space and Rocket Center, Early Works, Burritt, Sci-Quest, Huntsville Museum of Art. We're really in a fantastic spot for excellent places that are just full of resources, and the boys are so easy to do these things with (huge bonus, there!) My mid-range goal is to maintain memberships to at least two each year, rotating out as we go. Someday, I'd like to maintain them all, year-round!
ONE RESOURCE YOU'LL BE USING NEXT YEAR:
Oops. I was going to say "everything in my sidebar", but I haven't replenished that portion of it yet.
Math-U-See, for both boys
Story of the World Vol II (yes, FINALLY!) and the Activity Guide for History,
Latin for Children, Primer B,
Writing Road to Reading, for spelling, phonics, general language arts
I think we'll start a more aggressive nature study of the Wildlife Refuge and make better use of the microscope for science. Would love to have us all keeping nature journals eventually.
And, with that goal in mind, I hope to start Drawing With Children. (not an affiliate link) We've had the book for a while, but things have just recently slowed down to the point that Zorak has agreed to take the two small ones for me once or twice a week, so we can maintain some semblance of quiet for the lessons.
I'm sorry, did you say "one"? I like to think of it as "one plan", or, say "one overall approach"... (not buyin' it, huh?)
ONE RESOURCE YOU'D LIKE TO BUY:
ONE? Just... one? Would somebody kindly round up all the recommended books in SOTW Vol. II for me, please? Can we call that One?
ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH EXISTED:
That book collection I mentioned above? Yeah. That'd be it.
ONE HOMESCHOOL CATALOG YOU ENJOY READING:
Oh, that's a hard one. I intentionally didn't tell Rainbow Resources our new address this year, just because I knew I wouldn't be buying anything, and I waste SO many hours thumbing through all the materials. That catalog is to me like a margarita to an alcoholic. And then, as I've mentioned here, American Science & Surplus. Now that one is fun - fun to read, and fun to buy from!
ONE WEBSITE YOU USE REGULARLY:
Old-Fashioned Education is one I go back to regularly, in large part because I'm too lazy to download and save all the great ideas, but also because she includes links to the gutenberg and mainlesson books.
TAG OTHER HOMESCHOOLERS:
Who hasn't done this yet? If you want to, you're it!
Saturday, January 27
Get Sidetracked!
Or rather, "get back on track" would be a better way to put it. It's all about the focus.
Generally, by about eight PM, I'm focused on having a quiet home, a clean kitchen, and an entire cup of coffee downed without interruption. Eight is my arsenic hour. I know for most families it's that hour just before supper's ready - when you're trying to prepare supper, and the kids' sugar levels have plummeted, and the dog decides to mark the &%%#@ couch (or worse, the baby). I've been able to avoid that by slipping the kids protein snacks at regular intervals starting right around two in the afternoon, not letting the dog anywhere near the baby, and for supper - I either have it together early enough in the day that getting it done can masquerade as a fun family project, or I can just not make eye contact with Zorak until he gives up and fixes it. So, in all, that time frame works out okay for us.
But it's that bewitching second where 7:59 flips over to 8:00. I can't get it out of my head that the kids should be in bed by then. Zorak can't quite get on board with the idea that they should be in bed by then. And so, when that part of the day nears, he's busy not making eye contact with me (yes, revenge, a dish best served right after the supper she made you fix... I know), and I'm trying to get everybody to brush their teeth between bites so we can get to bed NOW. Obviously, it's easy to lose the focus in this poorly orchestrated bit of family life.
Tonight, after getting the small one down, I realized it was Awfully Quiet. I peeked into the boys' room - their lights were off, and all was quiet. I peeked into our room - Smidge and Zorak were out cold, cattywampus across the bed. Huh. Weird. No stories. No singing. No bad jokes. Just... Quiet. Balto and I hung out and watched Waiting for God on PBS. He didn't laugh so much, but I thought it was a great way to spend some of the Quiet. Then I came in, fresh cuppa joe in hand, remnants of a pecan pie in the other hand, ready to do a little blog work. I had just settled in when I heard the telltale swoosh of the toilet that tells me someone is up.
I listened (the speed and tone of the footfall that follows lets me know who is up, and why). Ah. It was James. Moving more slowly than when he's just hotfootin' it to bed. Coming up the hall.
And you know, I'm glad. I mean, I'm not glad the poor kid was up at ten-thirty at night because he couldn't sleep. But I'm glad he knew he could come to me and sit and talk, hang out, read a few stories together. We talked about a few things, about nothing. Just being together was nice.
After about an hour, his head grew heavy on my shoulder, and his eyes didn't quite recover from each blink. That was good timing on his part, because I'd suddenly started winging most of the story I was reading to him. Suddenly, there was a monster and a witch and a toad riding a horse. We got a good chuckle out of that. (I hope he will be that understanding when I do that from sheer dementia rather than sleepiness.) And then, off to bed.
And now... it is Quiet again. But this quiet feels better. My focus is back on track, where it should be. Those little ones in the back rooms, all now sleeping peacefully. Yeah, that's what it's about. And I'm thankful that I don't get so hung up in what I *think* things should be that I miss what they really are, because it's a whole lot better this way.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Generally, by about eight PM, I'm focused on having a quiet home, a clean kitchen, and an entire cup of coffee downed without interruption. Eight is my arsenic hour. I know for most families it's that hour just before supper's ready - when you're trying to prepare supper, and the kids' sugar levels have plummeted, and the dog decides to mark the &%%#@ couch (or worse, the baby). I've been able to avoid that by slipping the kids protein snacks at regular intervals starting right around two in the afternoon, not letting the dog anywhere near the baby, and for supper - I either have it together early enough in the day that getting it done can masquerade as a fun family project, or I can just not make eye contact with Zorak until he gives up and fixes it. So, in all, that time frame works out okay for us.
But it's that bewitching second where 7:59 flips over to 8:00. I can't get it out of my head that the kids should be in bed by then. Zorak can't quite get on board with the idea that they should be in bed by then. And so, when that part of the day nears, he's busy not making eye contact with me (yes, revenge, a dish best served right after the supper she made you fix... I know), and I'm trying to get everybody to brush their teeth between bites so we can get to bed NOW. Obviously, it's easy to lose the focus in this poorly orchestrated bit of family life.
Tonight, after getting the small one down, I realized it was Awfully Quiet. I peeked into the boys' room - their lights were off, and all was quiet. I peeked into our room - Smidge and Zorak were out cold, cattywampus across the bed. Huh. Weird. No stories. No singing. No bad jokes. Just... Quiet. Balto and I hung out and watched Waiting for God on PBS. He didn't laugh so much, but I thought it was a great way to spend some of the Quiet. Then I came in, fresh cuppa joe in hand, remnants of a pecan pie in the other hand, ready to do a little blog work. I had just settled in when I heard the telltale swoosh of the toilet that tells me someone is up.
I listened (the speed and tone of the footfall that follows lets me know who is up, and why). Ah. It was James. Moving more slowly than when he's just hotfootin' it to bed. Coming up the hall.
And you know, I'm glad. I mean, I'm not glad the poor kid was up at ten-thirty at night because he couldn't sleep. But I'm glad he knew he could come to me and sit and talk, hang out, read a few stories together. We talked about a few things, about nothing. Just being together was nice.
After about an hour, his head grew heavy on my shoulder, and his eyes didn't quite recover from each blink. That was good timing on his part, because I'd suddenly started winging most of the story I was reading to him. Suddenly, there was a monster and a witch and a toad riding a horse. We got a good chuckle out of that. (I hope he will be that understanding when I do that from sheer dementia rather than sleepiness.) And then, off to bed.
And now... it is Quiet again. But this quiet feels better. My focus is back on track, where it should be. Those little ones in the back rooms, all now sleeping peacefully. Yeah, that's what it's about. And I'm thankful that I don't get so hung up in what I *think* things should be that I miss what they really are, because it's a whole lot better this way.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
A Few Quick Requests
Hey, guys, thanks for the feedback on the new layout. It is a bit less disconcerting now, isn't it? I'll tweak and fine tune a bit more later. Today, I worked on it until both my eyes and the children began to complain. And hey, if you ever wondered what a sepia text would look like, it seems we've found it! Just blends right in, doesn't it?
In the meantime, that little sidebar needs some lovin'. I got started, but obviously didn't get far before I gave up. Then PupDad informed me his blog has moved, which, honestly, I wouldn't know because I get to his blog from Alaska's blog, so I don't ever look at the URL. Actually, most of my blogrun is like that. You're in my speed dial, and I can get to you, I just can't tell anybody else how to find you. Please, if you know you really oughta be in there, leave a comment so I have all my info in one place. Think of it as your contribution to the Organizationally Impaired.
Oh, and for the record, that's not the Forever Home in the image. That's the barn. Just thought I'd mention that in case anybody was worried. ;-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
In the meantime, that little sidebar needs some lovin'. I got started, but obviously didn't get far before I gave up. Then PupDad informed me his blog has moved, which, honestly, I wouldn't know because I get to his blog from Alaska's blog, so I don't ever look at the URL. Actually, most of my blogrun is like that. You're in my speed dial, and I can get to you, I just can't tell anybody else how to find you. Please, if you know you really oughta be in there, leave a comment so I have all my info in one place. Think of it as your contribution to the Organizationally Impaired.
Oh, and for the record, that's not the Forever Home in the image. That's the barn. Just thought I'd mention that in case anybody was worried. ;-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, January 26
Who Made This Big Mess?
Egads, yes, I know. I know. Hideous, isn't it? Please excuse the absolute car wreck that is my color scheme and template layout at the moment. If I had little orange barrel images, I'd stick them randomly about the page as a warning for navigators that this area is currently under construction.
Code has been printed out.
I've sent out the Bat Signal for help.
It won't be long now, folks.
Thanks for yer patience.
Dy
Code has been printed out.
I've sent out the Bat Signal for help.
It won't be long now, folks.
Thanks for yer patience.
Dy
NewBlogger Question
If you've migrated your blog to NewBlogger (formerly Blogger Beta), and you upgraded your template to the new layout, did you lose your old comments? And how'd your customization hold up? Lost? Shoot me straight! ;-)
TIA,
Dy
TIA,
Dy
Thursday, January 25
Argh!
Just thought of some other points I wanted to add with regard to the discussion about Murray, but we got sucked into one of those movies that just sucks you right in, and... well, there ya go.
Let me throw this out there, while Zorak's making more coffee.
I would never, ever, under any circumstances, support any legislation that attempted to guide, restrict, edit, or oversee the education of any child based on IQ, potential, or any limiting device others may view as a means to streamline our educational system.
We offer the opportunity for education to all. That is a beautiful and unique thing. It is what allows us to remain free, to remain dynamic, and to remain hopeful for the future. We cannot force children to learn, regardless of a number on a piece of paper. Nor should we limit what they may learn.
It just hit me while discussing this with Zorak today that some of the concern over acknowledging or accepting an inequality of educability is that it may well lead to governmental oversight. You know, "for the children".
That's a long, nasty slide we don't want to take.
OK, back to the movie (he did it!! I didn't think he'd done it! Ugh... )
Dy
Let me throw this out there, while Zorak's making more coffee.
I would never, ever, under any circumstances, support any legislation that attempted to guide, restrict, edit, or oversee the education of any child based on IQ, potential, or any limiting device others may view as a means to streamline our educational system.
We offer the opportunity for education to all. That is a beautiful and unique thing. It is what allows us to remain free, to remain dynamic, and to remain hopeful for the future. We cannot force children to learn, regardless of a number on a piece of paper. Nor should we limit what they may learn.
It just hit me while discussing this with Zorak today that some of the concern over acknowledging or accepting an inequality of educability is that it may well lead to governmental oversight. You know, "for the children".
That's a long, nasty slide we don't want to take.
OK, back to the movie (he did it!! I didn't think he'd done it! Ugh... )
Dy
Birds (again)
Not legitimate bird-watching, of course, but the picto-birds. OK, here are the answers. You guys ROCKED! You got 'em!! So, here's the picture, and bonus nothingpoints to the following folks who guessed correctly (posted in order of posting in the comments section, below, just adding ones that haven't been already mentioned):
GrammaMack got Blue Jay and Kildeer!
Cheryl got those two and added pigeon (pig N).
Daniel (Hi, Daniel!) got quite a lot of them.
Left edge, second from top: Swallow.
Top center, near the glare: are those cylindrical objects 2 cans? Toucans? (the other can was completely obscured by the flash, so bonus points for deciphering that one!)
Third row, second from left: a pair of "keets" parakeets.
...Blue Jay, and squeezed between it and the right-hand edge is a turn. Tern.
Bottom Center: what else but a Chicken would be crossing the road?
Left edge above the Mario Kart thing, several M-shaped gull symbols are soaring over the water. I assume the capital E is an E-gull (eagle)?
WOW. Great job, Daniel!
Meredith, and her Herd-O-Witty-Boys, got the tricky one. She wrote:
TURKEY! (ha, ha, ha, ha, we got it!) Loggerhead Shrike (?) (Actually, no, but I'm impressed that you could see the wood through the flash! Extra points for that bit of detective work!), Owl (no, but you're on the right track)...a Loon or a Cuckoo? Mocking Bird... I know there are more...
She comes back to say:
That redhead is a Heron...Hair on! LOL! WOW! You got it!
OK, so what does that leave? That only leaves three, plus the obscured one in the flash! NOT BAD, guys! (If I'd been left to my own devices, I wouldn't have figured out all of them.)
AEIOUO is a spare-o (sparrow)
it it - pair of its, (parrots)
the card inside the "all" frame - card-in-all (cardinal)
And that one in the upper right is a woodpecker.
Man, y'all are good at these! I'd honestly thought there just wasn't any interest in knowing the answers, but I'm glad you had fun with it. We did, too. ('Course, we're a little weird that way...) So, there you have it.
If y'all decide to do one at home, take a pic and post it! We'd come play. :-)
Kiss those creative, wonderful babies!
~Dy
GrammaMack got Blue Jay and Kildeer!
Cheryl got those two and added pigeon (pig N).
Daniel (Hi, Daniel!) got quite a lot of them.
Left edge, second from top: Swallow.
Top center, near the glare: are those cylindrical objects 2 cans? Toucans? (the other can was completely obscured by the flash, so bonus points for deciphering that one!)
Third row, second from left: a pair of "keets" parakeets.
...Blue Jay, and squeezed between it and the right-hand edge is a turn. Tern.
Bottom Center: what else but a Chicken would be crossing the road?
Left edge above the Mario Kart thing, several M-shaped gull symbols are soaring over the water. I assume the capital E is an E-gull (eagle)?
WOW. Great job, Daniel!
Meredith, and her Herd-O-Witty-Boys, got the tricky one. She wrote:
TURKEY! (ha, ha, ha, ha, we got it!) Loggerhead Shrike (?) (Actually, no, but I'm impressed that you could see the wood through the flash! Extra points for that bit of detective work!), Owl (no, but you're on the right track)...a Loon or a Cuckoo? Mocking Bird... I know there are more...
She comes back to say:
That redhead is a Heron...Hair on! LOL! WOW! You got it!
OK, so what does that leave? That only leaves three, plus the obscured one in the flash! NOT BAD, guys! (If I'd been left to my own devices, I wouldn't have figured out all of them.)
AEIOUO is a spare-o (sparrow)
it it - pair of its, (parrots)
the card inside the "all" frame - card-in-all (cardinal)
And that one in the upper right is a woodpecker.
Man, y'all are good at these! I'd honestly thought there just wasn't any interest in knowing the answers, but I'm glad you had fun with it. We did, too. ('Course, we're a little weird that way...) So, there you have it.
If y'all decide to do one at home, take a pic and post it! We'd come play. :-)
Kiss those creative, wonderful babies!
~Dy
Intelligence, Potential and School, Oh, My!
I am feeling better tonight for the first time in about a month, so let's play!
Murray's articles (linked in the comments section here, if you haven't read them and would like to) have brought up discussions of all kinds, ranging from "ditto" to "NOOOO", and, fortunately, delving into deeper waters on both fronts: agree, disagree... OK, three fronts if you count the, "well, partially agree/disagree" front. What's got me giddy is that there is discussion. People are thinking, articulating, questioning and answering. We're INGing, folks, and not just the ugly ones, like gesturing and skulking. These are good INGs. Anyhow, for fun, I'd like to invite anyone who has written on this subject to please leave a comment and link to it. All sides welcome. I think there's plenty of interest, and it would be fun. So link away, cyberfriends!!
Two to start you off:
Kids Out and About's Deb Ross has written her thoughts on why she disagrees with Murray's basic premise.
Steph also wrote on this topic, from the perspective of agreement with Murray's thoughts.
In general, I do agree with Murray. I'll say upfront that I think we're asking the wrong questions, and so the answers aren't going to mean much. I'll also put it out there that I don't have all the answers, to any of these questions, right or wrong. My sphere of influence begins with the children I am responsible for, and rapidly decreases in strength as it spreads beyond that arena. Those whose lives I impact, I try to impact in a positive way, in an encouraging way, not because I think we are all equally educable (I don't) but because I believe we are all equally valuable, and thus, worthy of encouragement. As one of my mother's doctors told her, "Ideally, you'd eat better, exercise more, quit drinking and smoking, and stop being so grouchy. But my job is to work with you where you are, and that's what I'm going to do." These sorts of dialogues often beg a utopia that does not now exist, has never in the past existed, and most certainly will not in the future exist, neither through legislation or funding. Ever. That much I do know.
So. Not everyone is equally educable. Yes, it's difficult to say that without offending someone, somewhere. Although I hold this belief, I found myself a little stunned when my sister-in-law (whom I love but generally disagree with on everything political, social and spiritual), said that not every child can be taught to read well. What?! You're a reading advocacy, pro-federal funding, NEA-backing, reading teacher! How can you say that? Turns out, she's run into many children who simply haven't got it in them to learn to read with fluency, let alone an any given grade level. Wow. That certainly sounds like a harsh condemnation of a child's future. Immediately, the mind begins reeling, sifting through files, ideas, programs, medical data... there must be some way, we tell ourselves... It's not a good feeling, in our guts, to think that, in a society which has put such an elevated status for "higher education" onto the field, some people cannot attain proficiency to a degree that will allow (advancement? access? _______? - this portion often remains empty in these discussions.) And yet, I had to agree with her. We know people who are like that. The matter (grey matter, IQ, potential, whatever you want to call it) simply is not there to work with. So, no, I don't believe everyone is equally educable. I've seen enough examples of that than to be able to claim otherwise. But I'm going to ask whether that ought to be the focus? Should we spend our resources trying to make everyone equally capable in all areas? Should we find fault with anyone who asserts that not everybody is smart enough to be a rocket scientist? Or, take that a bit further, is there any shame in not being the smartest, in knowing there are those who are smarter?
I would say that much of the negative reaction to the premise of educable inequality is grounded in a suspicion that anyone who believes there are levels of educability must consequently believe there's a direct correlation to value as a human. (Period. I'm not talking about contributions to humankind, but simply as. a. human.) I'd say it's wrong to make that assumption. The very few people I've encountered who believe that intelligence equates to superiority as a person, believed both that they were inordinately intelligent and superior to others, and were, in fact, neither. However, it might be somewhat naive to say that those of lesser ability can be anticipated to make greater achievements. More on that, later.
I like what Aunt B has said, "We're all just one accident away from not having a good brain." She's right. All of us. Nobody's exempt from that, and the fact that you've avoided The Big Konk on the Head does not imbue you with superpowers, or First Citizen status. It simply means you haven't been dealt that hand. Yet. That's all.
But unless, or (God forbid) until, you get the Konk, you've got some matter to work with. How much? And that's where the breakdown occurs. The measurable IQ, as defined by science (Murray uses the term, g, in speaking about this amount of matter), hasn't been shown to be dynamic over the long run. It simply hasn't. People ask, to what extent are external forces, such as diet, exercize and environment, or the internal point of attention you choose to give to any given thing, able to affect your matter? A slacker, with any amount of matter, is not going to achieve much. However, a brilliant and highly-mattered slacker is likely to achieve more, with less effort, than a mildly-mattered individual with a relatively good work ethic.
Does this variance come into play? What about long-term results? Would the stamina required for high level educability weed out even the most talented slacker? Does it matter, or is that factor zeroed-out in this discussion? I don't know. I'm not certain what the definitions are, to be honest. When dealing with education, we're usually talking about return on investment. Where will each individual, and society, be best served by the use of the resources available for education? Is that why people get antsy, feeling that somebody won't feel empowered to hear he's not the academic equivalent of star quarterback material? I'm not sure.
So we speak of inclination, of "natural abilities". "Natural ability" could well be the layman's method of gauging intelligence. We don't have ready access to psychometric methodology or laboratories, so we go with what we can see, what we can tangibly use for our models. Again, I don't know. But, in looking at natural ability, you may be more inclined in one direction than another. Most of us are. You may be able to look at an abstract of a rocket engine and put together a prototype with a dremel tool and a safety pin, while the rest of us stand around, scratching our behinds and trying not to look lost. If that's the case, couldn't an argument be made that more of your matter is dedicated to that direction? Or even, that you've got more matter to allocate? People do have different abilities, differing skills, and widely varying levels of each, a fact which, in our society, it's near-heresy to say.
To take a physical, rather than mental, example, let's look at me. I'm not what you'd call a weakling. But I'm nowhere near as strong as Zorak. Nor as coordinated. If you need something extremely heavy moved via an indirect route that will involve an elevation change, I'm pretty useless as anything other than a witness for the EMTs. I could focus, train, work hard, and dedicate everything I am and everything I have to becoming the absolute strongest I can be... and Arnold Schwarzenegger could still knock me out in three seconds flat. I couldn't even pretend I could outrun the man. It would be over before it began.
I have no doubt there are people who could do the same thing with me cognitively. I'm no idiot, but I am not a genius. No amount of study could make me such. I could, with an exorbitant amount of effort and focus, become an engineer. My home would suffer, my children would be without on many fronts, my husband would wonder if I'd left him completely. I would have no time, effort, or energy left to engage in any other activities that make me a productive, contributing member of this society. And in the end, I would have a degree, and be an engineer. No guarantees, even at that point, that I would be a good one. Would it be worth it? What would be the benefit, both to myself (would I be a better, more fulfilled person? a better woman?) and to my society (would I be a better citizen? voter? wife? volunteer?) Perhaps those are the questions we should be asking.
Perhaps, rather than asking whether it's wrong to try to level the playing field, or whether it's right to put inordinate amounts of energy into making us all college scholars, we ought to look at what we can invest in each child to help him become the most productive, responsible, contributing, and yes, fulfilled citizen he can be.
And within my sphere of influence, I have set the bar high. Not so high that they can't clear it, but high enough that they'll have the satisfaction of a Job Well Done when they have cleared it. One of the benefits of individualized education, and personalized goals for education, I suppose.
Murray's articles (linked in the comments section here, if you haven't read them and would like to) have brought up discussions of all kinds, ranging from "ditto" to "NOOOO", and, fortunately, delving into deeper waters on both fronts: agree, disagree... OK, three fronts if you count the, "well, partially agree/disagree" front. What's got me giddy is that there is discussion. People are thinking, articulating, questioning and answering. We're INGing, folks, and not just the ugly ones, like gesturing and skulking. These are good INGs. Anyhow, for fun, I'd like to invite anyone who has written on this subject to please leave a comment and link to it. All sides welcome. I think there's plenty of interest, and it would be fun. So link away, cyberfriends!!
Two to start you off:
Kids Out and About's Deb Ross has written her thoughts on why she disagrees with Murray's basic premise.
Steph also wrote on this topic, from the perspective of agreement with Murray's thoughts.
In general, I do agree with Murray. I'll say upfront that I think we're asking the wrong questions, and so the answers aren't going to mean much. I'll also put it out there that I don't have all the answers, to any of these questions, right or wrong. My sphere of influence begins with the children I am responsible for, and rapidly decreases in strength as it spreads beyond that arena. Those whose lives I impact, I try to impact in a positive way, in an encouraging way, not because I think we are all equally educable (I don't) but because I believe we are all equally valuable, and thus, worthy of encouragement. As one of my mother's doctors told her, "Ideally, you'd eat better, exercise more, quit drinking and smoking, and stop being so grouchy. But my job is to work with you where you are, and that's what I'm going to do." These sorts of dialogues often beg a utopia that does not now exist, has never in the past existed, and most certainly will not in the future exist, neither through legislation or funding. Ever. That much I do know.
So. Not everyone is equally educable. Yes, it's difficult to say that without offending someone, somewhere. Although I hold this belief, I found myself a little stunned when my sister-in-law (whom I love but generally disagree with on everything political, social and spiritual), said that not every child can be taught to read well. What?! You're a reading advocacy, pro-federal funding, NEA-backing, reading teacher! How can you say that? Turns out, she's run into many children who simply haven't got it in them to learn to read with fluency, let alone an any given grade level. Wow. That certainly sounds like a harsh condemnation of a child's future. Immediately, the mind begins reeling, sifting through files, ideas, programs, medical data... there must be some way, we tell ourselves... It's not a good feeling, in our guts, to think that, in a society which has put such an elevated status for "higher education" onto the field, some people cannot attain proficiency to a degree that will allow (advancement? access? _______? - this portion often remains empty in these discussions.) And yet, I had to agree with her. We know people who are like that. The matter (grey matter, IQ, potential, whatever you want to call it) simply is not there to work with. So, no, I don't believe everyone is equally educable. I've seen enough examples of that than to be able to claim otherwise. But I'm going to ask whether that ought to be the focus? Should we spend our resources trying to make everyone equally capable in all areas? Should we find fault with anyone who asserts that not everybody is smart enough to be a rocket scientist? Or, take that a bit further, is there any shame in not being the smartest, in knowing there are those who are smarter?
I would say that much of the negative reaction to the premise of educable inequality is grounded in a suspicion that anyone who believes there are levels of educability must consequently believe there's a direct correlation to value as a human. (Period. I'm not talking about contributions to humankind, but simply as. a. human.) I'd say it's wrong to make that assumption. The very few people I've encountered who believe that intelligence equates to superiority as a person, believed both that they were inordinately intelligent and superior to others, and were, in fact, neither. However, it might be somewhat naive to say that those of lesser ability can be anticipated to make greater achievements. More on that, later.
I like what Aunt B has said, "We're all just one accident away from not having a good brain." She's right. All of us. Nobody's exempt from that, and the fact that you've avoided The Big Konk on the Head does not imbue you with superpowers, or First Citizen status. It simply means you haven't been dealt that hand. Yet. That's all.
But unless, or (God forbid) until, you get the Konk, you've got some matter to work with. How much? And that's where the breakdown occurs. The measurable IQ, as defined by science (Murray uses the term, g, in speaking about this amount of matter), hasn't been shown to be dynamic over the long run. It simply hasn't. People ask, to what extent are external forces, such as diet, exercize and environment, or the internal point of attention you choose to give to any given thing, able to affect your matter? A slacker, with any amount of matter, is not going to achieve much. However, a brilliant and highly-mattered slacker is likely to achieve more, with less effort, than a mildly-mattered individual with a relatively good work ethic.
Does this variance come into play? What about long-term results? Would the stamina required for high level educability weed out even the most talented slacker? Does it matter, or is that factor zeroed-out in this discussion? I don't know. I'm not certain what the definitions are, to be honest. When dealing with education, we're usually talking about return on investment. Where will each individual, and society, be best served by the use of the resources available for education? Is that why people get antsy, feeling that somebody won't feel empowered to hear he's not the academic equivalent of star quarterback material? I'm not sure.
So we speak of inclination, of "natural abilities". "Natural ability" could well be the layman's method of gauging intelligence. We don't have ready access to psychometric methodology or laboratories, so we go with what we can see, what we can tangibly use for our models. Again, I don't know. But, in looking at natural ability, you may be more inclined in one direction than another. Most of us are. You may be able to look at an abstract of a rocket engine and put together a prototype with a dremel tool and a safety pin, while the rest of us stand around, scratching our behinds and trying not to look lost. If that's the case, couldn't an argument be made that more of your matter is dedicated to that direction? Or even, that you've got more matter to allocate? People do have different abilities, differing skills, and widely varying levels of each, a fact which, in our society, it's near-heresy to say.
To take a physical, rather than mental, example, let's look at me. I'm not what you'd call a weakling. But I'm nowhere near as strong as Zorak. Nor as coordinated. If you need something extremely heavy moved via an indirect route that will involve an elevation change, I'm pretty useless as anything other than a witness for the EMTs. I could focus, train, work hard, and dedicate everything I am and everything I have to becoming the absolute strongest I can be... and Arnold Schwarzenegger could still knock me out in three seconds flat. I couldn't even pretend I could outrun the man. It would be over before it began.
I have no doubt there are people who could do the same thing with me cognitively. I'm no idiot, but I am not a genius. No amount of study could make me such. I could, with an exorbitant amount of effort and focus, become an engineer. My home would suffer, my children would be without on many fronts, my husband would wonder if I'd left him completely. I would have no time, effort, or energy left to engage in any other activities that make me a productive, contributing member of this society. And in the end, I would have a degree, and be an engineer. No guarantees, even at that point, that I would be a good one. Would it be worth it? What would be the benefit, both to myself (would I be a better, more fulfilled person? a better woman?) and to my society (would I be a better citizen? voter? wife? volunteer?) Perhaps those are the questions we should be asking.
Perhaps, rather than asking whether it's wrong to try to level the playing field, or whether it's right to put inordinate amounts of energy into making us all college scholars, we ought to look at what we can invest in each child to help him become the most productive, responsible, contributing, and yes, fulfilled citizen he can be.
And within my sphere of influence, I have set the bar high. Not so high that they can't clear it, but high enough that they'll have the satisfaction of a Job Well Done when they have cleared it. One of the benefits of individualized education, and personalized goals for education, I suppose.
Wednesday, January 24
Monday, January 22
...chatting
Well, you know, the problem with making the blogrun, answering the phone, and chatting before actually blogging is that I get all my chatting done, and then, well, I'm done.
Tonight I've read about and discussed (both online and in person) Clinton's announcement, "universal healthcare", the rising price of corn and it's impact in Mexico, Roe V. Wade, knitting, the joys of little boys and winter snowstorms, precious babies, weird years, The Weather Channel's Heidi Cullen, the absolute heart-pounding glee of discovering a reluctant reader curled up quietly enjoying a book sans prompting (!!!), how completely and utterly children nestle themselves into our hearts, a friend's return "home" after a prolonged time away, how to help more and be better at the things we do, whether we have an obligation to do so, Murray's article on education and intelligence (Steph, I started to comment, got carried away and shelved it - will probably blog on that this week, though).
~~~ Insert Time Warp ~~~
OK, I'd planned to link to a selection of news stories on each of these topics, from a few perspectives, but I got lost here, and now it's after midnight. But that's a truly fascinating site!
And so, now I'm *really* done and ready to collapse. So, rather than links or kibbitzing, I'll just show you what we did for fun after lunch today. The boys love word games. The other day, Zorak drew a rocket and a baby head, and asked the boys what it was. (Anybody know? I'll answer in the comments.) Today, they wanted to do more. So we did "Birds". How many "birds" can you find in this photo? (Some of them are horribly obscure, but we were in the Zone already, and there was no going back. And I apologize now for one of them. I think you must be a little boy, or have been a little boy, to get it.)
Oh, and the thing in the bottom left - not a bird. It's a Mario Kart thing. And the road w/ the box? It's a question: what's in the box? (look carefully)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tonight I've read about and discussed (both online and in person) Clinton's announcement, "universal healthcare", the rising price of corn and it's impact in Mexico, Roe V. Wade, knitting, the joys of little boys and winter snowstorms, precious babies, weird years, The Weather Channel's Heidi Cullen, the absolute heart-pounding glee of discovering a reluctant reader curled up quietly enjoying a book sans prompting (!!!), how completely and utterly children nestle themselves into our hearts, a friend's return "home" after a prolonged time away, how to help more and be better at the things we do, whether we have an obligation to do so, Murray's article on education and intelligence (Steph, I started to comment, got carried away and shelved it - will probably blog on that this week, though).
~~~ Insert Time Warp ~~~
OK, I'd planned to link to a selection of news stories on each of these topics, from a few perspectives, but I got lost here, and now it's after midnight. But that's a truly fascinating site!
And so, now I'm *really* done and ready to collapse. So, rather than links or kibbitzing, I'll just show you what we did for fun after lunch today. The boys love word games. The other day, Zorak drew a rocket and a baby head, and asked the boys what it was. (Anybody know? I'll answer in the comments.) Today, they wanted to do more. So we did "Birds". How many "birds" can you find in this photo? (Some of them are horribly obscure, but we were in the Zone already, and there was no going back. And I apologize now for one of them. I think you must be a little boy, or have been a little boy, to get it.)
Oh, and the thing in the bottom left - not a bird. It's a Mario Kart thing. And the road w/ the box? It's a question: what's in the box? (look carefully)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, January 21
Post-Birthday Day
We had a lovely time Sunday, Officially Observing EmBaby's Birthday. There's just something special about your first introduction to Flaming Food! She warmed up to it after the boys blew out the candle for her.In keeping with The Nature of Things, Zorak and I aren't strong on the "planning" aspect of things, or rather, the "coordinating" part, but we have friends who are gracious about it. I had to use my "Get Out of Hostess Jail Free" card, because Zorak told our guests to arrive a full hour and a half earlier than I'd said I could have everything ready. (Honest misunderstanding. I think.) But then, they called two hours before *that* time to say they were on their way. Oy! Well, folks, at that point, you're just not going to get the full presentation. I need a shower, so make yourself comfortable. Drinks are in the fridge. Probably some snacks in there, too. We visited, we cooked, we ate.
I experimented a bit in the kitchen, which I probably should not ever do in front of others. I hope they forgive me. The lasagna (not an experiment) turned out great. The breadsticks (not normally an experiment, but we'd thrown together a new batch of French Bread mix and it turned out, well, not so much). They were kinda gummy. Well, that's embarrassing. Salad - yeah, I'd have to work pretty hard to botch a salad. It was good.
The Namaste cake turned out lovely, as usual (I love Namaste!) I tried my hand at making my first-ever poured icing. Um... huh. Well, at least I know what to do differently next time! I let it get too warm, so it didn't adhere well to the sides, as you can see. And, as you can see, the boys didn't care one whit what it looked like. I love these ages.And now, the kitchen is clean, the children are detoxed (detoxing... it's a process), and it's back to our regularly scheduled programming. I will leave you with gratuitous first birthday cake photos.
Kiss those sweet, sticky babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, January 17
What A Year!
A year ago, our family grew by one. A girl. Our sweet BabyGirl. Oh. My. Word. She was so tiny. So precious. So new. And she has been busy!
Once she outgrew the bouncy seat, she discovered the joys of alternative transportation! *beep* *beep*
Before long, BabyGirl was ready to see the world. Well, Florida, anyway. What fun! (And that hat? That is inter-generational payback. She will hate this photo one day, and I will think it's the sweetest thing ever. And I have three Grandmas from the boat trip who'll back me up.)
She's become a daring eater. This will not be her only taste of sushi, I'm sure.
She figured out what's behind those pesky zippers on the diaper bag. (And how cupboards work, where the pots are hid, the best place in the boys' closet to hide, and all the good spots for snuggling!)
And a lot of the time, she just sat in awe of her beautiful world.
And we sat in awe, seeing the world through her beautiful eyes.
Happy First Birthday, Sweet BabyGirl! You've changed our home in so many ways, all of them good. You've brought us joy, and delight, and wonder. Just when we thought our lives couldn't be any more full, you came along. We love you, BabyGirl!
*(That lovely white dress up at the top? It's a gift from her birthday buddy, sweet S. J.. Thank you, Mere! She loves her special dress! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SARAH JANE!!)
Happy Baby Kisses All Around!
~Dy
In the last year, Miss Emily has done quite a lot. For starters, she's tripled her birth weight. That's quite a feat! (The boys are envious.)
She's dropped the "Miss" portion of her name. And the "Emily" part. She answers mostly to "BabyGirl", now. Much as we've done with Smidge, I imagine we'll have to start calling her by her proper name at some point. But right now, "BabyGirl" just fits so beautifully.
She developed a healthy sense of humor straight off. It's served her well so far. (She may actually think this is a joke, and is waiting for her real family to come get her... any day now... waiting...)
She's wrapped more than one person around her wee, pudgy fingers with those eyes, and that giggle, and those cheeks...
She's known love, and warmth, and comfort. No matter where we've gone.
She entered the covenant family of believers, and inherited more family than she knows.
She spent the summer being quite the little hostess, gettin' tips from Granny on all the good things in life.
Once she outgrew the bouncy seat, she discovered the joys of alternative transportation! *beep* *beep*
Before long, BabyGirl was ready to see the world. Well, Florida, anyway. What fun! (And that hat? That is inter-generational payback. She will hate this photo one day, and I will think it's the sweetest thing ever. And I have three Grandmas from the boat trip who'll back me up.)
She's become a daring eater. This will not be her only taste of sushi, I'm sure.
She figured out what's behind those pesky zippers on the diaper bag. (And how cupboards work, where the pots are hid, the best place in the boys' closet to hide, and all the good spots for snuggling!)
And a lot of the time, she just sat in awe of her beautiful world.
And we sat in awe, seeing the world through her beautiful eyes.
Happy First Birthday, Sweet BabyGirl! You've changed our home in so many ways, all of them good. You've brought us joy, and delight, and wonder. Just when we thought our lives couldn't be any more full, you came along. We love you, BabyGirl!
*(That lovely white dress up at the top? It's a gift from her birthday buddy, sweet S. J.. Thank you, Mere! She loves her special dress! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SARAH JANE!!)
Happy Baby Kisses All Around!
~Dy
Tuesday, January 16
In twenty years,
I hope to be sitting at the banquet table for the wedding of one of my children. I can see it now... Everyone gathered together, all decked out in their wedding garments, surrounded by the people and things that make them happy, the band playing uplifting music... ah, it will be lovely.
And Zorak and I are going to sit there, beaming on the inside, and...
bicker.
That's right. We're going to touch each other's plates, and whine about it. He's going to swing his leg and kick *my* chair. Repeatedly. Ignoring all warnings. One of us will keep moving, and the other one will get up and FOLLOW, plate and all. And right in the middle of each toast, one of us will shout, "Would you stop TOUCHING ME!"
And that will be just the beginning, because by that time, I'm sure there will be payback galore built up from these four, and it's going to take some ingenuity on our part, but I'm pretty sure we will be able to cram all of it into the wedding festivities. Oh, yes. We're gonna party like somebody else is footin' the bill, folks!
OK.
Probably not. Truthfully, I am deeply grateful that neither of our parents did that at our wedding. Whooeee, that would've been one humdinger of a spectacle (we had a lot of payback coming from our raisings). And I guess that's the thing about parenting. You remind your children of a thousand rules of behavior a thousand times over: do not kick your brother's chair; do not put your fingers in someone else's food; do not get up and follow someone who has just stood, demanded in no uncertain terms that you leave him alone, and stormed off (actually, you may want to cover that one a few extra times - could save a life some day). And still, five years down the road, you find yourself tensing up, bracing yourself for combat because you *know* you're going to have to say it 1,001 times. Or more. And you dream of the day you can start a food fight at your son's promotion party. Or play frisbee with lunchmeats at your daughter's college graduation. Or pick a brawl at the wedding...
But when the time comes, those thousand and one (or million and one) reminders have kicked in and done their job. You've done your job. And suddenly, you realize you don't want to ruin it. You've spent all these years helping them learn not to ruin it for themselves... you want to sit back, wallow it in, think up new things to worry about, and love them. Just like you've loved them through everything.
I will probably look at Zorak, though, and smile mischeviously when he whispers, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" (Because I never am, and we both know that, but at that point, we may just be...)
But just to be on the safe side, don't sit near us at the wedding, ok?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
And Zorak and I are going to sit there, beaming on the inside, and...
bicker.
That's right. We're going to touch each other's plates, and whine about it. He's going to swing his leg and kick *my* chair. Repeatedly. Ignoring all warnings. One of us will keep moving, and the other one will get up and FOLLOW, plate and all. And right in the middle of each toast, one of us will shout, "Would you stop TOUCHING ME!"
And that will be just the beginning, because by that time, I'm sure there will be payback galore built up from these four, and it's going to take some ingenuity on our part, but I'm pretty sure we will be able to cram all of it into the wedding festivities. Oh, yes. We're gonna party like somebody else is footin' the bill, folks!
OK.
Probably not. Truthfully, I am deeply grateful that neither of our parents did that at our wedding. Whooeee, that would've been one humdinger of a spectacle (we had a lot of payback coming from our raisings). And I guess that's the thing about parenting. You remind your children of a thousand rules of behavior a thousand times over: do not kick your brother's chair; do not put your fingers in someone else's food; do not get up and follow someone who has just stood, demanded in no uncertain terms that you leave him alone, and stormed off (actually, you may want to cover that one a few extra times - could save a life some day). And still, five years down the road, you find yourself tensing up, bracing yourself for combat because you *know* you're going to have to say it 1,001 times. Or more. And you dream of the day you can start a food fight at your son's promotion party. Or play frisbee with lunchmeats at your daughter's college graduation. Or pick a brawl at the wedding...
But when the time comes, those thousand and one (or million and one) reminders have kicked in and done their job. You've done your job. And suddenly, you realize you don't want to ruin it. You've spent all these years helping them learn not to ruin it for themselves... you want to sit back, wallow it in, think up new things to worry about, and love them. Just like you've loved them through everything.
I will probably look at Zorak, though, and smile mischeviously when he whispers, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" (Because I never am, and we both know that, but at that point, we may just be...)
But just to be on the safe side, don't sit near us at the wedding, ok?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)