Junk in my Trunk
|
 |
Wednesday, 30 May 07 - 12:04 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Just Sayin... |
| ||
There is a young woman in my church who is about 19 years old. Very gentle. She has had a number of difficult to diagnose health issues and an unusual pattern of learning disabilities...so I of course immediately warmed to her.
She is coming to my house two afternoons a week now to help me with the boys. She can sit for them if I need to run out or can listen to one read while I spend some individual time with the other.
I figure this gives me a 1:1 student to adult ratio those afternoons...combine that with the fact that we also offer a 1:1 student to computer ratio and I'm thinking my little school sounds all manner of elite and marketable...
Yesterday the four of us went for a hike at Connetquot State Park. During one of our breaks, we discovered that Claire is particularly interested in Egyptian history and artifacts. She offered to bring over some of her favorite books and show them to the boys.
"What are some of the things you find most interesting about Egyptian history?" Ben asked.
"Well, they worshipped cats. They had all sorts of gods and goddesses that are different from our God. And when you died? You got buried with the things you loved most so that you would have them in the afterlife."
This led to one of my all-time favorite types of conversations: what would get buried with you?
"Mom would get buried with her laptop," Ben said immediately.
"There are no pop-ups and free wi-fi in the afterlife," I agreed.
"Well, if you're good," James chimed in.
"I'd get buried with my Wii and with my shark collection," Ben offered.
Claire would get buried with her favorite CD's: John Lennon, The Donnas, Mariah Carey. James would get buried with his Lego Aqua Raiders. And some chocolate. And a fuzzy blanket for if it got chilly. And the PlayStation II--since he planned on dying after Ben, so the Wii would already be gone.
Teachable Moment
|
|
|
Thursday, 24 May 07 - 03:49 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting |
| ||
Ben is sitting in the study, ostensibly working on thank you cards for the Wii he received for his birthday. He's also snuffling quietly.
We went down to Nashville last weekend, visited family, celebrated the high school graduation of a cousin/niece. "We" of course is a group defined as mom, dad, boys and favorite pelagic stuffed friends--Willy the orca, Hamtoro the hammerhead shark, and Phil the tiger shark. (Yes, we are singlehandedly keeping the Riverhead Aquarium afloat (pun intended) via gift shop purchases. And your point is???)
There were a great many people staying at the house--makeshift beds and air-mattresses everywhere upstairs. And, of course, part of the fun in a situation like this (did I mention that there was also a triple bunk bed) is to sleep in a different spot every night...
Well, all we know is that by Sunday we couldn't find the much-beloved Phil the tiger shark. We looked in every room, under every bed, in between every set of sheets and inside every duffle bag. No Phil.
Was foul play involved? Maybe. Ben is the youngest in his tier of cousins: the rest are tweens and teens who might have gotten tired of hearing about the ecological plight of our cartilaginous friends. I dunno what to think. They're good kids in this family...but they are still kids. Sigh. Phil was really well hidden, if that is the case...
Ben came up with the idea of making a poster of Phil using FD's Toys and emailing it to the family. If Phil did disappear under nefarious circumstances, maybe the poster and reward will warm a hardened heart enough to bring him back to us. (If not...I've got to get out to the aquarium within the next couple of days to buy a new Phil and dirty him up just a little without anyone else noticing.) Ben made the poster himself using the "motivator" tool at Fd's and we sat down together, his first real foray into email, with the family's addresses to send them off when he was done.
It kills me, though. I know Ben is eleven. HE believes that he is too big to cry over something like this...but every once in a while, the emotion just catches up with him and it's heartbreaking. He tries to be stoic ("No, I must have gotten something in my eye--I'll be better in a minute, don't worry" [he comes from a long, proud tradition of wussy liars]). It's that struggle with his sadness and my inability to help him feel better that are making me antsy.
I guess I should get a little used to that concept. He's growing up.
We learned today that Roman women were considered legally marriageable at age 12 (though most waited until the ripe age of 14)...Ben's almost there now. And, obviously, he will experience hurts worse than this where I will be even less able to intervene.
Hate that, though. Absolutely hate that.
Clearly, We Have Not Yet Entered the "My Mom is a Fool" Phase of Development...
|
|
|
Wednesday, 23 May 07 - 07:27 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Just Sayin... |
| ||
Ben: Hey, mom: did you know that as a snail consumes its prey, its jaws work like a conveyor belt...much like the helicoprion, actually! I just heard that on Animal Planet's "Most Extreme Appendages."
Me: No, I hadn't heard heard that...you mean the snail's teeth move?
Ben: Yeah, I think so...I think that's what they meant. I'm surprised you didn't know that!
They Get Their 'Cool Heads in a Crisis' From Me...
|
|
|
Monday, 14 May 07 - 11:36 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in General |
| ||
Understand: In many ways, the boys and I are brave, stoic, resourceful types. You want someone to stand up for what is right and good, beneficial to both mankind and mother earth? We will COME to your peace vigil. We will MARCH in your rally. We will make and carry concise, insightful signs that will bring the brotherhood of man to its collective knees in a glorious, communal EPIPHANIC understanding of JUST WHERE THINGS WENT HORRIBLY AWRY! We are also, to the last, very, very good at regaling peers and loved ones with well-constructed tales replete with credible story arc, fresh imagery and topically relevant soundtracks!
But bugs. We are not so good there. MmmmMMMmmm!
To illustrate my point, one of my all-time favorite fraternal exchanges:
James, aged 4: ISAWASPIDER! ABIGBLACKSPIDERWITHHAIRYLEGS! (scrambles up the couch)
Ben, a very sage 7: (dismissively) THAT is a daddy longlegs. You've been reading too many books about bugs. You are developing a phobia.
James: I DON'T have a phobia!!! I'm just scared!!! (author's note: pronounced 'sceh-wid')
Ben: You do have a phobia. A phobia is an irrational fear. Like my irrational fear of boat propellers.
James: Well, I don't have a phobia of BUGS. Just ARACHNIDS.
Although, for the record, both children AS WELL AS THEIR MOTHER have always gone certifiably berzerk in the face of anything with waving antennae. Personally? I like to think of this as PART OF OUR CHARM.
So, you can only imagine with what chagrin one nest-building hornet-ish looking thing in the southwest kitchen window was then greeted the other day. With the above-mentioned stoic resolve and speedy reflexes I closed (and locked!) the window, moved lessons out to the couch (just to be safe!), and announced that Dad would most certainly take care of the issue when he got home that evening.
Which he did. Dad dutifully waited until nightfall, carefully slipped off the screen and storm windows, and hosed our little friend and her papery starter-home into the winged hereafter.
"Wow, she was really BIG!" the husband noted, subsequently gazing at the soggy, lifeless VERY LARGE form on the ledge. "What should we do with her?"
And here is where I had...what in literary circles is oft referred to as a moment of 'tragic hubris'. I'd just that afternoon read a WONDERFUL article to the boys from the latest edition of Home Education Magazine about a home schooling mother who decided to end a unit on Egyptian history with an attempt to mummify an oven roaster--with, of course, disastrous and unexpected results. Logically, this made me say:
"Let's keep her. Maybe the boys would like to take a closer look at her tomorrow. Maybe they'd be more comfortable around bugs if they understood them a little better. We'll just put her in a resealable bag to keep everyone safe." (See, the mummifying chicken in the article was stored in a resealable baggie...)
Well. Holy chitinous exoskeleton, Batman! Guess who was alive and doin' the Texas Two-Step next to my vase of Mother's Day flowers this morning?
I ALMOST DIDN'T SEAL THE BAGGIE!!!! Me! The woman who once spent six hours alone in a bedroom in central Florida waiting for her spouse to return from his traditional sixteen-hour work day because a palmetto bug had flown into my living room AND IF I'D LEFT THE BEDROOM...well, then, it could GET ME.
"What do you think, now?" the husband dubiously asked this morning.
And James and I, in unison, agreed: kill it, KILL IT, KILLLLLL ITTTT!!!
The Littlest Docent
|
|
|
Saturday, 12 May 07 - 04:27 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Pervasive Developmental Disorder |
| ||
A home schooling friend (and mentor) had at one point suggested that as Ben got older, if the shark fascination continued, I should look into possible intern programs at an animal shelter, museum or aquarium for him...that she knew of other home schoolers who were able to work out individualized opportunities for their children...
Yesterday, at the Atlantis Marine World aquarium in Riverhead, I had to remember that conversation and laugh. We arrived in time to feed and pet the stingrays before heading up to the shark deck to hear the afternoon shark lecture. The aquarium houses about four sand tiger sharks and as many nurse sharks in it's largest tank "The Lost City of Atlantis Shark Exhibit." (There is also a 300-pound loggerhead turtle named Jaws in the tank, who, according to our lector, rules the watery roost!)
When the shark lecture was done, I urged Ben to go up to the lector and ask HIM all of the questions he tends to bombard me with at 11:30 at night, when reasonable children ARE ASLEEP.
"Maybe he has a good working theory on why steccocanthus died out, go ask HIM!" I said encouragingly. "This is your chance!"
But instead of asking any questions, Ben started pointing out possible problems with the guy's lecture.
"You know, you were wrong when you said that aquariums have never housed a Great White...the Monterey Aquarium in California had a great white for three months, but unfortunately had to let it go because it was eating its tank mates."
Poor Dave. The nervous-looking, college-aged lector. You know that all the guy wanted to do was a little quiet professional research away from the public, but that this speaking bit was somehow tied to his internship or grant money.
"Well, yeah, that's true, actually," Dave conceded. "It's just easier to explain things the way I did."
"Mmmmmmmmmm," Ben replied critically. This is a child who never sacrifices truth on the altar of brevity. Still, in this case, he was clearly willing to give a fellow scientist the benefit of the doubt.
The six-foot plus Dave and my prepubescent 11-year old son spent the next couple of minutes quizzing each other on shark knowledge. I'm not sure if Dave was surprised, impressed or deeply shaken by the results of the conversation. And, to add to Dave's already palpable tension, Ben was videotaping all of Dave's responses.
"Hun, I think you're making Dave uncomfortable," I finally whispered, and motioned that he put the camera away.
"Oh," Ben replied, looking at Dave and then his video camera in a bemused way, "sorry dude."
Later, while we were waiting for our lunch to be deep-fried, Ben went back over to the shark tank. When I ultimately went to retrieve him, he was lecturing a four-year old boy and his mom.
"Now, these sand tigers may look ferocious, but remember: in reality, they very rarely attack human beings. You are much more likely to be injured in a car accident or struck by lightening than you are to ever be attacked by a shark of any kind."
The boy and his mom thanked Ben for taking the time to talk to them as we left.
"I like doing that," Ben explained to me as we walked back to the cafeteria. "It's my way of sharing what I've learned. And I like to talk to kids because they're going to be making the decisions of the future."
Life Skills 101: Don't Let Your Uncle Marry Your Mom
|
|
|
Thursday, 10 May 07 - 11:05 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in General |
| ||
This right here is a wonderful article. Happiest, best, most positive thing I've read...um...definitely this week. And it's been a nice week. No complaints vis a vis the week thus far. But, still!
Here, let me read you a bit:
PEABODY - Crystal MacLarty stands at the front of the class with a sword in her hand. She is lecturing on "Hamlet" and uses all the tools of the trade to relate one of Shakespeare's most memorable plays - even brandishing the plastic prop.
On the computerized white board behind her, she beams a slide presentation full of story bullet points. A student at the front of the class uses cutouts of the main characters on a small felt board to help him understand the story. He follows along in a version of the play that has been translated into helpful word symbols.
"Put yourself in Hamlet's shoes," MacLarty declares. MacLarty asks the 18 students to draw three squares: one for their mother, one for their father and one for their uncle. She tells them to cross off their father's name and draw a line from their mother to their uncle. "This is the situation Hamlet found himself in," the teacher announces. "His father died and within a month, his mother married his uncle." Peals of "ewww" and "that's gross" carry through the first-floor classroom.
Welcome to Peabody High's Life Skills class, where MacLarty harnesses a teaching method called Universal Design for Learning. It's an idea gaining acceptance in special education classrooms like Peabody's. Universal Design taps technology to help teachers and students adapt materials to their varied needs and skills. The idea sounds simple enough, but until computers and the appropriate software were developed, students had to rely on mass-produced materials and textbooks.
"There are so many new resources," said retired special education teacher Sandra Ring. "You don't have to read to understand concepts."
Ring, who helped introduce UDL at Peabody High, said the Life Skills classroom is a model for the state. "It's about a whole high school change," Ring said. "It's here, my dream. Technology, that's the key."
Here's what I love about the effective use of technology in the classroom: it can stop schools from being (in the words of educational theorist John Goodlad) "sorting mechanisms"...places where a few students are picked out and held up to everyone else as "good and worthy." Places, for many, then, of shame. Places where the individual very often just doesn't measure up. That is not what education should be about. Certainly not taxpayer-funded, public education. How dysfunctional would that be? To be legally required to pay into a system that labels almost everyone (including you and your family) as somehow 'defective'?
I laughed when I read about the student that uses character cut-outs to help him act out the plot points of Macbeth...Ben does that. With James watching his every dramatic nuance: Every night, when I read to the boys before bedtime, Ben gets out his collection of 'pelagic friends' (yup, his words...) and physically acts out with his toys whatever I am reading.
How brilliant is my child? That he came up with this idea, his own personal comprehension aid, all on his own?
Buddha 101 (simulcast on Blogger!)
|
|
|
Wednesday, 09 May 07 - 02:39 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in homeschool |
| ||
I get a chatty, philosophical email everyday from Brian Johnson of Zaadz. Usually a quote to urge me further down the path of the examined life with a bit at the end elucidating further on the life or ideology of the quotee. It's like a little slice of crunchy California sunshine every morning...
I've started to read and discuss some of these quotes with the boys. Today's quote was from Buddha:
"One who conquers himself is greater than another who conquers a thousand times a thousand on the battlefield."
"What do you think is meant by 'one who conquers himself'?" I asked first.
Glum silence of disinterest.
"Well, what does conquer mean?" I continued.
"To FIGHT AND KILL AND DESTROY!" the second-born shouted in a most un-Buddha-like manner, suddenly enthralled by today's lesson.
"Okay, those are some examples of conquering," I agreed. "But would you do those things to yourself? Do you think that Buddha wanted people to...hit themselves with a big hammer over the head? Would that be better than conquering a thousand times a thousand people on the battlefield?"
Upon deeper consideration...about five minutes worth...with re-enactments...and sound effects...we decided that no, that's not what Buddha was after. We decided that Buddha wanted us to look at the things we most wanted to change in ourselves.
And that's when things got good.
"I wish I weren't so quick to yell," Ben said. "And I wish I didn't argue so much with Dad."
"Kinda feels like a battle, right? Fighting against those habits?" I asked.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Absolutely."
"I wish I weren't so wiggly," James offered then.
"Do you think there's stuff that mom fights against, too?" I asked. "Stuff I'd like to do better?" We agreed that mom most certainly had her own internal struggles...rarely such unanimous assent here at home school high...
Afterwards, the boys drew pictures of some of the habits and traits they battled. I'm gonna work on my drawing later, after the boys are in bed...
Follow the Bouncing Blog
|
|
|
Sunday, 06 May 07 - 01:53 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in General |
| ||
I know. I have a bit of a commitment problem.
But I am now posting here because I can figure out how to manipulate the template on Blogger. And I can't quite here on Terapad.The really sad part? I had to name this blogger blog A Spectrum of Possibilities. Because just plain 'spectrum of possibilities' had already been taken.
By me.
But I can't remember my password and login.
So I just went ahead and made a new blog.
This is probably the cyber equivalent of littering. I apologize to future generations in advance.
From the Archives: Technology
|
|
|
Sunday, 29 April 07 - 02:13 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Technology |
| ||
Photo credit: my first born
My people come from a long, proud tradition of absentminded muttering, so initially, I thought nothing of the rousing conversation Ben was having with himself the other morning while getting dressed. A lot of the time he will just make up stories as a way to transition to wakefulness and if I happen to comment on them he’ll look surprised, say, “Oh, I didn’t realize I was saying that out loud.”
This morning, though, there was something, an earnestness, in his tone that made me pay closer attention: “I like my school,” he was murmuring fervently. “I like my teachers. I like the other kids. But I don’t like fifth grade. Maybe I’ll get a stomach ache over breakfast and mom will keep me home today.”
Fifth grade is a tough year. Everything gets kicked up a notch: the long division gets longer, the multiplication becomes more complex, and in the great state of New York and in accordance with No Child Left Behind (which penalizes schools that don’t achieve satisfactory standardized test scores by withholding federal money that could be used to actually help teachers and improve student performance by--let’s just say--reducing class size and increasing teacher training...) there is a comprehensive state exam in social studies.
Now, in addition to transcribing Ben’s practice-DBQ (“document based question”) social studies essay responses, the husband or I have been walking Ben through his math homework every night because, frankly, the pace of new material has been brisk. Ben doesn’t know his multiplication tables that well...doesn’t even know his basic math facts in addition and subtraction without counting on his fingers. There has, though, been incredible progress in his understanding of what actually occurs during multiplication and division since last year because of time we spent working with manipulatives last summer. But even with “time and a half” for math tests, he is clearly not performing at grade level.
Which, actually, is fine with me. He is making progress. He is now capable of understanding what is taking place when these numbers and signs are put together on a page. The basic building blocks are there. The rest will come in time. The child has a LEARNING DISABILITY in math. This developmental difference is part of the nonverbal learning disability gig and is not going to just disappear--even with an aide for half of every day and extra help on Wednesday mornings--while he is a member of a 30 student (post-austerity budget vote) classroom.
Unfortunately, though, a general ed. public school education is not really set up to be so flexible and understanding...
“I’m just worried about his performance on the state tests,” is a comment that I’ve been hearing repeatedly since third grade. “Really? Because I’m actually a lit-tle more concerned with the fact that my child has regular nightmares about your classroom and is spending ten minutes at a time, a couple times an HOUR, washing his hands to get them clean,” is the response I have not YET given in return...because THAT might be indicative of a parent reluctant to cooperate with the system. The teachers, after all, have been apprised of Ben’s OCD behaviors, nod and tsk empathetically when I bring them up...
In a completely fair world, I would agree to refrain from bringing up statistics on depression, alcoholism, suicide, mental illness and imprisonment related to my son’s diagnosis and Mrs. Solipsistic would, in turn, agree never again to mention those flipping state exams in my presence...You, in short, take up your cross, I’ll take up mine.
But I digress. Technology.
So, to help reduce Ben’s stress, his nightmares, his handwashing:
The first thing we did was buy him a digital voice recorder (Sony, $37, K-mart). Ben used to spend all of his daily “free-reading time” copying down his homework from the board instead of reading books each morning. When I realized that this was going on, that my son was starting out each school day by spending twenty minutes copying his homework from the blackboard instead of reinforcing his newfound love of reading, I contacted his teacher.
“Shouldn’t we encourage the reading? Help him start the day on a positive footing?” I’d asked.
“Well, sure. But he does need to learn to copy and write faster, too. Maybe I’ll just have his aide write out the assignment and place it on his desk so that he can copy it,” his extremely lovely and I am not being sarcastic teacher suggested.
“Well, if she’s going to copy out the homework anyway, why does Ben need to recopy it when he could be spending his time reading and starting the day in a positive way?” I asked again.
“I’m really reluctant to do that,” the teacher had replied.
Right.
So we went out, bought the recorder and sent Ben into school with it. “Explain your reluctance to the kid with the voice recorder,” was my thought. He loves this recorder, is careful with it and hasn’t forgotten the books he needs for homework once since he started using it...
Next, we bought him a calculator ($6, solar-powered, CVS).
Since the husband or I sit with him during math homework anyway, we tell Ben when he can use it (“what problem are you going to solve with this?”) and when we think he can work out the problem on his own without it. The calculator has not only given him a feeling of power over this subject that he battles nightly, it has sped up the homework process exponentially (yes, I believe in the concept of homework, but I don’t believe that a fifth grader should spend more than 45 minutes a night total at its mercy).
I am going to suggest at next week’s parent/teacher conference that we convene officially to have calculator-use added to Ben’s IEP with the same strictures that we use here at home. He has a classroom aide that can perform the same function in school that my husband or I perform at home--that is, make sure that the calculator is a support, not a crutch so that Ben does not become overwhelmed emotionally by his math disability.
Finally, last night, I went out and purchased a memory card ($50, 40 minutes of filming, Best Buy) for our digital camera. Now, Ben can start filming his Lego movies in digital instead of analog and posting them to YouTube. They are funny, sweet creations--his movies. And something that he can be proud of. Something he does well--better than most kids his age. It is a chance to show off some of the gifts that come with his brand of brain.
Supplies-Side Economics
|
|
|
Thursday, 26 April 07 - 03:46 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in homeschool |
| ||
So it turns out that Amazon has a home school store. Hunh. So much for being avant garde...I'm just another lemming...
Still, for sheer online-shopping, flippin-the-bird-to-the-establishment entertainment value: I like www.thislittlepiggystayshome.com as a book-shopping option. And according to my NYHEN listserv, vegsource.com and the Yahoo! group teachingtotstoteens are also quite good. And the local library has, of course, suddenly become my favorite place...
Devising a curricululm on the fly like this would be a lot more complicated if there weren't so many helpful websites to turn to...how did people do this before the internetz?
... More items are available in my News Archive
