Terrible/Perfect

Grade the Second

Hi there!

Big Kid is in the 2nd grade this year, age-wise. I'm having a good homeschooling year so far, though Baby is an extremely poor sleeper, so we're off to a slower start than I'd like. I kind of want to take pictures of my house and show them to people, it looks so horrific. Between the insanity of buying the house, moving in mid-to-late June and trying to manage life with an intensely busy crawling infant that doesn't sleep and a surly tornado of a four year-old my home it's all a total disaster. Truly. I remind myself that it's such a short-lived phase, this Baby thing. And it's hard to not just fully enjoy the third and definitely very last baby. He's a big ol' treat. Om nom nom nom.

This year Big Kid has a nice mix: she's attending a program for academically talented students one day per week, and then the rest of the week we do fairly loose, ecelectic homeschooling.

Arright.

MATH:

Dreambox Learning: This is her sole curriculum. I have the niggling feeling that I should add in some pen and paper math, but I like the approach this program takes (it's aligned with the Common Core and builds to conceptual mastery) and, most importantly, she is extremely motivated to use it (I let her go until she wants to quit, which is never until at least an hour). She is working on 3rd and 4th grade maths simultaneously. 

LANGUAGE ARTS:

Writing Skills, Grade 4 and Language Arts. Grade 4 (Flash Kids): I picked these two books up at Barnes and Noble out of desperation. I just wasn't sure what to buy. I need some structure to help her learn to write, and she needs to learn grammar skills, and they actually seem like really solid workbooks. Whew! I like that she has inherited my teeny tiny handwriting:

Vocabulary from Classical Roots 4: A good friend is beginning something similar this year with her homeschooling 10 year-old, and I agree with her that roots-based vocabulary seems like it would be useful throughout life. This hasn't actually come in yet, but I plan to begin next week. 16 lessons, probably one semester.

Manuscript Review/Intro to Cursive: She wants cursive. Okay.

Independent reading: Chapter books with a very simple reading log.

SCIENCE:

R.E.A.L. Science Odyssey Life Level 1: It was difficult for me to decide between Life Level 1 (1st-4th grade) and Biology 2 (5th-8th grade). She needs the younger curriculum in terms of her technical skills (lab reports and so forth) but the older one in terms of interest and comprehension, so I opted to go with the curriculum that she can do independently. Fortunately the curriculum is designed to be adapted to the learner, so we will err towards more supplements (additonal books, documentaries, and projects) rather than less, and also do science daily. This also includes a nature journal.

The Story of Science by Joy Hakim: I like this series. I'm sure we'll come back to the history of science many times, but for now this series is one way to go a bit deeper with science.

HISTORY:

We're doing a unit on the Victorian Era! I felt like I was increasingly piling her up with curricula, and that is absolutely not the tone I want homeschooling to have for our family. I just chucked the history curriculum in favor of a unit study that will communicate a ton of history. This particular era is unbelievably rich. Here's my random brainstorming list from last night:

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Lewis Carroll

Bronte sisters

Dickens

Brownings

Gilbert & Sullivan

Wilde/Importance of Earnest

Darwin

Thoreau

Dickinson

Whitman

Emerson

Twain

Arthur Conan Doyle

Robert Louis Stevenson

Yeats

Christina Rossetti

Industrial revolution

Child labor

Electricity

Marie curie

Photography – Daguerre, Talbot

Railroads

Civil war

Oregon Trail

Tchaikovsky

Holy hell! Nutso. Note the Britain/U.S. divide there. I do like comparisons. Cover one area, move to another area in the same time frame...how different they are! Like, Beatrix Potter was writing her books, Tchaikovsky was writing ballets, and people were moving to Oregon all at the same time. Doesn't that seem kind of weird? I think I'll stick to the British side of things first. So far we're especially enjoying the series Victorian Farm. We'll cook and listen to music and stuff. Woo hoo!

MUSIC:

This is a first for us! I'm stoked. I bought an electric keyboard, and we will work on beginning piano, ear traning and music theory (using Progressive Theory for Young Beginners). I also want to do some music history, but I haven't thought it through yet.

ART:

An art history and art technique combo with Discovering Great Artists.

I am also going to try to teach drawing (Art for Kids: Drawing?) because she seems very motivated to learn to draw better, but I really don't want to kill it for her, so it will happen on an "only if she's totally into it" basis.

Adventures in Cartooning by James Sturm: Yes. Yes! Comics. Good.

P.E.:

Ballet class. Yoga videos. Runnin' around.

I think that's it! Good year. Yay. I'm glad we're doing this (and, if you're wondering, Little Kid is in preschool this year in a big way, so I'm off the hook...and miss her terribly).

This is only a test

"...for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation."

-Mr. Collins

The time came, sort of, to have a go at something I've thought about for years now: something extra for the kid.

This desire (on my part) put her squarely, for the first time in her wee little life, in the path of testing. In this case, the entrance test for Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth, a program that appears to consist of testing for testing's sake on the one hand* and some pretty neat-looking distance classes on the other (this is the one I had in mind for her).

The test itself, called the School and College Ability Test (SCAT), is a two-part, timed test measuring verbal and quantitative performance via analogies and mathematical inequalities. For Johns Hopkins' gifted program, applicants take an above-grade version of the test. 2nd graders take the test designed for 3rd-6th graders, and so forth. In order to qualify to take the test a child needs to have already scored in the 95th percentile or above on another standardized test (a parent can sign a waiver if the child is homeschooled and hasn't been tested before, which is what I did).

She's still in 1st grade, and she'd never taken a test in her life, but dragons!Someplace fun to plug in that enormous bookish energy! There didn't seem to be anything but the test fee to lose, so I signed a waiver saying that I thought she'd probably perform well, and picked a date.

I tried to skirt the whole purpose leading up to it: it's just a thing! No big deal! There's a class online I think you'd really enjoy, but they want to make sure it won't be too hard! NO BIGGIE! We'll get a burrito afterward! :D :D :D

But she was up three times the night before, climbing into my bed and tossing and turning for hours. When we arrived at the test center, located in a strip mall 40 minutes away, she was white as a sheet and completely zoned out. As adults entered the closed room with its banks of testing computers partitioned by cubicle walls, the women at the desk instructed them to leave all of their belongings in padlocked lockers in the waiting area, waved a metal detector over their bodies, had them turn out their pockets and lift up their pant legs. I had my girl go pee, try to take a drink, take a deep breath. When she went to sign in, she forgot how to spell her name. At the end it went "...iaiaia." 

I should have turned around right there, and taken us all out for lunch. But we'd taken the trip, paid for the test, so, like a jackass, I thought she ought to have a go.

I could see her through the testing window, the lone child in a room full of testing grown-ups, staring at the screen twirling huge hanks of her hair around her hand, laying her head down on the desk in front of the computer, tapping her pencil on her head and looking up at the ceiling. She ran out of time. The two of us signed her out for her 10 minute break, which she spent staring zombie-like into space and only half-hearing me, then we signed her back in for the math. This time she squirmed in her chair, lifted up onto her knees, then stood on the floor, then turned around and draped over the back, twisting side to side. Again, the clock beat her.

We left and got a milkshake.

As I drove home, pondering the extraordinary performance anxiety I'd just witnessed, I felt everything I'd pinned my hopes on for my firstborn's education evaporate. If she can't test, that's it. Game over. No distance classes, no district gifted services in elementary school, no gifted middle school, no...any of it. It broke my heart.

A couple of days later we got the test results. She didn't qualify for the class. But she got really, really close. As a 1st grader, among a cohort of 2nd and 3rd graders that had already scored in the 95th percentile or above on tests at their schools, on a scaled test designed to challenge 3rd-6th graders and cause those 2nd-3rd grade test-acers' scores to spread out, she was in the 60th percentile. And she was thisclose to puking while she took it.

Putting it that way, the whole thing suddenly seemed really funny. Some person in Maryland knows that a child with my daughter's name scored in the 60th percentile on a timed series of analogies and inequalities. They didn't see the seven year-old so wigged out by the idea of a T-E-S-T, no matter how much she was assured it didn't matter to anything but a comparative literature class she might like, that she stayed up half the night and, on the day of, lost her stuff. They also didn't get to see the kid that I have no doubt would tear it up in a comparative literature class about dragons.

The whole thing: gifted education, all of it, lost much of its patina.

We had a really good talk afterward. I came clean about the concept of gifted education, and what that means (and does not mean). We talked about the Johns Hopkins program and how the test works, why they have kids take it, what might be some other ways of making sure kids were ready for the content. We talked about the gifted program in her school district, and the fact that testing for entrance happens soon: only a few short months down the road, in the fall. We talked about test anxiety. I said I was sorry that she had such a stressful experience. And I asked her: do you have any interest in trying to do this stuff?

She does. She wants to take the district's test (two, if she gets that far). She also says she's not going to be terribly disappointed if she doesn't qualify. That's fantastic.

Having had that experience, seeing the gestalt of a testing, tested child, having in hand a number that is essentially useless in its ability to speak to that whole little person and her real capabilities, shamed, humbled and liberated me.

It just doesn't matter that much. A class about dragons, or a day-long pull-out program for high-scoring kids in the district, aren't by definition sparkling, magical learning experiences. She's not going to be one of those kids that really needs to go to college super early or anything. She's homeschooled, which means she can go through math at her own pace, do a bunch of logic puzzles and spend half her day reading.

I think I'd become convinced that by getting services through the district or another institution that someone was going to help me figure out how to deal with her: with the sensitivity, anxiety, sleep troubles. Someone would put her arm around my shoulder and demystify asynchronous development.

Not only is that unrealistic, we're already finding relief and solutions in far more accessible places. She's active and engaged in scouting, trying out cross country running, and loves church, all activities that almost any kid can do, and that stretch her in important ways. She has a gaggle of dear, sweet, bright, strong little friends, book lovers to a girl, none of whom she met in a gifted program. She could certainly use the academic stimulation, but she needs fun, friends, exercise, healthy food, chances to serve, and unwavering parental love even more. No test required.

I'm sorry I put her through that, but I'm actually not sorry it didn't work out well. I'm glad I understand something of the limits of that kind of test and the information it provides. And I'm glad she's willing to have another go, a little down the road. She's not super invested, and neither am I. Everything's in its right place.

*This is an abomination. I had a look at some forums about the SCAT test, and I never. ever. want to be the parent that puts my child through numerous cognitive batteries and posts her full scores on the internet.

The comeback kid

Whoo. Been busy. Also borderlne cripplingly depressed.

Better now!

Glad we got that out of the way.

He's awful, awful sweet. Gorgeous, luscious boy.

Sorowfull Loveing Magic

This is the work of my daughter, age 7, 1st grade.

Today I drank her in, her eyes, her hair, I folded her (cold) hands in my own in the dark of her bedroom and thought of those twenty (twenty, twenty, twenty...) mothers. Empty hands. I contemplate them with my own hands shaking.  

I'm not a champion of any simple one-phrase cause or solution for this type of violence, except perhaps that like begets like, and we live in a post-Columbine world. The seeds are planted, and we water them with every headline.

I will say that if we wish to limit the scope of mass gun violence, banning combat rifles for non-military use is a good place to start. Perhaps limiting the scope will eventually limit the frequency. And it's not too early to talk about this. It's not too early to write to your representatives in Congress. It's not too early to write an initiative in your state. No one has the right to bear all possible arms. Not at this cost.

There is a wide wound in my heart, and if I put my ear to it I can hear the echo of a wild and howling grief. It's the same echo we all hear when our hearts are pulled open by our firstborn. It says "If I lose you, I will die." 

From my heart, I wish the families of Sandy Hook the sorowfull loveing magic of time. I wish them peace, when they are ready for it to find them.    

25 Days of Christmas: Days 6-10

Puppet show...cookies...latkes...Zoolights...paper chains.

I'm tired. And feeling really frustrated by a couple of projects I was really excited about but aren't turning out how I'd like them to. And while trying to get some craft projects done, I have a kitchen full of dirty dishes. Grumpf. Super grumpf. Better luck tomorrow.

25 Days of Christmas: Days 1-5

Waldorf fair...tree...peppermint play dough...glitter houses...snowflakes.

And the process...

I made them clean this up. They didn't like it. Heh.

Baby is suuuuuper needy right now. He's acting like my other kids did when they were teething. Not likely at eight weeks, but nonetheless I can't put him down and he's keeping me up until about 1 a.m. every night.

And yet...

I'm more on the ball than ever: I'm being active with the girls, engaging with the baby, putting a home-cooked dinner on the table in a timely manner, washing diapers, keeping the toilets scrubbed. With my first kid I was blearily forgetting to put the bag out front for the diaper service by 10 a.m. Now I'm all "Sure, let's do a play date tomorrow after the puppet show at the library and we'll have a hot cocoa party and I'll do some cross stitch after I serve the kids lunch!"

I think it's partly just the confidence I have as a third-time mom and partly the diamond hard knowledge I possess that every single "little thing" I let go or put off until some fairytale quiet moment called "later" is going to rise up and destroy me. There are so many of them.

It's sink or swim. I'll go with a swim and a smile, thanks!

Advent

We're doing something a little different this year with the advent calendar by trying an activity countdown. It's something I saw for the first time last year and was enthused about. We're just not able to accommodate anything else in the way of toys besides the couple of gifts they get from their grands, and my girls have had pretty major issues in the past with the caffeine in chocolate (sounds ridiculous, but I've dealt with sleepless babies and tossing and turning little girls too many times to doubt the connection), so toy or chocolate advent calendars aren't a good choice for us. But advent calendars featured hugely in my childhood Christmases, so I feel like it has to happen.

I'm way into paper decorations these days, so I made a simple paper tree and glued on little paper squares for pockets. In each pocket is a rolled up slip of paper with an activity written on it. I also made some quick little paper candles, so once the activity paper has been taken out a paper candle can be put in its place. Should be pretty cute when it's all "lit up". 

Here's my list of activities for 2012:

1st: Visit the Waldorf Winter Faire

2nd: Get the tree

3rd: Make scented play dough

4th: Begin a village of little glitter houses

5th: Make ballerina snowflakes

6th: Marionette show at the library

7th: Bake and decorate cookies

8th: Make latkes

9th: To be decided

10th: Family singalong

11th: Make a paper chain

12th: Make salt dough ornaments

13th: Decorate gingerbread houses

14th: See the tree at the state capitol building

15th: See the Nutcracker ballet

16th: To be decided

17th: Bake a gingerbread cake

18th: Fold Moravian stars

19th: Make seed cookies for the birds

20th: Family game night

21st: Solstice! Go on a nature walk and leave seed for the birds

22nd: Make cards for the family

23rd: Have a picnic dinner by the tree and watch a Christmas movie

24th: Candlelight sing at church and leave out cookies for Santa

25th: Merry Christmas!

***************

If you wanted to do something like this, your list could be whatever. I've focused on activities that I know my kids will really enjoy, but you could focus on deepening your faith, doing service, or just really simple little things like "have a hot cocoa in front of the fire". The point is, I think, to bring what's important to you in this season to the forefront.

It's a lot of work, to be honest (it doesn't help that the baby has begun to be wakeful and very needy for a few hours right after the girls have fallen asleep). Last night I was up later than I'd like making sure I had the recipe and ingredients for homemade play dough.

But!

There's nothing on there that I don't want to do with the kids, and I'm the sort of person that won't do certain things without a big push (for instance, I cannot calmly cook or bake with my children without serious advance notice). And, as is the whole point of the exercise, my kids are smitten. My oldest is stoked to pull out and read the little paper in the morning, and she's been quite vocal about how much anticipation she's feeling. And, for me, I get to do things with them that I'm normally too lazy to commit to, all to the strains of Sufjan. Win-win. Totally worth the effort.

Getting it

I'm enjoying a little rennaissance at the moment. The here and now is pretty dope, despite some left hooks here and there. 

When I'm happy, as I have been these past days (weeks?), and I mean "Whoa, I kind of feel high," happy, I get a little worried: Do I have high-fuctioning bipolar disorder? Am I mildly oxygen deprived? Do I have a tumor? I think the doubt comes from years and years of having not felt good. I'm feeling settled and productive and at peace. This can't be!  

But I think (I hope) this go around it's just the result of postpartum hormones, which have always been kind to me, and my enormously pedestrian Happiness Project efforts, in particular honoring my need for a calm (read: tidy) space at home. The more I work the knots out of the tangled skein that is my home environment the happier (calmer, kinder, easier going, more engaged, more productive) I feel. I have a long way to go still, but we got through house and tree decorating so smoothly. I felt really excellent, with the music playing and the dinner promptly on the table and now with the dishwasher whirring.

Sometimes I marvel at the increase in self-knowledge and happiness I've experienced as I've grown older. When I was younger I think I pictured happiness looking something like this, a kind of idiosyncratic domestic bliss, but I couldn't figure out how anyone would get to happiness, whatever it looked like; it was like another country that I could see in pictures, but there were no flights, no trains, no buses, no roads.

But I guess you just put one foot in front of the other over and over and one day you find you're in another place.

Tabula rasa

Cleeeeeeeeeaning up in here. Whooooahh.

I realized pretty quickly into this three-kids-and-1,200-square-feet-of-house gig that I needed my space clean. And I don't mean picked up, I mean organized down to the last paperclip. I notice that I get really, really angry when my space is chaotic, which is not good for me or anyone who lives with me. I don't know if it's some kind of diagnosable condition, but I am the kind of person who simultaneously struggles with organization and cannot function like a normal human being without it.  

I've spent many years getting to know the enemy, and enemy, thy name is stuff. I'm suiting up in a power loader and preparing to kick that shit out of the air lock.

When I no longer had a basketball in my gut, after the cloud of pregnancy depression lifted, and once my surgical incision healed up, I began getting down to it. I've slayed some pretty decently sized dragons by now, and my living room is approaching the point that I feel like I can actually consider carefully adding some things in over time: a couple of throw pillows for the couch, some lighting, a rug, wall art.

I've got so very much left (the girls' room is horrific), but I'm making progress every day. We will get there, dammit.

My mother will be so pleased.

4 weeks

Funny baby.

In four weeks I left my house in a vehicle four times: twice to the pediatrician, once to the obstetric nurse, and once to buy a minivan. All the rest was rest: putter around the home. Sleep. Cuddle. Take short walks. Read. My husband took the girls abroad to their various happenings. He did the shopping, picked up the library books, got the mail, took the family to church. Baby and I stayed home.

It was glorious. I'll never forget it.

Monday morning my husband is back to work, and I am back to homemaking. I am fully prepared, physically and emotionally.

I trust that a new rhythm will come, and that I will enter into it with a glad heart.