Sometimes it feels like every post has to be an epiphany, a symphony, a microcosm of life on the planet as distilled through the filter of blog-inspired truth and life. Huh?
Never mind.
Jordan and I have been having great fun homeschooling lately. We've joined a local homeschooling group that meets twice a month. Jordan wishes it were more, which causes me continued pause to wonder if he'd be happier at a daily public school, even if he didn't learn anything new. The group also has been having quite a few field trips, most of which Jordan has been able to enjoy, as well.
After a visit to Ohio Caverns, he's become a spelunker, quite knowledgeable in the area. He and his mom went to Mammoth Caves last weekend.
School work is in the realm of the first grade now. He's finished his 100 Lessons to Reading book, and we're now working on the weird stuff of English, like why there's no logical way to tell how the "ou" is going to sound in words like "should" and "about." Mathematically, he's begun work on carrying, understanding the concept of when to carry and why, as well as developing a concept of multiplication. A lot of his ability is intuitive, I can tell, so the task is to teach why his intuition is correct. Reminds me of a time when I was studying one of those problems in algebra where one train leaves Chicago at noon and another train leaves Phoenix at 2 p.m. heading toward each other, so who gets to each dinner first. I go through the whole algebraic web to get to the answer, while Deb (Jordan's mom) thinks about it for a second and intuits the answer. I do believe that Jordan is getting the benefit of both the right- and the left-brained answers to such problems and more.
He's started a graphic story that I hope he finishes in time to send to a PBS contest. I don't remember wanting to write a book when I was six. But then, I didn't learn to read at a second grade level till I was in the first grade, either.
And the fact that Jordan is wanting to write and illustrate stories is another reason that I wonder if I'm capable of teaching him everything he needs to know.
So, I continue down this road of trying to keep up with the social and educational needs of someone who in the not too distant future will be teaching me a thing or two, I have a feeling.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
People and places
Is it tomorrow yet? Of course it is. What does Jordan remember from his pre-kindergarten? Actually, it was called Ready-Set-Go, and was meant for kids between pre-K and kindergarten, you know, those born after the cut-off date for enrollment in school.
Anyway, what he remembers are first and foremost people. Kindred spirits. Actually there was one other boy who was as boisterous as Jordan, but he was older socially thanks to having older brothers. Then he remembers his first best friend, who was a girl who said she'd play with him and be his friend as long as he didn't talk so much.
For some reason, he liked his Spanish class, though he can barely do more than recite numbers from uno to dies. The outings to the zoo, the dentists, the vets, and to a play area remain with him, especially the first and last. The first because it was the first, the last because he got to go on his own without me.
He remembers his first playdate and his last three days in Colorado because they basically turned into an extended playdate as I had to be at the house to oversee packers packing.
Jordan has told me from time to time recently that he really liked the house back there. "I lived in it for years," he says, and he did, about three, to be exact. He liked his karate school and his soccer team, and so did I.
However, we have it pretty good here, too, he says. He has a bigger room, and we're closer to family, especially his only grandmother and his cousins. So we're getting used to life here.
But as far as learning what sound letters make and whatnot, those aren't memories that made a lasting impression, and I think I have an answer for that, related to another post on layers of memories.
When we make memories, they're layered on top of old memories. If we do something totally new, especially as a child, more than the usual number of memories are laid down. As new layers of memories are laid on the old "first" memories, the layers beneath get dimmer, less memorable. So, every day spent learning a new letter sound, a new geography fact, any kind of unexciting (though nonetheless important) activity, it becomes more of a ho-hum event that's pushed back in our minds.
While Jordan remembers going to school, he doesn't recall the day he learned the sound of a particular letter. Similarly for me, I remember that I blog, but I don't remember the details of every day's writings.
Anyway, what he remembers are first and foremost people. Kindred spirits. Actually there was one other boy who was as boisterous as Jordan, but he was older socially thanks to having older brothers. Then he remembers his first best friend, who was a girl who said she'd play with him and be his friend as long as he didn't talk so much.
For some reason, he liked his Spanish class, though he can barely do more than recite numbers from uno to dies. The outings to the zoo, the dentists, the vets, and to a play area remain with him, especially the first and last. The first because it was the first, the last because he got to go on his own without me.
He remembers his first playdate and his last three days in Colorado because they basically turned into an extended playdate as I had to be at the house to oversee packers packing.
Jordan has told me from time to time recently that he really liked the house back there. "I lived in it for years," he says, and he did, about three, to be exact. He liked his karate school and his soccer team, and so did I.
However, we have it pretty good here, too, he says. He has a bigger room, and we're closer to family, especially his only grandmother and his cousins. So we're getting used to life here.
But as far as learning what sound letters make and whatnot, those aren't memories that made a lasting impression, and I think I have an answer for that, related to another post on layers of memories.
When we make memories, they're layered on top of old memories. If we do something totally new, especially as a child, more than the usual number of memories are laid down. As new layers of memories are laid on the old "first" memories, the layers beneath get dimmer, less memorable. So, every day spent learning a new letter sound, a new geography fact, any kind of unexciting (though nonetheless important) activity, it becomes more of a ho-hum event that's pushed back in our minds.
While Jordan remembers going to school, he doesn't recall the day he learned the sound of a particular letter. Similarly for me, I remember that I blog, but I don't remember the details of every day's writings.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Remembering school
I've been thinking a lot lately about my own early public schooling. What I remember is interesting. Almost as interesting as what I don't remember.
I don't remember the first bus ride to the school. Later on, I do remember the roads we took. I should. I spent nearly 45 minutes going and coming!
In school, I do remember the first day interrupting the teacher several times to tell her my full name. She told me to go sit down and be like a girl named Debbie Gee, who was sitting and saying nothing. I didn't like that, but I don't remember anything else from the day. Debbie Gee would become my girlfriend, off and on.
Nothing from the rest of first grade sticks in my mind.
Second grade, I had a crush on the teacher, Mrs. Jenkins. She had us learn to spell "transportation." I was a good speller, though, and learned to spell "Czechoslovakia." I remember being singled out because of that. Maybe, I thought, since the teacher liked boys who could spell, I'd give it my 110%. In fifth through eight grades, I'd be a school representative on the National Spelling Bee team, winning the county in the eighth grade.
I remember only one Christmas play of the six or seven I must have been in. I think it's the first one. I may have combined two or three into one memory. One, I and Don Richards were trying to out-sing each other. I was a character in a play in another one. I remember playing in the parking lot with my friends during one PTO meeting, or maybe it was the Christmas play. Can't remember. Only remember the playing.
I remember playing softball once we got into the fourth grade. There were two softball fields, and it was a great thing when we were allowed to play on the big one.
A magician came to the school at least once, and he used me in one of his skits, pulling a long line of underwear and clothing from my shirt. We watched him leave and I thought I'd be cool and told him to peel out, which was kind of funny because he was driving an old van. He talked to me about safety, and I felt upbraided and embarrassed in front of my friends.
My first basketball game, I didn't have shoes, so I was playing in my socks. I dribbled the ball really high and was wanting my girlfriend to see me. (This was about the third or fourth grade?) Bob Kilgour sneaked around me and stole the ball and made a goal. Couple of years later, I faked out Lem Curry and made a goal. Lem was really talented, so this was a major deal.
In second grade, two friends and I ran and ran around a concrete pad. They both ran till their sides hurt, and though mine didn't, I said it did.
There was a tree on the playground, and I went under it with a girl named Sheila. I liked her, and we'd try to sit with each other on the bus, but the bus driver wouldn't allow it.
In the second grade, my writing was very small. Mrs. Jenkins often wished I would write bigger. By the fourth grade, I was writing bigger, and Mrs. Jenkins said she wished I'd written that big for her. That made me feel bad, like she didn't like me.
John Kennedy was shot while I was in the fourth grade. I made an inappropriate joke about it and Keith Carlisle told me it wasn't funny.
So what's the point? Simply, it's that memories aren't made of learning facts and figures. They're made of people and places, doing things. This tells me that wherever Jordan does his learning, more important than the words and numbers--all of which come easily to him--are the places and people.
I asked Jordan what he remembered from school in Colorado. I'll write about what he said, tomorrow.
I don't remember the first bus ride to the school. Later on, I do remember the roads we took. I should. I spent nearly 45 minutes going and coming!
In school, I do remember the first day interrupting the teacher several times to tell her my full name. She told me to go sit down and be like a girl named Debbie Gee, who was sitting and saying nothing. I didn't like that, but I don't remember anything else from the day. Debbie Gee would become my girlfriend, off and on.
Nothing from the rest of first grade sticks in my mind.
Second grade, I had a crush on the teacher, Mrs. Jenkins. She had us learn to spell "transportation." I was a good speller, though, and learned to spell "Czechoslovakia." I remember being singled out because of that. Maybe, I thought, since the teacher liked boys who could spell, I'd give it my 110%. In fifth through eight grades, I'd be a school representative on the National Spelling Bee team, winning the county in the eighth grade.
I remember only one Christmas play of the six or seven I must have been in. I think it's the first one. I may have combined two or three into one memory. One, I and Don Richards were trying to out-sing each other. I was a character in a play in another one. I remember playing in the parking lot with my friends during one PTO meeting, or maybe it was the Christmas play. Can't remember. Only remember the playing.
I remember playing softball once we got into the fourth grade. There were two softball fields, and it was a great thing when we were allowed to play on the big one.
A magician came to the school at least once, and he used me in one of his skits, pulling a long line of underwear and clothing from my shirt. We watched him leave and I thought I'd be cool and told him to peel out, which was kind of funny because he was driving an old van. He talked to me about safety, and I felt upbraided and embarrassed in front of my friends.
My first basketball game, I didn't have shoes, so I was playing in my socks. I dribbled the ball really high and was wanting my girlfriend to see me. (This was about the third or fourth grade?) Bob Kilgour sneaked around me and stole the ball and made a goal. Couple of years later, I faked out Lem Curry and made a goal. Lem was really talented, so this was a major deal.
In second grade, two friends and I ran and ran around a concrete pad. They both ran till their sides hurt, and though mine didn't, I said it did.
There was a tree on the playground, and I went under it with a girl named Sheila. I liked her, and we'd try to sit with each other on the bus, but the bus driver wouldn't allow it.
In the second grade, my writing was very small. Mrs. Jenkins often wished I would write bigger. By the fourth grade, I was writing bigger, and Mrs. Jenkins said she wished I'd written that big for her. That made me feel bad, like she didn't like me.
John Kennedy was shot while I was in the fourth grade. I made an inappropriate joke about it and Keith Carlisle told me it wasn't funny.
So what's the point? Simply, it's that memories aren't made of learning facts and figures. They're made of people and places, doing things. This tells me that wherever Jordan does his learning, more important than the words and numbers--all of which come easily to him--are the places and people.
I asked Jordan what he remembered from school in Colorado. I'll write about what he said, tomorrow.
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