On Friday I took both boys for their annual check-up. I had to beg the pediatrician to fit us in between their actual birthdays and before this baby, as they do not schedule three appointments at the same time. 11 yo needed shots, so the insurance would not cover a visit before his actual birthday. I ended up taking them on Friday afternoon.
Between my dear friend and my MIL, I did not have to bring all four kids with me, so I assumed the appointment will be a piece of cake. The pediatrician is located not far from the taekwondo studio, so maybe we would even make it to a Friday afternoon class, in the spirit of trying to get in as many classes before the baby as possible. I told boys to pack up their uniforms and gear and load up.
When we were being taken in by a nurse, 11 yo asked right off the bat whether there are any shots in store. He was told that there are going to be two, and he took that info in stride. Then 9 yo timidly inquired whether he is getting any shots. He was reassured that there will be none, and he visibly exhaled. Then, as the nurse was finishing inputting their measurements, she said how 9 yo will need a finger stick to measure his cholesterol, but it is not a big deal.
It turned out to be a big deal. For a child with anxiety, being told something new like this was a big deal. He immediately kicked into full panic mode: crying, screaming, begging not to be pricked, asking why he deserves this, etc. It took three nurses to hold him down to get that prick. By this point, 11 yo was starting to lose his cool, so be stepped out. I was trying to talk to 9 yo, and I even asked the nurses to back off, to give him on minute to decide which hand will get pricked, but he was too far gone. I remained calm for as long as I could, but when he started trying to kick the nurses, I firmly said that he cannot do that. Meanwhile, the nurses invoked: "Don't upset your pregnant momma" mantra which I really wished they didn't. At the end, he was left sniffling and screaming, huddling on a chair, waiting for a doctor.
11 yo hopped onto an exam table, and mumbled something about losing his resolve to stay calm for his shots. He tried lightening the mood in the room by clowning around a bit. The rest of the appointment was unremarkable, and 9 yo cooperated with the doctor just fine. Then those shots came. By the time the nurse told 11 yo to relax and stuck him, he went into hysterical giggling: "It didn't hurt! It didn't hurt!" He was laughing, but there were tears in his eyes. Clearly, he had had enough emotions and they were spilling out.
When we checked out, there were only ten minutes left till taekwondo, so I asked boys whether they wanted to rush it. Both of them shook their heads "no", so we hit the ice cream store instead. Ever since the kids were vey little, I promised ice cream for those doctor appointments which involved shots. It was a nice way to end a possible nerve-wrecking outing, and it left a taste of something sweet. I did not promise such a treat to boys apriori, but, after what we've all been through, it seemed fitting.
It was raining, and it has been raining for the whole week. The ice cream place is outdoors, but they have a small canopy. Everyone ordered a scoop, and we stood there, silently eating our cones and looking out into the rain.
It was the zen moment of the day. 9 yo finally relaxed. 11 yo was rendered speechless, just savoring his cone and standing there. I was thinking of what my life would be like if I only had to take care of a 9 yo and 11 yo, instead of catering to much smaller creatures. I was enjoying this moment of knowing that everyone near me is relaxed, content and thankful for the treat (both boys thanked me, easing into gratitude).
The speaker above us pumped in "Closing Time" by Semisonic. How fitting: I have heard this song numerous times, but never paid very close attention to the words, assuming it is all about being kicked out of a bar. Recently, I have seen a little tidbit floating around, saying that the song is really about impending parenthood, and the ambivalent feelings that come with it. Now I was really listening.
I am in my last weeks pregnancy, yet I feel strangely unsettled. I can't put a finger on it: what is that project, that nesting activity that I need to complete in order to feel ready and prepared for this baby? It is not a matter of finding a trusting practitioner, or getting labor support. It is not a matter of a doula. It is not a matter of getting baby things set up. I have all of that in place, or close enough. It is a hang-up in my brain, keeping me from being ready.
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
As we were looking into the rain, my two older boys and I, I had this strong feeling how this might be the last Shabbos that I am having with just four kids. This baby is a new life, a new beginning, yet, it is also an end of an era. It is the end of "four kid" stage. It might sound funny to those who have one or two kids: does it really make any difference whether there are four kids or five? Isn't four already in the slightly crazy, big family category? Besides, the youngest is only two, so this "four kid" stage only lasted for a short while. Yet, in my head, four was within some grander logical scheme, and five is beyond that. Five is a whole next step. Five is where I cannot keep them all at home. Five is where we do not fit into any sedan, no matter how we contort ourselves. Five does not fit around a standard table. Five is this new area, which does not fold into itself neatly. It is a prime number, it is a star.
"Every new beginning come from some other beginning's end."
My last surviving grandmother is on her last breath. My mother is with her, and it is also an end of an era. It's the end of my grandparents, it is the end of my kids being blessed with having seen their great grandmother. We visited her in the summer, but she has long joined the dementia world of endless summer, or endless dark, so it was not a coherent visit.It was a long good-bye, drawn out over many moons, many years. Now, as a great grandchild is about to take a first breath, a generation is taking its last. The interplay of grief/relief/joy, the end juxtaposed with a beginning.
We finished our ice creams and came home to the usual hustle and bustle of a four kid household in preparation for Shabbos. "You don't have to go, but you can't stay here."
Monday, April 20, 2015
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
the results of ITBS
A few weeks ago the boys took ITBS test, also known as Iowa. It is a standardized normed test, just the kind that the state requires to be administered every three years. 11 yo (yes, we had a Pesach birthday!) took this test before, both in school setting and then in 3rd grade. He tested well, his results were good to exceptional, and it was no big deal, even though he was taking it the week after I had 2 yo and the house was topsy-turvy.
9 yo (yes, he also had a Pesach birhtday!) is known not to test well. He has never done a test like this. He hates being put on the spot, his anxiety revs up, he freezes or tantrums. His previous assessments were the psychological profile where he refused to cooperate on the section that required writing, and the testing done for the local day school, where, again, he got teary-eyed, dropped to the floor, and did not do well. Based on those two assessments, I was told that he has anxiety, a possible writing disorder, difficulty adjusting to the classroom, need for medication and shadow. In short, beyond my personal qualms, I had external reasons to worry about how the testing would go.
I knew that 9 yo has to get tested this year. I spoke to other homeschool parents and was told about different normed tests that are out there that would qualify. However, after much thought and mulling it over with my husband, we decided to stick with ITBS. It is a well-recognized test, and it is widely administered. Moreover, while I do not want to call it "objective", few schools would dispute its results. In our state, the results are not submitted anywhere, and nothing really hinges on them, so we decided to risk it, and see what we will get.
As the preparation for the test, I ordered Spectrum Test Taking Skills booklets, so the boys would get a bit of practice with multiple choice, timed sections, and general examples of the questions to be expected. Total expenditure (besides time) was $20. Predictably, 11 yo had no trouble with his booklet, and 9 yo was less than eager about his. I did a bit of test prep with them every day, but we did not get to finish before the test rolled in. Also, the booklet had just English and math sections; ITBS also tests social studies and science. I chose not to tell 9 yo about those sections, since we have not done any formal learning in those areas.
The testing itself was administered by another homeschool group, and took place over three days. It helped that there were a few other familiar faces taking the test. None of the kids enjoyed it, although 11 yo was more optimistic in his assessment of how it went compared to 9 yo. What was done, was done, and I settled in to wait for the results.
So?
I got the results this week.
Both boys did well. Ridiculously well. Exceptionally well, Off-the-charts well in some areas. The only area where they did on an average level was math computation, but they both did so well in other math sections, that the total was still quite high.
I am not posting this to boast. I will not go into details of raw scores and percentile ranks and grade equivalents. I am posting this to validate the ability of kids to spend most of their time outside of traditional worksheets learning, and then outscore their peers who are wasting away behind those worksheets. I am posting this as a validation of unschooling. When we saw those average results in computation, I told my husband: is it because we did not spend enough time on practice? Or is it that the only subject where we stuck to a traditional curriculum (math) is the only subject which is hindering our kids' learning? Maybe they need fewer of those math pages, fewer drills, and their results would improve?
It is possible that my kids are really geniuses. It is possible that an average American kid taking ITBS is not so smart. It is possible that this is just luck of the draw, etc. It is possible that by conducting practically one-on-one training, anyone can achieve such results. It is possible that I am such a brilliant parent who managed to put together such exceptional opportunities that my kids entered the test extremely well-prepared. I can come up with many conjectures to the results.
I do not think any of them hold water.
What I do think is that wasting childhood on test prep and traditional schoolwork is sad. I do want to march into the day school and wave 9 yo's test results in the face of the principal and say: see, my kid did this, without a shadow, without medication, and without being boxed in. Wouldn't you like to have such a brilliant student in your school, to pull up everyone else's score? Only I got to keep him at home, save all those tuition dollars and all the heartache.
I will file the test results away for now. I told the boys that they did well, that they passed, and I emphasized to 9 yo that he has nothing to worry about. As kids, unaccustomed to making a big deal out of external assessment, they shrugged and moved on. They did not see their actual test results. They do not think in terms of grades and ranks.
They think in terms of self-knowledge. Just today, 9 yo told me, out of the blue: "You know how I hate sitting down to do mishna and chumash? That's because I need to find something good to fidget with; then my hands will be busy and I will be able to sit."
"What do you want to fidget with?"
"A stuffed animal might be good. Or a pen that I can click."
He settled on a particular pen, explaining how it was not too easy to click it, and not too hard at the same time. He did fidget with it, although I'm not sure that is the object that he will ultimately choose. Fidgeting is a well-recognized distraction in situations of anxiety.What I like about this whole experience is the self-knowledge, the recognition that something can be done, something can be improved, and the search for that improvement. No test will measure it, but the results of self-discovery will have life-long consequences.
9 yo (yes, he also had a Pesach birhtday!) is known not to test well. He has never done a test like this. He hates being put on the spot, his anxiety revs up, he freezes or tantrums. His previous assessments were the psychological profile where he refused to cooperate on the section that required writing, and the testing done for the local day school, where, again, he got teary-eyed, dropped to the floor, and did not do well. Based on those two assessments, I was told that he has anxiety, a possible writing disorder, difficulty adjusting to the classroom, need for medication and shadow. In short, beyond my personal qualms, I had external reasons to worry about how the testing would go.
I knew that 9 yo has to get tested this year. I spoke to other homeschool parents and was told about different normed tests that are out there that would qualify. However, after much thought and mulling it over with my husband, we decided to stick with ITBS. It is a well-recognized test, and it is widely administered. Moreover, while I do not want to call it "objective", few schools would dispute its results. In our state, the results are not submitted anywhere, and nothing really hinges on them, so we decided to risk it, and see what we will get.
As the preparation for the test, I ordered Spectrum Test Taking Skills booklets, so the boys would get a bit of practice with multiple choice, timed sections, and general examples of the questions to be expected. Total expenditure (besides time) was $20. Predictably, 11 yo had no trouble with his booklet, and 9 yo was less than eager about his. I did a bit of test prep with them every day, but we did not get to finish before the test rolled in. Also, the booklet had just English and math sections; ITBS also tests social studies and science. I chose not to tell 9 yo about those sections, since we have not done any formal learning in those areas.
The testing itself was administered by another homeschool group, and took place over three days. It helped that there were a few other familiar faces taking the test. None of the kids enjoyed it, although 11 yo was more optimistic in his assessment of how it went compared to 9 yo. What was done, was done, and I settled in to wait for the results.
So?
I got the results this week.
Both boys did well. Ridiculously well. Exceptionally well, Off-the-charts well in some areas. The only area where they did on an average level was math computation, but they both did so well in other math sections, that the total was still quite high.
I am not posting this to boast. I will not go into details of raw scores and percentile ranks and grade equivalents. I am posting this to validate the ability of kids to spend most of their time outside of traditional worksheets learning, and then outscore their peers who are wasting away behind those worksheets. I am posting this as a validation of unschooling. When we saw those average results in computation, I told my husband: is it because we did not spend enough time on practice? Or is it that the only subject where we stuck to a traditional curriculum (math) is the only subject which is hindering our kids' learning? Maybe they need fewer of those math pages, fewer drills, and their results would improve?
It is possible that my kids are really geniuses. It is possible that an average American kid taking ITBS is not so smart. It is possible that this is just luck of the draw, etc. It is possible that by conducting practically one-on-one training, anyone can achieve such results. It is possible that I am such a brilliant parent who managed to put together such exceptional opportunities that my kids entered the test extremely well-prepared. I can come up with many conjectures to the results.
I do not think any of them hold water.
What I do think is that wasting childhood on test prep and traditional schoolwork is sad. I do want to march into the day school and wave 9 yo's test results in the face of the principal and say: see, my kid did this, without a shadow, without medication, and without being boxed in. Wouldn't you like to have such a brilliant student in your school, to pull up everyone else's score? Only I got to keep him at home, save all those tuition dollars and all the heartache.
I will file the test results away for now. I told the boys that they did well, that they passed, and I emphasized to 9 yo that he has nothing to worry about. As kids, unaccustomed to making a big deal out of external assessment, they shrugged and moved on. They did not see their actual test results. They do not think in terms of grades and ranks.They think in terms of self-knowledge. Just today, 9 yo told me, out of the blue: "You know how I hate sitting down to do mishna and chumash? That's because I need to find something good to fidget with; then my hands will be busy and I will be able to sit."
"What do you want to fidget with?"
"A stuffed animal might be good. Or a pen that I can click."
He settled on a particular pen, explaining how it was not too easy to click it, and not too hard at the same time. He did fidget with it, although I'm not sure that is the object that he will ultimately choose. Fidgeting is a well-recognized distraction in situations of anxiety.What I like about this whole experience is the self-knowledge, the recognition that something can be done, something can be improved, and the search for that improvement. No test will measure it, but the results of self-discovery will have life-long consequences.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
pre-pesach jitters
Pesach is coming.
I don't want to read about fifty gazillion amazing things I can do with matzah.
I don't want to read about twenty desserts that taste like chametz.
I don't want another handy Pesach checklist.
I don't want to read about your panic over dirt in the bottom of your fridge which your OCD will not let you pass over.
I don't want to read about your emergency of a cleaning lady or a babysitter quitting. I definitely do not want to read how stressed you are over having your kids home for a whopping three days.
As we get closer, I do not want to see cute ideas for seder set-up. I don't want to see a charoset bar. Charoset was supposed to symbolize clay, the back-breaking labor of the Jews. There is a good reason why we had to leave Egypt and materialistic slavery behind. I am not planning on slaving over charoset.
I do not want to see your seder set-up unless:
1.I am invited to the said seder.
2. Your kids set the table up, with all the imperfections and cuteness, and you JUST LEFT IT as they set it.
Every year I tell myself not to stress over Pesach, and every year I find myself stressing. I have been in tears just about every night last week. Last night, to top it all off, 2 yo managed to march downstairs, into Pesach kitchen, with a cup full of chametz cereal. We do not allow food downstairs, keeping it chametz-free year-round. We usually keep the gate closed, but I guess it was left open with all the cooking and running back and forth, He used the opportunity. I lost it. I yelled at all the kids to get into the pajamas NOW, and get into bed. I did not tuck anyone in (except for putting 2 yo into his crib). Then I sat on the couch and cried.
Pesach is supposed to be about freedom, and we are supposed to free ourselves from expectations. We are supposed to let go, be ready to shift perspective. Every year I beat myself up for not reading up more about the seder, for not feeling ready to tell the story of Yetziat Mitzraim, for not engaging the kids enough, for stressing too much about food and cleaning, and not enough about what is really important.
Every year I want to make something memorable for the kids, and every year it ends up being a last minute project, not completed because I am out of time and steam. This year, I sat at the computer and typed up a bunch of questions pertaining to the seder. Most of them are open-ended, not halachic, in hope of engaging even my younger kids. I printed them, cut the out, and folded each piece of paper. I' m hoping to place them in the middle of the seder table to spark some discussion. I'm also planning on serving a lot of veggies for karpas, to keep them munching. Finally, I made candied nuts, to be given out to kids for good questions and good answers. That is straight from the Gemara. The wine was supposed to engage the adults, the treats were supposed to engage the children.
Every year I hope it will be different.
Every year I hope to get more learning done with the kids, so that they come to the seder prepared.
Every year it ends up being the same: short of my expectations, stressful, sometimes meaningless.
My boys love Pesach because of their birthdays. They love the season. They love plotting how to steal the afikoman and where to hide it. (We had a memorable hiding spot many years ago behind the garbage can in the bathroom). I doubt they love the stress that I am feeling. I don't want them to remember the stress, I want them to remember the excitement and the joy. I don't want them to remember the food. I don't want them to dread the food, either, but it should not be the focus.
I am still learning how to balance it all: be happy in cooking and cleaning, be learned enough to know what to clean, be relaxed enough so that I am available to the children, and get it all done on time.
If we all had to leave our current materialistic Egypt, would we be able to? Or would we be too attached to the way we always do things to let go?
I don't want to read about fifty gazillion amazing things I can do with matzah.
I don't want to read about twenty desserts that taste like chametz.
I don't want another handy Pesach checklist.
I don't want to read about your panic over dirt in the bottom of your fridge which your OCD will not let you pass over.
I don't want to read about your emergency of a cleaning lady or a babysitter quitting. I definitely do not want to read how stressed you are over having your kids home for a whopping three days.
As we get closer, I do not want to see cute ideas for seder set-up. I don't want to see a charoset bar. Charoset was supposed to symbolize clay, the back-breaking labor of the Jews. There is a good reason why we had to leave Egypt and materialistic slavery behind. I am not planning on slaving over charoset.
I do not want to see your seder set-up unless:
1.I am invited to the said seder.
2. Your kids set the table up, with all the imperfections and cuteness, and you JUST LEFT IT as they set it.
Every year I tell myself not to stress over Pesach, and every year I find myself stressing. I have been in tears just about every night last week. Last night, to top it all off, 2 yo managed to march downstairs, into Pesach kitchen, with a cup full of chametz cereal. We do not allow food downstairs, keeping it chametz-free year-round. We usually keep the gate closed, but I guess it was left open with all the cooking and running back and forth, He used the opportunity. I lost it. I yelled at all the kids to get into the pajamas NOW, and get into bed. I did not tuck anyone in (except for putting 2 yo into his crib). Then I sat on the couch and cried.
Pesach is supposed to be about freedom, and we are supposed to free ourselves from expectations. We are supposed to let go, be ready to shift perspective. Every year I beat myself up for not reading up more about the seder, for not feeling ready to tell the story of Yetziat Mitzraim, for not engaging the kids enough, for stressing too much about food and cleaning, and not enough about what is really important.
Every year I want to make something memorable for the kids, and every year it ends up being a last minute project, not completed because I am out of time and steam. This year, I sat at the computer and typed up a bunch of questions pertaining to the seder. Most of them are open-ended, not halachic, in hope of engaging even my younger kids. I printed them, cut the out, and folded each piece of paper. I' m hoping to place them in the middle of the seder table to spark some discussion. I'm also planning on serving a lot of veggies for karpas, to keep them munching. Finally, I made candied nuts, to be given out to kids for good questions and good answers. That is straight from the Gemara. The wine was supposed to engage the adults, the treats were supposed to engage the children.
Every year I hope it will be different.
Every year I hope to get more learning done with the kids, so that they come to the seder prepared.
Every year it ends up being the same: short of my expectations, stressful, sometimes meaningless.
My boys love Pesach because of their birthdays. They love the season. They love plotting how to steal the afikoman and where to hide it. (We had a memorable hiding spot many years ago behind the garbage can in the bathroom). I doubt they love the stress that I am feeling. I don't want them to remember the stress, I want them to remember the excitement and the joy. I don't want them to remember the food. I don't want them to dread the food, either, but it should not be the focus.
I am still learning how to balance it all: be happy in cooking and cleaning, be learned enough to know what to clean, be relaxed enough so that I am available to the children, and get it all done on time.
If we all had to leave our current materialistic Egypt, would we be able to? Or would we be too attached to the way we always do things to let go?
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Dance ensemble
Today was the last Young People's Concert of the season in Spivey Hall. This year, considering how hectic everything was, and how overwhelmed I felt, I have not made use of this great resource as I have in the past years. Also, due to large range of my children's ages, it was hard choosing a performance which would engage everyone. We have gone to three concerts: one was cello quartet, one was a children's opera and this last one was the university's dance ensemble.
My daughter was in playgroup today, so I ended up taking only the boys. I had to get gas, so we ended up leaving so early that we got to the university's grounds with half an hour to spare. This worked to our advantage. The weather was nice, and there are beautiful ponds with waterfowl. My kids often watch them through the window while we wait to be seated, but it rarely worked out for us to spend any time walking around. Today, we got close and personal to a swan and quite a few geese. The older boys spotted a bunch of turtles, and even a water snake. They ran around one of the ponds while 2 yo diligently collected sticks and tossed them in. I often kick myself for not building in this type of free, unscheduled time, especially to enjoy and contemplate nature. We are always rushing to and fro, always working around nap time and taekwondo and playgroup pick-up.
When we went inside the Hall, 2 yo decided to try sliding down the staircase on his stomach, just as he does at home. There were not many people, and I was glad not to have to carry him down all those stairs. At the same time, I felt that it might not be exactly appropriate, considering the decorum of the place. As we were reaching the bottom, one of the ushers approached me. I tensed up, suspecting that it has to do with our entrance. Instead, she asked me how far along am I and where is my missing daughter. She spoke about looking forward to seeing our family next season, with a little one in arms. I exhaled in relief. Maybe we are not that socially inappropriate. Maybe we make a good impression. Maybe people have compassion for us.
Usually the concerts involve singing and/or musical instruments, so having a dance performance was not something that my boys have seen on stage before. Additionally, there was a program this time. 10 yo looked at a black-and-white cover featuring a ballerina, and grouched that it will be all about girls in frilly pink skirts. I kidded him back, that maybe the tutu will be white, or black, or pale blue. He browsed through the program and then tapped me excitedly: one of the dances was set to The Piano Guys' Code Name Vivaldi. My husband recently introduced boys to The Piano Guys, and they have been obsessing over it.
This is a college-level dance program, but, as the choreographer explained, it is a fairly new program on campus, less than three years old. Consequently, it was obvious that we did not have professional ballerinas and dancers performing; rather, students who chose to take a dance class. What struck me is how diverse were their body types. Often, when one watches ballet, or even back-up dancers in music videos, it is easy to assume that one has to be emaciated-looking in order to dance. Now these ladies were voluptuous. Some might have even qualified as obese. Some were petite, but there was no uniformity to them. Yet they all danced with passion and with grace. They all knew how to move to the music, and how to enjoy themselves. It did not look ridiculous, it looked like great fun. And there were no pink frilly tutus. There were body suits, and off-the shoulder leotards. There was jiggling of flesh; there was movement and confidence. I am glad that my boys got to see these real human bodies moving, instead of glossed and polished versions on TV, or in a professional program.
My daughter is finishing her year of ballet and tap. There is going to be a recital and all the hoopla that comes with it. One thing that bothered me from the first day about ballet was how much emphasis is placed on appearance, on wearing the matching outfits, on staying in line, etc. My reasoning for signing her up (she was asking for it) was to get this ballerina dream out of her system when she is young, and then move on to some activity which requires less emphasis on appearance. After watching the young ladies on stage today move their bodies with confidence despite lack of uniform appearance might make me reconsider. No, I am not plotting a dance career for my daughter, but I want her to be confident that her body can do wondrous things, despite the body type and appearance.
My daughter was in playgroup today, so I ended up taking only the boys. I had to get gas, so we ended up leaving so early that we got to the university's grounds with half an hour to spare. This worked to our advantage. The weather was nice, and there are beautiful ponds with waterfowl. My kids often watch them through the window while we wait to be seated, but it rarely worked out for us to spend any time walking around. Today, we got close and personal to a swan and quite a few geese. The older boys spotted a bunch of turtles, and even a water snake. They ran around one of the ponds while 2 yo diligently collected sticks and tossed them in. I often kick myself for not building in this type of free, unscheduled time, especially to enjoy and contemplate nature. We are always rushing to and fro, always working around nap time and taekwondo and playgroup pick-up.When we went inside the Hall, 2 yo decided to try sliding down the staircase on his stomach, just as he does at home. There were not many people, and I was glad not to have to carry him down all those stairs. At the same time, I felt that it might not be exactly appropriate, considering the decorum of the place. As we were reaching the bottom, one of the ushers approached me. I tensed up, suspecting that it has to do with our entrance. Instead, she asked me how far along am I and where is my missing daughter. She spoke about looking forward to seeing our family next season, with a little one in arms. I exhaled in relief. Maybe we are not that socially inappropriate. Maybe we make a good impression. Maybe people have compassion for us.
Usually the concerts involve singing and/or musical instruments, so having a dance performance was not something that my boys have seen on stage before. Additionally, there was a program this time. 10 yo looked at a black-and-white cover featuring a ballerina, and grouched that it will be all about girls in frilly pink skirts. I kidded him back, that maybe the tutu will be white, or black, or pale blue. He browsed through the program and then tapped me excitedly: one of the dances was set to The Piano Guys' Code Name Vivaldi. My husband recently introduced boys to The Piano Guys, and they have been obsessing over it.
This is a college-level dance program, but, as the choreographer explained, it is a fairly new program on campus, less than three years old. Consequently, it was obvious that we did not have professional ballerinas and dancers performing; rather, students who chose to take a dance class. What struck me is how diverse were their body types. Often, when one watches ballet, or even back-up dancers in music videos, it is easy to assume that one has to be emaciated-looking in order to dance. Now these ladies were voluptuous. Some might have even qualified as obese. Some were petite, but there was no uniformity to them. Yet they all danced with passion and with grace. They all knew how to move to the music, and how to enjoy themselves. It did not look ridiculous, it looked like great fun. And there were no pink frilly tutus. There were body suits, and off-the shoulder leotards. There was jiggling of flesh; there was movement and confidence. I am glad that my boys got to see these real human bodies moving, instead of glossed and polished versions on TV, or in a professional program.
My daughter is finishing her year of ballet and tap. There is going to be a recital and all the hoopla that comes with it. One thing that bothered me from the first day about ballet was how much emphasis is placed on appearance, on wearing the matching outfits, on staying in line, etc. My reasoning for signing her up (she was asking for it) was to get this ballerina dream out of her system when she is young, and then move on to some activity which requires less emphasis on appearance. After watching the young ladies on stage today move their bodies with confidence despite lack of uniform appearance might make me reconsider. No, I am not plotting a dance career for my daughter, but I want her to be confident that her body can do wondrous things, despite the body type and appearance.
Friday, March 20, 2015
teaching responsibility and other lessons
My oldest is a dreamer.
He is distracted.
Disorganized.
Scatter-brained.
Loses things.
Creative and cannot be bothered to clean up.
By this point, either you are nodding your head in agreement, or shaking it in frustration. I used to think that this is a reflection of my lack of organization, or poor parenting skills. When he was in kindergarden, I was told how he was the only kid whose lunchbox was not in his cubby, and neither was his backpack. His jacket was on the floor instead of being hung up.
I thought that by homeschooling him I will be able to fix this character flaw. I will be on top of him, I will make him clean up, he will suffer the consequences, and we will get this straightened out. That was good five years ago. The rest of the kids are pretty good about putting their things away, and being responsible, but this child is still stubbornly refusing to be molded into an obedient citizen of our household.
The boys take taekwondo, which comes with a pristine white uniform. Before they received their uniforms, they were given a speech on its proper treatment. It is their responsibility, and they are supposed to keep track of it and keep it clean. The boys are also teaching a taekwondo class at our homeschool coop. For the class, they change into their uniforms, and then change back into regular clothes. 8 yo packs his up in a plastic bag. Now imagine what a child-who-cannot-be-bothered does with his... I'm lucky if he rolls it up and tucks it under his arm as he rushes out.
This Wednesday, I had a particularly hard time getting kids out the door. When I got to the van and had to negotiate with the three older kids how sticks/magic wands are not allowed inside, while simultaneously attempting to buckle up 2 yo, I noticed 10 yo's uniform by his feet, with his muddy shoes planted right on top. I pointed this out, more like yelled at him yet again.
When we got to the park, and the boys saw their friends, all bets were off. They did change into their uniforms to teach the class, and then changed back afterwards. 8 yo was very upset about what was going on during class (kids not listening, his brother not sticking to the script that they wrote beforehand, being stuck trying to teach younger kids while the older one showed off his forms to the older ones), yet he changed, placed his uniform into a plastic bag, and asked me to unlock the van to put it inside. 10 yo dropped his on the ground, and went into the woods with his friends. I did not pick it up for him.
When it was time for me to leave the park, I told both boys that all their possessions are their responsibility. They both nodded distractedly, and ran off with their friends.
As I drove home, I was pretty sure that 10 yo just abandoned his uniform and his belt in the park. He did not realize that it was missing till 7:30 that night. Then he wanted to drive back to the park to go looking for it, RIGHT NOW! I said that I have a class to go to (I really did), and that I do not have time to go looking for something that he did not bother to take care of. My husband started getting worried, too: 10 yo was supposed to get tested the following day, and how is he going to test without a uniform? I said that it should concern him more than it concerns us. 10 yo said that if he has no uniform, he does not want to test. I asked him what his plan is from now on: what is he going to do next time he's in class? He started ranting about taekwondo. I said that he can buy himself a new uniform with his allowance money. He said that he just spent it all on Pokemon cards. I asked about his savings, and he said that he had none. I suggested calling the dojang, explaining the situation to his master, and finding out whether he can still test tomorrow.
Then I left for my class.
When I got back, my husband said that 10 yo did call, and was told that he can get a new uniform before the test. They worked it out that my husband will lend him money, and then he will have it withheld from his allowance until the value is paid off.
The next day, I took 10 yo early enough for his testing to get fitted for his uniform. He went into the office, definitely subdued and nervous. Then he came out, beaming: "The Master gave me a new uniform! And he said it is a present! I don't have to pay for it!"
You are one lucky ducky. Just when I thought you will be taught a lesson about responsibility and consequences, you get handed an article as a present. On top of this, even though he lost his belt, and now had a white belt on, he was lined up in his proper placement, instead of in the back, with the white belts. I was starting to wonder whether this unexpected excessive kindness is undermining the lesson to be learned.
He tested well, and he answered quite a few questions thrown at him. He even got congratulated on his great knowledge. As we were driving back, and I could not hold back and remarked how he lucked out on his free uniform, he said: "Mom, I davened to Hashem, and he answered me. I paid special attention to Shema Koleinu, and Hashem sent me a great day, with a good resolution. Come to think of it, any time that I ask Hashem for special things in Shema Koleinu, he helps me. When I just rush through and don't ask, nothing happens. How does it work?" I said that preparing mentally before davening, and thinking which the good things to request helps one outline the steps necessary to achieve the desirable goals. Of course, one must still ask Hashem for assistance, so that everything goes according to the plan.
10 yo learned a lesson from his taekwondo experience. It might not have been a lesson that I had in mind (and I'm not holding my breath that his distracted ways will change so quickly), but he drew his own conclusions. I also wonder how many lessons I remember due to the kindness of someone who should have been strict with me, instead of having an exact punishment meted out.
He is distracted.
Disorganized.
Scatter-brained.
Loses things.
Creative and cannot be bothered to clean up.
By this point, either you are nodding your head in agreement, or shaking it in frustration. I used to think that this is a reflection of my lack of organization, or poor parenting skills. When he was in kindergarden, I was told how he was the only kid whose lunchbox was not in his cubby, and neither was his backpack. His jacket was on the floor instead of being hung up.
I thought that by homeschooling him I will be able to fix this character flaw. I will be on top of him, I will make him clean up, he will suffer the consequences, and we will get this straightened out. That was good five years ago. The rest of the kids are pretty good about putting their things away, and being responsible, but this child is still stubbornly refusing to be molded into an obedient citizen of our household.
The boys take taekwondo, which comes with a pristine white uniform. Before they received their uniforms, they were given a speech on its proper treatment. It is their responsibility, and they are supposed to keep track of it and keep it clean. The boys are also teaching a taekwondo class at our homeschool coop. For the class, they change into their uniforms, and then change back into regular clothes. 8 yo packs his up in a plastic bag. Now imagine what a child-who-cannot-be-bothered does with his... I'm lucky if he rolls it up and tucks it under his arm as he rushes out.
This Wednesday, I had a particularly hard time getting kids out the door. When I got to the van and had to negotiate with the three older kids how sticks/magic wands are not allowed inside, while simultaneously attempting to buckle up 2 yo, I noticed 10 yo's uniform by his feet, with his muddy shoes planted right on top. I pointed this out, more like yelled at him yet again.
When we got to the park, and the boys saw their friends, all bets were off. They did change into their uniforms to teach the class, and then changed back afterwards. 8 yo was very upset about what was going on during class (kids not listening, his brother not sticking to the script that they wrote beforehand, being stuck trying to teach younger kids while the older one showed off his forms to the older ones), yet he changed, placed his uniform into a plastic bag, and asked me to unlock the van to put it inside. 10 yo dropped his on the ground, and went into the woods with his friends. I did not pick it up for him.
When it was time for me to leave the park, I told both boys that all their possessions are their responsibility. They both nodded distractedly, and ran off with their friends.
As I drove home, I was pretty sure that 10 yo just abandoned his uniform and his belt in the park. He did not realize that it was missing till 7:30 that night. Then he wanted to drive back to the park to go looking for it, RIGHT NOW! I said that I have a class to go to (I really did), and that I do not have time to go looking for something that he did not bother to take care of. My husband started getting worried, too: 10 yo was supposed to get tested the following day, and how is he going to test without a uniform? I said that it should concern him more than it concerns us. 10 yo said that if he has no uniform, he does not want to test. I asked him what his plan is from now on: what is he going to do next time he's in class? He started ranting about taekwondo. I said that he can buy himself a new uniform with his allowance money. He said that he just spent it all on Pokemon cards. I asked about his savings, and he said that he had none. I suggested calling the dojang, explaining the situation to his master, and finding out whether he can still test tomorrow.
Then I left for my class.
When I got back, my husband said that 10 yo did call, and was told that he can get a new uniform before the test. They worked it out that my husband will lend him money, and then he will have it withheld from his allowance until the value is paid off.
The next day, I took 10 yo early enough for his testing to get fitted for his uniform. He went into the office, definitely subdued and nervous. Then he came out, beaming: "The Master gave me a new uniform! And he said it is a present! I don't have to pay for it!"
You are one lucky ducky. Just when I thought you will be taught a lesson about responsibility and consequences, you get handed an article as a present. On top of this, even though he lost his belt, and now had a white belt on, he was lined up in his proper placement, instead of in the back, with the white belts. I was starting to wonder whether this unexpected excessive kindness is undermining the lesson to be learned.
He tested well, and he answered quite a few questions thrown at him. He even got congratulated on his great knowledge. As we were driving back, and I could not hold back and remarked how he lucked out on his free uniform, he said: "Mom, I davened to Hashem, and he answered me. I paid special attention to Shema Koleinu, and Hashem sent me a great day, with a good resolution. Come to think of it, any time that I ask Hashem for special things in Shema Koleinu, he helps me. When I just rush through and don't ask, nothing happens. How does it work?" I said that preparing mentally before davening, and thinking which the good things to request helps one outline the steps necessary to achieve the desirable goals. Of course, one must still ask Hashem for assistance, so that everything goes according to the plan.
10 yo learned a lesson from his taekwondo experience. It might not have been a lesson that I had in mind (and I'm not holding my breath that his distracted ways will change so quickly), but he drew his own conclusions. I also wonder how many lessons I remember due to the kindness of someone who should have been strict with me, instead of having an exact punishment meted out.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
two steps forward, one step back
We are in the middle of Shemot with 10 yo, moving right along, I think I will end up with the best textual preparation because of this; I have never read so many Rashis.
10 yo finished Bava Kamma, and we are almost done reviewing it. For the past few months, he has been going to shul with my husband for minyan, then staying to learn with his rebbe and scootering back home, and then, most days, going to taekwondo. To me, this sounded like an ideal set-up: get your davening and Torah learning done first thing in the morning, when you are fresh, and then get some physical exercise, to get your body moving. Unfortunately, it has not been panning out. He was cranky about leaving the house so early, upset about having to scarf down breakfast, and feeling that he has no time. He seemed to be retaining mishnaiyot just fine, but he was clearly not happy, dragging his feet. Once he finished Bava Kamma, we decided to take a break from formal mishna learning till after Pesach. I don't exactly know what we will choose to do at that point. Drop mishna for the summer? Find a difference set-up for learning? Jump right back in?
Meanwhile, in my panicky state of "when am I ever going to teach kids about Pesach, if it is not happening again this year", I decided to review mishna Pesachim with 10 yo. He is nor super-enthusiastic about it, but his younger brother eagerly asked whether he can join us and learn mishna together. 8 yo has been able to read the text of the mishna, and talk about the cases that we discussed. He also said how he can stay with 10 yo and his rebbe and learn mishnaiyot together, so his brother would not be lonely. 10 yo responded that his rebbe is more of a one-on-one kind of teacher, feeling infringement on his time.
8 yo asked to learn Rashi script. We have a laminated chart hanging in our dining room, and I do not recall seeing him ever studying it, but he felt ready. In fact, he repeatedly asked me about learning Rashi. I found a workbook that I got years ago for 10 yo, but did not end up using. I was actually looking for a chinuch.org file which I did use previously, but I could not find it, neither on my computer, nor online. 8 yo saw the workbook and asked whether he can do it. So far, he is getting right through, happily filling out pages.
It is funny, since both mishna and Rashi script traditionally start in 3rd grade, and I am pretty sure that were I to introduce 8 yo to them both when he was not ready, he would balk. Now, that he is the one initiating the learning, he is happy as a clam (about these two things).
We are gearing up to take ITBS next week with a bunch of homeschool kids. I am squeezing in as much info as possible, especially into 8 yo. I want him to feel ready, and to work out strategies about what to do about questions that he has not learned yet, or that do not make sense to him. It is working out, and backfiring spectacularly, all at the same time.
What's working: apparently, I can explain months' worth of math in five minutes, and the boys can do it. I can explain contractions, and simple subjects, and not worry whether we have spent a day per each, or just enough for them to understand it and apply it. I explained multi-digit multiplication and simple division to 8 yo, as it came up, and he was using it right away. I explained percent and fractional operations to 10 yo. Of course, it flies in the face of all sorts of educational theories about reinforcement, and not cramming too much material into a too small period of time.
What's backfiring: 8 yo is progressively becoming more anxious about the test. He dissolved into tears the other day, stomped out, threw the test booklet, etc. Ironically, the following day, when he picked it up again, he was able to do most of the work. So this has nothing to do with ability or knowledge. I am a bit worried that he will shut down during the actual test, but I also hope that he will know what kinds of feelings testing provokes in him, and how to handle them.
Meanwhile, just the other day I was stressing about 5 yo and how she is still not reading. She has been more reluctant to try to read words as I'm reading to her, and we are nowhere near done with the first set of Bob Books. And then, just as I enter the living room, she greets me with the next Bob Book from the series, asking whether we can sit down together to read it. Did she read my mind? The following day, she read the next one to me. Today, she wanted to read one, but I was too frazzled, and she was a bit distracted, too. Maybe we'll pick it up later today, maybe not.
It seems that every time I start to worry, the kids will do something reassuring. And every time I feel that we have found our groove, the kids will do something or other to keep me on my toes. It's a delicate dance, a cha-cha. I am not in the mood of dancing; I am in the mood to put my feet up and have a latte.
10 yo finished Bava Kamma, and we are almost done reviewing it. For the past few months, he has been going to shul with my husband for minyan, then staying to learn with his rebbe and scootering back home, and then, most days, going to taekwondo. To me, this sounded like an ideal set-up: get your davening and Torah learning done first thing in the morning, when you are fresh, and then get some physical exercise, to get your body moving. Unfortunately, it has not been panning out. He was cranky about leaving the house so early, upset about having to scarf down breakfast, and feeling that he has no time. He seemed to be retaining mishnaiyot just fine, but he was clearly not happy, dragging his feet. Once he finished Bava Kamma, we decided to take a break from formal mishna learning till after Pesach. I don't exactly know what we will choose to do at that point. Drop mishna for the summer? Find a difference set-up for learning? Jump right back in?
Meanwhile, in my panicky state of "when am I ever going to teach kids about Pesach, if it is not happening again this year", I decided to review mishna Pesachim with 10 yo. He is nor super-enthusiastic about it, but his younger brother eagerly asked whether he can join us and learn mishna together. 8 yo has been able to read the text of the mishna, and talk about the cases that we discussed. He also said how he can stay with 10 yo and his rebbe and learn mishnaiyot together, so his brother would not be lonely. 10 yo responded that his rebbe is more of a one-on-one kind of teacher, feeling infringement on his time.
8 yo asked to learn Rashi script. We have a laminated chart hanging in our dining room, and I do not recall seeing him ever studying it, but he felt ready. In fact, he repeatedly asked me about learning Rashi. I found a workbook that I got years ago for 10 yo, but did not end up using. I was actually looking for a chinuch.org file which I did use previously, but I could not find it, neither on my computer, nor online. 8 yo saw the workbook and asked whether he can do it. So far, he is getting right through, happily filling out pages.
It is funny, since both mishna and Rashi script traditionally start in 3rd grade, and I am pretty sure that were I to introduce 8 yo to them both when he was not ready, he would balk. Now, that he is the one initiating the learning, he is happy as a clam (about these two things).
We are gearing up to take ITBS next week with a bunch of homeschool kids. I am squeezing in as much info as possible, especially into 8 yo. I want him to feel ready, and to work out strategies about what to do about questions that he has not learned yet, or that do not make sense to him. It is working out, and backfiring spectacularly, all at the same time.
What's working: apparently, I can explain months' worth of math in five minutes, and the boys can do it. I can explain contractions, and simple subjects, and not worry whether we have spent a day per each, or just enough for them to understand it and apply it. I explained multi-digit multiplication and simple division to 8 yo, as it came up, and he was using it right away. I explained percent and fractional operations to 10 yo. Of course, it flies in the face of all sorts of educational theories about reinforcement, and not cramming too much material into a too small period of time.
What's backfiring: 8 yo is progressively becoming more anxious about the test. He dissolved into tears the other day, stomped out, threw the test booklet, etc. Ironically, the following day, when he picked it up again, he was able to do most of the work. So this has nothing to do with ability or knowledge. I am a bit worried that he will shut down during the actual test, but I also hope that he will know what kinds of feelings testing provokes in him, and how to handle them.
Meanwhile, just the other day I was stressing about 5 yo and how she is still not reading. She has been more reluctant to try to read words as I'm reading to her, and we are nowhere near done with the first set of Bob Books. And then, just as I enter the living room, she greets me with the next Bob Book from the series, asking whether we can sit down together to read it. Did she read my mind? The following day, she read the next one to me. Today, she wanted to read one, but I was too frazzled, and she was a bit distracted, too. Maybe we'll pick it up later today, maybe not.
It seems that every time I start to worry, the kids will do something reassuring. And every time I feel that we have found our groove, the kids will do something or other to keep me on my toes. It's a delicate dance, a cha-cha. I am not in the mood of dancing; I am in the mood to put my feet up and have a latte.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Great mercy--every day
It's 11:16 at night and I should really be heading off to bed. These past couple weeks have been hard. I was telling myself: first Purim, then Pesach, then baby, but it is all scrambled now. I had to order Pesach products before Purim, and then I realized that putting off preparing for the baby till after Pesach is not smart: there is simply not enough time. On top of it all, I signed up both boys to take ITBS (standardized tests) with a homeschool group a week before Pesach. So now we are stressing over test prep. 8 yo lovingly abbreviated it to T.P. and 10 yo immediately deciphered this acronym into a more familiar form. I am finding all this math material that we did not cover yet. 10 is fudging his way through, 8 yo is melting down.
I remarked to my husband how now would be a good time for a summer break, or complete unschooling (coming shortly with our new arrival), or some sort of change. Obviously, trying to make Pesach on top of all of this is not enough. Oh, and all the kids need new shoes, both sneakers and shabbos shoes. 10 yo asked me the other day about four symmetrical holes in the sole of his sneaker, swearing up and down how he did not puncture it with a nail. I explained that it happened because he wore his shoe clear through the sole. And all boys need haircuts.
After much soul-searching, we have applied to Montessori Chabad school for 5 yo and 2 yo for next year. Now there is more and more paperwork to be filled out. And now there are finances to stress about.
The kids have not been on their best behavior. I have not been most patient. We are all stressed, only we all react to stress differently.
Just as I feel ready to throw in the towel (not on homeschooling, but on picking things up off the floor, or checking schoolwork at 11 pm, or trying to print from an uncooperative computer), it strikes me that tomorrow Hashem will return my soul to me, almost as a new being, and I will have a chance to start over again. I cannot promise that I say Mode Ani every morning with the most kavanah ( and I cannot promise that my kids do it, either), but this realization that tomorrow is another day, and tomorrow can be different, buoys me into putting a little bit more effort into planning HOW to make tomorrow different.
I will see how it goes. I have to return my soul to Hashem to see which gifts will be bestowed upon me in the morning.
I remarked to my husband how now would be a good time for a summer break, or complete unschooling (coming shortly with our new arrival), or some sort of change. Obviously, trying to make Pesach on top of all of this is not enough. Oh, and all the kids need new shoes, both sneakers and shabbos shoes. 10 yo asked me the other day about four symmetrical holes in the sole of his sneaker, swearing up and down how he did not puncture it with a nail. I explained that it happened because he wore his shoe clear through the sole. And all boys need haircuts.
After much soul-searching, we have applied to Montessori Chabad school for 5 yo and 2 yo for next year. Now there is more and more paperwork to be filled out. And now there are finances to stress about.
The kids have not been on their best behavior. I have not been most patient. We are all stressed, only we all react to stress differently.
Just as I feel ready to throw in the towel (not on homeschooling, but on picking things up off the floor, or checking schoolwork at 11 pm, or trying to print from an uncooperative computer), it strikes me that tomorrow Hashem will return my soul to me, almost as a new being, and I will have a chance to start over again. I cannot promise that I say Mode Ani every morning with the most kavanah ( and I cannot promise that my kids do it, either), but this realization that tomorrow is another day, and tomorrow can be different, buoys me into putting a little bit more effort into planning HOW to make tomorrow different.
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| Nasa.gov |
- Don't yell.
- Don't grump.
- Take a breath before reacting to a situation.
- Explain instead of expecting.
- Go outside.
I will see how it goes. I have to return my soul to Hashem to see which gifts will be bestowed upon me in the morning.
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