Smart-Assery as a Sign of Intelligence

I heard loud giggling and snorting coming from the bedroom. John was sitting on the bed with Hana, ostensibly working on finishing his ten minute English assignment. He covered up the page and told me not to look yet, he wasn't finished, then asked his sister what a Venn diagram was.

My reason for making him do this workbook was to expose him to some typical "read, then respond, based on the text above" type of work most schools (and standardized tests) use regularly. I wanted him to be familiar with the language and able to competently navigate these forms should he ever "join the system" again and need these skills. Simultaneously, by consulting the given texts and regurgitating answers based on those texts, he would get practice writing in standard English. What you see, however, is evidence that so much more is going on in that kid's mind! 

Rather than finish as quickly as possible, this page took him half an hour due to all the extra writing. Hey, I'll celebrate whatever gets him to write more! As you can read, he stays in lockstep with the program through answer #2, but on #3 he lets his inner smart-ass come through loudly! If you read the penciled words out loud you'll hear there is a very strong "voice" coming through. 

3. What animals are omnivores? What are some animals that are omnivores?
   "Omnivores are animals that eat Plants vs I mean plants and meat such as, a zomby, oops um hehe cross that off will you. Let's see,  Google serch, AH here we go, Pigs and Humans. Finaly done." 

Credit is due for complex sentence structure, multiple tangents consciously resolved, weaving in references to popular culture (the "Plants versus Zombies" game and doing a "Google search"), and finally answering the question. Anyone familiar with Calvin, from the cartoon Calvin & Hobbes may recognize the inner muttering of one who wants to do the right thing but is under the influence of a wandering mind and fantastical imagination.

By #6 he is engaged in lively dialogue with the textbook author. 

6. Do you think Kotetsu likes jumping?

   "How do you expect me to know! What, you think I can read minds or something."

(You might argue that both sentences should end with question marks, but I'll invite you to read them as they are and you'll discover the precise tones of sarcasm perfectly coded.)

At the bottom, in the middle of the Venn diagram, what may seem like a gross or silly comment is actually a reference to an article we discussed several weeks ago about an emerging food trend in NYC involving roasting an animal we think of as a house pet. 

I'm glad I can read deeply for meaning and understand that this child's smart-assery is actually a sign of intelligence––intelligence that refuses to just regurgitate answers from the text above. I'm glad Hana explained what a Venn diagram is, so he might remember it this time (special circumstances having her home). And, I'm glad I'm not a classroom teacher who has to grade this paper. 

Still Life, Active Learning

This time of year, when apples and nuts are dropping to the ground and roadsides are lush with asters and goldenrod, brings back some of my fonder memories of teaching such as picking bouquets for the classroom. 

One of the things I felt was most important was creating a learning environment that felt connected to nature. I didn't want to just live inside a single little box of artificially lit walls all day any more than my students did. Anything to bring in a sense of connection to a wider landscape seemed to make it easier to breath. 

In the one room school house there were geraniums all along the windows in the bright cozy Reading Corner. Students' collections of sea shells, rocks, sea glass, bones, drift wood, and other natural treasures accumulated in their desks and on the Science Table. In the Waldorf classroom there was always a nature table, which changed with the seasons. We went outside for nature walks and recess at least twice a day.

One of the things I love most about homeschooling is the daily opportunity to go outdoors whenever we want to––not having to wait until lunch-recess, nor waiting for a class-full of parents to sign permission slips, nor asking the principal several days in advance. I love the excuse homeschooling gives me to be humanly aware of, and responsive to, changes in the weather, season, temperature, and daylight. We can sit on the side of the house that is in the sun while doing multiplication flashcards, and switch to the other side as the afternoon wears on, doing workbooks and reading in the sunny garden. 

Juicing apples, discovering a wild turkey feather, and collecting brilliant fall leaves can lead to "teachable moments" worthy of academic credit, but they are all worthwhile for their own sake. This day-by-day appreciation and savoring of the natural world, the little things, the simple things, like the slant of the sunlight, the colors of the leaves, and what wild flowers are in season, is one of the most important life-lessons children can learn. That these things matter. When the world around you matters to you, you want to take care of it.

Going Nuts

While my son was taking our dog for a lunchtime walk I considered what math lesson we could do next: reviewing multiplication facts, metric measuring, and/or review different kinds of angles. Then he came into the house all excited, with a handful of horse chestnuts. "Can we go gather more now?" He pleaded. I considered. 

You know how sometimes you look back and realize that was the last time you did [ x ]? Well, this is possibly the last year one of my children is going to come running to ask me to come along collecting chestnuts. So we went out with a basket. 

Each spiky seed pod on the ground contained new treasures, never before seen. I love these shiny brown chestnuts, even if they aren't the edible variety. They look like hand-dipped chocolates, or caramels. 

"Manipulatives" can add such pleasure to an otherwise dry math lesson. We played a game of reaching into the basket of nuts, pulling out a fistful, and writing down all the possible multiplication problems to represent this amount. This led to John's rediscovery of prime numbers: 11 nuts can only be written as 11x1 or 1x11. After a couple examples he was able to remember and define what "prime" meant. Then, starting with one nut, adding one more at a time, he generated a list of prime numbers up to 31. Next I asked him to start in the center of a large sheet of paper, draw a line 1 cm long, turn at a right angle, draw a line off of it that is the next prime number (2 cm) and so on. What an interesting form took shape! Tomorrow (probably) we'll use tracing paper and draw curves nestled into all the right angles and discover the universal spiral this forms, and look for where in nature such spirals occur. 

So you see what can spiral out of a little spontaneous nut gathering!

The Benefits of Letting Attention Rest

Having worked for six weeks this past summer at a public school program for students with a variety of disabilities, I have seen the benefits, for some students, of maintaining focus on active learning during the summer months. 

I have also witnessed the magic of letting attention rest.

One example is John's penmanship. He didn't exactly spend the summer writing in cursive–-or writing in any other way, unless you include typing some signs within his virtual Minecraft villages. And yet he just breezed through four pages of the fifth grade workbook in ten minutes. Much faster and neater than May. Likewise, his capacity to grasp new math concepts is much quicker and less fraught with anxiety than last spring. What happened in between?

Hiking, biking, sailing, running about wildly, digging for artifacts in a neighbor's back yard, more time on computer games than I would like to admit, and lazing about the house appearing to do nothing of importance. The closest we got to academic focus was him listening to books on tape and being read to nightly by me and by his dad during many afternoon visits. (We read Redwall and Mattimeo, by Brian Jacques, and Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain.)(Oh, and there was Dealing With Dragons, by Patricia C. Wrede, which took him all summer.)

As a former Waldorf grade school teacher, I am familiar with the benefits of letting attention rest. In a Waldorf classroom students participate in a long Main Lesson every morning, but the subject changes from month to month. A "block" of math might focus on multiplication tables, then math is laid to rest while the subject turns to a Language Arts theme such as Fables. I found that everyone benefitted in some way from the rest. Those students who loved math built up a fresh appetite to eagerly engage again. Those who struggled with it got a break rather than facing the same frustration day after day. And frequently most students experienced the mysterious phenomenon that somehow, some way, there was improvement after the break, as if the mind had been subconsciously swimming under water, emerging miles ahead of where we last tested what it knew.

I also witnessed this with my daughter learning to roller skate. For a while, when she was quite young, we went skating at a rink two or three times a month. Without any chance to practice in between, we both noticed that our skating had mysteriously improved since the past visit. 

Just as there is a period of digestion and assimilation after eating a meal, so with academic learning there are different phases. A time to encounter new facts, ideas, and information. A time to engage attention mentally (and physically and emotionally one hopes), to actively focus on learning. And, ideally, a period of rest, of putting the books and pencils down, taking the focus off of some future test or grade. Letting go of trying to accomplish more and move ahead in that area. Allowing the mind to do whatever it does while we play or sleep or focus on some completely different sort of task. Speaking of which, I think I've done enough for today. Time to go read comics in bed!

U.S. History & Piggy Holding

You may have heard of Reader Dogs, well we have a Reader Pig! This is Pearl. She is obviously a Pirate Pig. (The Black Pearl?) When we brought her home last fall we had no idea what an important role she would play in the learning of history and science. Those subjects involve a fair amount of non-ficiton reading, which is not John's first love. But sitting on the porch or couch stroking a patient passive plump piggie, well he asks to do that! 

While John polishes Pearl I read aloud from such excellent texts as King George, What Was He Thinking? The Whole Hilarious Story of the American Revolution, by Steve Sheinkin. Sheinkin admits to having written dry and boring textbooks for a while. Meanwhile he was squirreling away the kind of fascinating facts and scandalous stories that make history come alive, and eventually, not able to insert them into those text books, he went off and made his own! We've just ordered the next two, Which Way to the West?: Everything Your Textbooks Didn't Tell You About Westward Expansion, and Two Miserable Presidens: The Amazing, Terrible, and Totally True Story of the Civil War.

On our homeschool schedule this time is called "Non-fiction and Piggie Holding." I enjoy it as well. It is a time to sit down, relax, read aloud, learn things I didn't know either, and I am satisfied that my child is getting the academic nutrients he needs while our pets (Tucker the dog joins in as well) get special attention and care.

Off the Charts

If you visit an average elementary school classroom and assess each student's academic abilities, such as reading level and understanding of math, it would not be unusual to find a four grade-level range–and not necessarily the same range in both subjects for an individual student. (I once taught twins who were grades apart in math.)Then, if you plotted all these ability levels as points on a graph, and drew a line representing the average, and plotted that development over the course of several years, you'd get an acceding line of incremental progress–and a fairly useless tool by which to assess most students. 

As parents know, most children don't grow evenly. One year a child might put on weight and be on the pudgy side. Then within months the child shoots up 3" and possibly looses 10 lbs.(Just look at the pencil marks on our kitchen door frame for evidence.)So it doesn't make sense to expect a child's reading and math abilities to grow at an even pace either.

As toddlers both of my children turned heads in public for their precocious and prodigious vocabulary. "I certainly am concerned that I can't make a long snake like Daddy does," exclaimed two year old Hana while rolling out play dough. Yet at the end of third grade her teacher was "very concerned" that Hana was not reading or spelling at grade level. She would be at risk in 4th grade where reading for content, rather than learning to read, was the way things rolled.

I explained that I had also been slow to learn to read, was still bad at spelling even though I'm a professional writer, and that I saw Hana as a very intelligent person, verbally expressive, with a great imagination and curiosity about the world. I believed she would catch up sooner or later and I was not concerned about how she measured up to the average. The teacher reiterated her concerns–including the pressure on herself professionally-–the mandate to get her students rolled out to a certain length by a certain time. Summer school was strongly suggested. 

Hana was already feeling negative enough about school and herself as a learner. "I hate writing," she exclaimed. It was time to try homeschooling.

I encouraged her to read whatever books she found interesting–picture books, comic books-–never mind the reading level. Out from under the pressure of comparing herself to outside standards, she began to relax and enjoy reading again. By the end of summer she'd left Magic Tree House in the dust and was deeply into the Harry Potter series. During her first year of homeschooling she used the computer to type a novel and declared that being a writer was one of her careers options. 

At the end of third grade John's teacher referred him for testing. So did I. This time we were equally concerned. And John loved his teacher, so we knew that wasn't part of the problem. He said school was too easy-–and too hard. According to the tests he was right: a high I.Q., especially verbal, coupled with a very low processing speed made things too easy and too hard. He couldn't help but notice that everyone else finished written work before him, many tests and worksheets came home half done, and yet he was grade levels ahead when it came to discussing facts and concepts from science, geography, astronomy, or whatever he was passionate about at the time. 

I described him as the Green Mountain Railroad. Chugging along at his own slow pace he would certainly reach the top. Push him at all and he'd derail-–and cause a forest fire with his sparks. He felt low self esteem as a learner, and low regard for school in general. I endured explosions every day before and after school. The doctor who did his neuro-psych evaluation the summer after third grade asked me, "Why aren't you homeschooling?" She explained that the school could only do so much to accommodate his needs. Individualized learning, without time pressures, with 1:1 attention from a tutor was highly indicated. I sighed deeply. I didn't know if I had it in me to go through the early grades all over again, eight years after doing that with Hana. But it seemed like a critical time.

Within his first year home John morphed from disliking all reading except Calvin and Hobbes cartoons to lying on the couch devouring Percy Jackson and the Olympians. He didn't spend much time reading this past summer, as his sister and female cousins did at his age, but then, he explained, "I'm a boy!" Is that a ridiculous excuse?

No, as it turns out. From my own reading, The Minds of Boys: Saving Our Sons from Falling Behind in School and Life, by Michael Gurian describes that the brains of boys and girls really are different in some ways that significantly influence how and when they will be ripe to learn in certain ways. I feel reassured that taking him "out of the system" was the right thing to do. I'm thankful for the advice to do it right away, averting a downward slide into a more sullen, angry, disengaged attitude.He is so much more relaxed, happy, and confident. We discuss multiple intelligences and learning styles frequently. 

I'm learning to stop ranking John relative to Hana at the same age. Never mind those internal mental charts and family statistics. The fact that he can read above grade level when inspired by the content is enough for now. There are many other ways than text books for us to get content knowledge. I'll tell you about our Reader Pig in an upcoming post!

Plant Medicine and Potions Class

When I was growing up on a farm in Michigan, I treasured every weekend and public school vacation. I avoided camps and other organized activities, eager to get on with my own rich agenda of creative and scientific projects. Two of my favorites were documenting all the native wildflowers in pen&ink sketches, and experimenting with natural plant dyes. In early adulthood I was given a book, The Complete Illustrated Holistic Herbal: a Safe and Practical Guide to Making and Using Herbal Remedies, by David Hoffmann, which waited, like a dormant seed, on my book shelf until this summer. When I finally got around to paying it closer attention, flipping through the color photos, I realized that many of the plants were either growing in my garden or as weeds around the edges! Now, as you can see above, I've begun the satisfying project of clipping, drying, jarring, and labeling these free local medicinals. There is so much lemon balm I've been giving it away in bunches!

As a homeschooling parent, it has been interesting to observe my children follow their own interests. Some interests last months or years–-my son's obsession with the Titanic, for example. Other interests blossom for only a week or a day, and if not explored right then and there, the blossom of interest may close.

My children's interests aren't necessarily mine. Nor is homeschooling all about letting my children follow their every whim and never telling them what do do. There are many activities I've made them do for the medicinal value because I felt it was going to be worth the effort: cursive writing and touch typing, for example. (Some day I should get around to the latter myself! I admire how fast my daughter types now, without looking at the keys, while I still fake it with two fingers on each hand.) 

In the beginning of homeschooling I dedicated much time to sitting down and making my daughter do a lot of academic work, partly because I was fresh out of being employed as a full time teacher so the urge to set agendas was still flowing through my veins. The first year of homeschooling my son was a little less stringent, and this year is even less. This year I am giving more time to my own home-based work and play, such as this medicinal plant project. 

I think it is important for homeschooling parents, especially if they are new to the role, to follow their own curiosity and interests as learners. It doesn't matter so much if their children develop the same interests. Demonstrating the activity of being engaged, motivated by authentic curiosity, matters more. When you can feel that, and compare it with the dull deadening sensation of just going through the motions doing someone else's agenda, it gives you a touch point to honor your children's native curiosity and authentic interests as learners. 

Last year my son showed an interest in the medicinal properties of crystals. In our community there was a person who knew a lot about this special topic and who was willing visit once a week for a while to be a mentor. We called it "Potions Class." It was a subject I knew nothing about. I wasn't even sure how much I believed in it, but I was tickled to hear that he was "a natural, very sensitive and accurate" in his perception of the properties of the crystals he was shown! 

Given his success in Potions Class, I thought he might be interested to learn about medicinal plants, but so far I'm the only student in that class. But he did tell me, as I was making a topical wound healing tincture with calendula and vodka, that it would become more potent if I set it out in the light of the full moon. Couldn't hurt! So I did. Teaching and learning go both ways in our school.

Global Awareness

Twenty-seven years ago I studied elementary education in order to homeschool my future children. I wanted to do school differently than how it was in the public school for me. Today I took stock of how many of my fantasies about homeschooling have come true-and also of how different it has been each year and with each child.

My daughter made this globe when she was 10, by layering paper maché over a large plastic ball,(actually half of it, twice), then taping the halves together when they were dried. The oceans are a skin of blue tissue paper. The mountains are raised plasticine covered by tan tissue. We thought it came out fairly well, even if missing many significant details. Learning about the continents, and seeing the earth from space, appreciating that all the elements are part of a single rotating world, was the main point. Well, having a cool art object was also a goal! Pretty good work for a fourth grader. Funny thing is, she later used it as a prop in a high school social studies class and everyone thought she had made it for that. She got a good grade.

After a year and a half experiment with public high school she decided she wanted to be more directly involved in the world, not theoretically preparing for someday later. She took a class in Food Sovereignty & Sustainability at our local college, volunteered in a local soup kitchen, joined its board of directors, and got a full scholarship to the United World College program which brings together youth from countries around the world to foster global awareness and responsible leadership.

My daughter loves to travel. She loves meeting new people, and learning about their cultures and daily lives. While she was homeschooling she took Chinese classes from local college students and neighbors who were native speakers. Later she traveled in China and volunteered teaching English in a rural elementary school. She loved her huge fourth grade class, especially the boys who were so in need of being active, like her own little brother. She invented ways to teach them that took advantage of their eagerness to move and play. 

Now she's a freshman at a premier women's college, studying Chinese formally-–for credit this time. She's also taking Arabic, and Environmental Science, and hopes to continue along the lines of Political Agroecology, or Peace Studies, or Cultural Anthropology. Something all encompassing, where it matters that one sees that every little thing is part of a larger system. 

Meanwhile, my second child, age 11, is out in the back yard with his friends staging a war. There are lots of guns, foam bullets everywhere, and a mess of cardboard and a little red wagon being turned into a tank. He has no interest in traveling. Am I at all concerned about his global awareness? Not hardly! 

Today he went to our local school's fifth grade French class, which he wanted to try this year as well as orchestra. (We are glad the school is open to homeschoolers attending some classes!) I sat in the back helping prepare materials for next week's class, meanwhile listening to the lesson about maps, charts, and what significant landform differentiates Europe from Asia. I watched in pleased surprise as my son raised his hand repeatedly, confidently offering answers, many of which I have no memory of consciously teaching him. He picked up this information through sailing once this summer, watching documentaries, seeing his sister's globe all these years, and through osmosis probably, just being around her and hearing what she cares about. 

During Orientation three weeks ago her college's president spoke of finding your own inner compass, and warned us parents to stop playing that role and let our daughters fledge. We laughed. We both thought of how, at nine months old, she walked (yes, walked) to the door and pounded her little fists on it and said (in words, yes,) "Out! Out! Hana Do It Self!" 

"I don't think I've ever been your inner compass," I told her. "I think you've always had strong ideas of where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. If anything, I tried to help you open some doors, and tried to be brave enough to let you charge through them, come what may."