the games they play
While making breakfast today I heard a big 'clang' from the living room (where the kids were playing). I went to ask what it was, and Ben explained: "we're playing trash".
I use this primarily to record the day to day glimpses of my family. Unless you're a close friend or family, it's probably of minimal interest to you.
I use other places for assorted thoughts, things I think are neat, things I'd like to remember, and very short things.
education as aversion therapy
All too often education actually acts as a form of aversion therapy, that what we're really teaching our children is to associate learning with work and to associate work with drudgery so that the remainder of their lives they will possibly never go near a book because they associate books with learning, learning with work and work with drudgery. Whereas after a hard day's toil, instead of relaxing with a book they'll be much more likely to sit down in front of an undemanding soap opera because this is obviously teaching them nothing, so it is not learning, so it is not work, it is not drudgery, so it must be pleasure. And I think that that is the kind of circuitry that we tend to have imprinted on us because of the education process.
It's Watchmen release week, so commenting in some manner seems apropos. Alan Moore's comment above (from a recent salon.com interview) is right on, IMO. Of course, not all education need be like that, but sadly much of it seems to be.
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I'm thinking of a number
Ben: I'm thinking of a number ... you guess
me: is it bigger than 100?
Ben: yes
me: is it bigger than 10,000?
Ben: yes
me: is it bigger than 100,000?
Ben: no
me: is it bigger than 50,000?
[you may recognize the binary search algorithm lesson coming up ... just wait..]
Ben: yes
me: is it bigger than 75,000?
Ben: yes
me: are you changing the number every time I ask a question?
Ben: yes. I want to make it hard to guess.
[breakfast table erupts into laughter...]
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one kids' room under a groove
The funk focus in Ben's listening habits continues: I came out of the shower to hear Funkadelic streaming out of the kids' room. Upon entering, I found Ben dancing in (only) his undies, and Nora (still on brightly colored striped jammies) wearing the tiger mask pictured above, roaring along.
To repurpose a phrase, asses seem to have been freed; minds appear to have followed.
To repurpose a phrase, asses seem to have been freed; minds appear to have followed.
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play some funk
Ben found a blank CD this weekend, and promptly labeled it with a marker. Then he wanted to play it, and was disappointed when we explained that it wasn't the markings on the outside of the CD but rather its contents that made it playable.
Predictably, he then wanted to put something on his CD. For some reason, he only wanted funk music, so we picked through the family mp3 collection a bit and made him a little mix (while previewing songs, he'd decide -- with some help -- if they were "funky enough" but not "too funky"). He's been excitedly putting it in the CD player in the kids' room since then, and dancing around.
My favorite chapter of the recent family funk fest happened this morning, while @amyj was still in bed (but after we'd started the daily ritual of trying to wake mommy). Ben ran back to his room, started the funk CD, and turned it up a bit. I was brushing my teeth a few minutes later when I heard: "Daddy! The funk music is working -- she's waking up!".
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daddy kisses
Ben had an overwhelming interest in books pretty much from the time he could hold his head up. At 9 months he'd sit patiently and listen attentively to book after book after book.
Nora, in contrast, was a more viscerally inclined baby and young toddler. She'd get wiggly and impatient pretty quickly, and did things like chew on books or hold them upside down (while fairly normal things to do, her big bro never did, so it was notable to us).
Lately she's started to be very interested. She sleeps with about a dozen hand-picked books now, and earnestly (and adorably) implores "more book, please" when it's time for bed. One of her current favorites is Daddy Kisses, which goes through a variety of types of animals, describing the way in which daddy whatever (lion, frog, giraffe, etc.) kisses his baby (on the head, on the eyes, on the neck). Nora knows which body parts go with each page, and holds each part up as the page comes, so she can get her kiss.
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toddler transport
While playing at J&C's yesterday, Ben and Raya invented a novel form of Nora transportation: they rolled her up in a blanket (longer than she was), and then dragged from the slack at the non-Nora-containing side of the blanket. It worked really well, and everyone seemed to enjoy it.
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play that funky music
While eating breakfast, last.fm streamed us "Coffee At Senor Roody's" by Up, Bustle, and Out. I remarked that it was a funky song. Ben says: "it was any more funky, we'd be dancing". He then proceeded to give Nora his remaining mandarin so he could get up and dance.
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A miracle
Ben has been playing piano for a bit over a year now, and has been in a Suzuki program for the past 8 months or so. Suzuki focuses on a carefully chosen progression of songs that are mastered in order, memorized (some young students may not actually read music) and frequently performed.
A few months ago Ben was struck by ambition and decided to combine the two hands of a song he'd been working on hands separately. His teacher was pleased, and gave him a special "miracle" sticker when he surprised her by suddenly being able to play the song.
The sticker must have meant a lot. He learned the right hand of a new piece ("London Bridge") at his regular lesson this past Tuesday. Coincidentally, we had a group lesson (which provides a performance opportunity) scheduled for yesterday. While we were driving home on Tuesday, he announced his intention to surprise his teacher Sue Ellen by being ready to play London Bridge (both hands, no music) on Saturday. I explained that it would be sort of unprecedentedly quick for him to learn both hands of a new piece and memorize it in four days, but he was undeterred. We walked in the door from our lesson Tuesday and he ran to the piano to start practicing again (this is great -- we've been struggling lately with getting piano practice to be a routine and non-controversial part of the day).
All week he's been focused on London Bridge, and actually did a pretty awesome job preparing for his 'miracle'. When the performance time of the group lesson started yesterday, he could hardly contain himself. He excitedly volunteered to go first, completely ignored Sue Ellen's slightly perplexed look when he said he would play London Bridge, and proceeded to play it (we're still working on the 7th measure a bit).
It was heartwarming to see his much-deserved pride as he accomplished his goal. Some of my favorite institutions -- New College, open source software, and Montessori education -- are based on the idea that real motivations and successful learning come from intrinsic interests and self-established goals. It's impossible to watch something like Ben's London Bridge miracle and not agree.
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triangles
Ben loves math, and has an intense interest in anything related (e.g. calendars, time, shapes, geography, certain puzzle games like chainfactor, etc.). This morning he and Nora are coloring and making paper snowflakes, but he's getting distracted: from the other room, I hear "hey, Dad! I made a right angle triangle!". A few minutes later while cleaning up, he happily announced, while holding up a small scrap, "this is an equilateral triangle" (pronounced e-quill-late-eral).
Nora, meanwhile, actually ran with scissors the wrong way (i.e. with open blade, hands on the handles only). They were safety scissors with no tip that can barely even cut paper, but it was interesting to see the organic motivation for the trite "here's how you carry scissors" lesson (which she absorbed quickly and with the degree of compliance that is common from her these days).
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