Kudos to whoever wrote this. As a former middle school teacher, now a homeschooling parent, I have to say that I got an immense kick out of it.
TOP 10 REASONS TO OUTLAW HOMESCHOOLING
1. Most parents were educated in the underfunded public school system, and so are not smart enough to homeschool their own children.
2. Children who receive one-on-one homeschooling will learn more than others, giving them an unfair advantage in the marketplace. This is undemocratic.
3. How can children learn to defend themselves unless they have to fight off bullies on a daily basis?
4. Ridicule from other children is important to the socialization process.
5. Children in public schools can get more practice "Just Saying No" to drugs, cigarettes and alcohol.
6. Fluorescent lighting may have significant health benefits.
7. Publicly asking permission to go to the bathroom teaches young people their place in society.
8. The fashion industry depends upon the peer pressure that only public schools can generate.
9. Public schools foster cultural literacy, passing on important traditions like the singing of "Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..."
10. Homeschooled children may not learn important office career skills, like how to sit still for six hours straight.
Found on the Internet.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Making music
More and more each day, the piano belongs to her.We've had an electric keyboard ever since I bought one for my wife, to honor the lessons she took in college when we were dating. But with our time consumed by children, by jobs, and by a thousand other things that steal our lives in bite-size pieces, the keyboard sat in the bedroom, and eventually in the living room, a silent member of the family whom we always meant to know better.
We are, after all, a musical family; heck, we're a musical species. Music is so essential to being human that studies have shown a mental link not only between music and speech, but also between music and mathematics, so that becoming "fluent" in an instrument can have other benefits.
At the start of the year, I sat down with Oldest Daughter and outlined a course of music study that would involve practicing piano for at least 30 minutes a day. After all, she had been puttering about with the keyboard for years. It was time to get serious.
The initial lesson was simply to pick a song she knew, start with C-natural, and figure out the tune from there. In the five months since, she also has learned how to begin the song at a different key, and (lately) to play with both hands at the same time, her left hand two octaves lower than her right. Once she is more comfortable with these skills, it'll be time to take it to the final lesson, and learn which chords go with which notes.
Today I heard her play "When Somebody Loved Me," from "Toy Story 2." A couple months ago, it was "Castle on a Cloud" from "Les Misérables." These are songs with fairly straightforward melodies, I suppose, but she's at a place now where she can work out increasingly complex base melodies in increasingly short times. It took her days of practice to work out the notes for "Holy, Holy, Holy." Today she had Jessie's song worked out in about five minutes.
The progress she has made is obvious even when she goofs off. Five months ago, she gave herself breaks by running her fingers up and down the keyboard in an irritated glissando or by hammering away at the keys in a raging flood of frustration. I would patiently try to wait it out, but invariably either she would walk away on her own, or I would need to remind her to focus and try again.
Now when she takes her leave of the song that's frustrating her, I hear a more delicate ripple of music as her fingers explore the keys on their own and weave the foundations of what one day could become actual songs. She's discovering the distance from one note to the next, and in finding that, she's closing the distance from her soul to the keys.
Some day, if she wants, Oldest Daughter will take formal lessons from an instructor, and she will learn to play piano the formal way, with scales, with metronomes, and with sheets all covered with quavers and breves, with cleffs and staves, with sharps and flats, and with a score of Italian phrases. When she picks up that key, she'll find that it unlocks the discipline and the knowledge that lead to vast new storehouses of musical knowledge that she'll be able to tap whenever she wants. That'll be good.
Until then, though, I think she's discovering the more powerful, more enduring thing. She's learning how to make music, all on her own.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
On the Light Side: Things Kids Teach You
Things I've learned as a parent:
- A king-size waterbed holds enough water to fill a one-floor, 2,000-square-foot house 4 inches deep.
- If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them
with inline skates, they can ignite.
- A 3-year-old's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded
restaurant.
- If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is
not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound child wearing Batman underwear
and a Superman cape. However, if you tie it to
a paint can, it is strong enough to spread paint on all four walls of a 20-foot-by-20-foot room.
- You may have to make a few throws before you get a hit, but you should not toss baseballs into the air when the ceiling fan is
on. A ceiling fan can hit
a baseball a long way.
- Glass windows do not stop a baseball
hit by a ceiling fan. Not even if they are double pane.
- When you hear the toilet flush followed by "uh-oh,"
it is already too late.
- Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
- If you show an 8-year-old how to use a magnifying glass for wood burning, she may try it on other things.
- Certain Legos will pass through the digestive tract of a child.
- "Play-Doh" and "microwave" do not belong in the same sentence.
- Super Glue? It really is forever.
- An 8-year-old can pick a lock with an old driver's license, even when her father can't.
- No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you
still can't walk on water.
- Pool filters do not like Jell-O.
- A DVD player will not play a movie if you insert the spinner from Chutes & Ladders.
- Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
- Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise during driving.
- You really do not want to know what that odor is coming from.
- Always look in the oven before you turn it on. Plastic toys
do not like ovens.
- Ever let your daughter play with the phone while you take a quick trip to the bathroom? Don't. 9-1-1 can get there really fast.
- The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms
dizzy.
- It will, however, make cats dizzy.
- Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
- Eighty percent of men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.
Friday, May 18, 2012
1,000 Blank White Cards
You have an hour to go with a group of homeschoolers, and the kids have already played Nomic twice. What do you do? You play 1,000 Blank White Cards, of course!
Like Nomic, 1,000 Blank White Cards is a game that seems tailor-made for homeschoolers. Originating in Madison, Wisc., 1,000 Blank White Cards is a game that provides a basic game structure but otherwise allows the players to create the rules as they go. In this case, they do so by filling in blank cards with whatever sort of action, illustration, penalty or other play that they want.
Aside from the creative aspects, the game is fairly basic. Play begins to the dealer's left and continues clockwise, with each person playing a card on either herself or another player, although players are allowed to respond to others' play with further cards. You're allowed to create, alter and even destroy cards however you want, and you can even create cards that evoke the spirit of other card games.
Another group I played 1,000 Blank White Cards with, for instance, saw cards arise with things like "Lose 50 Points If You Don't Have a Water Card." This immediately led to someone creating a "Water" card worth 20 points, and that in turn to a third, "Anti-Water" card. The potential for silliness abounds.
I introduced the game today to Oldest Daughter's logic club after we had completed the day's exercises in critical thinking. I handed each of the students five completely blank cards, explained the basic rules, and let them indulge themselves. Once they had completed their cards, I shuffled the deck, mixed in a few more blank cards, and dealt the first hand.
We played this last weekend at a friend's house, and since everyone playing was in her mid-30s or later, the cards were silly but tilted toward the witty. We had a few cards that said things like "Swap cards with the person on your left" and "Trade places with someone else," but the majority said things like "Sing a Happy Song About Leprosy" and "Tell a Story About Your Teddy Bear." (I interrupted that one with a card that said, simply, "Shut up.")
Play today reflected the age of the players accordingly. They created a lot of cards that involved mildly humiliating or annoying tasks like "Crawl Like a Worm for a Minute" and "Hop Up and Down Until the Game Ends." (I saved that player after a few seconds with a card that read, simply, "Game Over.")
There were a number of cards that referred to specific players, like "Give Card to Joe," which led to some creative arguments among players as to which card should be given to Joe, that card or another one.
The phenomenon I found most interesting was the way players began creating cards to adapt their playing strategies to one another. Fifteen minutes into the game, there were cards being played that read in part "Play Right Away," thus allowing them to interrupt on someone else's turn; or "Card May Not Be Edited," so the player could be guaranteed her way. (Unfortunately for her, someone else played an Override card that allowed the card to be edited anyway.)
The game was a hit, mostly because the kids kept making one another do silly or embarrassing things. I am curious how things would have gone had someone played my card "Elves Attack Your Village. Lose 50 Points," especially since I always add nifty illustrations to my cards, but no one played that, so we never got to see whether a game would develop with points as a goal, or around a fantasy theme.
The game broke up when everybody had to go home, but I sent the kids packing with starter decks that consisted of the cards that they had created and the cards that were specific to them. (I have no use for a card that says "Mourn Billy's Lost Dignity," for instance, since there are no Billys in my family, though Billy's family may use it at some point.)
As they left, one of the moms told me that Nomic has been spreading. Not only has her family played it, she's seen her children teaching their other friends how to play it as well.
And now they have something else to share.
Like Nomic, 1,000 Blank White Cards is a game that seems tailor-made for homeschoolers. Originating in Madison, Wisc., 1,000 Blank White Cards is a game that provides a basic game structure but otherwise allows the players to create the rules as they go. In this case, they do so by filling in blank cards with whatever sort of action, illustration, penalty or other play that they want.
Aside from the creative aspects, the game is fairly basic. Play begins to the dealer's left and continues clockwise, with each person playing a card on either herself or another player, although players are allowed to respond to others' play with further cards. You're allowed to create, alter and even destroy cards however you want, and you can even create cards that evoke the spirit of other card games.
Another group I played 1,000 Blank White Cards with, for instance, saw cards arise with things like "Lose 50 Points If You Don't Have a Water Card." This immediately led to someone creating a "Water" card worth 20 points, and that in turn to a third, "Anti-Water" card. The potential for silliness abounds.
I introduced the game today to Oldest Daughter's logic club after we had completed the day's exercises in critical thinking. I handed each of the students five completely blank cards, explained the basic rules, and let them indulge themselves. Once they had completed their cards, I shuffled the deck, mixed in a few more blank cards, and dealt the first hand.
We played this last weekend at a friend's house, and since everyone playing was in her mid-30s or later, the cards were silly but tilted toward the witty. We had a few cards that said things like "Swap cards with the person on your left" and "Trade places with someone else," but the majority said things like "Sing a Happy Song About Leprosy" and "Tell a Story About Your Teddy Bear." (I interrupted that one with a card that said, simply, "Shut up.")
Play today reflected the age of the players accordingly. They created a lot of cards that involved mildly humiliating or annoying tasks like "Crawl Like a Worm for a Minute" and "Hop Up and Down Until the Game Ends." (I saved that player after a few seconds with a card that read, simply, "Game Over.")
There were a number of cards that referred to specific players, like "Give Card to Joe," which led to some creative arguments among players as to which card should be given to Joe, that card or another one.
The phenomenon I found most interesting was the way players began creating cards to adapt their playing strategies to one another. Fifteen minutes into the game, there were cards being played that read in part "Play Right Away," thus allowing them to interrupt on someone else's turn; or "Card May Not Be Edited," so the player could be guaranteed her way. (Unfortunately for her, someone else played an Override card that allowed the card to be edited anyway.)
The game was a hit, mostly because the kids kept making one another do silly or embarrassing things. I am curious how things would have gone had someone played my card "Elves Attack Your Village. Lose 50 Points," especially since I always add nifty illustrations to my cards, but no one played that, so we never got to see whether a game would develop with points as a goal, or around a fantasy theme.
The game broke up when everybody had to go home, but I sent the kids packing with starter decks that consisted of the cards that they had created and the cards that were specific to them. (I have no use for a card that says "Mourn Billy's Lost Dignity," for instance, since there are no Billys in my family, though Billy's family may use it at some point.)
As they left, one of the moms told me that Nomic has been spreading. Not only has her family played it, she's seen her children teaching their other friends how to play it as well.
And now they have something else to share.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Karate summer camp
If you're looking for a summer camp experience for your kids that will get them moving and maybe even develop a passion for fitness, I can vouch for senseis Mercee and Dovi, who run the program at True North Martial Arts. My second daughter attended summer camp with them two years ago, and enjoyed it so much that she soon became a regular student.
Camp will run from 9 a.m.-2 p.m. weekdays, beginning June 25 and continuing through August. The cost is $150 per week with discounts for multiple weeks, plus registration. (Read more about the camp.)
Sensei Mercee, who owns True North, was an instructor at the former Family Kickboxing Academy on North Fourth Avenue in Highland Park. That school closed in Feburary, but he has brought the same culture of respect, discipline, and fun to his new academy, at 320 Raritan Ave.
Classes are come-when-you-can on Mondays through Thursdays, with kids' sessions beginning at 4:15, 5:15 and 6:15 p.m. Classes for adults start in the evenings. The first lesson is free.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Book club: 'War of the Worlds'
Does your child love to read? Would you like her to read a little bit more? Good news! I'd like to extend one final invitation to join our Monday morning book club as we tackle H.G. Wells' classic novella "The War of the Worlds," beginning at 11 a.m. June 4.
Along with Jules Verne, Wells is widely regarded as one of the progenitors of the science fiction genre. "The War of the Worlds," published in 1898, is one of the first novels ever to tell of an invasion of the earth from outer space. Since it was first published, the book has never gone out of print. It's inspired a number of movies, a TV show in 1988, and (most famously) a radio broadcast by Orson Welles that caused panic in New Jersey and New York.
Our first discussion is set to begin at 11 a.m. June 4, at my house. We're still welcoming new readers, so feel free to come, even if you've never come out before. Because we're getting close to summer camps, I'd like everyone to have finished the first nine chapters by our first meeting. (That should be doable, because they're so short.)
As noted, this is the last selection for the book club this year. We'll be resuming after Labor Day, when my daughter has requested that we give it a focus on science fiction. Feel free to contact me for directions, or with any other questions.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Nomic II
For those who are keeping track of these things, we continued to play Nomic today at our homeschooling logic club.
Nomic is a game of self-governance, created in 1982 by philosopher Peter Suber. Like any other folk game, there are a number of variants, but the version I am most familiar with and taught to the children begins with exactly one rule: that it takes a two-thirds majority to change the rules. We played the game last week, and even though I was introducing it to a group of preteens, the game was very well received.
We continued our previous session, and though we passed fewer rules this time than previously, we still had a good time. The new rules passed are as follows.
21. Firstly, if Billy is not present, then the writer must go first. For purposes of Rule 11, the computer counts as paper and the person operating the computer counts as the writer. Secondly, if a rule is proposed, it must be voted on unless the person proposing the rule decides to withdraw it. Thirdly, the turn changes to the next person once the vote has been cast. (This rule represents an interesting development in how the kids were viewing the game. They realized that, according to Rule 5, Billy should go first -- but Billy was absent that day. Additionally, since I had transcribed the rules to the computer and they weren't using pen and ink, they had to confront an unexpected shortcoming of their rules by redefining their terms. But most significantly, this is a rule that addresses multiple, unrelated problems at the same time. That's a huge leap in complexity.)
22. Rules pass by a simple majority. (They were doing the math and realized three-fifths might not always be easy if we didn't have five players.)
23. Turn passes by the roll of a die, rather than to the next person in the circle. (My idea. I keep trying to give the game more unexpected twists and changes, to keep people on their toes.)
24. You cannot have a turn three times in a row, no matter how the die rolls. (Oldest Daughter's suggestion. She had proposed the turn limit last week, but her effort failed when everyone favored the idea of turns rotating clockwise instead.)
25. Rules 2 5, and 7 do not go into effect until quarter past three. (I inject more chaos. Note that only two rules have been passed since my last turn. This is due in part to the X factor introduced by the roll of the die, but also because it was becoming harder to reach consensus on what rules to make, now that the basic fairness issues had been resolved.)
26. E____'s father does not have to vote on any of her rules. (There were a couple failed efforts to pass rules between Rule 25 and this one. Ironically, I was able to get my daughter's blank-check support for this rule by telling her I would support the next rule she proposed.)
27. David Diez and Mary (Joe's mother) may join the game; also, Rule 25 is no longer in effect. (The kids all thought Rule 26 was funny, but they also agreed with my daughter that it was a sneaky sort of thing to do.)
28. (I called for a vote on this rule before Joe could propose anything. The vote passed 5-1.)
The game was a hit the second week in a row, but at this point, I have no plans to continue it. Next time we meet, we will play a similar game a friend of mine in California has introduced me to, called 1,000 Blank White Cards. It looks interesting.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Book club: 'The Time Machine'
We're about to finish our current selection, which means it's time for a new book. On May 7, we will travel back to the earliest days of science fiction, with H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine."
Along with Jules Verne, Wells is widely regarded as one of the progenitors of the science fiction genre. His "Time Machine," published in 1895, widely is credited with introducing the concept of time travel. It's also been the direct inspiration of at least two movie adaptations, and countless imitators.
As always, the club is open to new members as we start a new book. The club generally meets at 11 a.m. Mondays.
We'll be looking at a few things over the course of the book, not just the literary themes of the book but also the different time periods we'd like to travel to if we had access to a working time machine. Our first discussion is set to begin at 11 a.m. May 7.
Along with Jules Verne, Wells is widely regarded as one of the progenitors of the science fiction genre. His "Time Machine," published in 1895, widely is credited with introducing the concept of time travel. It's also been the direct inspiration of at least two movie adaptations, and countless imitators.
As always, the club is open to new members as we start a new book. The club generally meets at 11 a.m. Mondays.
We'll be looking at a few things over the course of the book, not just the literary themes of the book but also the different time periods we'd like to travel to if we had access to a working time machine. Our first discussion is set to begin at 11 a.m. May 7.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Nomic
When you have four children at your house for two hours, and only one hour of planned activities, what do you do? You play Nomic, of course!
Created in 1982 by philosopher Peter Suber, Nomic is an exercise in self-governance, quite literally. It begins with only one rule, that it takes a two-thirds majority to change the rules. Given that I was introducing it to a group of preteens who for months had been ending their weekly logic class with games like Munchkin and Pandemic, I wasn't sure if this game would fly, but it was very well received.
The game is still in its early stages of development, but it has the potential to become a major lesson in consensus-building, compromise, and parliamentary procedure -- in short, it's an interesting hands-on lesson in how government works A quick overview of the rules will reveal that the kids for the most part so far have been concerned with being fair and giving everyone a chance to be heard.
Nomic is one of those games you hear about, and tuck away for the appropriate time to play. I had heard about it in 1997 from one of my wife's classmates in college. A friend of mine ran a game on Delphi Forums several years ago, but the nature of the forum made it hard for the game to advance much. When I started homeschooling Oldest Daughter two years ago, I knew I'd have to introduce it to some other kids someday.
Someday was Friday. We played for about an hour, amid a lot of laughter and merriment, without rolling a single die, moving a single token around a board, or playing a single card.
The kids had so much fun that they want to continue the game the next time we meet. I'm wondering how long it will take them to realize that they can introduce more complex rules, and even start making deals with other players to gain support for personally favored rules; or how long it will take them to start arguing over what exactly a rule means, and trying to initiate massive reforms to simplify the rule structure.
I'm also wondering if the game will at some point progress beyond merely passing rules. One adult, after hearing about the game, immediately grasped its potential for a drinking game. (That one, at least, I hope does not occur to the kids for some time to come.)
The rules:
0. A two-thirds majority is required to change the rules.
1. A three-fifths majority is needed to change the rules. (They added this because they wanted me to participate, and thought that a simple majority would be easier than a two-thirds supermajority. Interestingly, they made the rule specify a "three-fifths majority," instead of a "simple majority," which could have implications down the road, should the group increase in size a few people.)
2. Isaac has to write the new rules. (That was my suggestion. The rule immediately passed, 4-1, with Isaac casting the lone dissenting vote.)
3. We have to discuss all rules before they are made.
4. We cannot eat Joe. (The club is about developing logic and critical thinking skills. An hour earlier, I had illustrated false connections with the statements "Pigs exist. Joe exists. Therefore, Joe is a pig." Now as I was asking the kids if they wanted anything for a snack, I mentioned that we had bacon, and let my eyes linger meaningfully over Joe.)
5. We will vote on Billy's rule first. (I had proposed a rule that we take turns suggesting rules. While this was on the table, Oldest Daughter suggested limiting the number of rules anyone could introduce to three in a row. Billy in turn suggested that we vote on my rule before Oldest Daughter's, since mine had been suggested first. Since the rules failed to specify an order for how to entertain multiple motions, it was decided we should vote first on Billy's proposal to vote on my proposed rule. Ironically, this meant that we voted on Billy's rule second, but I didn't want to muddy the waters even further, so I kept that observation to myself.)
6. We vote on the first rule that was proposed (This is where they started introducing a sense of order to how the game would work; up until this point, it had been a free-for-all.)
7. We take turns proposing new rules, going in a circle.
8. The first person to propose a rule is Billy, and we go clockwise.
9. You can change your rule that you are proposing before it is voted on.
10. Every five minutes we switch seats. (This was my idea. I wanted to show the kids that we could make the game about more than just changing rules.)
11. The writer is the person in the chair in front of the paper. (This was Isaac's idea. Poor boy had been writing down rules for about 20 minutes. He was a good sport about it, though.)
12. Whenever a rule is passed, we must clap three times. (One of the kids had started to see the potential the game has for more than just passing rules.)
13. When a rule is suggested, the person on the left calls the end of the discussion -- unless the person on the left is the writer, in which case it is the person on the right. (Here is their first effort to ensure that every proposal gets fair consideration. I plan to demonstrate the flaw in this rule next week, by calling for a vote as soon as the rule is suggested, before anyone has a chance to discuss it.)
14. All rules must be numbered.
15. If your parent has come, you can go. (One of the other parents had come to collect her son and two other boys. I pointed out that there was no provision for people to leave yet.)
16. Amend Rule 15 to say "ride." (This came after I pointed out that under our rules, only Billy could leave, since Joe and Isaac's moms hadn't come for them -- just their ride.)
17. Anyone who breaks the rules must squawk like a chicken. (We realized that no one had been clapping when rules were passed, in clear violation of Rule 12. So here we have our first attempt at enforcement with consequences.)
18. The writer will set the timer.
19. We stop the game when the first person leaves.
20. When you forget to clap, you must take the writer's seat. If multiple people forget to clap, the last one to touch their nose is the one to take the writer's seat. If you forget to clap and you are in the writer's seat, then you cannot switch when the timer goes off.
Created in 1982 by philosopher Peter Suber, Nomic is an exercise in self-governance, quite literally. It begins with only one rule, that it takes a two-thirds majority to change the rules. Given that I was introducing it to a group of preteens who for months had been ending their weekly logic class with games like Munchkin and Pandemic, I wasn't sure if this game would fly, but it was very well received.
The game is still in its early stages of development, but it has the potential to become a major lesson in consensus-building, compromise, and parliamentary procedure -- in short, it's an interesting hands-on lesson in how government works A quick overview of the rules will reveal that the kids for the most part so far have been concerned with being fair and giving everyone a chance to be heard.
Nomic is one of those games you hear about, and tuck away for the appropriate time to play. I had heard about it in 1997 from one of my wife's classmates in college. A friend of mine ran a game on Delphi Forums several years ago, but the nature of the forum made it hard for the game to advance much. When I started homeschooling Oldest Daughter two years ago, I knew I'd have to introduce it to some other kids someday.
Someday was Friday. We played for about an hour, amid a lot of laughter and merriment, without rolling a single die, moving a single token around a board, or playing a single card.
The kids had so much fun that they want to continue the game the next time we meet. I'm wondering how long it will take them to realize that they can introduce more complex rules, and even start making deals with other players to gain support for personally favored rules; or how long it will take them to start arguing over what exactly a rule means, and trying to initiate massive reforms to simplify the rule structure.
I'm also wondering if the game will at some point progress beyond merely passing rules. One adult, after hearing about the game, immediately grasped its potential for a drinking game. (That one, at least, I hope does not occur to the kids for some time to come.)
The rules:
0. A two-thirds majority is required to change the rules.
1. A three-fifths majority is needed to change the rules. (They added this because they wanted me to participate, and thought that a simple majority would be easier than a two-thirds supermajority. Interestingly, they made the rule specify a "three-fifths majority," instead of a "simple majority," which could have implications down the road, should the group increase in size a few people.)
2. Isaac has to write the new rules. (That was my suggestion. The rule immediately passed, 4-1, with Isaac casting the lone dissenting vote.)
3. We have to discuss all rules before they are made.
4. We cannot eat Joe. (The club is about developing logic and critical thinking skills. An hour earlier, I had illustrated false connections with the statements "Pigs exist. Joe exists. Therefore, Joe is a pig." Now as I was asking the kids if they wanted anything for a snack, I mentioned that we had bacon, and let my eyes linger meaningfully over Joe.)
5. We will vote on Billy's rule first. (I had proposed a rule that we take turns suggesting rules. While this was on the table, Oldest Daughter suggested limiting the number of rules anyone could introduce to three in a row. Billy in turn suggested that we vote on my rule before Oldest Daughter's, since mine had been suggested first. Since the rules failed to specify an order for how to entertain multiple motions, it was decided we should vote first on Billy's proposal to vote on my proposed rule. Ironically, this meant that we voted on Billy's rule second, but I didn't want to muddy the waters even further, so I kept that observation to myself.)
6. We vote on the first rule that was proposed (This is where they started introducing a sense of order to how the game would work; up until this point, it had been a free-for-all.)
7. We take turns proposing new rules, going in a circle.
8. The first person to propose a rule is Billy, and we go clockwise.
9. You can change your rule that you are proposing before it is voted on.
10. Every five minutes we switch seats. (This was my idea. I wanted to show the kids that we could make the game about more than just changing rules.)
11. The writer is the person in the chair in front of the paper. (This was Isaac's idea. Poor boy had been writing down rules for about 20 minutes. He was a good sport about it, though.)
12. Whenever a rule is passed, we must clap three times. (One of the kids had started to see the potential the game has for more than just passing rules.)
13. When a rule is suggested, the person on the left calls the end of the discussion -- unless the person on the left is the writer, in which case it is the person on the right. (Here is their first effort to ensure that every proposal gets fair consideration. I plan to demonstrate the flaw in this rule next week, by calling for a vote as soon as the rule is suggested, before anyone has a chance to discuss it.)
14. All rules must be numbered.
15. If your parent has come, you can go. (One of the other parents had come to collect her son and two other boys. I pointed out that there was no provision for people to leave yet.)
16. Amend Rule 15 to say "ride." (This came after I pointed out that under our rules, only Billy could leave, since Joe and Isaac's moms hadn't come for them -- just their ride.)
17. Anyone who breaks the rules must squawk like a chicken. (We realized that no one had been clapping when rules were passed, in clear violation of Rule 12. So here we have our first attempt at enforcement with consequences.)
18. The writer will set the timer.
19. We stop the game when the first person leaves.
20. When you forget to clap, you must take the writer's seat. If multiple people forget to clap, the last one to touch their nose is the one to take the writer's seat. If you forget to clap and you are in the writer's seat, then you cannot switch when the timer goes off.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Karate
My kid does really well when she's left to herself.
Some kids are extroverts and love being part of a team. They draw their strength from the cheers and accolades of their friends, they feel secure knowing that someone else is there to get their back, and they love being a part of something larger than themselves. Stick them on a team, and they blossom.
Other kids are introverts, and they love being on their own. They're encouraged by affirmation, but what they really crave is the focus that comes from being in the zone. They feel secure when they lose themselves in the process of discovery, of learning; and they live the most deeply when they're striving on their own or with one or two close friends. Leave them to their own devices, and they blossom.
My oldest is an introvert. Team sports are not for her.
This past week, I took her to a trial class at True North Martial Arts in Highland Park. Located at 320 Raritan Ave., right next to 10,000 Villages, the studio is a new effort by Sensei Mercee, of the former Family Kickboxing Academy. The new studio is just getting started, but it is full of promise.
The studio, incidentally, is having its grand opening celebration from noon-4 p.m. April 22, with information about its children and adults programs, as well as about its children's summer camp.
Unlike softball, where Oldest Daughter too often was stuck warming the bench because she compared negatively to other players, martial arts are an activity where the only person you compare to is yourself. In the class, you gauge your progress by how you are improving over your past performance.
The big lessons at True North are respect, hard work, discipline and focus. Students refer to instructors as "sir," and no one is ever spoken down to. I've seen students' attention wander, and they're always gently brought back into the fold. Middle Daughter has taken karate lessons for most of the past year, and she's never had a bad time.
The attitudes taught are good, the workout is excellent, and my daughter, who often resists my efforts to get her to move in the morning, asked if she could go back as a regular.
A recommendation doesn't get any better than that.
Some kids are extroverts and love being part of a team. They draw their strength from the cheers and accolades of their friends, they feel secure knowing that someone else is there to get their back, and they love being a part of something larger than themselves. Stick them on a team, and they blossom.
Other kids are introverts, and they love being on their own. They're encouraged by affirmation, but what they really crave is the focus that comes from being in the zone. They feel secure when they lose themselves in the process of discovery, of learning; and they live the most deeply when they're striving on their own or with one or two close friends. Leave them to their own devices, and they blossom.
My oldest is an introvert. Team sports are not for her.
This past week, I took her to a trial class at True North Martial Arts in Highland Park. Located at 320 Raritan Ave., right next to 10,000 Villages, the studio is a new effort by Sensei Mercee, of the former Family Kickboxing Academy. The new studio is just getting started, but it is full of promise.
The studio, incidentally, is having its grand opening celebration from noon-4 p.m. April 22, with information about its children and adults programs, as well as about its children's summer camp.
Unlike softball, where Oldest Daughter too often was stuck warming the bench because she compared negatively to other players, martial arts are an activity where the only person you compare to is yourself. In the class, you gauge your progress by how you are improving over your past performance.
The big lessons at True North are respect, hard work, discipline and focus. Students refer to instructors as "sir," and no one is ever spoken down to. I've seen students' attention wander, and they're always gently brought back into the fold. Middle Daughter has taken karate lessons for most of the past year, and she's never had a bad time.
The attitudes taught are good, the workout is excellent, and my daughter, who often resists my efforts to get her to move in the morning, asked if she could go back as a regular.
A recommendation doesn't get any better than that.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Book club: 'A Tale of Two Cities'
Our book for the next few weeks will be "A Tale of Two Cities," Charles Dickens' timeless work about the French Revolution.
As always, the club is open to new members. One of Dickens' two historical novels, "A Tale of Two Cities" reflects his longstanding interest in themes of social justice and is one of his most famous works. "A Tale of Two Cities" has been adapted to film and stage a number of times.
The club generally meets at 11 a.m. Mondays at my house. Our first discussion, of the first three chapters of "A Tale of Two Cities," is set to begin at 11 a.m. March 12.
The book club is intended for young teens, but is open to anyone who reads the books and is up for the discussions. There is no charge for the group.
As always, the club is open to new members. One of Dickens' two historical novels, "A Tale of Two Cities" reflects his longstanding interest in themes of social justice and is one of his most famous works. "A Tale of Two Cities" has been adapted to film and stage a number of times.
The club generally meets at 11 a.m. Mondays at my house. Our first discussion, of the first three chapters of "A Tale of Two Cities," is set to begin at 11 a.m. March 12.
The book club is intended for young teens, but is open to anyone who reads the books and is up for the discussions. There is no charge for the group.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
On the Light Side: When Homeschooling Goes Wrong
"Medium Large" is a webcomic by the man who writes "Sally Forth." It's not always safe for work, but it often is hilarious.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Book club: 'Rime of the Ancient Mariner'
Next week, we'll be looking at "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," probably the best-known of Samuel Coleridge's poems. As always, the club is open to new members as we start a new book.
Be warned, the poem is full of archaic and potentially challenging vocabulary; it is probably a book best read aloud by a parent with the student. (If you're feeling particularly malicious, read it to your children at bedtime.)
The book club meets at 11 a.m. Mondays at my house. We'll be looking at a few things when we discuss the poem, with some discussion over the crimes the mariner and his shipmates commit in the course of the story, and the respective punishments meted out on each. We will meet to discuss the poem at 11 a.m. Feb. 20. It is doubtful this book will require a second week for discussion, given its relative brevity.
The book club is intended for young teens, but is open to anyone who reads the books and is up for the discussions. There is no charge for the group.
Feel free to contact me for directions, or with any other questions.
Be warned, the poem is full of archaic and potentially challenging vocabulary; it is probably a book best read aloud by a parent with the student. (If you're feeling particularly malicious, read it to your children at bedtime.)
The book club meets at 11 a.m. Mondays at my house. We'll be looking at a few things when we discuss the poem, with some discussion over the crimes the mariner and his shipmates commit in the course of the story, and the respective punishments meted out on each. We will meet to discuss the poem at 11 a.m. Feb. 20. It is doubtful this book will require a second week for discussion, given its relative brevity.
The book club is intended for young teens, but is open to anyone who reads the books and is up for the discussions. There is no charge for the group.
Feel free to contact me for directions, or with any other questions.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Shameless Netflix plug
I knew that Netflix would be a good resource for us as a family of homeschoolers, but what has surprised me is how our subscription has benefited us in some unexpected ways.
My parents gave us a gift subscription to Netflix a little over a year ago, for Christmas 2010. At the time, we'd been streaming the video series "Becoming Human" over the NOVA web site as part of a unit on human evolution, and my mind was filled with the potential for documentary films that could supplement our studies in other areas as well.
We've taken advantage of the huge video library Netflix has amassed for a number of subjects, borrowing "The Power of Song" on DVD for a muscian study of Pete Seeger, streaming video on different periods of history we've been studying, and watching PBS Home Video on the solar system as part of Oldest Daughter's research project on the solar system. It's even been a gateway for discovering culture, as the girls have seen classic movies, encountered famous playwrights through film adaptations of their work, and on and on.
But Netflix has another advantage, one that if management is smart, it will start actively promoting to homeschoolers: It allows you to stream some quality TV shows. In the midst of some shows that are simply great fun, like the "Dr. Who" revival; and other shows that we could all live happily without ever seeing, like "24" and "Wizards of Waverly Place," the Netflix video library includes some TV shows that are an English teacher's dream.
These are the shows that were written during the golden age of television, by writers who had grown up not watching TV, but filling in radio plays with their imagination, reading books, and sometimes attending theatrical productions. Every now and then, you'll catch a revival of their work, when an enterprising studio head acquires the right to reuse the title and concept of a show; and, if you look hard enough, you can find their actual shows broadcast at some obscure hour of the night.
These are shows like "The Outer Limits" and "The Twilight Zone."
We haven't watch "The Outer Limits" yet, but some time last year I decided to capture Oldest Daughter's imagination with an episode or two of Rod Serling's magnum opus. As expected, the show was a hit. To my delight, it proved to be a great springboard for discussion of literary techniques and styles.
As we've watched episodes together, I've paused them midway to introduce concepts of protagonist, and encouraged Oldest Daughter to identify not only the protagonist of the episode, but whether the struggle at the heart of the story was internal or external, or even an externalized internal conflict. From there she's learned to identify the climax of the story, and the denouement; and many times, even to predict how the plot will play out once the climax has been reached, and to explain how she knew it would go that way, complete with arguments from the story so far.
She's learned to identify literary motifs like deals with the Devil, the genie's wishes, cheating fate, and she's developed a keen sense of appreciating irony.
On one occasion, an episode of "The Twilight Zone" led her to write a killer essay critiquing a story and suggesting an alternate way the story could have gone that respected not only her own sensibilities, but also the integrity of the episode's characters and the general spirit of "The Twilight Zone."
The show has even been a gateway into an impromptu history lesson. "Dad," she once asked me, "why are there so many episodes about nuclear war?" One time she asked me about the network censorship that made direct treatments of such topics verboten; and on another, she expressed curiosity about the levels of paranoia shown among the characters. "Let's talk about the 1950s," I told her.
Watching these episodes together has been more than just a chance to enjoy high-quality televised dramas together. They have generated better discussions and writing assignments than I ever remember getting back in middle school or even high school, discussions and assignments that are driven largely by things that interest her.
So, it's been nearly 53 years since the show first aired, but I'm finding it's as strong now as it was then. A TV show that unsettles, haunts and educates. This could only be possible in the Twilight Zone.
But it's Netflix that got us there.
My parents gave us a gift subscription to Netflix a little over a year ago, for Christmas 2010. At the time, we'd been streaming the video series "Becoming Human" over the NOVA web site as part of a unit on human evolution, and my mind was filled with the potential for documentary films that could supplement our studies in other areas as well.
We've taken advantage of the huge video library Netflix has amassed for a number of subjects, borrowing "The Power of Song" on DVD for a muscian study of Pete Seeger, streaming video on different periods of history we've been studying, and watching PBS Home Video on the solar system as part of Oldest Daughter's research project on the solar system. It's even been a gateway for discovering culture, as the girls have seen classic movies, encountered famous playwrights through film adaptations of their work, and on and on.
But Netflix has another advantage, one that if management is smart, it will start actively promoting to homeschoolers: It allows you to stream some quality TV shows. In the midst of some shows that are simply great fun, like the "Dr. Who" revival; and other shows that we could all live happily without ever seeing, like "24" and "Wizards of Waverly Place," the Netflix video library includes some TV shows that are an English teacher's dream.
These are the shows that were written during the golden age of television, by writers who had grown up not watching TV, but filling in radio plays with their imagination, reading books, and sometimes attending theatrical productions. Every now and then, you'll catch a revival of their work, when an enterprising studio head acquires the right to reuse the title and concept of a show; and, if you look hard enough, you can find their actual shows broadcast at some obscure hour of the night.
These are shows like "The Outer Limits" and "The Twilight Zone."
We haven't watch "The Outer Limits" yet, but some time last year I decided to capture Oldest Daughter's imagination with an episode or two of Rod Serling's magnum opus. As expected, the show was a hit. To my delight, it proved to be a great springboard for discussion of literary techniques and styles.
As we've watched episodes together, I've paused them midway to introduce concepts of protagonist, and encouraged Oldest Daughter to identify not only the protagonist of the episode, but whether the struggle at the heart of the story was internal or external, or even an externalized internal conflict. From there she's learned to identify the climax of the story, and the denouement; and many times, even to predict how the plot will play out once the climax has been reached, and to explain how she knew it would go that way, complete with arguments from the story so far.
She's learned to identify literary motifs like deals with the Devil, the genie's wishes, cheating fate, and she's developed a keen sense of appreciating irony.
On one occasion, an episode of "The Twilight Zone" led her to write a killer essay critiquing a story and suggesting an alternate way the story could have gone that respected not only her own sensibilities, but also the integrity of the episode's characters and the general spirit of "The Twilight Zone."
The show has even been a gateway into an impromptu history lesson. "Dad," she once asked me, "why are there so many episodes about nuclear war?" One time she asked me about the network censorship that made direct treatments of such topics verboten; and on another, she expressed curiosity about the levels of paranoia shown among the characters. "Let's talk about the 1950s," I told her.
Watching these episodes together has been more than just a chance to enjoy high-quality televised dramas together. They have generated better discussions and writing assignments than I ever remember getting back in middle school or even high school, discussions and assignments that are driven largely by things that interest her.
So, it's been nearly 53 years since the show first aired, but I'm finding it's as strong now as it was then. A TV show that unsettles, haunts and educates. This could only be possible in the Twilight Zone.
But it's Netflix that got us there.
Monday, February 6, 2012
The Sound of Music
This month's composer study: Stephen Sondheim.
Oldest Daughter spent part of January growing in her familiarity with Andrew Lloyd Webber, the composer behind musicals such as "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Phantom of the Opera." As we've brought more of his musicals into the house via our Netflix subscription, Oldest Daughter has lamented Eva Parone's untimely death with refrains of "Oh What a Circus," while Middle Daughter has given voice to Eva's naked ambition, a la "Eva, Beware of the City."
Even the 2-year-old has got into the spirit of the thing, singing "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina." This is all the result of a little calculated musical enrichment.
The older girls already are familiar with Sondheim, because of "Into the Woods," which DVD we've had the past five years. "Into the Woods" combines the fairy tales of Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and an original tale about a baker and his wife; and takes the fairy tales from childhood into adulthood in the second act, when the giant's wife comes looking for Jack, who repaid her kindness by stealing from her husband and then killing him.
We're likely to watch "Into the Woods" again, and discuss some of its humanistic themes; but I expect our first trip down Sondheim Lane this month will be the Bette Midler production of "Gypsy," about the cuthroat world of show biz. (I love streaming video.)
The first Sondheim movie in our queue was the Tim Burton "Sweeney Todd." I can safely say, without fear of contradiction, that Beloved Wife and I found the movie to be absolutely hilarious. There is also no way in hell we are going to let the girls watch it for several years.
So, in its place, I've scheduled a viewing of "A Celebration at Carnegie Hall," which provides an overview of Sondheim's work, performed by a number of different singers. I especially like Glenn Close's "Send in the Clowns," and Victor Garber's "Ballad of Booth." A showcase like this provides a good overview of Sondheim's work overall, and may give us some ideas for other shows to explore.
At the moment, the other Sondheim musicals on our queue include "West Side Story" and "Sunday in the Park with George." We may also watch "A Little Night Music," though I'm still debating its merits, contentwise. There is no movie version of "Assassins" that I'm aware of, but we have soundtracks to both the original Broadway cast and the revival. She'll be listening to some of those tracks, at least.
So why treat Oldest Daughter to the music of Stephen Sondheim? I guess one answer would be that the fellow is just that good. He's won a Tony for lifetime achievement, and a Pulitzer and a number of Grammy awards for specific projects. The New York Times has called him the greatest person working in theater today.
His book for "Assassins" is a good example of his intelligence; it treats a complex and emotional subject -- people who want to kill the president of the United States -- and deals with it in a nuanced way. Sondheim gets us to laugh at buffoons like Charles J. Guiteau and Sara Jane Moore, and makes us see Andrew Zangara and Leon Czolgosz as the pathetic and angry men they were, but also lets us see John Wilkes Boothe the way he saw himself, so that by the end of the musical, audience members can't help but feel disturbed as they find themselves sympathizing with the asssassins and rooting for Lee Harvey Oswald.
The journey helps us to discover that the line between moral decency and reprehensible criminality is finer and easier to cross than we would like to think. The show makes us laugh, but it also makes us cringe at the monster in ourselves, which is the hallmark of good art.
Sondheim has written some great musicals, sometimes just the lyrics, sometimes just the music, but often both. By the end of the month, the goal is to hear a lot of his music around the house as well.
Oldest Daughter spent part of January growing in her familiarity with Andrew Lloyd Webber, the composer behind musicals such as "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Phantom of the Opera." As we've brought more of his musicals into the house via our Netflix subscription, Oldest Daughter has lamented Eva Parone's untimely death with refrains of "Oh What a Circus," while Middle Daughter has given voice to Eva's naked ambition, a la "Eva, Beware of the City."
Even the 2-year-old has got into the spirit of the thing, singing "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina." This is all the result of a little calculated musical enrichment.
The older girls already are familiar with Sondheim, because of "Into the Woods," which DVD we've had the past five years. "Into the Woods" combines the fairy tales of Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and an original tale about a baker and his wife; and takes the fairy tales from childhood into adulthood in the second act, when the giant's wife comes looking for Jack, who repaid her kindness by stealing from her husband and then killing him.
We're likely to watch "Into the Woods" again, and discuss some of its humanistic themes; but I expect our first trip down Sondheim Lane this month will be the Bette Midler production of "Gypsy," about the cuthroat world of show biz. (I love streaming video.)
The first Sondheim movie in our queue was the Tim Burton "Sweeney Todd." I can safely say, without fear of contradiction, that Beloved Wife and I found the movie to be absolutely hilarious. There is also no way in hell we are going to let the girls watch it for several years.
So, in its place, I've scheduled a viewing of "A Celebration at Carnegie Hall," which provides an overview of Sondheim's work, performed by a number of different singers. I especially like Glenn Close's "Send in the Clowns," and Victor Garber's "Ballad of Booth." A showcase like this provides a good overview of Sondheim's work overall, and may give us some ideas for other shows to explore.
At the moment, the other Sondheim musicals on our queue include "West Side Story" and "Sunday in the Park with George." We may also watch "A Little Night Music," though I'm still debating its merits, contentwise. There is no movie version of "Assassins" that I'm aware of, but we have soundtracks to both the original Broadway cast and the revival. She'll be listening to some of those tracks, at least.
So why treat Oldest Daughter to the music of Stephen Sondheim? I guess one answer would be that the fellow is just that good. He's won a Tony for lifetime achievement, and a Pulitzer and a number of Grammy awards for specific projects. The New York Times has called him the greatest person working in theater today.
His book for "Assassins" is a good example of his intelligence; it treats a complex and emotional subject -- people who want to kill the president of the United States -- and deals with it in a nuanced way. Sondheim gets us to laugh at buffoons like Charles J. Guiteau and Sara Jane Moore, and makes us see Andrew Zangara and Leon Czolgosz as the pathetic and angry men they were, but also lets us see John Wilkes Boothe the way he saw himself, so that by the end of the musical, audience members can't help but feel disturbed as they find themselves sympathizing with the asssassins and rooting for Lee Harvey Oswald.
The journey helps us to discover that the line between moral decency and reprehensible criminality is finer and easier to cross than we would like to think. The show makes us laugh, but it also makes us cringe at the monster in ourselves, which is the hallmark of good art.
Sondheim has written some great musicals, sometimes just the lyrics, sometimes just the music, but often both. By the end of the month, the goal is to hear a lot of his music around the house as well.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Chess club
One of the best e-mails I've received this school year was the one asking me if I'd be interested in running a chess club.The letter came from S.J., a homeschooler who lives in Somerset County and whose daughter organized and taught an animal science class that Oldest Daughter attended last year. S. has a son a little younger than Oldest Daughter who also enjoys chess, and S. felt that hosting a chess club in her house would be a great way for him to get the practice and instruction it would take to improve his game.
It was an offer I couldn't refuse. I'd been looking into running a chess club at the local library, but aside from making arrangements with the library staff to reserve a room, I also would have to make arrangements for someone to watch Youngest Daughter, since it's difficult to provide chess instruction while minding a 2-year-old. With the offer S. was making, I not only would have a place for the club, I had an offer to watch Youngest Daughter while the club met.
Short of the hosting invitation coming from Winona Ryder herself, does it get any better than that?
Chess is widely regarded as conferring social and academic benefits upon children who play it regularly. Players are required to treat one another and the game itself with respect, to avoid disruptive behavior or even unncessary discussion, and instead to focus on the mental rigors of the game itself.
Played on an eight-by-eight square board with two armies of sixteen pieces each, the game requires a number of mental skills. Foremost among these are concentration and forethought. Players not only have to decide what their next move will be, they have to anticipate what their opponent's next move will be, at least one move in advance but better yet three or four.
New players often think it is enough to threaten an opponent's piece, but the truth is that to be effective, they must threaten two or more pieces simultaneously. When their own pieces are threatened, they have to weigh the value of each move, judging the values of their respective pieces, and also consider whether there are any counteroffensives that will put their opponent on the defensive, and thus saving their own pieces.
Research has shown that children who play chess show a statistically significant advantage over children who don't play chess, not only in math and science, but in terms of their overall psychocognitive development. This is all a growing process, one that takes place as children play chess over a prolonged period. In other words, in addition to all its other benefits, chess helps children to develop the satisfaction and self-esteem that come from sticking with someothing for the long haul.
I also can say that there is a tremendous measure of personal satisfaction once you reach the point that you can beat your father at chess over three consecutive nights. (Not to mention a corresponding level of humility when your daughter starts trouncing you,)
The chess club has been running for a month now, and I can honestly say that everyone who has come has been enjoying themselves. If anyone else wants to join us, we have room for about eight more players.
The club meets in Franklin Township, Somerset County, at 11 a.m. the first and third Fridays of each month. Generally speaking, children should be between 10 and 14 years old and should have their own chess sets. The main focus of the club is on playing the game, but inexperienced players will have the chance to learn the rules, and more experienced players will get to work on strategy.
Any questions, including requests for specifics on where to meet, please contact me.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Tour de Monarchs
The best school projects are always the ones that the students themselves initiate.
Oldest Daughter has for a couple years now evinced an ongoing fascination with England and the English way of doing things. This may have its origins in her discovery of her father's collection of 30-year-old Dr. Who novels from when he was her age. Alternately, it may have grown from her frequent voyages to Middle Earth courtesy of Professor Tolkien and "The Lord of the Rings." It's also possible it's just One of Those Things.
Regardless, I know a good thing when I see one. This past Christmas, I gave her a copy of "The Plantagenets: The Kings that Made Britain" as her own, to read.
Read it she has. In less than a month, she has read about kings from Henry II down through Henry V, and in that remarkable way that children have, she has kept track not only of major events like the Peasants Revolt and the Black Death, but has kept track of whose son was whose, which kings were good, and which were bad.
And that's all good, but like every other homeschooling parent, I want to make sure that she's not only reading, she's learning; and like every other homeschooling parent, I want her passion for learning in one area to fuel a passion for learning in other areas. Reading opens doorways to the past, but if those doors, once opened, don't also lead to adjoining chambers of music, art and even computer skills, I soon would feel that an opportunity had been missed.
So today, as we took a walk outside to get some fresh air and stretch our legs, we talked about what she can produce for her homeschooling portfolio, from this journey through English history.
The project:
So, if all goes according to plan, at the end of this course of study on the kings of England, she not only will have studied her history, she'll have exercised her art skills, learned and performed some music, and put her computer skills to use.
And perhaps best of all, she'll have done so with a nod to Monty Python.
Oldest Daughter has for a couple years now evinced an ongoing fascination with England and the English way of doing things. This may have its origins in her discovery of her father's collection of 30-year-old Dr. Who novels from when he was her age. Alternately, it may have grown from her frequent voyages to Middle Earth courtesy of Professor Tolkien and "The Lord of the Rings." It's also possible it's just One of Those Things.
Regardless, I know a good thing when I see one. This past Christmas, I gave her a copy of "The Plantagenets: The Kings that Made Britain" as her own, to read.
Read it she has. In less than a month, she has read about kings from Henry II down through Henry V, and in that remarkable way that children have, she has kept track not only of major events like the Peasants Revolt and the Black Death, but has kept track of whose son was whose, which kings were good, and which were bad.
And that's all good, but like every other homeschooling parent, I want to make sure that she's not only reading, she's learning; and like every other homeschooling parent, I want her passion for learning in one area to fuel a passion for learning in other areas. Reading opens doorways to the past, but if those doors, once opened, don't also lead to adjoining chambers of music, art and even computer skills, I soon would feel that an opportunity had been missed.
So today, as we took a walk outside to get some fresh air and stretch our legs, we talked about what she can produce for her homeschooling portfolio, from this journey through English history.
The project:
- A series of index cards, one for each ruler of England, beginning with Henry II. Each card will include an original rendering either of the king, his chivalric crest, or an inhabited initial for his name; plus the name of the king, the years he reigned, and the two or three most remarkable thing about his reign.
- When the index cards are finished, Oldest Daughter will scan her images, and use them to create a PowerPoint that presentation with the pertinent information on the cards.
- Oldest Daughter also will create a video based on the PowerPoint presentation, accompanied by a rendition of the British patriotic hymn "Jerusalem." For bonus points, she will add to the soundtrack the question "Did somebody say 'mattress' to Mr. Lambert?" followed by the rejoinder "Twice!"
So, if all goes according to plan, at the end of this course of study on the kings of England, she not only will have studied her history, she'll have exercised her art skills, learned and performed some music, and put her computer skills to use.
And perhaps best of all, she'll have done so with a nod to Monty Python.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Tabletop chemistry
I have a chemistry project running on my kitchen table that, despite their affectations of disinterest, is starting to intrigue my older two girls.
A couple months ago, I bought two rubber stoppers, some brewer's yeast, and two plastic airlocks at a local homebrewing store, and set about transmuting grape juice to wine, a noble alchemy celebrated by Spike Your Juice. At the time, the girls weren't very interested. The oldest daughter in particular was put off that I was, as near as she could tell, ruining a perfectly good bottle of Northland Cran-Grape juice by turning it into alcohol.
This time around, I have two bottles on the table: Welch's grape juice, and a store brand apple cider. This time, the girls are watching what's going on, and they're asking questions.
I'd already explained the last time through this, that the brewer's yeast is multiplying and feeding on the sugars in the grape juice. The yeast produces alcohol as a waste product, but it also produces carbon dioxide gas -- or, as Middle Daughter put it, the yeast is pooping and peeing into the juice. The drinks are bubbling, she recalled, because of the carbon dioxide.
And from that, she deduced the physics of the operation: The carbon dioxide had nowhere to go except up, and so up it went, through the stopper and into the airlock. When it reached the airlock, it filled the top bend, and then slowly, inexorably, began to be pushed down by the ongoing rush of other carbon dioxide gas produced as the fermentation process continues apace. And because the juice is full of bubbles, sometimes those bubbles are rising into the airlock, taking miniscule amounts of juice with them.
Not bad for a 9-year-old.
But why does the grape juice have more foam? The girls already understood that the yeast is feeding on the sugars in the juices, so Oldest Daughter speculated that there might be more sugar in the grape juice, which would mean the yeast is producing gas more quickly. She checked the nutrition labels and, sure enough, Welch's grape juice has 36 grams of sugar per serving, as opposed to the 28 grams in the apple cider.
I'll have to ask her later if she can think of a way to test her hypothesis.
And of course, there's the nature of the chemical change under way in the juice. Like most other living organisms, yeast requires food, oxygen and warmth to live; unlike many other organisms, it does not require the oxygen to be chemically unbonded. I explained it last time, though I really should see if the girls remember and understand how exactly this is working.
When I added the brewer's yeast on Wednesday, there already was a fair amount of oxygen dissolved in the juice. The yeast very quickly used this oxygen as it began to consume the sugar in the juice; and during this period, it produced no alcohol. Once that oxygen disappeared, the yeast switched from aerobic metabolic processes to anaerobic. It still consumed oxygen, but that oxygen was present in the sugars, chemically bonded to the hydrogen and carbon items that also comprise sugar molecules.
It's getting less energy from the sugar than before, since the yeast has to consume the oxygen after breaking the bonds between the oxygen and other atoms, but as a direct result, it's producing the alcohol that we want. Like the carbon dioxide, the alcohol is a waste product that eventually will make the juice too toxic for the yeast, just as our own environments eventually would become too toxic for us if we allowed them to fill up with our waste products. The difference is, we like the waste products of the yeast, and the girls' mother and I are looking forward to enjoying them when the yeast culture has run its course.
Physics, chemistry and biology. I wish all my hobbies were this educational, and that all homeschooling lessons could have so rewarding a conclusion.
A couple months ago, I bought two rubber stoppers, some brewer's yeast, and two plastic airlocks at a local homebrewing store, and set about transmuting grape juice to wine, a noble alchemy celebrated by Spike Your Juice. At the time, the girls weren't very interested. The oldest daughter in particular was put off that I was, as near as she could tell, ruining a perfectly good bottle of Northland Cran-Grape juice by turning it into alcohol.
This time around, I have two bottles on the table: Welch's grape juice, and a store brand apple cider. This time, the girls are watching what's going on, and they're asking questions.
- Why are the drinks bubbling?
- Why did the apple juice start to foam first, but the grape juice foam more?
- What's pushing some of the foam in the grape juice container climbing up into the airlock?
I'd already explained the last time through this, that the brewer's yeast is multiplying and feeding on the sugars in the grape juice. The yeast produces alcohol as a waste product, but it also produces carbon dioxide gas -- or, as Middle Daughter put it, the yeast is pooping and peeing into the juice. The drinks are bubbling, she recalled, because of the carbon dioxide.
And from that, she deduced the physics of the operation: The carbon dioxide had nowhere to go except up, and so up it went, through the stopper and into the airlock. When it reached the airlock, it filled the top bend, and then slowly, inexorably, began to be pushed down by the ongoing rush of other carbon dioxide gas produced as the fermentation process continues apace. And because the juice is full of bubbles, sometimes those bubbles are rising into the airlock, taking miniscule amounts of juice with them.
Not bad for a 9-year-old.
But why does the grape juice have more foam? The girls already understood that the yeast is feeding on the sugars in the juices, so Oldest Daughter speculated that there might be more sugar in the grape juice, which would mean the yeast is producing gas more quickly. She checked the nutrition labels and, sure enough, Welch's grape juice has 36 grams of sugar per serving, as opposed to the 28 grams in the apple cider.
I'll have to ask her later if she can think of a way to test her hypothesis.
And of course, there's the nature of the chemical change under way in the juice. Like most other living organisms, yeast requires food, oxygen and warmth to live; unlike many other organisms, it does not require the oxygen to be chemically unbonded. I explained it last time, though I really should see if the girls remember and understand how exactly this is working.
When I added the brewer's yeast on Wednesday, there already was a fair amount of oxygen dissolved in the juice. The yeast very quickly used this oxygen as it began to consume the sugar in the juice; and during this period, it produced no alcohol. Once that oxygen disappeared, the yeast switched from aerobic metabolic processes to anaerobic. It still consumed oxygen, but that oxygen was present in the sugars, chemically bonded to the hydrogen and carbon items that also comprise sugar molecules.
It's getting less energy from the sugar than before, since the yeast has to consume the oxygen after breaking the bonds between the oxygen and other atoms, but as a direct result, it's producing the alcohol that we want. Like the carbon dioxide, the alcohol is a waste product that eventually will make the juice too toxic for the yeast, just as our own environments eventually would become too toxic for us if we allowed them to fill up with our waste products. The difference is, we like the waste products of the yeast, and the girls' mother and I are looking forward to enjoying them when the yeast culture has run its course.
Physics, chemistry and biology. I wish all my hobbies were this educational, and that all homeschooling lessons could have so rewarding a conclusion.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Teaching with Cinderella
Like many other girls in the United States, Oldest Daughter was just nuts about the Disney Princesses when she was 5.
We restricted TV to two hours a day, but as often as not, those two hours were spent watching Ariel battle the sea witch, or Belle bringing salvation to the enchanted castle of the Beast. Around and about the living room, the kitchen and her bedroom were dolls of Mulan, Tinkerbell, Snow White and Cinderella. And one of her favorite games was to dress up as Cinderella and pretend she was being forced to do housework. (It was hard not to take advantage.)
It's great to see your child excited by something, but when that something is as superficial as the Disney Princesses often are, it can be frustrating as well. As a father, I want my children to focus more on character than on appearances, and too often the marketing driving the Disney Princesses has been concerned with looks. What's a dad to do?
We had fallen into homeschooling because of the policies of local school district. Oldest Daughter had been born two weeks too late to begin kindergarten with her preschool classmates, but she already had begun to unlock the wonders of reading on her own, and we weren't about to miss the opportunity to educate her.
So, wanting to make Oldest Daughter's enthusiasm for Cinderella my ally, I asked her if she would like to hear another version of the story, from Germany. When she agreed, I pulled my beloved copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales down from the bookshelf, and introduced her to Ashenputel, the Cinderella whose stepsisters actually cut off parts of their feet to get into the shoe.
That simple action was the first step on a journey that took us around the world. In the months that followed, we made one trip after another to the local library to discover stories of Cinderella from other countries, other times, and other cultures. When those had finished, we snatched up other fairy tales, wherever we could find them, and made connections to other tales we had read, wherever we could.
With Cinderella alone, Oldest Daughter was exposed to fairy tales from Mexico, Ireland, Cambodia, the Philippines, Germany, Swaziland, England, France, West Virginia, Haiti and Los Angeles. She has seen the fairy godmother as a maid, a grandmother, a magical fish and a bull. Once we even read a story where Cinderella was a boy.
And, more than literature, this was a lesson in geography. Every time we read a fairy tale, Oldest Daughter and I would find the country of origin on our world map, and place a sticker of that country's flag on the map.
It's been seven years since then. My daughter doesn't play the Princess game any more, except where her little sister is concerned. But she still remembers the other Cinderellas whose stories we read, and she's been known to make connections between stories that I never saw.
Not a bad start for homeschooling.
We restricted TV to two hours a day, but as often as not, those two hours were spent watching Ariel battle the sea witch, or Belle bringing salvation to the enchanted castle of the Beast. Around and about the living room, the kitchen and her bedroom were dolls of Mulan, Tinkerbell, Snow White and Cinderella. And one of her favorite games was to dress up as Cinderella and pretend she was being forced to do housework. (It was hard not to take advantage.)
It's great to see your child excited by something, but when that something is as superficial as the Disney Princesses often are, it can be frustrating as well. As a father, I want my children to focus more on character than on appearances, and too often the marketing driving the Disney Princesses has been concerned with looks. What's a dad to do?
We had fallen into homeschooling because of the policies of local school district. Oldest Daughter had been born two weeks too late to begin kindergarten with her preschool classmates, but she already had begun to unlock the wonders of reading on her own, and we weren't about to miss the opportunity to educate her.
So, wanting to make Oldest Daughter's enthusiasm for Cinderella my ally, I asked her if she would like to hear another version of the story, from Germany. When she agreed, I pulled my beloved copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales down from the bookshelf, and introduced her to Ashenputel, the Cinderella whose stepsisters actually cut off parts of their feet to get into the shoe.
That simple action was the first step on a journey that took us around the world. In the months that followed, we made one trip after another to the local library to discover stories of Cinderella from other countries, other times, and other cultures. When those had finished, we snatched up other fairy tales, wherever we could find them, and made connections to other tales we had read, wherever we could.
With Cinderella alone, Oldest Daughter was exposed to fairy tales from Mexico, Ireland, Cambodia, the Philippines, Germany, Swaziland, England, France, West Virginia, Haiti and Los Angeles. She has seen the fairy godmother as a maid, a grandmother, a magical fish and a bull. Once we even read a story where Cinderella was a boy.
And, more than literature, this was a lesson in geography. Every time we read a fairy tale, Oldest Daughter and I would find the country of origin on our world map, and place a sticker of that country's flag on the map.
It's been seven years since then. My daughter doesn't play the Princess game any more, except where her little sister is concerned. But she still remembers the other Cinderellas whose stories we read, and she's been known to make connections between stories that I never saw.
Not a bad start for homeschooling.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Playing by ear
Oldest Daughter has been doing a decent job learning the piano.I started pushing her about two weeks ago to start playing the piano for at least half an hour each day, usually at the start of the day. Music is an essential part of being human, and studies have shown that our brains pick up a fundamental connection between music and mathematics, and even between music and speech, so that becoming "fluent" in an instrument can have other benefits. (Some anthropologists have speculated that humans sang before we developed speech.)
Besides, she's been puttering about with our keyboard off and on for years. It was time she got serious.
She's been doing a fantastic job The only guidance she has received has been to start each song at C-natural, and then figure out from her knowledge of the song which note to play next. It's a method that takes time and patience, and will never get her to Carnegie Hall, but it's got fairly rapid gratification in that a player can usually work out a song fairly quickly.
With no help but her own ear and lots of practice, Oldest Daughter has figured out how to play four or five songs the entire way through a verse, with nary an error aside from the difficulty of maintaining a steady tempo. Today I had her play for me the songs she's worked out, and she played "Holy, Holy, Holy," "My Bonny Lies over the Ocean," "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World." She's also been working on "Peter's Denial" from "Jesus Christ Superstar" and a host of other songs, but she's got the idea.
So today, following her successful performance, I gave her lesson two: Figure out how to play those songs starting at a key other than C-natural, and no, playing it an octave up or down doesn't count. It's got to be a completely different note.
The idea here, of course, is that she is teaching her ear to judge the correct relationships among the keys, and training her fingers to move to the right spots at the same time. While she's doing this, I also am working on getting her to hold her hands correctly, and to use just her right hand for the melody line. We'll start using the left hand for harmony, and then for chords, soon enough.
Meantime, Middle Daughter has received a flute, and is very excited by it. Now we just need to figure out how she can play it, since neither of us knows how, I suspect this means that she will be getting lessons, since I've no idea how to play a flute and would have no clue on where to start.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Book club: 'Jane Eyre'
I've been running a book club out of my house the past few months. After a short break for the holidays, we're getting ready to resume on Jan. 9, when we look at Charlotte Brontë's "Jane Eyre." As always, the club is open to new members as we start a new book.
Often described as an early and influential feminist work because of its focus on the feelings and character of a strong female character, "Jane Eyre" has been adapted into a number of movies, most recently this past year, and into a number of musicals and even operas.
The club generally meets at 11 a.m. Mondays at my house. We'll be looking at a few things over the course of the book, but with a particular focus on Brontë's characterization of her major characters. Other discussions are likely to touch on Brontë's depiction of religion in the persons of Brocklehurst, Helen Burns and St. John Rivers, and on Jane's efforts to maintain her independence in the presence of strong male characters such as Brocklehurst, Rochester and St. John Rivers.
The book club is intended for young teens, but is open to anyone who reads the books and is up for the discussions. There is no charge for the group. Our first discussion, of the first five chapters of "Jane Eyre," is set to begin at 11 a.m. Jan. 9.
Feel free to contact me for directions, or with any other questions.
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