Have you seen the Boston Globe article about how babies learn?
The March 28 article, "A Squeeze, a Squeak, a Glimpse of Learning," provides fascinating insight into how young children learn -- and why, perhaps, our schools aren't as effective as they could be. In one interesting study, researchers handed preschoolers a complex cause-and-effect toy. Researchers showed half the kids how the device worked; the other kids were simply left to figure out the toy on their own. Guess which kids investigated the toy more thoroughly?
From the article:
Those who were explicitly taught how to make the toy squeak played with it for less time and discovered fewer functions than those who did not receive a tutorial. How children learned that the toy squeaked also affected their behavior. When the adult seemed to accidentally trigger the squeak instead of explicitly showing them how to use the toy, children explored more and discovered more aspects of the toy than when they received instructions.
The Globe says that, "teaching can...limit children's impulse to investigate and test their own ideas, and how something is taught to a child can affect his or her exploration." Is it any wonder that children who are force-fed knowledge for state-mandated tests show very little curiosity or true learning? By giving them the answers, we've taken away all the fun!
Children are, by nature, curious learners. From little on, they're constantly investigating the possibilities. They're driven, instinctively, to learn how the world works. So they invent experiments (What will happen if I mix my mashed potatoes into my milk?), observe the results and adjust their knowledge of the world accordingly. What kids need to learn is 1. Time, 2. Space, 3. Access to Materials and 4. Support. They also need Freedom to Explore, because once you've squashed a child's natural inquisitivenss, it's pretty hard to re-capture.
Interestingly, the time-space-access-support-freedom framework for learning is common -- but not exclusive to -- homeschoolers. Sandra Dodd, an unschooler, has frequently said that "strewing," leaving interesting things about, is an important part of her homeschooling. My homeschooling is much more along the lines of going interesting places/reading about interesting things/doing stuff with the boys than stuffing specific knowledge in their skulls. And the best schools seem to understand that allowing children to discover knowledge on their own is much more effective than rote learning. One thing I've been pleased to see at the schools my boys attend part-time: multi-sensory, project-based approaches to learning. My oldest son, for instance, learns language arts while also learning about civil rights. My second son's teacher will give students multiple options (act out a play, write summary, create a character) to demonstrate their learning.
What do you think of the time-space-access-support-freedom framework for learning?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
I Feel Pretty
My 13- year-old son is wearing my prom dress, a pink, sparkly thing straight out of the 1990s.
For some reason, my Mom held onto that dress for 20+ years. It hung in her closet, unloved, in limbo, for all those years. I certainly never asked her to hold onto the dress; prom, in my memory, was a disappointing event that only drilled home that fact that I was not pretty or popular enough to snag a boyfriend. Maybe my Mom hoped that someday I'd see the dress with clearer eyes, that someday the dress would remind me of a young, happy time. Perhaps she simply couldn't bear to part with a dress that had cost her so much. (Prom dresses aren't cheap, you know.) Whatever her reasons, my son and I both agree that she didn't expect THIS to be the dress's next stop. In the words of my son: "I bet Grandma never thought I'd be wearing this dress!"
He's right, of course. I have four boys. None of us ever expected that dress to see action again. But he's a theatrical one, my 13-year-old. He's involved in music and dance and gamely agreed to play the part of Mama in a lip sync production of "Welcome to the '60s!" When he came home and told me he needed a pink, sparkly dress, I knew just the dress for him. We headed over to Grandma's, grabbed the dress and within minutes of returning home, my pink prom dress was swathed around my son's body.
It fit him. (Well, mostly.) My pink prom dress, the one I wore at age 16, fit my 13-year-old son. The pink satiny material hugs his sides and I look on with wonder. Was I that small as a teen? The dress, in fact, is a little tight on him and he asks how I managed to breathe. I try to picture myself in the dainty dress, the dress with a small, narrow waist which opens into a full skirt. I don't recall feeling dainty in the dress. I recall feeling ugly and out-of-place.
For 20+ years, I have recoiled at pictures of myself in the dress, have slammed shut the closet door every time I stumbled across the dress at Grandma's, because the dress served only as reminder of my physical unattractiveness. How could I have chosen such an ugly dress, I wondered?
But now that the dress is back in service -- draped over seat of my van, hanging from my kitchen cupboards, hugging the not-at-all fat body of my son -- I see that the dress is not ugly. It's actually quite pretty: a lacy skirt overlaying pink satin; a wide, pink sash at the waist; a bosom decorated with tiny irirdescent beads. And from this perspective, I'm willing to acknowledge that maybe I wasn't ugly then either. If I could fit into that dress at age 16 - and fill it out in ways that my 13-year-old will never be able to -- clearly, I wasn't as large or ugly or ox-y as I once thought. I look at the dress now and shake my head at the sadness of it all. For 20+ years, I thought my 16-year-old self was ugly. It took my 13-year-old son in a dress to show me my errors of perception.
Fellow writer Dara Chadwick, author of You'd Be So Pretty If..., argues that moms of boys need to be just as concerned about girls' body image issues as moms of daughters. "Healthy self-esteem and self-respect are the foundation for healthy relationships," Chadwick wrote on her Psychology Today blog. "When girls don't feel good about who they are or the bodies they live in, they somtimes act out in unhealthy ways...And they're often not alone in this acting out behavior: our sons are with them."
It's taken 20 years -- and my son in a dress -- for me to even realize that I had body image issues as a teen. My goal now, as a mother of boys, is to make sure my boys see the person behind the dress, not just the dress or the pretty figure.
For some reason, my Mom held onto that dress for 20+ years. It hung in her closet, unloved, in limbo, for all those years. I certainly never asked her to hold onto the dress; prom, in my memory, was a disappointing event that only drilled home that fact that I was not pretty or popular enough to snag a boyfriend. Maybe my Mom hoped that someday I'd see the dress with clearer eyes, that someday the dress would remind me of a young, happy time. Perhaps she simply couldn't bear to part with a dress that had cost her so much. (Prom dresses aren't cheap, you know.) Whatever her reasons, my son and I both agree that she didn't expect THIS to be the dress's next stop. In the words of my son: "I bet Grandma never thought I'd be wearing this dress!"
He's right, of course. I have four boys. None of us ever expected that dress to see action again. But he's a theatrical one, my 13-year-old. He's involved in music and dance and gamely agreed to play the part of Mama in a lip sync production of "Welcome to the '60s!" When he came home and told me he needed a pink, sparkly dress, I knew just the dress for him. We headed over to Grandma's, grabbed the dress and within minutes of returning home, my pink prom dress was swathed around my son's body.
It fit him. (Well, mostly.) My pink prom dress, the one I wore at age 16, fit my 13-year-old son. The pink satiny material hugs his sides and I look on with wonder. Was I that small as a teen? The dress, in fact, is a little tight on him and he asks how I managed to breathe. I try to picture myself in the dainty dress, the dress with a small, narrow waist which opens into a full skirt. I don't recall feeling dainty in the dress. I recall feeling ugly and out-of-place.
For 20+ years, I have recoiled at pictures of myself in the dress, have slammed shut the closet door every time I stumbled across the dress at Grandma's, because the dress served only as reminder of my physical unattractiveness. How could I have chosen such an ugly dress, I wondered?
But now that the dress is back in service -- draped over seat of my van, hanging from my kitchen cupboards, hugging the not-at-all fat body of my son -- I see that the dress is not ugly. It's actually quite pretty: a lacy skirt overlaying pink satin; a wide, pink sash at the waist; a bosom decorated with tiny irirdescent beads. And from this perspective, I'm willing to acknowledge that maybe I wasn't ugly then either. If I could fit into that dress at age 16 - and fill it out in ways that my 13-year-old will never be able to -- clearly, I wasn't as large or ugly or ox-y as I once thought. I look at the dress now and shake my head at the sadness of it all. For 20+ years, I thought my 16-year-old self was ugly. It took my 13-year-old son in a dress to show me my errors of perception.
Fellow writer Dara Chadwick, author of You'd Be So Pretty If..., argues that moms of boys need to be just as concerned about girls' body image issues as moms of daughters. "Healthy self-esteem and self-respect are the foundation for healthy relationships," Chadwick wrote on her Psychology Today blog. "When girls don't feel good about who they are or the bodies they live in, they somtimes act out in unhealthy ways...And they're often not alone in this acting out behavior: our sons are with them."
It's taken 20 years -- and my son in a dress -- for me to even realize that I had body image issues as a teen. My goal now, as a mother of boys, is to make sure my boys see the person behind the dress, not just the dress or the pretty figure.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Should You Fight Back?
Bullying has been in the news a lot lately. Despite parents' and teachers' efforts to the contrary, bullying continues to exist, just as it has for, well, millenia. And while almost everyone now agrees that bullying needs to be stopped, I'm not sure sure we've figured out how to do that.
Sure, we tell our kids to treat others with respect. We tell them to intervene, to stand up beside the bullied in a show of solidarity. We tell them to report incidents of bullying to teachers, daycare providers and other authority figures. But is that enough?
Like it or not, our boys live in a culture that requires them to take a stand. According to the Boy Code, status and dominance are prominant, and every boy I know talks about the need to let other boys know that they won't take any guff from anyone. I see it in my house all the time. Even at home, in a family environment of love and acceptance, my 13-year-old feels the need to stand up to the torments of his younger brothers. Why? In the words of my 13- year-old: "because they need to learn they can't get way with treating me like that."
I see where he's coming from. But on a daily basis, I have a hard time reconciling boys' need to stand up for themselves with my desire to teach them peaceful, non-violent ways of conflict resolution. Yet at some level, I wonder if telling boys to speak up, walk away and tell an adult is enough for boys.
In Australia, a school boy was recently suspended after physically standing up to a bully. I know that fighting violence with violence is rarely the way to go. And the video is disturbing. But I'm willing to bet the younger bully leaves this kid alone from now on.
What do you think? Do you ever think it's appropriate (or necessary) for bullied boys to "fight back?" How can we help our boys end bullying while respecting their need to prove their dominance among other boys?
Sure, we tell our kids to treat others with respect. We tell them to intervene, to stand up beside the bullied in a show of solidarity. We tell them to report incidents of bullying to teachers, daycare providers and other authority figures. But is that enough?
Like it or not, our boys live in a culture that requires them to take a stand. According to the Boy Code, status and dominance are prominant, and every boy I know talks about the need to let other boys know that they won't take any guff from anyone. I see it in my house all the time. Even at home, in a family environment of love and acceptance, my 13-year-old feels the need to stand up to the torments of his younger brothers. Why? In the words of my 13- year-old: "because they need to learn they can't get way with treating me like that."
I see where he's coming from. But on a daily basis, I have a hard time reconciling boys' need to stand up for themselves with my desire to teach them peaceful, non-violent ways of conflict resolution. Yet at some level, I wonder if telling boys to speak up, walk away and tell an adult is enough for boys.
In Australia, a school boy was recently suspended after physically standing up to a bully. I know that fighting violence with violence is rarely the way to go. And the video is disturbing. But I'm willing to bet the younger bully leaves this kid alone from now on.
What do you think? Do you ever think it's appropriate (or necessary) for bullied boys to "fight back?" How can we help our boys end bullying while respecting their need to prove their dominance among other boys?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Boys Initiative
I have stumbled onto a treasure trove of information.
Today, in my inbox, I found a press release announcing the launch of The Boys Initiative, a "national campaign to address alarming negative trends in recent years pertaining to boys' educationl achievement and social adjustment."
As you know, I started this blog to address just those trends. My goal was -- and remains -- to share information about boys so that parents can make decisions from an informed perspective. I want concerned parents to know that they are not the only ones worrying over sons who lag behind in reading, whose behavior has been deemed unacceptable for the classroom and who wonder if the current academic environment might not have something to do with boys' troubles. I want parents to know the biological and developmental reality of boys. I want them to know about news and research studies that highlight the issues and concerns of today's boys, as well as some of the innovative programs that are helping boys across the country. I want to create a safe space where parents can share their concerns and draw strength from one another.
The Boys Initiative shares many of the same goals. Their website is FULL of useful resources. Need some facts or figures about boys' academic achievement? Need to know about boys' unique mental health concerns? Alternative educational options? Expert opinions and the latest research? It's all there.
Visit The Boys Initiative. Add your voice to the voices of others concerned for our sons. And always, continue to do your best at home. Parenting boys is a lot of work, but together, we can make a difference, one boy at a time.
Today, in my inbox, I found a press release announcing the launch of The Boys Initiative, a "national campaign to address alarming negative trends in recent years pertaining to boys' educationl achievement and social adjustment."
As you know, I started this blog to address just those trends. My goal was -- and remains -- to share information about boys so that parents can make decisions from an informed perspective. I want concerned parents to know that they are not the only ones worrying over sons who lag behind in reading, whose behavior has been deemed unacceptable for the classroom and who wonder if the current academic environment might not have something to do with boys' troubles. I want parents to know the biological and developmental reality of boys. I want them to know about news and research studies that highlight the issues and concerns of today's boys, as well as some of the innovative programs that are helping boys across the country. I want to create a safe space where parents can share their concerns and draw strength from one another.
The Boys Initiative shares many of the same goals. Their website is FULL of useful resources. Need some facts or figures about boys' academic achievement? Need to know about boys' unique mental health concerns? Alternative educational options? Expert opinions and the latest research? It's all there.
Visit The Boys Initiative. Add your voice to the voices of others concerned for our sons. And always, continue to do your best at home. Parenting boys is a lot of work, but together, we can make a difference, one boy at a time.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Changes
Tomorrow, we begin a new phase of our educational journey.
For the past six years, my boys have been homeschooled. We pulled Boy #1 out of school halfway through first grade; he's now in 7th. Boys #2 and #3 have never been to school, except for preschool. They are now ages 10 and 7. #4 has never been part of a structured educational environment (unless you count storytime at the local library).
Tomorrow, though, the older boys will begin taking classes at our local public school. As per our divorce decree and a tiny little part of Wisconsin state law, Boys #1-3 will be taking one to two courses each. #1, my history buff and avid reader, will be focusing on Language Arts and Social Studies. #2 will join a 4th grade class for reading, writing -- and gym twice a week. #3 will also focus on reading and writing. He'll also get to stay for snack and recess. #4 will probably start 4-year-old preschool in a few weeks.
It's a big change, to be sure. But you want to know what my boys were worried about today? Whether or not it's OK to fart in the classroom. That's right: on the eve of their re-entry into the world of formal education, the top question on their minds was, "Do you get a detention if you fart really loud in class?"
I didn't have an answer to that one. (And I swear, I scanned the Behavorial Expectations book!) The question, though, reminded me that boys will be boys, whether they're at home or at school. You can take the boy out of the home, but you absolutely cannot take the boy out of the boy.
For the past six years, my boys have been homeschooled. We pulled Boy #1 out of school halfway through first grade; he's now in 7th. Boys #2 and #3 have never been to school, except for preschool. They are now ages 10 and 7. #4 has never been part of a structured educational environment (unless you count storytime at the local library).
Tomorrow, though, the older boys will begin taking classes at our local public school. As per our divorce decree and a tiny little part of Wisconsin state law, Boys #1-3 will be taking one to two courses each. #1, my history buff and avid reader, will be focusing on Language Arts and Social Studies. #2 will join a 4th grade class for reading, writing -- and gym twice a week. #3 will also focus on reading and writing. He'll also get to stay for snack and recess. #4 will probably start 4-year-old preschool in a few weeks.
It's a big change, to be sure. But you want to know what my boys were worried about today? Whether or not it's OK to fart in the classroom. That's right: on the eve of their re-entry into the world of formal education, the top question on their minds was, "Do you get a detention if you fart really loud in class?"
I didn't have an answer to that one. (And I swear, I scanned the Behavorial Expectations book!) The question, though, reminded me that boys will be boys, whether they're at home or at school. You can take the boy out of the home, but you absolutely cannot take the boy out of the boy.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Passion
Part of the reason I homeschool my boys is because I want them to have the time, space and freedom to explore their own passions. Certainly, children can be inspired in school. And certainly children can discover new opportunties and interests in school. But to really delve into a passion takes time. And true freedom to explore your own interests is seldom found in school. (Peer pressure, anyone?)
Three-year-old Jonathan is too young for school. He hasn't learned yet that classical music isn't cool or that boys aren't supposed to be interested in the arts. He has, however, discovered his passion.
Three-year-old Jonathan is too young for school. He hasn't learned yet that classical music isn't cool or that boys aren't supposed to be interested in the arts. He has, however, discovered his passion.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Marinette Shooting and the Culture of Fear
The headline last night -- "Armed student reportedly holding high school classroom hostage in Wisconsin" -- took my breath away. I live in Wisconsin. And I still desperately want to believe that things like that don't happen in Wisconsin.
But they do. As you now know, a 15-year-old male student held about two dozen students and a teacher hostage for almost five hours yesterday in Marinette, Wisconsin, a town of about 11,000 on the Wisconsin/Michigan border. The student fired shots in the classroom, but ultimately released all of the hostages. No one was injured, except the gunman, who shot himself when law enforcement officers stormed the classroom. The student died today.
No one was injured...seems like such a false and fake thing to say, doesn't it? The entire town was injured. Every single child in that room will be affected for a long, long time. Parents' hearts stopped last night as they waited to see what would happen. And somewhere in Marinette, a family is dealing with the worst possible grief tonight.
Tonight, his family is simultaneously grieving his death while trying to make sense of his actions -- while the world clamors to know what they knew when. They're dealing with grief and guilt and misunderstanding and hatred. They're wondering if they did enough, if they said something wrong, if somehow they could have prevented the whole fiasco. They'd do anything, I'm sure, to turn the clock back to tomorrow morning.
Most of us would, I think. Most of us would like to turn the clock back to pre-1999, pre-Columbine. Or maybe even pre-1997, pre-Paducah.
My oldest son was born in 1997. He has never known a world where students didn't shoot one another in school. Think about that. School shootings have, in some way, always been a part of my boys' world.
So has terrorism. My oldest son was not quite 3 when the Twin Towers fell; his brother was only 1. We were watching Sesame Street when we heard the news.
And while all of that has seemed far, far away, last night's situation thrust reality in my face. Violence is everywhere. Anger is everywhere. Depression is everywhere.
Fear is everywhere.
Our children are growing up in the culture of fear.
After one of these events, we talk about the human costs, the kids that die and the kids that kill. We talk about gun control and anti-bullying measures and resolve to make things better. But do we talk about the cumulative effects of fear? Do we talk -- at all -- about what it's like for today's kids to grow up in a world where violence may show up on their doorstep at any minute?
I realize that violence is a reality for far too many kids today. I realize that an insecure environment is nothing new for children in many parts of the world and even here in the USA. It's just that no one feels safe anymore. Not even residents of Middle-of-Nowhere, Wisconsin.
On some level, our children have come to expect random, extreme violence as part of life. In their world, it's entirely possible that the grandma in front of them at the airport is concealing a bomb in her brassiere, or that a class will end abruptly in a spray of gunfire.
What does that knowledge do to a developing brain? Will our children suffer from an inability to connect, to trust?
I don't know the answers. But I do know that succumbing to the fear will only make things worse. The only way -- the ONLY way -- out of this mess is to connect, to redevelop human connections.
When my children ask about Marinette, I will answer their questions. I will continue, however, to nurture their belief in the human spirit. I will continually point out all the wonderful and amazing people in this world who are working to make this world a better place. Just last night, I got an email from a neighbor who is organizing a fundraiser for a local couple who was recently diagnosed with cancer. (Yes, couple. Both husband and wife are staring at months of treatment and mounting medical bills.) A small-town fundraiser might not seem like much, but it's an example of people caring, people connecting. It's tangible proof that much good remains here in the world, despite the scary headlines.
I don't want my boys -- or yours -- to get lost in the culture of fear. Let's nurture their connections instead.
But they do. As you now know, a 15-year-old male student held about two dozen students and a teacher hostage for almost five hours yesterday in Marinette, Wisconsin, a town of about 11,000 on the Wisconsin/Michigan border. The student fired shots in the classroom, but ultimately released all of the hostages. No one was injured, except the gunman, who shot himself when law enforcement officers stormed the classroom. The student died today.
No one was injured...seems like such a false and fake thing to say, doesn't it? The entire town was injured. Every single child in that room will be affected for a long, long time. Parents' hearts stopped last night as they waited to see what would happen. And somewhere in Marinette, a family is dealing with the worst possible grief tonight.
Tonight, his family is simultaneously grieving his death while trying to make sense of his actions -- while the world clamors to know what they knew when. They're dealing with grief and guilt and misunderstanding and hatred. They're wondering if they did enough, if they said something wrong, if somehow they could have prevented the whole fiasco. They'd do anything, I'm sure, to turn the clock back to tomorrow morning.
Most of us would, I think. Most of us would like to turn the clock back to pre-1999, pre-Columbine. Or maybe even pre-1997, pre-Paducah.
My oldest son was born in 1997. He has never known a world where students didn't shoot one another in school. Think about that. School shootings have, in some way, always been a part of my boys' world.
So has terrorism. My oldest son was not quite 3 when the Twin Towers fell; his brother was only 1. We were watching Sesame Street when we heard the news.
And while all of that has seemed far, far away, last night's situation thrust reality in my face. Violence is everywhere. Anger is everywhere. Depression is everywhere.
Fear is everywhere.
Our children are growing up in the culture of fear.
After one of these events, we talk about the human costs, the kids that die and the kids that kill. We talk about gun control and anti-bullying measures and resolve to make things better. But do we talk about the cumulative effects of fear? Do we talk -- at all -- about what it's like for today's kids to grow up in a world where violence may show up on their doorstep at any minute?
I realize that violence is a reality for far too many kids today. I realize that an insecure environment is nothing new for children in many parts of the world and even here in the USA. It's just that no one feels safe anymore. Not even residents of Middle-of-Nowhere, Wisconsin.
On some level, our children have come to expect random, extreme violence as part of life. In their world, it's entirely possible that the grandma in front of them at the airport is concealing a bomb in her brassiere, or that a class will end abruptly in a spray of gunfire.
What does that knowledge do to a developing brain? Will our children suffer from an inability to connect, to trust?
I don't know the answers. But I do know that succumbing to the fear will only make things worse. The only way -- the ONLY way -- out of this mess is to connect, to redevelop human connections.
When my children ask about Marinette, I will answer their questions. I will continue, however, to nurture their belief in the human spirit. I will continually point out all the wonderful and amazing people in this world who are working to make this world a better place. Just last night, I got an email from a neighbor who is organizing a fundraiser for a local couple who was recently diagnosed with cancer. (Yes, couple. Both husband and wife are staring at months of treatment and mounting medical bills.) A small-town fundraiser might not seem like much, but it's an example of people caring, people connecting. It's tangible proof that much good remains here in the world, despite the scary headlines.
I don't want my boys -- or yours -- to get lost in the culture of fear. Let's nurture their connections instead.
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