J's application was accepted! Now we just have to decide if we want to accept the spot. I'm all for it, but Dad likes to take his time in making decisions.
We took a tour of the school, mostly to help J and Z feel better about changing schools. We got to see the kindergarten classroom where Z will go, and even met the teacher while her class was at a "special," meaning P.E. or music or something of that sort. She, like most people who choose to teach 5 & 6 year-olds, was very nice and had lots of smiles.
We also met the GT (gifted-talented) teacher in her classroom, but she had all her students there with her, and we didn't get to talk long. J was reluctant to go in, as I've discovered he generally is when there's a room full of kids he doesn't know. We have dropped by the public library twice when they had an event going on that seemed perfect for him, but after walking in and looking at all those strange children, his courage failed him, and he wanted to get out as quickly as possible. This even happened when he saw a friend of his in the group. I guess one familiar face just isn't enough to make him comfortable.
The teacher answered all the questions I could think of right then. I told her of our recent trouble finding an appropriate book in J's Lexile range. She said that there are several children in her class at about J's Lexile range, and that he'd be able to find appropriate books in her classroom. Yay! They will have plenty of free reading time, and they read some books as a class. They don't necessarily read high-Lexile books as a class, because they're not so concerned with difficulty as they are with content. That's wonderful, because J has shot up in his reading level so quickly (from Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? to 10th grade books in the span of just 2 1/2 years) that he has missed reading many worthwhile books. The GT teacher said that if we move him, she'd like it to happen as soon as possible, since the children are still in the process of getting to know each other and making friends. On the drive home, I realized that this is the first year any of the children have been in a class like this, as 3rd grade is the first year it is offered.
In a few days, I hope to be able to report that we've formally accepted the spot, and that things are in motion to move the boys there.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Changes are A-comin'?
I presume that because I could not immediately meet with J's teacher, she contacted his gifted teacher to discuss the problems she sees. I was quite alarmed to find a phone message waiting for me one evening, from a call that had been made after school hours. The gifted teacher just said, "J's teacher and I have a suggestion for J, and I'd like you to call me back as soon as you possibly can. I will be here until about 7, because we have a school event tonight."
I called the number immediately, but only got an after-hours message from the school. I emailed the gifted teacher to tell her of my trouble, but then we had to leave for J's Cub Scout Pack Meeting. That night, my mind was unsettled, trying to think of what this suggestion could possibly be, and going over and over J's unhappiness and complaints about this very young school year.
I imagined all sorts of unpleasant scenarios. I imagined that they agreed with J, that 3rd grade was just too hard for him, and they wanted to drop him back to 2nd, where he would fit according to his age. I imagined that they might say that he would have to stay in his regular class during his weekly Challenge class, because he just couldn't spare the instruction time with his regular teacher. I was afraid that he was behaving badly in both classes, and the teachers had corroborated so they could straighten out what had happened to cause these changes in J. And while my mind created all these unlikely scenarios, my heart imagined to plead with them to be patient, that his home life was extremely stressful right now, and had been all summer, and please, please be gentle with his damaged heart!
Of course, my wild imaginings of mind and heart couldn't have been further from the truth. When the gifted teacher finally called me the next morning, she explained that J's regular teacher was a product of the district's Challenge program herself, and as such, she really understands gifted children. She had contacted the gifted teacher to discuss the possibility of moving J to a different school. I had discovered the existence of the Challenge program at this particular school two years ago, and wanted to get him into it if I could. It's a sort of magnet school for the gifted, and they gather enough of them to form one class for each grade, composed entirely of gifted students. J would be with other kids like him every day, all day. The curriculum is much more rigorous and in-depth, just like the pull-out Challenge program is now. But it's every day. J is a boy who eats, drinks, and breathes learning, and anything less than constant challenge makes him unhappy. It seems like a no-brainer to send him there!
And similar to when we decided to move J up a grade, an opening has miraculously appeared. I'm in awe of how it is working out so perfectly, and so is the gifted coordinator. She said something like, "Someone is definitely watching out for you!"
In addition to the self-contained gifted program, this is a regular elementary school. They said they can accommodate Z in one of their kindergarten classes. Z is upset at the prospect of leaving his current school, and we absolutely adore his teacher (he got Mrs. G, J's kindergarten teacher!) J is also upset at leaving friends behind. Who wouldn't be? I moved many times in my childhood, so I have empathy for their situation. But I also recognize now the valuable lessons I learned as I said goodbye to one life and began a new adventure. Those lessons played an inextricable role in my becoming me. Remembering that is helping me to feel better about the hardship my children will go through as we make this change.
If we make this change, that is. I turned in the application for transfer, and Dad is at least outwardly unconvinced. But I feel this is the right thing to do, and that it will be exactly what J needs to grow and be happy!
I called the number immediately, but only got an after-hours message from the school. I emailed the gifted teacher to tell her of my trouble, but then we had to leave for J's Cub Scout Pack Meeting. That night, my mind was unsettled, trying to think of what this suggestion could possibly be, and going over and over J's unhappiness and complaints about this very young school year.
I imagined all sorts of unpleasant scenarios. I imagined that they agreed with J, that 3rd grade was just too hard for him, and they wanted to drop him back to 2nd, where he would fit according to his age. I imagined that they might say that he would have to stay in his regular class during his weekly Challenge class, because he just couldn't spare the instruction time with his regular teacher. I was afraid that he was behaving badly in both classes, and the teachers had corroborated so they could straighten out what had happened to cause these changes in J. And while my mind created all these unlikely scenarios, my heart imagined to plead with them to be patient, that his home life was extremely stressful right now, and had been all summer, and please, please be gentle with his damaged heart!
Of course, my wild imaginings of mind and heart couldn't have been further from the truth. When the gifted teacher finally called me the next morning, she explained that J's regular teacher was a product of the district's Challenge program herself, and as such, she really understands gifted children. She had contacted the gifted teacher to discuss the possibility of moving J to a different school. I had discovered the existence of the Challenge program at this particular school two years ago, and wanted to get him into it if I could. It's a sort of magnet school for the gifted, and they gather enough of them to form one class for each grade, composed entirely of gifted students. J would be with other kids like him every day, all day. The curriculum is much more rigorous and in-depth, just like the pull-out Challenge program is now. But it's every day. J is a boy who eats, drinks, and breathes learning, and anything less than constant challenge makes him unhappy. It seems like a no-brainer to send him there!
And similar to when we decided to move J up a grade, an opening has miraculously appeared. I'm in awe of how it is working out so perfectly, and so is the gifted coordinator. She said something like, "Someone is definitely watching out for you!"
In addition to the self-contained gifted program, this is a regular elementary school. They said they can accommodate Z in one of their kindergarten classes. Z is upset at the prospect of leaving his current school, and we absolutely adore his teacher (he got Mrs. G, J's kindergarten teacher!) J is also upset at leaving friends behind. Who wouldn't be? I moved many times in my childhood, so I have empathy for their situation. But I also recognize now the valuable lessons I learned as I said goodbye to one life and began a new adventure. Those lessons played an inextricable role in my becoming me. Remembering that is helping me to feel better about the hardship my children will go through as we make this change.
If we make this change, that is. I turned in the application for transfer, and Dad is at least outwardly unconvinced. But I feel this is the right thing to do, and that it will be exactly what J needs to grow and be happy!
Boredom Rears its Ugly Head
Yesterday morning, as he tied his shoes, J discovered that he had procrastinated his "book report" too long. It was due that morning. I urged him to quickly complete the three simple worksheets that comprised this project. We keep a lap-desk in the car for precisely this reason.
A glance at the worksheets reduced J to sobbing. I was shocked by his reaction, although I admit I was happy to see him shedding tears. It seemed that the stress I had seen building in him over the past two weeks was finally being released. He told me that he couldn't remember anything about the book he'd read for this assignment, and he'd returned it to his teacher weeks ago. He just couldn't do the assignment, and, most distressingly, participation in that day's Friday Fun depended on turning in the papers.
On the drive to school, I again tried to probe into J's psyche in an attempt to address the problems that were causing so much unhappiness. He confessed that the math at school was just too hard! My first thought was that he was in over his head, that skipping a grade last year may have been a mistake, and only now was he feeling out of his depth. Following quickly on the heels of that thought, however, was the remembrance of his testing, which showed that at the beginning of his first grade year, he was capable of doing 5th and 6th grade math.
Later in the day, I connected J's present problems with those he experienced in kindergarten. He absolutely refused to do his homework for about 4 months. We finally got to the bottom of his reticence...boredom. Although he spent much of his free time drawing and writing, and had done so for most of his preschool years, he just could not be constrained to draw and label 5 things that started with the letter "R." It was uninteresting to him and limited his creativity unbearably.
The surfacing of that memory suddenly threw his book report problem into bright light. He had procrastinated the paperwork because it was idiotically simple! I'm not kidding. It asked him to choose 5 words from his book and list them in alphabetical order, and circle whether he wanted to read the book to his parent, have his parent read to him, or to read on his own. And I, unsure of what kind of book the teacher wanted J to read for this project, but sensing that Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix would not likely fit the bill, I let J choose a book from the classroom shelves. He naively chose a Goosebumps book. He read that book in half an hour, getting it out of the way the very night he brought it home, then dove right back into Harry Potter. That was nearly a month ago. It's no wonder that he remembers nothing of that simple book! And to make matters worse, the grade level of the particular book he read is only 1.5. The Order of the Phoenix is 6.7.
I had a call from J's gifted teacher, and in the course of our conversation, I mentioned that J was complaining that 3rd grade math is too hard for him. She wasn't fooled, like I was, by his statement. She explained that he was likely so bored in class (despite his being a grade higher than he should) that he could not pay attention when his teacher was explaining the math, so when it came time to do the problems, he didn't know how.
After the upheaval of last year, with testing and changing classes and starting the Challenge pull-out program, I really thought that we had addressed J's educational challenges, and had him where he would be happy and could grow. But it appears that we will have to make further changes this year.
A glance at the worksheets reduced J to sobbing. I was shocked by his reaction, although I admit I was happy to see him shedding tears. It seemed that the stress I had seen building in him over the past two weeks was finally being released. He told me that he couldn't remember anything about the book he'd read for this assignment, and he'd returned it to his teacher weeks ago. He just couldn't do the assignment, and, most distressingly, participation in that day's Friday Fun depended on turning in the papers.
On the drive to school, I again tried to probe into J's psyche in an attempt to address the problems that were causing so much unhappiness. He confessed that the math at school was just too hard! My first thought was that he was in over his head, that skipping a grade last year may have been a mistake, and only now was he feeling out of his depth. Following quickly on the heels of that thought, however, was the remembrance of his testing, which showed that at the beginning of his first grade year, he was capable of doing 5th and 6th grade math.
Later in the day, I connected J's present problems with those he experienced in kindergarten. He absolutely refused to do his homework for about 4 months. We finally got to the bottom of his reticence...boredom. Although he spent much of his free time drawing and writing, and had done so for most of his preschool years, he just could not be constrained to draw and label 5 things that started with the letter "R." It was uninteresting to him and limited his creativity unbearably.
The surfacing of that memory suddenly threw his book report problem into bright light. He had procrastinated the paperwork because it was idiotically simple! I'm not kidding. It asked him to choose 5 words from his book and list them in alphabetical order, and circle whether he wanted to read the book to his parent, have his parent read to him, or to read on his own. And I, unsure of what kind of book the teacher wanted J to read for this project, but sensing that Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix would not likely fit the bill, I let J choose a book from the classroom shelves. He naively chose a Goosebumps book. He read that book in half an hour, getting it out of the way the very night he brought it home, then dove right back into Harry Potter. That was nearly a month ago. It's no wonder that he remembers nothing of that simple book! And to make matters worse, the grade level of the particular book he read is only 1.5. The Order of the Phoenix is 6.7.
I had a call from J's gifted teacher, and in the course of our conversation, I mentioned that J was complaining that 3rd grade math is too hard for him. She wasn't fooled, like I was, by his statement. She explained that he was likely so bored in class (despite his being a grade higher than he should) that he could not pay attention when his teacher was explaining the math, so when it came time to do the problems, he didn't know how.
After the upheaval of last year, with testing and changing classes and starting the Challenge pull-out program, I really thought that we had addressed J's educational challenges, and had him where he would be happy and could grow. But it appears that we will have to make further changes this year.
Trouble
We fully expected a great year as J (7 1/2) started 3rd grade, and Z (5) started kindergarten at our chosen Math & Science Magnet school. We were surprised to discover that most of the kids in J's class were not the same as last year. We'd been led to believe that his classmates would remain fairly constant throughout his elementary career, because they generally kept children of comparable abilities together. Actually, in kindergarten through 2nd grade, they divided the children into classes solely on their academic achievements, a theory I thoroughly condone. I can imagine that, as a teacher, it is far easier to teach a class more matched in their abilities, so I wouldn't have to constantly teach so many different learning levels at once, or spend so much time trying to pull up the slower children, while worrying about keeping the advanced children challenged.
It wasn't until I attended a meeting at the gifted center that I discovered the reason for mixing up the classes. In 2nd grade, the gifted children left their classroom to attend a special class down the hall with the gifted coordinator. The class was one hour long, on Mondays. But in 3rd grade, the gifted children from several schools take a bus to the Challenge Center at another elementary school. They spend most of Tuesday out of their regular classrooms. Since J had 15 gifted kids in his 2nd grade class, that would have deprived his teacher of nearly the entire class every Tuesday. Up until this year, that's exactly what happened, but the other teachers complained, so they mixed up the gifted kids among the rest of their grade.
This has become a problem for J. Last year, he reported being teased and bullied. He said it was never from his own classmates, among whom he was a bit of a celebrity after skipping a grade, but from other 2nd graders. Well, now those same children are mixed up in his regular classroom. He says that one boy keeps poking the scar on his head, which is from the reconstructive surgery done a few months ago to repair a benign birth defect.
For the past two weeks (and we're only 4 weeks into the school year), J has been irritable and snappish. I couldn't get to the bottom of it, despite my probing into how he feels about school. In our last discussion, I asked him if he knew what was bothering him. With pleading in his voice, he answered, "No, I have no idea. Do you know why?"
Apparently his unhappiness has not gone unnoticed by his classroom teacher. She asked for an early parent-teacher conference. Other responsibilities prevented my meeting with her. We have since communicated, and that requires a separate post.
It wasn't until I attended a meeting at the gifted center that I discovered the reason for mixing up the classes. In 2nd grade, the gifted children left their classroom to attend a special class down the hall with the gifted coordinator. The class was one hour long, on Mondays. But in 3rd grade, the gifted children from several schools take a bus to the Challenge Center at another elementary school. They spend most of Tuesday out of their regular classrooms. Since J had 15 gifted kids in his 2nd grade class, that would have deprived his teacher of nearly the entire class every Tuesday. Up until this year, that's exactly what happened, but the other teachers complained, so they mixed up the gifted kids among the rest of their grade.
This has become a problem for J. Last year, he reported being teased and bullied. He said it was never from his own classmates, among whom he was a bit of a celebrity after skipping a grade, but from other 2nd graders. Well, now those same children are mixed up in his regular classroom. He says that one boy keeps poking the scar on his head, which is from the reconstructive surgery done a few months ago to repair a benign birth defect.
For the past two weeks (and we're only 4 weeks into the school year), J has been irritable and snappish. I couldn't get to the bottom of it, despite my probing into how he feels about school. In our last discussion, I asked him if he knew what was bothering him. With pleading in his voice, he answered, "No, I have no idea. Do you know why?"
Apparently his unhappiness has not gone unnoticed by his classroom teacher. She asked for an early parent-teacher conference. Other responsibilities prevented my meeting with her. We have since communicated, and that requires a separate post.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Report card date
We haven't really done much to celebrate report cards until now. It seemed kind of silly to do anything for kindergarten "satisfactory" marks. But since J got such a fantastic report card, with lots of effort and above-grade-level marks, I really wanted to do something for J.
Apparently, rewards aren't uncommon in his school, but unfortunately, they're often rather extravagant.
I want this to be a reward, not some sort of motivator. I'm not about to give him cash or buy him something. But I will take him out on a date!
We went to see Tangled at the cheap theater. I let him choose what snacks we'd get. He chose a huge bag of popcorn, although he almost went for nachos. Then we stopped by McDonald's for an ice cream cone and talked.
He seemed to enjoy our evening out, especially staying up late. And he enjoyed the one-on-one talking.
I congratulated him on a great report card, and told him I was proud of him for doing his best. He said he felt like he was just doing "regular." I can relate to that! I always seem to set my gauge of normalcy by what comes natural to me. But as I see more and more of the world and what some people choose to do with their lives, I realize that when my gauge is pointing to "normal," it's actually reading well above average.
I think this attitude will serve him well. Putting in effort is just "regular" to him. Acing his "cold" spelling tests is just "regular" to him. Being a grade ahead is just "regular" to him. And that's a great way to be.
Apparently, rewards aren't uncommon in his school, but unfortunately, they're often rather extravagant.
I want this to be a reward, not some sort of motivator. I'm not about to give him cash or buy him something. But I will take him out on a date!
We went to see Tangled at the cheap theater. I let him choose what snacks we'd get. He chose a huge bag of popcorn, although he almost went for nachos. Then we stopped by McDonald's for an ice cream cone and talked.
He seemed to enjoy our evening out, especially staying up late. And he enjoyed the one-on-one talking.
I congratulated him on a great report card, and told him I was proud of him for doing his best. He said he felt like he was just doing "regular." I can relate to that! I always seem to set my gauge of normalcy by what comes natural to me. But as I see more and more of the world and what some people choose to do with their lives, I realize that when my gauge is pointing to "normal," it's actually reading well above average.
I think this attitude will serve him well. Putting in effort is just "regular" to him. Acing his "cold" spelling tests is just "regular" to him. Being a grade ahead is just "regular" to him. And that's a great way to be.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Don't forget Little L!
Little baby L is now 15 months old, and has decided that maybe it would be nice to communicate. He used to look at us like we were obnoxious circus trainers and he was the too-smart monkey we were trying to teach to do tricks. He's recently discovered that it's quite nice to be able to ask for milk and food, and later discovered the joy of telling me that he heard a dog barking and that he saw a bird. It's so fun to see the world opening up to him through signing.
When he was tiny, I would often have a strange deja vu sort of feeling, especially when J was home from school. L looks so much like J did, with his blond hair and bright blue eyes, that I felt like I was simultaneously in the present and time-traveling back 6 years to when J was my only baby. But as L has grown, his facial features and personality have differentiated themselves from his biggest brother's, so that time-spanning sensation has faded. It came back full force the other day, however, when L very thoughtfully made up the same sign for the same word that his big brother had invented 5 years earlier. And how funny that it was for "lotion!"
What really surprised me is how much he understands. On Saturday, while J was racing his Pinewood Derby car, I sat L in a high chair that happened to be in the building. He got bored and tried to climb out, so I buckled him in with the 3-point harness. Half an hour later, he strained to get out again, and I said, mostly for the benefit of the little fan club that had gathered around him, "You wanna get out, don't you? But you're strapped in!" I thought he might sign "out," but he looked at me, then looked down at the harness and began to pull on it, then looked at me again. "Hey, you know what I just said, don't you?!" and he gave me a big smile.
When he was tiny, I would often have a strange deja vu sort of feeling, especially when J was home from school. L looks so much like J did, with his blond hair and bright blue eyes, that I felt like I was simultaneously in the present and time-traveling back 6 years to when J was my only baby. But as L has grown, his facial features and personality have differentiated themselves from his biggest brother's, so that time-spanning sensation has faded. It came back full force the other day, however, when L very thoughtfully made up the same sign for the same word that his big brother had invented 5 years earlier. And how funny that it was for "lotion!"
What really surprised me is how much he understands. On Saturday, while J was racing his Pinewood Derby car, I sat L in a high chair that happened to be in the building. He got bored and tried to climb out, so I buckled him in with the 3-point harness. Half an hour later, he strained to get out again, and I said, mostly for the benefit of the little fan club that had gathered around him, "You wanna get out, don't you? But you're strapped in!" I thought he might sign "out," but he looked at me, then looked down at the harness and began to pull on it, then looked at me again. "Hey, you know what I just said, don't you?!" and he gave me a big smile.
Can we talk about bacteria?
Z (4) surprised me by wanting to accompany J and I on our daily voyage to and from school. For months, he preferred to stay home, glued to The Electric Company or other PBS show. And when he decided to come along, my peace and quiet decided to vanish!
He just talked and talked about anything and everything. I am sure he did it before, but I wasn't used to it anymore. I'd grown accustomed to J's more in-depth questions and interests, but Z jumps from one subject to another.
So I was quite surprised when, as he hurried to the van of his own volition (I used to practically drag him), he asked, "Mom, can we talk about bacteria?"
As we settled into our seats and pulled out of the driveway, I asked him what he wanted to know about bacteria. He got a bit irritated and said, "Mom, you just talk, and I'll just listen." So I started talking. And he listened for a long time. And when I got to the end of my little subtopic, he said, "What else?"
He still hasn't tired of the topic of bacteria, although we've expanded to viruses.
I used to think J and Z were polar opposites, but suddenly Z is asking the same questions, almost verbatim, that J asked 2 years ago. It's so fun to see his curiosity ignite!
There's one thing that is still quite different about these brothers, and that is how extremely, innately social Z is. I don't really know what to do when Z walks up to strangers and says, "I'm 4. And did you know that bacteria can't live in outer space? Unless it's in a jar or something. But bacteria can live all over everything on Earth. Like that table. And there's this one kind that has a long needle and it makes your body make more of it (that was a virus), and...." Really, what do you do? I usually smile and say, "He loves to talk!" to the baffled store employee, who probably wouldn't follow this sudden onslaught of microbiological information even if they could understand his preschooler speech.
I really don't remember this being an issue with J!
2nd Trimester Report Card
Yesterday, J had a church teacher come over and talk to him for a Tiger Cub elective. They were just supposed to get to know each other a little bit. She asked him about school, and he told her that he'd skipped a grade. Then he said that one grade wasn't enough.
He got his report card today, and I think he was right!
He is above grade level for reading and math. As in above second grade level. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised about his reading, since he's long ago passed 6th grade books in his pleasure reading. He didn't really test all that high in math, although we suspected that it was really just a lack of exposure. I'm glad to know that he's "catching up" to his potential in that subject.
He is at grade level for just about everything else, meaning social studies, creative writing, science, etc. But it seems like that is probably an exposure thing, too. If I knew what science topic his class was going to study, I could bump him past grade level easily. Gee whiz, wait until they get to immunology! He and Z are absolutely voracious in their learning about microbes and the immune response. It cracks me up to hear a 4 year old chatting to a lady in Costco about the conditions bacteria need to grow. But I suppose they don't really learn much about immunology for several years.
He got his report card today, and I think he was right!
He is above grade level for reading and math. As in above second grade level. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised about his reading, since he's long ago passed 6th grade books in his pleasure reading. He didn't really test all that high in math, although we suspected that it was really just a lack of exposure. I'm glad to know that he's "catching up" to his potential in that subject.
He is at grade level for just about everything else, meaning social studies, creative writing, science, etc. But it seems like that is probably an exposure thing, too. If I knew what science topic his class was going to study, I could bump him past grade level easily. Gee whiz, wait until they get to immunology! He and Z are absolutely voracious in their learning about microbes and the immune response. It cracks me up to hear a 4 year old chatting to a lady in Costco about the conditions bacteria need to grow. But I suppose they don't really learn much about immunology for several years.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Museum
We visited a museum a few days ago. One of the displays featured a video presentation. We weren't watching it, but could hear it, and J said, "Hey mom, isn't that the music from Nova?"
Nova and Nature are, quite possibly, J and Z's favorite tv shows.
Nova and Nature are, quite possibly, J and Z's favorite tv shows.
Monday, January 17, 2011
"G" whiz!
Gee whiz, my 4 1/2 year old is a "G" whiz! Ha ha, I'm so punny.
But no, really. He is trying to distract me from the fact that he's very disobediently still in just his underwear at 1 pm. And part of his method is spouting off some genius, because he knows I'm always pleased by displays of academic achievement. Before you go thinking I'm one of "those moms," think about it. Almost any parent (aside from Matilda's) is pleased when their child shows smarts. Anyway, I digress. Here's what Z said:
"Does 'scavenger hunt' have a G in it, but it's soft?"
"Um..." I thought about it for a second. "Uh, yeah, it does! Very good!"
"And 'go' has a G in it, but it's hard. And 'get going' has two hard G's!"
That's where his plan failed, because it reminded me that I'd told him to "get going" on the deplorable process of putting on clothes.
But no, really. He is trying to distract me from the fact that he's very disobediently still in just his underwear at 1 pm. And part of his method is spouting off some genius, because he knows I'm always pleased by displays of academic achievement. Before you go thinking I'm one of "those moms," think about it. Almost any parent (aside from Matilda's) is pleased when their child shows smarts. Anyway, I digress. Here's what Z said:
"Does 'scavenger hunt' have a G in it, but it's soft?"
"Um..." I thought about it for a second. "Uh, yeah, it does! Very good!"
"And 'go' has a G in it, but it's hard. And 'get going' has two hard G's!"
That's where his plan failed, because it reminded me that I'd told him to "get going" on the deplorable process of putting on clothes.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Disappointing
On the way to school this morning, J and I realized that he has only been to his gifted pull-out class three times since being accepted 2 1/2 months ago! It should be weekly. The holidays didn't help, and neither did all three kids coming down with Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. Combine that with the gifted teacher taking a long vacation and a few times when J and his classmates were inexplicably not sent to Challenge, and J's gifted enrichment has left a lot to be desired! Hopefully he will get to go to Challenge today.
My consolation is that every day in second grade, he is getting far more of a challenge than he would have had in first grade.
My consolation is that every day in second grade, he is getting far more of a challenge than he would have had in first grade.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
What was I like?
Once I asked this on my personal blog:
My mother replied:
The thing is, I was a child, and didn't have the perspective of a parent. I didn't know that I was unusual. Just like Z doesn't know that it's unusual for a 4 year old to know, or even care what plankton are or even what "microscopic" means.
I asked my mom to share some stories about me as a child, but as of yet, she hasn't obliged. I would also be very interested in seeing my own test scores. My mom might want to protect me from getting a big head, but I think that I can handle it. My boys give be a big dose of humility every day. It's a daunting task to be their mother!
What do you do when your 4-year old tells you that "plankton are microscopic plants and animals that live in the sea" and your 6-year old expounds, "yeah, the animal ones are called zooplankton, and the plant ones are called phytoplankton?"
My mother replied:
"Just remember what it was like when you were a little girl!"
The thing is, I was a child, and didn't have the perspective of a parent. I didn't know that I was unusual. Just like Z doesn't know that it's unusual for a 4 year old to know, or even care what plankton are or even what "microscopic" means.
I asked my mom to share some stories about me as a child, but as of yet, she hasn't obliged. I would also be very interested in seeing my own test scores. My mom might want to protect me from getting a big head, but I think that I can handle it. My boys give be a big dose of humility every day. It's a daunting task to be their mother!
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