A long time ago I read an interesting study that kids can read (comprehend as in "reading comprehension") on a higher level if they are interested in the topic. Meaning if you have a story on the child's ostensible "reading level" you think that it is pretty objective. How complicated are the sentences, how many unfamiliar words do they have to get from context, etc.
But they found that let's say, a kid who can't read his 3rd grade reader can actually hack his way through something much more advanced if it's about airplanes and he loves airplanes.
This fascinated me because there isn't a direct correlation to "reading ablility." It has to do with motivation. Motivation actually makes the brain work differently. And better.
In a sense, unschooling follows this path and kids read what they want and never think about "reading ability" and "reading level." They try to read what they are interested in, and ask someone to read it to them if they have difficulty.
As I've spoken about, one of my kids has a learning disability where they have to read things up to seven times in order to comprehend it. And tends to gravitate towards gaining information in ways other than reading as a result.
But I just realized I didn't think twice about sending this neuropsychological analysis of aphantasia:
"Their self-reported selective inability to vividly recollect personally experienced events from a first-person perspective was corroborated by absence of functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) and event-related potential (ERP) biomarkers associated with naturalistic and laboratory episodic recollection, as well as by behavioral evidence of impaired episodic retrieval, particularly for visual information. Yet learning and memory were otherwise intact, as long as these tasks could be accomplished by non-episodic processes. Thus these individuals function normally in day-to-day life, even though their past is experienced in the absence of recollection."
Because I knew she'd be interested and be able to understand it.
Showing posts with label emotions and learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions and learning. Show all posts
Monday, December 30, 2019
Thursday, September 12, 2019
One of the things that makes Unschooling so Radical
Something that comes up when people worry about unschooling is: What if the kid grows up and feels that the parent has abdicated responsibility for educating them and the parent should have done a better job and forced them?
I've tried to explain that when unschoolers want to know something and feel like they need it, they simply pursue it. Ask for help if they need. (For example, when Chen took a college course and realized she didn't know exactly how to write an essay, she asked me to run through it with her and I told her about introductions, stating points, backing them up, and conclusions, and she began writing essays.) Today I read something by Caren Knox and it gave insight as to why this is and how it works and it absolutely resonated with my experience (bolding is mine):
Someone said that they find watching their children feeling bad about failing painful. She responded:
One thing I’ve noticed in most long-time unschoolers I’ve known is that they inherently understand that they’re learning all the time, and that they experience not reaching goals or not quite getting something, not as personal failure or a shortcoming, but as one step in learning. I doubt they’d even be able to express that, unless they’re particularly self-reflective; for them, taking “failure” personally isn’t part of their experience of life. (This, of course, also depends on the personality of the child. What I’m saying is what I’ve noticed, generally speaking.)
They’re able to assess what happened without self-recrimination. “Oh, I didn’t know xyz was part of this thing I’m trying. Now I know, so this time I’ll add in xyz and maybe it’ll work now.” “Jeez, I am not so great at organizing this thing. I’ll ask Banu how they did it for the thing they did.” [<——- Very doubtful any unschooler has said anything like this out loud. This is my clumsy attempt at portraying the inner, perhaps even unnoticed by them, thoughts of an unschooler facing something not working as they planned or imagined.]
In school, something not working means FAILURE. You had one chance, and you screwed up, so that’s it. You get an F or a C or some other measurement that means you did not get this thing, and you will not get this thing, because this is the only time in the curriculum this is done. And people seem to think that means something about you personally. “You’re bad at math.” “You’ll never be an engineer.” “You’re slow.” “You’re a bad student.” “You are falling behind.” “You have a disability.”
Unschoolers have experienced life differently. There is plenty of time to do what they’re trying, so not getting it the first time means they can assess and try again, learning each time. (They might learn they don’t want to do that thing as much as they thought they did.) If they see they’re not skilled in a certain area, it doesn’t mean that *they* are failures; they can choose to learn about that, or ask for help, or outsource, or all of those.
Most always-radically unschooled kids or long-time radical unschoolers are comfortable with the process of learning, which often involves failure.
It’s like a lot of video games. You move your character through obstacles, and if you fail, there’s another life right there for you to take what you learned (“Whoa, a Goomba comes at me there”) and make different choices (“I’ll kick this Koopa shell first, then go”). There’s no real-life failure or death, and there are infinite opportunities for you to start over (or from a save point) and take another go at it.
I've tried to explain that when unschoolers want to know something and feel like they need it, they simply pursue it. Ask for help if they need. (For example, when Chen took a college course and realized she didn't know exactly how to write an essay, she asked me to run through it with her and I told her about introductions, stating points, backing them up, and conclusions, and she began writing essays.) Today I read something by Caren Knox and it gave insight as to why this is and how it works and it absolutely resonated with my experience (bolding is mine):
Someone said that they find watching their children feeling bad about failing painful. She responded:
One thing I’ve noticed in most long-time unschoolers I’ve known is that they inherently understand that they’re learning all the time, and that they experience not reaching goals or not quite getting something, not as personal failure or a shortcoming, but as one step in learning. I doubt they’d even be able to express that, unless they’re particularly self-reflective; for them, taking “failure” personally isn’t part of their experience of life. (This, of course, also depends on the personality of the child. What I’m saying is what I’ve noticed, generally speaking.)
They’re able to assess what happened without self-recrimination. “Oh, I didn’t know xyz was part of this thing I’m trying. Now I know, so this time I’ll add in xyz and maybe it’ll work now.” “Jeez, I am not so great at organizing this thing. I’ll ask Banu how they did it for the thing they did.” [<——- Very doubtful any unschooler has said anything like this out loud. This is my clumsy attempt at portraying the inner, perhaps even unnoticed by them, thoughts of an unschooler facing something not working as they planned or imagined.]
In school, something not working means FAILURE. You had one chance, and you screwed up, so that’s it. You get an F or a C or some other measurement that means you did not get this thing, and you will not get this thing, because this is the only time in the curriculum this is done. And people seem to think that means something about you personally. “You’re bad at math.” “You’ll never be an engineer.” “You’re slow.” “You’re a bad student.” “You are falling behind.” “You have a disability.”
Unschoolers have experienced life differently. There is plenty of time to do what they’re trying, so not getting it the first time means they can assess and try again, learning each time. (They might learn they don’t want to do that thing as much as they thought they did.) If they see they’re not skilled in a certain area, it doesn’t mean that *they* are failures; they can choose to learn about that, or ask for help, or outsource, or all of those.
Most always-radically unschooled kids or long-time radical unschoolers are comfortable with the process of learning, which often involves failure.
It’s like a lot of video games. You move your character through obstacles, and if you fail, there’s another life right there for you to take what you learned (“Whoa, a Goomba comes at me there”) and make different choices (“I’ll kick this Koopa shell first, then go”). There’s no real-life failure or death, and there are infinite opportunities for you to start over (or from a save point) and take another go at it.
Friday, July 5, 2019
Summer Update III: College
College. First, Chen wants to defer. She wants a semester to mentally prepare for going to college. She wants to pre-learn Calculus so that she can understand the course and not drown while she takes the course.
I was resistant, and wanted her to take one course. Drama. Dance. Once or twice a week.
She rightfully argued that it's about 2 hours to commute, plus time in the class. That's twice a week that she loses 3.5 hours a day, which really loses her the whole day because she doesn't cram things into a day.
If it's stressful enough where she needs a day to recuperate, i.e. a day of doing nothing after an eventful day, then she loses 4 days. So she really won't have time to learn Calculus.
Ironic, isn't it, that she wants to go to college so she can go to the Hillel and meet people (i.e. socialization) but it will interfere with her education?
She also said that she wants to take difficult classes so she can meet smart people.
I agree with her points. However, I am concerned that for the first time, she won't be getting out of the house regularly and seeing people. All of her friends from the local High School I work at will be in Israel for the year. Her local friends will be in college and not available to hang out during the week or even much on weekends. I don't think she realizes how socially isolated she'll be.
I brought that up and she agreed to give it some thought.
We have a few things left:
I was resistant, and wanted her to take one course. Drama. Dance. Once or twice a week.
She rightfully argued that it's about 2 hours to commute, plus time in the class. That's twice a week that she loses 3.5 hours a day, which really loses her the whole day because she doesn't cram things into a day.
If it's stressful enough where she needs a day to recuperate, i.e. a day of doing nothing after an eventful day, then she loses 4 days. So she really won't have time to learn Calculus.
Ironic, isn't it, that she wants to go to college so she can go to the Hillel and meet people (i.e. socialization) but it will interfere with her education?
She also said that she wants to take difficult classes so she can meet smart people.
I agree with her points. However, I am concerned that for the first time, she won't be getting out of the house regularly and seeing people. All of her friends from the local High School I work at will be in Israel for the year. Her local friends will be in college and not available to hang out during the week or even much on weekends. I don't think she realizes how socially isolated she'll be.
I brought that up and she agreed to give it some thought.
We have a few things left:
- Get that letter of Completion from the district. Nobody is answering my calls or emails. That may be because it is July and everyone is on vacation. That may be because that's how it is. Chen needs that for Queens College, so hopefully that will be compelling. I'll have to keep calling. That's on my mind.
- See if Chen can get accommodations in Queens College. That will probably make a huge difference in both her attitude and also her actual ability to take classes there.
- Either defer or register for one course. Chen has been studying to take the test for online Bio 101 and she realized that maybe Bio with lab may also be a good choice for a first course. I also think Chem with lab would be a good choice for her.
- She has to take a math exam for QC to see if she qualifies to take Calculus. Exams make her nervous. So she has to discuss what is involved with that and if she can get extra time for that.
Friday, January 19, 2018
Unschooling Literature
Homeschoolers fret, if I'm any indication of the population. I'm probably one of the most relaxed, calm, confident homeschoolers in existence, and I find thoughts drifting through my head about whether I'm doing right by my children.
I think "worry" plays a valuable role. It keeps me on track. It makes me evaluate what I'm doing to see if it's "best practice."
Sometimes I worry when my children aren't doing --insert whatever here-- and I think that maybe the answer is to coax them into doing whatever kind of work.
(Let me state here: Education where you strive to teach a curriculum that you find valuable and to do it in a way where it is as enjoyable as possible for the student can be a lovely and noble thing. I'm presenting the unschooling POV here. The great thing about homeschooling is the freedom to educate as you like.)
So naturally, when E (grade 5) was decidedly uninterested in the book I took out of the library for him (Ronia the Robber's Daughter) even though it was highly recommended and supposedly funny, we eventually decided to give up and return it without finishing it. And in between, I worried.
But then, I took out Charlotte's Web. And I don't have to think about reading it to him or finding time for it or scheduling it. Because he keeps coming to me and asking me to read it.
And that is the difference between unschooling and schooling. It's not on my head to manage it. It's not on my head to plan it and it's not on my head to make sure it happens. It's the kind of learning that is so thrilling and joyous and desirable that they come to me and ask me to facilitate it. They want it, yearn for it, seek it out, beg me to do it.
He didn't find Charlotte's Web. I did. I am on the lookout for experiences and subjects and field trips that I think they will like, that will spark their interest.
And there are infinite things that they find to do, projects they want to make, places they want to go, that I can assist them with.
I see the difference in motivation, interest and love with Charlotte's Web vs. something I have to constantly pull him aside to do that he is reluctant about. The difference in the amount of time and effort they put in. The difference in how quickly and easily they learn. And when I see that difference, it makes me want to abandon all attempts to cajole reluctant learners to learn things. And to follow them passionately and help them learn whatever calls out to them.
I think "worry" plays a valuable role. It keeps me on track. It makes me evaluate what I'm doing to see if it's "best practice."
Sometimes I worry when my children aren't doing --insert whatever here-- and I think that maybe the answer is to coax them into doing whatever kind of work.
(Let me state here: Education where you strive to teach a curriculum that you find valuable and to do it in a way where it is as enjoyable as possible for the student can be a lovely and noble thing. I'm presenting the unschooling POV here. The great thing about homeschooling is the freedom to educate as you like.)
So naturally, when E (grade 5) was decidedly uninterested in the book I took out of the library for him (Ronia the Robber's Daughter) even though it was highly recommended and supposedly funny, we eventually decided to give up and return it without finishing it. And in between, I worried.
But then, I took out Charlotte's Web. And I don't have to think about reading it to him or finding time for it or scheduling it. Because he keeps coming to me and asking me to read it.
And that is the difference between unschooling and schooling. It's not on my head to manage it. It's not on my head to plan it and it's not on my head to make sure it happens. It's the kind of learning that is so thrilling and joyous and desirable that they come to me and ask me to facilitate it. They want it, yearn for it, seek it out, beg me to do it.
He didn't find Charlotte's Web. I did. I am on the lookout for experiences and subjects and field trips that I think they will like, that will spark their interest.
And there are infinite things that they find to do, projects they want to make, places they want to go, that I can assist them with.
I see the difference in motivation, interest and love with Charlotte's Web vs. something I have to constantly pull him aside to do that he is reluctant about. The difference in the amount of time and effort they put in. The difference in how quickly and easily they learn. And when I see that difference, it makes me want to abandon all attempts to cajole reluctant learners to learn things. And to follow them passionately and help them learn whatever calls out to them.
Friday, August 11, 2017
unschooled kids don't learn what they don't want to learn
I got this great book out of the library. Historical fiction, all three boys can read it, it explains about American History and the minutemen. I had it in the house for weeks, all of them refused to read it and said it was boring. I gave it to K, and she also declined.
I'm off to return it and I'm giving myself a little pep talk that when they are interested in the American Revolution, they'll learn about it.
A lot of made-to-be-educational materials don't go over that well here. They are already out of duct tape and almost out of stuffing, though.
I'm off to return it and I'm giving myself a little pep talk that when they are interested in the American Revolution, they'll learn about it.
A lot of made-to-be-educational materials don't go over that well here. They are already out of duct tape and almost out of stuffing, though.
Friday, October 7, 2016
unschooling: advice for when they don't want to learn what I want them to learn
When I'm feeling frustrated about my child's lack of Torah and lack of engagement, I have a few approaches.
1. Learn more myself, study the area myself, work on my own learning/spirituality/middos instead of imposing that onto my child
The concept "כל הפוסל במומו פוסל" is at work here. If I'm accusing my child of not davening, then work on my own tefila. If I am concerned my child isn't engaged enough in learning Torah, then engage myself in Torah learning. (This might be a good idea for me, who is challishing to learn Shmuel II with Chana). Leave my child alone and address any inner insecurities and deficiencies I might be projecting onto them by dealing directly with the source.
This also has the added benefit of having Torah more "shagur b'fiv" (fluent on my lips) and it makes Torah come up more naturally in conversation in a way that children can easily relate to. If I have just read about Shimshon, for example, odds are that when my child asks if a human being can knock down those columns of the house we are next to, I will know the story well enough to tell it, instead of having him sit down or be bored or on to the next thing before I look it up.
2. Daven
Let's say my desire for them to learn doesn't come out of my own issues or insecurities, but from a genuine desire to pass knowledge down to them.
Pushing them or pressuring them is probably going to be counterproductive anyway, so even if my heart is purely motivated, practically a lot of what I do is going to be perceived as annoying or pressuring. So I can pour that energy, that fear, that anxiety, that passion out in tefila. The evaluation aspect of tefila really helps me focus on what my goals and priorities are. What my fears are. And where I want to put my energy. And the emotional aspect of tefila is very relieving.
In my recent tefilos, I realized that I desire very strongly that some day Chana will want to learn. So that is where I put my focus. Every interaction with her is in the context of my desire that she will one day want to learn. This brings some clarity and makes it a lot easier to refrain from activities or comments that would be counter productive to that goal. I'm not sure if there is anything I can do to achieve that goal, but it definitely clarifies for me things I shouldn't be saying or doing and "First do no harm" is one of the my habitual motivating mottos.
In my recent tefilos, I also discovered that I'm delighted with Elazar and his progress and learning at the moment, but I fear greatly that he will not be interested in Torah in the future. So that also affected how I am relating to him now, and helped me relax in the now and also gives me some focus and clarity for the future.
3. Make the relationship the most important thing
I've written before about choosing the relationship over academics. This is a slightly different angle. I came to this idea in the context of when I'm time crunched (hello, Tishrei and Nisan) and how I often used to try to cram in academics while I was short tempered and stressed and how I felt that did more harm than good. But now I'm thinking about it in terms of frustrations about the children not learning or fears that they won't learn. I try to keep in sight that the important thing here is my relationship with my child. I want that gut feeling that they have when they walk into the room and see me to be positive. Not irritation. Not disgust. Not stress. Not annoyance. Just glad to see their mom. And maybe, if I'm lucky, to share with me something that they've been thinking about or doing, because they know I'm interested. This comes so naturally when they are young, yelling, "Mommy, look!" a thousand times a day. And it gradually erodes when we start having conflict about their "responsibilities" and I am asking them to do things they don't want, and I'm nagging...Add in that I'm conveying that they should be different in terms of their learning and how they spend their time and that doesn't make them overjoyed to see my face.
So when I have in my head that the important thing here is a positive relationship, it helps me be more careful about what I say, how I say it, what attitude I have when I engage with my child, and what my overall principles are with respect to managing this emotionally difficult situation.
They are more likely to seek my wisdom if they like me and don't dislike me. We are more likely to have conversations if the conversations are pleasant and not yucky. I find myself chanting to myself numerous times through these phases, "Worry about the relationship, nothing else."
1. Learn more myself, study the area myself, work on my own learning/spirituality/middos instead of imposing that onto my child
The concept "כל הפוסל במומו פוסל" is at work here. If I'm accusing my child of not davening, then work on my own tefila. If I am concerned my child isn't engaged enough in learning Torah, then engage myself in Torah learning. (This might be a good idea for me, who is challishing to learn Shmuel II with Chana). Leave my child alone and address any inner insecurities and deficiencies I might be projecting onto them by dealing directly with the source.
This also has the added benefit of having Torah more "shagur b'fiv" (fluent on my lips) and it makes Torah come up more naturally in conversation in a way that children can easily relate to. If I have just read about Shimshon, for example, odds are that when my child asks if a human being can knock down those columns of the house we are next to, I will know the story well enough to tell it, instead of having him sit down or be bored or on to the next thing before I look it up.
2. Daven
Let's say my desire for them to learn doesn't come out of my own issues or insecurities, but from a genuine desire to pass knowledge down to them.
Pushing them or pressuring them is probably going to be counterproductive anyway, so even if my heart is purely motivated, practically a lot of what I do is going to be perceived as annoying or pressuring. So I can pour that energy, that fear, that anxiety, that passion out in tefila. The evaluation aspect of tefila really helps me focus on what my goals and priorities are. What my fears are. And where I want to put my energy. And the emotional aspect of tefila is very relieving.
In my recent tefilos, I realized that I desire very strongly that some day Chana will want to learn. So that is where I put my focus. Every interaction with her is in the context of my desire that she will one day want to learn. This brings some clarity and makes it a lot easier to refrain from activities or comments that would be counter productive to that goal. I'm not sure if there is anything I can do to achieve that goal, but it definitely clarifies for me things I shouldn't be saying or doing and "First do no harm" is one of the my habitual motivating mottos.
In my recent tefilos, I also discovered that I'm delighted with Elazar and his progress and learning at the moment, but I fear greatly that he will not be interested in Torah in the future. So that also affected how I am relating to him now, and helped me relax in the now and also gives me some focus and clarity for the future.
3. Make the relationship the most important thing
I've written before about choosing the relationship over academics. This is a slightly different angle. I came to this idea in the context of when I'm time crunched (hello, Tishrei and Nisan) and how I often used to try to cram in academics while I was short tempered and stressed and how I felt that did more harm than good. But now I'm thinking about it in terms of frustrations about the children not learning or fears that they won't learn. I try to keep in sight that the important thing here is my relationship with my child. I want that gut feeling that they have when they walk into the room and see me to be positive. Not irritation. Not disgust. Not stress. Not annoyance. Just glad to see their mom. And maybe, if I'm lucky, to share with me something that they've been thinking about or doing, because they know I'm interested. This comes so naturally when they are young, yelling, "Mommy, look!" a thousand times a day. And it gradually erodes when we start having conflict about their "responsibilities" and I am asking them to do things they don't want, and I'm nagging...Add in that I'm conveying that they should be different in terms of their learning and how they spend their time and that doesn't make them overjoyed to see my face.
So when I have in my head that the important thing here is a positive relationship, it helps me be more careful about what I say, how I say it, what attitude I have when I engage with my child, and what my overall principles are with respect to managing this emotionally difficult situation.
They are more likely to seek my wisdom if they like me and don't dislike me. We are more likely to have conversations if the conversations are pleasant and not yucky. I find myself chanting to myself numerous times through these phases, "Worry about the relationship, nothing else."
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
First do no harm
I've noticed a bit of a shift in my parenting attitude. When my oldest cried, I was always trying to do what I could to stop the crying. Crying was bad (or at least, it felt "bad" to me, and I think we are biologically programmed to react that way and that contributes to the preservation of the species) and I just wanted to make it "better."
I'm sure a lot of experiences and influences contributed to me viewing crying as opportunities to help my children exercise certain muscles. Muscles like "accepting that things don't go as I want" or "feeling the full depth of my pain" or "experiencing pain while someone who loves me conveys to me that it is okay."
- I remember being petrified when pregnant with my second child that I just don't know how to cope with all that crying and realizing I don't have to try to stop the baby from crying, I can just hold her as she cries and that's okay and it will pass, be it in hours or when she finally gets old enough to talk.
- I remember grieving my mid-trimester pregnancy losses and seeing how grief was waves and waves of anguish, and I had to be kind to myself and allow myself to ride the waves of grief as they came, like the different cries of the shofar. And I noticed my toddler also wailed like that and needed the same thing from me. That people aren't allowed to be sad and they need to be allowed to be sad.
- I remember seeing my children stomping in anger and demanding things and me thinking, "This child is a spoiled brat." And realizing that this is actually an opportunity for them to not get what they want and internalize the experience of being told No with kindness and patience and firmness.
And now when my children cry and I am fortunate to not be overloaded emotionally, mentally, or physically (hahahaha no seriously) then I can actually view these situations as parenting opportunities. Just like I view conflict with my pre-adolescents and teens as opportunities to model and to practice relationship skillswhen I'm not too furious.
So Jack (6) has a middah (character trait) that I've noticed for a while that concerns me. It came to my attention a couple of years ago with him getting fixated on a package of lollipops that I finally agreed to buy him for Succos but I bought it 3 days before and for those 3 days, he couldn't tolerate not having them. He was young and couldn't think that he would get it soon (though this is the same kid who saved up money for over a year to buy a DS when he was 3). He just got very focused on the unfairness of it and ("unfair" being a code word for "not what I want") and kept proclaiming that if I won't give him that, then he deserves something else, and he suggested various things. This went on for days. The fixation disturbed me, the incredible length of time disturbed me, and the notion that it will only be okay if something he deems of equal value is given to him disturbed me.
My latest parenting approach to these kinds of things can be described as: Chill out, see how it goes, try not to make it worse. (I have unfortunately discovered that so many of my reactions simply do make things worse, and "First do no harm" keeps my hands full.)
So today when Elazar asked to go with the neighbors to the candy store, and Jack remembered that Elazar had gotten to go last time the neighbors took someone (they have room for one person), and Jack fixated on this, I realized it was a great opportunity to ride the wave of the fixation, to feel the pain, to not change the situation. I was there for him, I was compassionate, I was firm that he wasn't going. He shortly moved on to his coping mechanism, which is to suggest other things that he felt would satisfy him and would be equivalent. Fine, so he should be able to buy a game for his tablet. I said no. Fine, so he gets my computer. I didn't answer him the first few times because that's absurd. But when he persisted I said no. Fine, so he hit and kicked me. I asked him if he wanted to wrestle. I can't remember exactly how the morning played out. But a few times he came back, upset about it, and we went through his disappointment, him trying to change things, me staying firm. He's older now than a few years ago and his rational faculty is more developed; he doesn't get as stuck in his upset-ness as he used to from 2-5. And he's out playing now.
I'm grateful to homeschooling that my first grader has this time to go through this emotional experience. I'm not rushed and we don't have to be anywhere or do anything else. Ten years ago it was stressful for me to choose emotional development over academic education. I often worry about academic achievement. (Probably unnecessarily. See how I can't even commit and I say "probably"?) But this morning it is clear.
I'm sure a lot of experiences and influences contributed to me viewing crying as opportunities to help my children exercise certain muscles. Muscles like "accepting that things don't go as I want" or "feeling the full depth of my pain" or "experiencing pain while someone who loves me conveys to me that it is okay."
- I remember being petrified when pregnant with my second child that I just don't know how to cope with all that crying and realizing I don't have to try to stop the baby from crying, I can just hold her as she cries and that's okay and it will pass, be it in hours or when she finally gets old enough to talk.
- I remember grieving my mid-trimester pregnancy losses and seeing how grief was waves and waves of anguish, and I had to be kind to myself and allow myself to ride the waves of grief as they came, like the different cries of the shofar. And I noticed my toddler also wailed like that and needed the same thing from me. That people aren't allowed to be sad and they need to be allowed to be sad.
- I remember seeing my children stomping in anger and demanding things and me thinking, "This child is a spoiled brat." And realizing that this is actually an opportunity for them to not get what they want and internalize the experience of being told No with kindness and patience and firmness.
And now when my children cry and I am fortunate to not be overloaded emotionally, mentally, or physically (hahahaha no seriously) then I can actually view these situations as parenting opportunities. Just like I view conflict with my pre-adolescents and teens as opportunities to model and to practice relationship skills
So Jack (6) has a middah (character trait) that I've noticed for a while that concerns me. It came to my attention a couple of years ago with him getting fixated on a package of lollipops that I finally agreed to buy him for Succos but I bought it 3 days before and for those 3 days, he couldn't tolerate not having them. He was young and couldn't think that he would get it soon (though this is the same kid who saved up money for over a year to buy a DS when he was 3). He just got very focused on the unfairness of it and ("unfair" being a code word for "not what I want") and kept proclaiming that if I won't give him that, then he deserves something else, and he suggested various things. This went on for days. The fixation disturbed me, the incredible length of time disturbed me, and the notion that it will only be okay if something he deems of equal value is given to him disturbed me.
My latest parenting approach to these kinds of things can be described as: Chill out, see how it goes, try not to make it worse. (I have unfortunately discovered that so many of my reactions simply do make things worse, and "First do no harm" keeps my hands full.)
So today when Elazar asked to go with the neighbors to the candy store, and Jack remembered that Elazar had gotten to go last time the neighbors took someone (they have room for one person), and Jack fixated on this, I realized it was a great opportunity to ride the wave of the fixation, to feel the pain, to not change the situation. I was there for him, I was compassionate, I was firm that he wasn't going. He shortly moved on to his coping mechanism, which is to suggest other things that he felt would satisfy him and would be equivalent. Fine, so he should be able to buy a game for his tablet. I said no. Fine, so he gets my computer. I didn't answer him the first few times because that's absurd. But when he persisted I said no. Fine, so he hit and kicked me. I asked him if he wanted to wrestle. I can't remember exactly how the morning played out. But a few times he came back, upset about it, and we went through his disappointment, him trying to change things, me staying firm. He's older now than a few years ago and his rational faculty is more developed; he doesn't get as stuck in his upset-ness as he used to from 2-5. And he's out playing now.
I'm grateful to homeschooling that my first grader has this time to go through this emotional experience. I'm not rushed and we don't have to be anywhere or do anything else. Ten years ago it was stressful for me to choose emotional development over academic education. I often worry about academic achievement. (Probably unnecessarily. See how I can't even commit and I say "probably"?) But this morning it is clear.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Seder 2016
How were the sedarim this year? I don't have that much to tell. It was neither a great year nor an awful year.
We were not home for the sedarim. We were with family at family friends. That meant that the seder did not go according to our schedule.
While we were waiting for the seder to start, I took a bag of marshmallows and one of the boys asked why I took out marshmallows. That served as our "karpas," an activity which doesn't belong in the normal way of things that triggers a question. And Ari began telling the story to all the children, and I tossed out marshmallows for questions and answers. So the first night Ari got to tell the story even before the seder began. Once the seder started, Elazar (8) played chess with his friend. I think Aharon fell asleep peacefully on the couch (which was the best thing I could hope for, that he would go without a massive tantrum or crying beforehand or during). Jack (6) sat next to me and focused and paid attention the entire seder. He didn't know exactly what was going on but he was happy to keep the place in the hagada with me. He fell asleep in his chair during Hallel. I handed Elazar matza when he got hungry, had him wash and read the bracha of hamotzi and al achilas matza. He at maror with the rest of us and ate a sandwich.
Probably the funniest part was when we did "matza zu she'anu ochlim al shum ma?" "This matza that we eat--why?" And I said, "Elazar, you know why we eat matza!" Because the boys have all been asking why do we eat matza, why can't we eat chometz. And Elazar said, "Because when the Jews left Mitzrayim, their dough was left in the bread machine overnight and it didn't rise..."
It was nice in the sense that the boys were all thinking about the seder the days after it. They came in to snuggle in the morning and they all had questions about Pesach and the halachos and the story. So it ended up being fodder for discussion, which is part of the goal of the experience, I think.
Now Chana (14). I think she fell through the cracks a bit. Ari thought that I was handling it and for some reason he never quite sat down with her to tell her the story either night. Obviously, she knows the story already. In fact, before she stopped going to Chumash class, she was studying that section so she probably would have had some interesting things to contribute. I don't know if he felt that she already graduated into the people who already know the story.
We had discussed before the seder about the Sforno's approach about Pharoah actually gaining his free will by having his heart hardened enough to refuse to listen without fear of the consequences (as opposed to the classic Rambam approach that Hashem took away Pharoah's free will and didn't allow him to set the Jews free). And the purchase of R' Baruch Chait's Hagaddah was a great choice for her because she was very intrigued by the drawings. (That reminds me, I would like to get an explanation for the midrash that the jew and mitzri both drank from the same place and one drank water and one drank blood.)
She also had drawn a picture before the seder when I asked her to envision how the story would look in anime. ("Where Moshe is the awkward hero that turns bada$$ with the help of Gd," she told me. And Aharon is the sidekick.)
(Note that Pharoah's posture gives a pretty clear explanation of leaning at the seder!)
But other than that, she sat at the seder, pretty uninterested, mostly waiting for it to be over. Every time I tried to engage her by asking her a question or making an observation, she looked at me like she didn't comprehend what I was saying. She said her brain couldn't process what I was saying. She had no energy to think about the story, to engage emotionally or mentally with the seder. It was discouraging.
I vaguely remember 14 not being a great seder year for Sarah. At 13 or 14, we talked about the story for as long as she could tolerate (maybe 10 minutes?) and then zipped through the entire hagaddah because she wanted it to be over. So this was similar, minus the ten minutes of discussion. Which was sad, because that would have been nice, but on the other hand, she had been engaged in the free will aspect and relating to it artistically leading up to that night. And she did very much like the art in the hagaddah.
So I look forward to hopefully one day engaging with Chana mentally about the story, because I think there are so many aspects which could be interesting to her psychologically and theologically. L'shana haba b'Yerushalayim!
We were not home for the sedarim. We were with family at family friends. That meant that the seder did not go according to our schedule.
While we were waiting for the seder to start, I took a bag of marshmallows and one of the boys asked why I took out marshmallows. That served as our "karpas," an activity which doesn't belong in the normal way of things that triggers a question. And Ari began telling the story to all the children, and I tossed out marshmallows for questions and answers. So the first night Ari got to tell the story even before the seder began. Once the seder started, Elazar (8) played chess with his friend. I think Aharon fell asleep peacefully on the couch (which was the best thing I could hope for, that he would go without a massive tantrum or crying beforehand or during). Jack (6) sat next to me and focused and paid attention the entire seder. He didn't know exactly what was going on but he was happy to keep the place in the hagada with me. He fell asleep in his chair during Hallel. I handed Elazar matza when he got hungry, had him wash and read the bracha of hamotzi and al achilas matza. He at maror with the rest of us and ate a sandwich.
Probably the funniest part was when we did "matza zu she'anu ochlim al shum ma?" "This matza that we eat--why?" And I said, "Elazar, you know why we eat matza!" Because the boys have all been asking why do we eat matza, why can't we eat chometz. And Elazar said, "Because when the Jews left Mitzrayim, their dough was left in the bread machine overnight and it didn't rise..."
It was nice in the sense that the boys were all thinking about the seder the days after it. They came in to snuggle in the morning and they all had questions about Pesach and the halachos and the story. So it ended up being fodder for discussion, which is part of the goal of the experience, I think.
Now Chana (14). I think she fell through the cracks a bit. Ari thought that I was handling it and for some reason he never quite sat down with her to tell her the story either night. Obviously, she knows the story already. In fact, before she stopped going to Chumash class, she was studying that section so she probably would have had some interesting things to contribute. I don't know if he felt that she already graduated into the people who already know the story.
We had discussed before the seder about the Sforno's approach about Pharoah actually gaining his free will by having his heart hardened enough to refuse to listen without fear of the consequences (as opposed to the classic Rambam approach that Hashem took away Pharoah's free will and didn't allow him to set the Jews free). And the purchase of R' Baruch Chait's Hagaddah was a great choice for her because she was very intrigued by the drawings. (That reminds me, I would like to get an explanation for the midrash that the jew and mitzri both drank from the same place and one drank water and one drank blood.)
She also had drawn a picture before the seder when I asked her to envision how the story would look in anime. ("Where Moshe is the awkward hero that turns bada$$ with the help of Gd," she told me. And Aharon is the sidekick.)
(Note that Pharoah's posture gives a pretty clear explanation of leaning at the seder!)
But other than that, she sat at the seder, pretty uninterested, mostly waiting for it to be over. Every time I tried to engage her by asking her a question or making an observation, she looked at me like she didn't comprehend what I was saying. She said her brain couldn't process what I was saying. She had no energy to think about the story, to engage emotionally or mentally with the seder. It was discouraging.
I vaguely remember 14 not being a great seder year for Sarah. At 13 or 14, we talked about the story for as long as she could tolerate (maybe 10 minutes?) and then zipped through the entire hagaddah because she wanted it to be over. So this was similar, minus the ten minutes of discussion. Which was sad, because that would have been nice, but on the other hand, she had been engaged in the free will aspect and relating to it artistically leading up to that night. And she did very much like the art in the hagaddah.
So I look forward to hopefully one day engaging with Chana mentally about the story, because I think there are so many aspects which could be interesting to her psychologically and theologically. L'shana haba b'Yerushalayim!
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Rambam Laws of Prayer 4:16**
A lot of times when I sit down to work with Chana, I'm feeling stressed or like work is something that I have to "get over with," or that I have so much else to do (clean the house, prepare food, do errands, be with the little ones). It's never great to sit down to learning when feeling I have "so much to do" or feeling rushed or reluctant. Or like last night, when it was 8pm and I had forgotten about it and I was just tired from the day.
It's negative because with my teenager, we don't get so much together time and this is the time we have. It can be a bonding experience or it can be something that increases strife. When I walk into it with a negative attitude, I'm stacking the deck against building a positive relationship with her.
Another reason it's negative is because it gives her negative associations with learning. The learning isn't fun and spending time together isn't fun. I give off the impression that I'm a sourpuss who just wants to get things over with. That's the opposite of the impression I want to give her--that learning is joyous, interesting, and something to savor.
Yesterday I was cranky and since Chana's in a good mood these days, it didn't affect her much except that the learning wasn't joyous or pleasant or especially positive. (And had it been during a phase where she is more moody, it could have easily slid into disastrous.) Today I made an effort to be pleasant,* and spending time learning with her can be so much fun and with lots of laughs and jokes.
It made me remember how important it is for me to make an effort to be pleasant when we sit down to learn together. It seems like such an obvious piece of advice: Make an effort to relax and to smile and exude pleasant and positive energy. It may seem obvious. But when I think back to the amount of times over the years that I have neglected this, I think it pays to say it.
_________________
*Actually, I said to Chana, "Let's learn now." And she said, "Let's learn later." And I said, "But I'm grouchy when we do it later." And she said, "So don't be grouchy!" which was very funny and helped me turn around. Because on one hand, it's not so easy to just shrug off grouchiness. But on the other hand, don't I have free will?
**One should not pray as one carrying a burden who throws it off and walks away.
It's negative because with my teenager, we don't get so much together time and this is the time we have. It can be a bonding experience or it can be something that increases strife. When I walk into it with a negative attitude, I'm stacking the deck against building a positive relationship with her.
Another reason it's negative is because it gives her negative associations with learning. The learning isn't fun and spending time together isn't fun. I give off the impression that I'm a sourpuss who just wants to get things over with. That's the opposite of the impression I want to give her--that learning is joyous, interesting, and something to savor.
Yesterday I was cranky and since Chana's in a good mood these days, it didn't affect her much except that the learning wasn't joyous or pleasant or especially positive. (And had it been during a phase where she is more moody, it could have easily slid into disastrous.) Today I made an effort to be pleasant,* and spending time learning with her can be so much fun and with lots of laughs and jokes.
It made me remember how important it is for me to make an effort to be pleasant when we sit down to learn together. It seems like such an obvious piece of advice: Make an effort to relax and to smile and exude pleasant and positive energy. It may seem obvious. But when I think back to the amount of times over the years that I have neglected this, I think it pays to say it.
_________________
*Actually, I said to Chana, "Let's learn now." And she said, "Let's learn later." And I said, "But I'm grouchy when we do it later." And she said, "So don't be grouchy!" which was very funny and helped me turn around. Because on one hand, it's not so easy to just shrug off grouchiness. But on the other hand, don't I have free will?
**One should not pray as one carrying a burden who throws it off and walks away.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Teenage learning
Today's learning was uneventful, which I really appreciate, since yesterday was a doozie. Aside from very brief and practical interactions, my teenager and I usually only spend time together twice a day. Once for algebra, and once for Chumash.
This results, on occasion, of her emotions coming to the surface during our Chumash sessions. Sometimes I wonder if my girls have negative associations with Chumash because it's the only time of the day when they have my (mostly) undivided attention and so all the feelings that they avoid or keep at bay end up coming up in the safe time with their mommy. Sometimes Chana (and Sarah back in the day) will just start talking about things on her mind. Sometimes she will share feelings of anger, sadness, doubt, or fear. Sometimes, she gets more and more agitated and ends up crying ("I don't even know why I'm crying!").
In the middle of all that, we started Yona. I wanted to do Rashi, too. We argued about that. Chana felt Rashi is part of Chumash. I said I wanted to do it. She said but it's not part of Yona. I didn't answer. She said, "Why aren't you answering me?" I said that I can't think of anything to say that will be convincing to her. She said, "Why do you want me to do Rashi, anyway?" I said that I want her to work on her Rashi skills. She said but she knows Rashi. (Which I disagree with). Same old.
She didn't think Yona really happened, she thought that the sailors were very superstitious, she felt that if there was a storm and they cast lots and someone's name came up more than once, she would think it was just a very big coincidence. She thought that Hashem's approach was bossy and an abuse of His power.
We talked about the fact that Yona, a navi, disagreed with Hashem and even though Hashem is clearly more powerful, Yona stood his ground and didn't agree. We talked about the concept of "conquering your nevua" i.e. not telling a prophecy a navi is told.
We started off with her translating. In the middle, she said, "I just really can't stand Chumash."
I said that translation is difficult and not so much fun. She said she doesn't need to get good at it; she has the English right there or google translate. (I rolled my eyes a little because does she really think that's as good as being able to translate herself from the original?). I said I am sorry it's not so enjoyable to work on translation skills, but I think it's important for her to be able to translate. She said maybe I make her translate too much.
I ended up taking over the translation. She had been complaining about how even when she knows the words, since everything is switched around, it's confusing. And the tenses are confusing. And the ways of expressing things is confusing. So I translated the rest, which was good because we got into Yona's tefila which is a poem and I was assuming I'd translate, anyway (and I peeked at the English).
Today, we opened Yona and she started translating herself.
This results, on occasion, of her emotions coming to the surface during our Chumash sessions. Sometimes I wonder if my girls have negative associations with Chumash because it's the only time of the day when they have my (mostly) undivided attention and so all the feelings that they avoid or keep at bay end up coming up in the safe time with their mommy. Sometimes Chana (and Sarah back in the day) will just start talking about things on her mind. Sometimes she will share feelings of anger, sadness, doubt, or fear. Sometimes, she gets more and more agitated and ends up crying ("I don't even know why I'm crying!").
In the middle of all that, we started Yona. I wanted to do Rashi, too. We argued about that. Chana felt Rashi is part of Chumash. I said I wanted to do it. She said but it's not part of Yona. I didn't answer. She said, "Why aren't you answering me?" I said that I can't think of anything to say that will be convincing to her. She said, "Why do you want me to do Rashi, anyway?" I said that I want her to work on her Rashi skills. She said but she knows Rashi. (Which I disagree with). Same old.
She didn't think Yona really happened, she thought that the sailors were very superstitious, she felt that if there was a storm and they cast lots and someone's name came up more than once, she would think it was just a very big coincidence. She thought that Hashem's approach was bossy and an abuse of His power.
We talked about the fact that Yona, a navi, disagreed with Hashem and even though Hashem is clearly more powerful, Yona stood his ground and didn't agree. We talked about the concept of "conquering your nevua" i.e. not telling a prophecy a navi is told.
We started off with her translating. In the middle, she said, "I just really can't stand Chumash."
I said that translation is difficult and not so much fun. She said she doesn't need to get good at it; she has the English right there or google translate. (I rolled my eyes a little because does she really think that's as good as being able to translate herself from the original?). I said I am sorry it's not so enjoyable to work on translation skills, but I think it's important for her to be able to translate. She said maybe I make her translate too much.
I ended up taking over the translation. She had been complaining about how even when she knows the words, since everything is switched around, it's confusing. And the tenses are confusing. And the ways of expressing things is confusing. So I translated the rest, which was good because we got into Yona's tefila which is a poem and I was assuming I'd translate, anyway (and I peeked at the English).
Today, we opened Yona and she started translating herself.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
resolution of sorts
So how did it go yesterday? Aharon screaming about eggs, Chana sniffling about rashis, Chana being emotional in general, Mommy being negative and lacking confidence and feeling grouchy and burnt out?
I dragged Chana on an errand. She didn't want to go and I put my foot down. She said she wants to be alone, I said I was concerned about her emotional state, and I insisted.
We spent the first part of the drive with her saying how she is so angry in general, and me saying that this is normal, at which point she asked me-- if it's normal, why am I concerned. I didn't know what to answer her.
(When I discussed it with my husband later, he intelligently said that just because something is normal doesn't mean we ignore it.)
We went on the errand (by very happy coincidence, two of the boys were on a playdate and Aharon was pretty low key) and it was just time spent together, being physically next to each other.
When we came home, Chana was much calmer. To the point where I was tempted to try rashi again. But I've made that mistake before!
We left rashi alone for the rest of the day.
This morning, Chana came over to me first thing and asked to do Chumash. We did new pesukim, and then started rashi. She immediately began to get emotional. She was crying quietly, and tears kept running down her cheeks. (They reminded me about my mention about the skill of working while experiencing very strong emotions.) She was upset, but in a place where a part of her was noticing her upsetness. She commented that her voice sounded like Jack when he whines, and we smiled. And we had a conversation about her tears. (And we took a break to look at the pictures floating around the web recently about the different chemical composition of different types of tears.)
We also tried talking about different approaches to handling these rashis. She said there were too many, and I suggested a few different ways to make them manageable (we'll only do a few a day, we'll focus on some skills but not all skills, etc). She had problems with all my suggestions. I pointed this out, and she agreed. I suggested we celebrate when she got through the rashis, perhaps by going to a restaurant, and she refused. Why don't rewards work? I suggested she agree since she'd be doing the rashis with or without sushi, and she still refused.
I read all the rashis to her and translated them. Although there are a lot, I don't think the concepts are too hard and I do think they are interesting and useful and straightforward to read. As we went through the rashis, I think she saw that was the case. It also helped that we waited until she was in a better state of mind.
I dragged Chana on an errand. She didn't want to go and I put my foot down. She said she wants to be alone, I said I was concerned about her emotional state, and I insisted.
We spent the first part of the drive with her saying how she is so angry in general, and me saying that this is normal, at which point she asked me-- if it's normal, why am I concerned. I didn't know what to answer her.
(When I discussed it with my husband later, he intelligently said that just because something is normal doesn't mean we ignore it.)
We went on the errand (by very happy coincidence, two of the boys were on a playdate and Aharon was pretty low key) and it was just time spent together, being physically next to each other.
When we came home, Chana was much calmer. To the point where I was tempted to try rashi again. But I've made that mistake before!
We left rashi alone for the rest of the day.
This morning, Chana came over to me first thing and asked to do Chumash. We did new pesukim, and then started rashi. She immediately began to get emotional. She was crying quietly, and tears kept running down her cheeks. (They reminded me about my mention about the skill of working while experiencing very strong emotions.) She was upset, but in a place where a part of her was noticing her upsetness. She commented that her voice sounded like Jack when he whines, and we smiled. And we had a conversation about her tears. (And we took a break to look at the pictures floating around the web recently about the different chemical composition of different types of tears.)
We also tried talking about different approaches to handling these rashis. She said there were too many, and I suggested a few different ways to make them manageable (we'll only do a few a day, we'll focus on some skills but not all skills, etc). She had problems with all my suggestions. I pointed this out, and she agreed. I suggested we celebrate when she got through the rashis, perhaps by going to a restaurant, and she refused. Why don't rewards work? I suggested she agree since she'd be doing the rashis with or without sushi, and she still refused.
I read all the rashis to her and translated them. Although there are a lot, I don't think the concepts are too hard and I do think they are interesting and useful and straightforward to read. As we went through the rashis, I think she saw that was the case. It also helped that we waited until she was in a better state of mind.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
one reason my children are "behind" in school
As a rule, if there is a conflict between academics and an emotional issue, I have personally evolved to choosing to focus on emotional issues at the expense of academics. This means that erev Shabbos, erev Yomtov, days where we are going somewhere, or in any time crunch or emotionally fraught situation, academics take a back seat. I've snapped at my children in those situations too many times, trying to get their work done.
Or if I planned to do academics with one child but then my 3 year old is having a tantrum and I choose to devote a half an hour to staylistening instead. Or if my six year old starts throwing and kicking things in frustration and I sit down with him for an hour. Or if my 2 and 3 year olds were having a particularly conflict-ful morning and I find my time best devoted to hovering nearby and pulling them apart.
Or if we sit down to do math or Chumash and now that the child has my attention, she asks big questions about life or tells me the dream she had last night. And then the little ones need me, and we missed the window for focused academic work.
This results in my prioritizing other things over academics for young children in the early elementary grades. I tend to gear towards emotional health. I figure a child who is emotionally healthy and resilient will figure out a way to learn what he or she needs to learn. But a child who has a lot of academics but lacks emotional health has a bigger handicap in terms of functioning in society, holding down a job, and having pleasant relationships.
(That aside, there is a skill of learning to plug away at work while in a bad or sad or angry mood, even though your quality of work is less efficient. We have plenty of opportunities to work on that, too.)
My children are not all grown, and a lot of how children turn out is not in human hands, anyway. But I do think a lot of homeschoolers make choices about prioritizing free play over academics. Or emotional health over academics. Or interesting experiences over academics. Or whatever your choice is over academics. As a general rule, homeschoolers are not lazy slackers. We have a lot to take care of and take into account and we are prioritizing.
I'm not saying don't worry. Worry is a great motivator for keeping us on track and for making sure that we re-evaluate and make sure our actions are in line with our values. But it's so easy to get tunnel vision and worry that we are making mistakes that will mess up our children's futures.
The truth is it is no big deal to be a few years behind. And if a child ends up matriculating, they can catch up pretty easily in a matter of months. I personally have never heard of a homeschooled child who went to school and wasn't just fine after a small adjustment period. And if you're not concerned about matriculation, but for afterwards, the statistics are that homeschooled children end up as functioning adults who are solicited by colleges and are able to contribute to the economy. So why are you so worried?
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
more bedtime torah
Elazar does not like to do bedtime snuggle when I'm wearing my zipper sweatshirt. I don't like to take it off. Some nights I accommodate him. Tonight I didn't feel like it. After trying futilely to take it off me, he put his hands around my neck. "Do you want me to kill you with my hands? Because I will kill you with my hands if you don't take it off."
"Fine, you can kill me with your hands," I said. "Hey, do you know how many aveiras it would be if you killed me?"
He tries to throttle me. "Really? You really want to be killed?"
I block him when the pressure starts getting uncomfortable. "You can try to kill me," I say. "I'm stronger than you. I am not taking off my sweatshirt and you won't be able to kill me." He's still trying. "So, can you think of how many aveiras it would be?"
"What's an aveira?"
"An aveira is when you don't do a mitzva. When you do a 'Lo Ta'aseh.'" We've spoken about the 2 categories of mitzvos, the "do"s and the "don't"s. I just hadn't told him that doing a "don't" is called an "aveira."
"I can think of maybe four different aveiras," I say. He's not listening to me. He's still annoyed about the sweatshirt and still trying to choke me.
Finally we listed: "Don't murder," "Don't hit (attack) a person," "Don't hit (make a bruise) on your mother or father," and "Respect your father and mother."
I pointed out that one action could be a bunch of different aveiros. Then I asked him if he could think of one bite that would be 2 aveiros.
He couldn't. I said what if the 2 aveiros are milk&meat, and bacon. He still couldn't figure it out. I said taking one bite out of a bacon cheeseburger. He liked that. Then I asked if he made "hamotzi" on his burger. He didn't, so that's three!
I was going to start discussing the different besdin (court) punishments, but I realized I'm not knowledgeable enough. I have to do some learning.
"Fine, you can kill me with your hands," I said. "Hey, do you know how many aveiras it would be if you killed me?"
He tries to throttle me. "Really? You really want to be killed?"
I block him when the pressure starts getting uncomfortable. "You can try to kill me," I say. "I'm stronger than you. I am not taking off my sweatshirt and you won't be able to kill me." He's still trying. "So, can you think of how many aveiras it would be?"
"What's an aveira?"
"An aveira is when you don't do a mitzva. When you do a 'Lo Ta'aseh.'" We've spoken about the 2 categories of mitzvos, the "do"s and the "don't"s. I just hadn't told him that doing a "don't" is called an "aveira."
"I can think of maybe four different aveiras," I say. He's not listening to me. He's still annoyed about the sweatshirt and still trying to choke me.
Finally we listed: "Don't murder," "Don't hit (attack) a person," "Don't hit (make a bruise) on your mother or father," and "Respect your father and mother."
I pointed out that one action could be a bunch of different aveiros. Then I asked him if he could think of one bite that would be 2 aveiros.
He couldn't. I said what if the 2 aveiros are milk&meat, and bacon. He still couldn't figure it out. I said taking one bite out of a bacon cheeseburger. He liked that. Then I asked if he made "hamotzi" on his burger. He didn't, so that's three!
I was going to start discussing the different besdin (court) punishments, but I realized I'm not knowledgeable enough. I have to do some learning.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Kedoshim Tehiyu
It's 8pm. I was out all day with the boys visiting their great grandmother. When we got home, Chana went to trapeze. Now it's late and we are just getting started.
Chana asked me for a few words. She's quite grouchy. When I reminded her that the word "rei'ei'hu" is "re'ah" not "ra" (bad) but "re'ah" (friend) she said she doesn't remember that at all. I said we did it a few times. She said we didn't. I said back in Bereshis. She said, "How am I supposed to remember that?!" Grouchy.
She told me she was grouchy and I asked her why. She said she doesn't know.
When she came over to do new pesukim, she requested that I sit next to her, not be distracted, and not look at Rashis (that's often how I "prepare": I sneak a look at Rashi as she does the pasuk and see if it will be suitable). I felt this was a mature and straightforward request.
She couldn't remember which pasuk she is up to. She complained that this is taking a long time, it is very boring, she can't understand it, she doesn't remember the words, and it is boring. (Did I mention she's finding it boring?) For the first time in... maybe ever, she asked me to just read the pesukim and explain them to her. She said she knows so few of the words she's finding it incredibly frustrating. I did 4 pesukim, reading Hebrew and translating phrase by phrase into English. The first pasuk was so confusing to her I did it twice. The second time with no Hebrew, just pointing to each Hebrew word as I translated it into English.
She grudgingly said she can do the last pasuk of the aliyah. She zipped through it after a brief complaint about how the letters were very squashed.
I think this interaction demonstrated remarkable maturity and restraint on her part. At one point, when I asked her to please speak to me nicely, she changed her tone immediately. Considering that she's operating under extreme grouchiness, I am really impressed.
The derech eretz we practice in our interpersonal relationship while we learn Torah together is as important as the pesukim.
Chana asked me for a few words. She's quite grouchy. When I reminded her that the word "rei'ei'hu" is "re'ah" not "ra" (bad) but "re'ah" (friend) she said she doesn't remember that at all. I said we did it a few times. She said we didn't. I said back in Bereshis. She said, "How am I supposed to remember that?!" Grouchy.
She told me she was grouchy and I asked her why. She said she doesn't know.
When she came over to do new pesukim, she requested that I sit next to her, not be distracted, and not look at Rashis (that's often how I "prepare": I sneak a look at Rashi as she does the pasuk and see if it will be suitable). I felt this was a mature and straightforward request.
She couldn't remember which pasuk she is up to. She complained that this is taking a long time, it is very boring, she can't understand it, she doesn't remember the words, and it is boring. (Did I mention she's finding it boring?) For the first time in... maybe ever, she asked me to just read the pesukim and explain them to her. She said she knows so few of the words she's finding it incredibly frustrating. I did 4 pesukim, reading Hebrew and translating phrase by phrase into English. The first pasuk was so confusing to her I did it twice. The second time with no Hebrew, just pointing to each Hebrew word as I translated it into English.
She grudgingly said she can do the last pasuk of the aliyah. She zipped through it after a brief complaint about how the letters were very squashed.
I think this interaction demonstrated remarkable maturity and restraint on her part. At one point, when I asked her to please speak to me nicely, she changed her tone immediately. Considering that she's operating under extreme grouchiness, I am really impressed.
The derech eretz we practice in our interpersonal relationship while we learn Torah together is as important as the pesukim.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
al pi darko
Sometimes I wonder how many of my blog posts are called "al pi darko" which means "according to his way," which is part of a pasuk in mishlei often used to mean that we should teach children as individuals, not cookie cutter people.
Bedtime Torah is getting a bit more complicated now that Jack (age 4) is on the bandwagon and he wants Torah, too. First I asked the boys how many mitzvos they thought there were. Jack (predictably) guessed 4, Elazar 20. I kept saying, "more" "more" "more" and Elazar went up to 100, 200, 300, etc. (Then Jack had a little tantrum because he didn't get to guess and I thought about how bedtime should have been a half an hour prior but they were eating...) They were both surprised how many mitzvos there are.
So Jack mentioned butterflies and I asked him if they were kosher and he said no. Then Elazar said all insects aren't kosher and I reminded him about some species of grasshopper and he said, oh, yeah, and asked which ones and I said I'll have to look it up (if we even know). Then Jack asked me if nonJews are permitted to eat kosher and I said yes. This was a surprise to him. (All nonJews can eat kosher, but Jews are not allowed to eat non kosher.)
Again, by the time we got to Elazar (age 6), he wasn't as fresh since he participated with Jack's. But he was very excited to learn Torah and he cheered. When I asked him what he wanted to learn, he yelled, "Torah about penises!" and he cracked up. I said, "There is Torah about penises. What do you think the Torah says about penises?" and he said, "No showing penises to other people?" (Yes, this has come up in practical life.) I wasn't sure what to say to that. I thought about it. Is it actually a halachic problem to do that. What is the exact violation. Does it fall under tznius or is it a brachos/tefila question. So I said I'm not sure if that is exactly a mitzva, but I'm thinking about bris milah. And we talked about how Hashem told Avraham when he was 99 to do it. He thought it was cutting a hole so the baby can pee, so we had a very basic anatomy lesson. I asked him who is obligated to do the mitzva, if the baby is only 8 days old when we do it and the baby doesn't do mitzvos. He wasn't sure, but when I said the daddy, he liked that. I added that when a boy becomes bar mitzva, if he doesn't have a bris, then it's his mitzva.
Then he said, "Now do a butt mitzva!" I am just so happy that this type of joking around which seems so normal for boys is not becoming a power play between him and his teacher, and not being viewed as disrespectful or inappropriate. (My personal sense is that it's not great for a student to be thinking about or talking about penises and butts during Torah time. But let's say it happens. And let's face it, with boys it happens. I think how the teacher reacts to it does affect their attitude towards sexuality, bodily functions and Torah.) I also find it an enjoyable challenge to try to think of some mitzva or Torah relating to whatever he brings up.
So I told him the mitzva about if you are camping for war, your weapon has to have a shovel on it so that you can dig a place for excrement, to keep the camp clean so that you can daven. He asked if it is the same halacha about camping, since camping is the same situation minus the war (I deduce from this: is it an issue of that a weapon needs a shovel? Or is the mitzva to achieve the result of a clean camp?). I said I didn't know, and he asked how come I don't know things. I asked him why he doesn't know things. He said he's still young. I said so am I, and the there are more things to know than we can know in a lifetime.
Then Jack cried that I haven't taught him any mitzvos, and I said, "What do you mean? We learned about kosher tonight..." and he said, "I told you that. I want you to tell me!" I said okay and a few minutes later he said, "I got one! How about you aren't allowed to break your finger?" and I said that's a good one, that's the mitzva that you have to take care of your body, called VeNishmartem Meod LeNafshosechem. Then Elazar perked up and asked him if he knew that one yet--did I teach that to him? And I said I'll teach it to him next time.
It's 9:30 and Chana and I still have to do Chumash. She finished Shmini and tonight we are starting Acharei Mos.
Bedtime Torah is getting a bit more complicated now that Jack (age 4) is on the bandwagon and he wants Torah, too. First I asked the boys how many mitzvos they thought there were. Jack (predictably) guessed 4, Elazar 20. I kept saying, "more" "more" "more" and Elazar went up to 100, 200, 300, etc. (Then Jack had a little tantrum because he didn't get to guess and I thought about how bedtime should have been a half an hour prior but they were eating...) They were both surprised how many mitzvos there are.
So Jack mentioned butterflies and I asked him if they were kosher and he said no. Then Elazar said all insects aren't kosher and I reminded him about some species of grasshopper and he said, oh, yeah, and asked which ones and I said I'll have to look it up (if we even know). Then Jack asked me if nonJews are permitted to eat kosher and I said yes. This was a surprise to him. (All nonJews can eat kosher, but Jews are not allowed to eat non kosher.)
Again, by the time we got to Elazar (age 6), he wasn't as fresh since he participated with Jack's. But he was very excited to learn Torah and he cheered. When I asked him what he wanted to learn, he yelled, "Torah about penises!" and he cracked up. I said, "There is Torah about penises. What do you think the Torah says about penises?" and he said, "No showing penises to other people?" (Yes, this has come up in practical life.) I wasn't sure what to say to that. I thought about it. Is it actually a halachic problem to do that. What is the exact violation. Does it fall under tznius or is it a brachos/tefila question. So I said I'm not sure if that is exactly a mitzva, but I'm thinking about bris milah. And we talked about how Hashem told Avraham when he was 99 to do it. He thought it was cutting a hole so the baby can pee, so we had a very basic anatomy lesson. I asked him who is obligated to do the mitzva, if the baby is only 8 days old when we do it and the baby doesn't do mitzvos. He wasn't sure, but when I said the daddy, he liked that. I added that when a boy becomes bar mitzva, if he doesn't have a bris, then it's his mitzva.
Then he said, "Now do a butt mitzva!" I am just so happy that this type of joking around which seems so normal for boys is not becoming a power play between him and his teacher, and not being viewed as disrespectful or inappropriate. (My personal sense is that it's not great for a student to be thinking about or talking about penises and butts during Torah time. But let's say it happens. And let's face it, with boys it happens. I think how the teacher reacts to it does affect their attitude towards sexuality, bodily functions and Torah.) I also find it an enjoyable challenge to try to think of some mitzva or Torah relating to whatever he brings up.
So I told him the mitzva about if you are camping for war, your weapon has to have a shovel on it so that you can dig a place for excrement, to keep the camp clean so that you can daven. He asked if it is the same halacha about camping, since camping is the same situation minus the war (I deduce from this: is it an issue of that a weapon needs a shovel? Or is the mitzva to achieve the result of a clean camp?). I said I didn't know, and he asked how come I don't know things. I asked him why he doesn't know things. He said he's still young. I said so am I, and the there are more things to know than we can know in a lifetime.
Then Jack cried that I haven't taught him any mitzvos, and I said, "What do you mean? We learned about kosher tonight..." and he said, "I told you that. I want you to tell me!" I said okay and a few minutes later he said, "I got one! How about you aren't allowed to break your finger?" and I said that's a good one, that's the mitzva that you have to take care of your body, called VeNishmartem Meod LeNafshosechem. Then Elazar perked up and asked him if he knew that one yet--did I teach that to him? And I said I'll teach it to him next time.
It's 9:30 and Chana and I still have to do Chumash. She finished Shmini and tonight we are starting Acharei Mos.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
class clown
Tonight we were reviewing "don't stand on your friend's blood" and then I was trying to think of a different mitzva to do. Immediately prior, I had spent a lot of time learning with Jack (age 4) who was so excited that he's old enough to learn Torah, too, and he chose hilchos Shabbos and we were running through what he knows about Shabbos and then I asked why Hashem made Shabbos and they were pretty stumped. It was good learning but explains why Elazar (age 6) was already kind of worn out by the time it was his turn (he was participating with Jack).
I didn't realize it, though, so I said, how about Maakeh? Elazar repeated it and I said it again so he would get the correct pronunciation. Then he got silly and when I said, "So what is the mitzva of maakeh?" he said, mimicking the exact intonations I used, "So chicken chicken the chicken of chicken?" and then he cracked up. I didn't realize at first what was happening and said, "Do you want to learn the mitzva of maakeh?" and he said, "Chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken?" and cracked up some more. At that point I realized that he was fatigued from learning and didn't want to learn anymore.
Although this doesn't come up that frequently in home school with individualized learning and small ratios and tailored lessons, I think it happens that boys (though girls, too) have a hard time realizing they are fatigued and are not able to express it. So they stop paying attention, lose focus, or start acting silly.
There have been so many times where I felt a lesson was very much within the capacity of my child. But my child communicated otherwise--whether by fidgeting, not focusing, being silly, refusing to do the work, or tantrumming. It's always a very tough balancing act when to push them that little bit harder because it teaches them to persist through it and achieve, vs. when it's time to reevaluate the lesson or the way it's being presented or the duration or the type of work you are asking them to do. Listen to your gut. You won't get it right every time. But over the course of thousands of interactions, you get a sense.
Silliness is a big indicator to me that my child is overloaded. I like to take 5, cuddle, be silly together, have a good laugh, and regroup later.
I didn't realize it, though, so I said, how about Maakeh? Elazar repeated it and I said it again so he would get the correct pronunciation. Then he got silly and when I said, "So what is the mitzva of maakeh?" he said, mimicking the exact intonations I used, "So chicken chicken the chicken of chicken?" and then he cracked up. I didn't realize at first what was happening and said, "Do you want to learn the mitzva of maakeh?" and he said, "Chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken?" and cracked up some more. At that point I realized that he was fatigued from learning and didn't want to learn anymore.
Although this doesn't come up that frequently in home school with individualized learning and small ratios and tailored lessons, I think it happens that boys (though girls, too) have a hard time realizing they are fatigued and are not able to express it. So they stop paying attention, lose focus, or start acting silly.
There have been so many times where I felt a lesson was very much within the capacity of my child. But my child communicated otherwise--whether by fidgeting, not focusing, being silly, refusing to do the work, or tantrumming. It's always a very tough balancing act when to push them that little bit harder because it teaches them to persist through it and achieve, vs. when it's time to reevaluate the lesson or the way it's being presented or the duration or the type of work you are asking them to do. Listen to your gut. You won't get it right every time. But over the course of thousands of interactions, you get a sense.
Silliness is a big indicator to me that my child is overloaded. I like to take 5, cuddle, be silly together, have a good laugh, and regroup later.
Friday, November 15, 2013
back to rashi
So today we sat down to do the rest of the first paragraph and a bunch of rashis. Ordinarily, on a short Friday I would skip chumash altogether except for what Chana can do independently, and we'd probably do it motzei Shabbos. But in a rare situation where Aharon is napping and Jack has strep and Elazar is showering for shabbos, we have a trifecta of calm to work on Chumash.
However, Chana is having none of it. After our rashi break I'm dragging her back kicking and screaming. And to add insult to injury, we are resuming with a Chumash without nekudos in Rashi. If I was on the fence yesterday, I am more determined today. She is in 7th grade and it is time to practice reading rashi without nekudos.
So she crabbed and kvetched and complained and was generally in a bad mood. I must emphasize that in a bad mood without hormones is a completely different experience than a bad mood under the influence of hormones. Even though she was annoyed and whining and complaining, when I said, "Come on, Chana, let's get going" she said, "I'm in the middle of a tantrum" and laughed. And it wasn't even very intense.
That is not to say it was pleasant. Basically, Chana has always been upset when we start something new (training her to get a spoon herself for her breakfast cereal when she was 4 took at least 2 weeks of screaming) and her nature is to be crabby until she adjusts to the new reality. My job is to be patient and show her that even though her feelings are screaming at her that she can't do it, she can and she will. Despite the pressure, my job is to firmly but nicely insist on her doing it.
In my opinion, her ability was decent and she read a lot of it correctly. I think she's ready to do it without vowels and although I would have liked her to read it correctly one more time after I read it to her, she refused and I didn't push it. We did 5 pretty small rashis. I lost track of how long it took. And she didn't do more than 4 pesukim. But they had a number of new and unfamiliar words.
I think it would have gone better if she wouldn't have talked herself into being so negative about it. But maybe she just needs to adjust. We'll see how next time goes.
However, Chana is having none of it. After our rashi break I'm dragging her back kicking and screaming. And to add insult to injury, we are resuming with a Chumash without nekudos in Rashi. If I was on the fence yesterday, I am more determined today. She is in 7th grade and it is time to practice reading rashi without nekudos.
So she crabbed and kvetched and complained and was generally in a bad mood. I must emphasize that in a bad mood without hormones is a completely different experience than a bad mood under the influence of hormones. Even though she was annoyed and whining and complaining, when I said, "Come on, Chana, let's get going" she said, "I'm in the middle of a tantrum" and laughed. And it wasn't even very intense.
That is not to say it was pleasant. Basically, Chana has always been upset when we start something new (training her to get a spoon herself for her breakfast cereal when she was 4 took at least 2 weeks of screaming) and her nature is to be crabby until she adjusts to the new reality. My job is to be patient and show her that even though her feelings are screaming at her that she can't do it, she can and she will. Despite the pressure, my job is to firmly but nicely insist on her doing it.
In my opinion, her ability was decent and she read a lot of it correctly. I think she's ready to do it without vowels and although I would have liked her to read it correctly one more time after I read it to her, she refused and I didn't push it. We did 5 pretty small rashis. I lost track of how long it took. And she didn't do more than 4 pesukim. But they had a number of new and unfamiliar words.
I think it would have gone better if she wouldn't have talked herself into being so negative about it. But maybe she just needs to adjust. We'll see how next time goes.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Onward
Chana suggested to me that perhaps she wouldn't be so bad tempered if I sometimes spoke to her about something other than her responsibilities. I realized how true it is, that she does her own thing, and I'm busy with the littles, and I only speak to her to have her sit down to do work or do chores or something.
Over the last few days I struggled with this, and realized just how infrequently I'd been emotionally, physically, and conversationally connecting with her. As per Dr. Neufeld, discipline issues were coming up because of our lack of connectivity.
I made a number of efforts over Shabbos. Motzei Shabbos, when the littles were in bed and Sarah was out, we invited Chana to watch a movie with us.
This morning, Chana came downstairs and one of the first things that came out of my mouth was an aggressive joke. Chana didn't explode, but she did calmly say that she didn't think that was very nice. I agreed with her (I guess that my unconscious is simmering from our conflict over the last week). After she davened, she pulled out the Chumash to do chazara. I asked if she wanted me to sit next to her to give her word definitions, and she said yes. Since I wasn't expecting to do Chumash Sunday morning first thing, I had no expectations, and it was pleasant when she took breaks to chat about various things. She got up to shlishi, and I said it was about the kohen gadol's me'il, and she remembered an argument we had about that translation in the car going to visit my parents. It seems that some parts of Chumash are forever going to be intertwined with highlights of conflicts that she and I had. It seems that in our homeschool, adolescent females and their mom engage passionately with each other using the medium of Torah, since that is mostly the time we talk to each other. I hope there are good memories as well.
They finished building and making everything for the mishkan by the end of shlishi, and Chana was a little dismayed, since she had been planning on breezing through it because she was familiar with the keilim et. al. I'll let her discover that the rest of it is setting up everything (at least, that's what it looked like when I glanced ahead). She plans to finish on Thursday. I'm looking forward to Vayikra. I think I may need to prepare a bit, to use some charts or diagrams to keep the different korbanos straight. I also remember Tazria-Metzora being tough. But I'm looking forward to the review.
Over the last few days I struggled with this, and realized just how infrequently I'd been emotionally, physically, and conversationally connecting with her. As per Dr. Neufeld, discipline issues were coming up because of our lack of connectivity.
I made a number of efforts over Shabbos. Motzei Shabbos, when the littles were in bed and Sarah was out, we invited Chana to watch a movie with us.
This morning, Chana came downstairs and one of the first things that came out of my mouth was an aggressive joke. Chana didn't explode, but she did calmly say that she didn't think that was very nice. I agreed with her (I guess that my unconscious is simmering from our conflict over the last week). After she davened, she pulled out the Chumash to do chazara. I asked if she wanted me to sit next to her to give her word definitions, and she said yes. Since I wasn't expecting to do Chumash Sunday morning first thing, I had no expectations, and it was pleasant when she took breaks to chat about various things. She got up to shlishi, and I said it was about the kohen gadol's me'il, and she remembered an argument we had about that translation in the car going to visit my parents. It seems that some parts of Chumash are forever going to be intertwined with highlights of conflicts that she and I had. It seems that in our homeschool, adolescent females and their mom engage passionately with each other using the medium of Torah, since that is mostly the time we talk to each other. I hope there are good memories as well.
They finished building and making everything for the mishkan by the end of shlishi, and Chana was a little dismayed, since she had been planning on breezing through it because she was familiar with the keilim et. al. I'll let her discover that the rest of it is setting up everything (at least, that's what it looked like when I glanced ahead). She plans to finish on Thursday. I'm looking forward to Vayikra. I think I may need to prepare a bit, to use some charts or diagrams to keep the different korbanos straight. I also remember Tazria-Metzora being tough. But I'm looking forward to the review.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Hormones
Tonight was one of those nights that people are talking about when they say, "I could never homeschool my kids!"
My daughter is preteen. It's been building up for a few days, the bad mood, the surliness, the crying at the drop of a hat, the fury at anything and everything, most especially her mother. Tonight, some of the things she said had me mentally filing them to share with my sister and another friend with a preteen daughter, for example: "Don't say 'Good'! I can't stand it when you say that!!" and "Don't tell me to reread it! I was going to reread it" after she deliberately mumbled a phrase and she hadn't reread the last phrase she deliberately mumbled last time without prodding. etc etc.
The line from the Princess Bride kept going through my mind: Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Hahahahahahaha.. until he keels over.
But I substituted: Never do Chumash with a preteen daughter when she is hormonal! Hahahahahahaha.. and then I keel over.
Last week I felt we were speaking too sharply to each other. This mostly comes up during Chumash because we (thankfully) aren't in much conflict at other times during the day. I told her on Shabbos that I felt like I wanted to try to react better. Most of our conflicts last week ended up like this:
Me: Stop screaming.
Her: I should stop screaming?! You're the one screaming!
Me: I'm only screaming because you screamed at me first!
Her: I didn't scream first! You're the one who screamed first!
I figured that since we always end up arguing over who started screaming first, maybe I should just try to control my powerful negative reaction when I *perceive* that I'm being screamed at, and maybe if I'm nicer, we won't explode. I shared that with her on Shabbos, and she appreciated it.
This evening, every time her tone got obnoxious, I reminded myself inside my head that I was going to be pleasant when she was obnoxious. I think I did this 6 or 7 times. (At one point, I said to her, "You are screaming at me." And she said, "I'm not screaming. I think you think screaming is louder than I think it is." And I was thinking at the exact moment she then said: "Actually, you think my screaming is louder than I think it is, and I think your screaming is louder than you think it is. So we actually both think screaming is exactly equal, but reversed." Yes!!! A moment of rare accord.)
Also, I decided to do a rashi tonight. She asked why she has to do rashi. I asked her to tell me. Seeing as we have this conversation every time I ask her to do rashi. Sheshrieked said, "I don't know! That's why I asked the question! Why would I ask a question unless I want you to answer it!" Then I said I want her to learn to read and understand rashi. And she shrieked said she already knows how to read rashi. And I said she needs to learn how to understand rashi. (Never mind that she didn't know the samech from the mem sofis and when I mentioned that, she shrieked said, "I forgot! I'm allowed to forget!" Yes, you are allowed to forget, but not if you insist that you don't need practice because you are already great at it.) Then she pitched a fit objected that I was asking her to translate too much.
I think she did a pretty decent job translating. I'm still a little disturbed that we are using rashi with nekudos and I don't know how she would be at rashi without nekudos, which is really what I'd like her to be able to read. But hopefully with more familiarity will come fluency.
I was pretty irritated by the end and, while I did manage to hold onto my Zen (mostly), I think this whole thing was a valuable experience for us.
While it's not delightful to interact with each other when she is in a bad mood, this gives us a lot of practice working on our self control and conflict resolution. It's an opportunity for me to model kindness in the face of provocation. It's an opportunity for her to restrain herself to snarling instead of a full-blown freak out. We are trying to be respectful of each other while we are both extremely irritated. It is during the crucible of these moments that I find my better self (after sometimes also finding my most hideous self) and refine my patience and my character. It is these moments that will be some of my daughter's most valuable lessons.
It is not pleasant to homeschool through these times. But when you ask me, how do I homeschool and teach and discipline when my children are obnoxious and difficult and horrid? The answer is, I'm glad I do.
Luckily, I also get a lot of "do-overs" when I don't handle things as well as I'd like to. Tomorrow will be another night.
Oh, wait. We still have math.
My daughter is preteen. It's been building up for a few days, the bad mood, the surliness, the crying at the drop of a hat, the fury at anything and everything, most especially her mother. Tonight, some of the things she said had me mentally filing them to share with my sister and another friend with a preteen daughter, for example: "Don't say 'Good'! I can't stand it when you say that!!" and "Don't tell me to reread it! I was going to reread it" after she deliberately mumbled a phrase and she hadn't reread the last phrase she deliberately mumbled last time without prodding. etc etc.
The line from the Princess Bride kept going through my mind: Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Hahahahahahaha.. until he keels over.
But I substituted: Never do Chumash with a preteen daughter when she is hormonal! Hahahahahahaha.. and then I keel over.
Last week I felt we were speaking too sharply to each other. This mostly comes up during Chumash because we (thankfully) aren't in much conflict at other times during the day. I told her on Shabbos that I felt like I wanted to try to react better. Most of our conflicts last week ended up like this:
Me: Stop screaming.
Her: I should stop screaming?! You're the one screaming!
Me: I'm only screaming because you screamed at me first!
Her: I didn't scream first! You're the one who screamed first!
I figured that since we always end up arguing over who started screaming first, maybe I should just try to control my powerful negative reaction when I *perceive* that I'm being screamed at, and maybe if I'm nicer, we won't explode. I shared that with her on Shabbos, and she appreciated it.
This evening, every time her tone got obnoxious, I reminded myself inside my head that I was going to be pleasant when she was obnoxious. I think I did this 6 or 7 times. (At one point, I said to her, "You are screaming at me." And she said, "I'm not screaming. I think you think screaming is louder than I think it is." And I was thinking at the exact moment she then said: "Actually, you think my screaming is louder than I think it is, and I think your screaming is louder than you think it is. So we actually both think screaming is exactly equal, but reversed." Yes!!! A moment of rare accord.)
Also, I decided to do a rashi tonight. She asked why she has to do rashi. I asked her to tell me. Seeing as we have this conversation every time I ask her to do rashi. She
I think she did a pretty decent job translating. I'm still a little disturbed that we are using rashi with nekudos and I don't know how she would be at rashi without nekudos, which is really what I'd like her to be able to read. But hopefully with more familiarity will come fluency.
I was pretty irritated by the end and, while I did manage to hold onto my Zen (mostly), I think this whole thing was a valuable experience for us.
While it's not delightful to interact with each other when she is in a bad mood, this gives us a lot of practice working on our self control and conflict resolution. It's an opportunity for me to model kindness in the face of provocation. It's an opportunity for her to restrain herself to snarling instead of a full-blown freak out. We are trying to be respectful of each other while we are both extremely irritated. It is during the crucible of these moments that I find my better self (after sometimes also finding my most hideous self) and refine my patience and my character. It is these moments that will be some of my daughter's most valuable lessons.
It is not pleasant to homeschool through these times. But when you ask me, how do I homeschool and teach and discipline when my children are obnoxious and difficult and horrid? The answer is, I'm glad I do.
Luckily, I also get a lot of "do-overs" when I don't handle things as well as I'd like to. Tomorrow will be another night.
Oh, wait. We still have math.
Monday, October 7, 2013
question and answer from a homeschool perspective
This question was asked:
I would like to answer it in two frameworks, as a homeschooler and as an unschooler, because I think the answer differs, depending.
As a homeschooler, I would say that very often young children (meaning under high school age) pick things up in an intense way for a day or a week and then don't follow through.
One possibility is that they are actually learning in these intense bursts. Think of night and day, spring and winter. There are intense times and fallow times. The fallow times actually are times when there is unconscious processing or a gathering energy for an active time. Many times I had students who would be so quick at reading and writing some weeks, and other weeks it would be like pulling teeth. I learned to do extra during the bursts and just keep a bare minimum during the draggy times (or sometimes, perhaps, skip it and bring it up in a couple of weeks). Working with the child's natural energy ended up being more efficient.
Another possibility is that they ran out of energy because it is more difficult than they anticipated. The "fun" does not outweigh the "drudgework."
In this case, it's best to look on a case by case basis. Is this something where you think the drudgework is worthwhile? Will the child learn important self-discipline and follow-through? Is this an important long term skill to have? Is this work something I think is manageable for the child and s/he is capable of? In that case, it is my responsibility to set up the follow through and help my child achieve those skills.
Is it just a project that s/he thought was going to be awesome and now it's not actually fun? Did it cost me money? Did s/he make an actual commitment? If the only down side is that my kid seems to be a bit of a flake, I would let it go. There are many opportunities where your child will have to follow through on commitments and responsibilities that he or she has made. If you don't let him or her wiggle out of those, then they make great situations for practicing responsibility and follow through.
I also would like to know whether Elazar is still interested in chumash.I find that so many times my kids pick something up, do it in an intense way for a day ( or a week) and then it falls off the radar. Then I look up, and nobody is doing what they seemed so interested and ready to do.
I would like to answer it in two frameworks, as a homeschooler and as an unschooler, because I think the answer differs, depending.
As a homeschooler, I would say that very often young children (meaning under high school age) pick things up in an intense way for a day or a week and then don't follow through.
One possibility is that they are actually learning in these intense bursts. Think of night and day, spring and winter. There are intense times and fallow times. The fallow times actually are times when there is unconscious processing or a gathering energy for an active time. Many times I had students who would be so quick at reading and writing some weeks, and other weeks it would be like pulling teeth. I learned to do extra during the bursts and just keep a bare minimum during the draggy times (or sometimes, perhaps, skip it and bring it up in a couple of weeks). Working with the child's natural energy ended up being more efficient.
Another possibility is that they ran out of energy because it is more difficult than they anticipated. The "fun" does not outweigh the "drudgework."
In this case, it's best to look on a case by case basis. Is this something where you think the drudgework is worthwhile? Will the child learn important self-discipline and follow-through? Is this an important long term skill to have? Is this work something I think is manageable for the child and s/he is capable of? In that case, it is my responsibility to set up the follow through and help my child achieve those skills.
Is it just a project that s/he thought was going to be awesome and now it's not actually fun? Did it cost me money? Did s/he make an actual commitment? If the only down side is that my kid seems to be a bit of a flake, I would let it go. There are many opportunities where your child will have to follow through on commitments and responsibilities that he or she has made. If you don't let him or her wiggle out of those, then they make great situations for practicing responsibility and follow through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
