Feeding fish to cheetahs.

There is a wonderful article by Stephanie Tolan on how public educators define and recognize giftedness (http://www.stephanietolan.com/is_it_a_cheetah.htm).  She talks about how, if we define cheetahs solely by their ability to dash about at nearly 70 mph, we'd never be able to recognize a cheetah in a zoo.  It is a terrific metaphor - zoos don't usually have the space for cheetahs to reach top speeds.  Even the most remarkable zoos, if they offer the space for a cheetah to really stretch out, don't give cheetahs any need to.  Cheetahs only reach top speed if they are chasing something remarkably zippy.  Cheetahs that are fed pre-killed meat simply don't need to dash like that.

Likewise, gifted kids may be hard to recognize in public schools.  While the gifted and high-achieving kids are pretty easy to recognize anywhere, not all gifted kids fit that mold.  The little girl that teaches herself Greek and complies with everything at school quickly and easily - sure.  But, the gifted kid that is bored by the curriculum might just not comply - and, therefore, not fit the criteria in achievement to be recognized as gifted.

But, some zoos don't stop at feeding cheetahs pre-killed meat - they make them chase fish.  What if the school cares about reading and writing skills first in identifying gifted kids?  What if, further, the school documents an inability to sit at their desk and finish their work as a criterion. The little boy that doesn't care about reading because he is busy studying the clock and imagining how different gears might make the hands go at different speeds is basically the cheetah ignoring the fish.  Because, cheetahs don't swim.  Then, the little cheetah that is bored by fish, but fascinated by the ducks that come to the pond will soon be not only passed over by the gifted program - but, passed over by even moderate treatment by the zoo.

We are parenting some cheetahs that hate the pool.  Sure, they aren't much into reading or writing, but they all played competent chess in kindergarten (beating 4th and 5th graders regularly).   You want them to read?  Give the boys a technical manual on construction, building, or sports. Yeah, they don't like coloring, but they can build anything you want out of Lego.  You don't think that they can follow step-by-step instructions?  Instead of having them follow your step-by-step art instructions, you should see how they built the "mini-weapon of mass destruction" from the design manual.  They hate memorizing their times tables, but they've solved algebra problems for our Easter "clue" hunt since they were three.  Sure, you complain that they don't show their work in math, but they don't actually miss any of the answers.  You don't like that they didn't solve the problem using the method you were teaching?  You should realize that they were solving it while you were talking - and, got the right answer using a different method.  Writing sentences about how Suzie "felt" in a book may provoke moans and tears.  But, ask them to explain the importance of "gearing up" vs. "gearing down" and sit back to enjoy the lecture.  They may not remember to bring home the correct books to complete their homework assignments.  But, on the way home, they can disassemble the car's seat belt (the manufacturer didn't think that it could be done).  My kindergartner couldn't remember to take his shoes with him when we left the house, but he explained a graphical model with null cline analysis to my college seniors.

I constantly feel like we battle the ability of the teachers to recognize and reinforce the value of students that have exceptionalities in areas that are not the stalwarts of early education.  The losers here are the kids - their exceptionalities are not valued by anyone at their school. The are learning to hate school - it feels (to them) like hours of uninteresting work punctuated by little or no time out of their seats.

[Image from http://www.hoagiesgifted.org/]
If only we can survive early education - it will be amazing to see where they can go.

The intended audience.

Is the intended audience important when we consider creativity?  How does the audience change the process, the product, and the enjoyment of stretching your brain to see connections, view new perspectives, or represent thoughts or ideas.

While I write this blog primarily for myself, I enjoy the occasional comment or email that it provokes.  But, I am not driven to write here because I want or need your feedback.  This is truly a repository for me.  If something resonates with someone else - that makes me happy.  If no one responds, that is also fine.  I love writing.  But, when I write with a strong audience in mind (particularly my scientific writing), the actual critic that will view my work takes away from some of the pleasure in sharing my findings. 

I dabble in other art forms as well.  I sketch and draw (a common tool of natural historians) as these sketches help me keep structures, forms, and identification straight.  I enjoy photography, both for the aesthetic value of capturing natural moments and capturing the children as they grown and change.  Occasionally I pick up the guitar and try to remember some of what I once knew.  I periodically will pick up paint or other crafty things.  I enjoy doing these activities as an outlet.  But, if I participated with a future audience looming over me, my inner critic gets in the way of the process being enjoyable.

I love to cook.  Finding nutritious and delicious ways to feed myself (and my family) is a joy.  Sadly, our palates do not always agree on what constitutes delicious.  With a terribly fussy youngest child and a super-taster for a husband - I have been somewhat limited here as of late.  Thus, here is another creative endeavor where my process changes when I have an audience.

When you create - how does your audience change the process?

Island Time

I am still having a difficult time re-entering the United States.  I have been in the Bahamas, teaching a course on coral reefs.  While J argues that I seem equally stressed there as here - I argue that it is a different kind of stress.  It suits me more.

Here, I eye my watch (or the bottom corner of my screen) all day long.  When new email pings in, I jump to determine whether I need to respond right away.  I am constantly monitoring Z, to insure that he is making progress in his (eclectic) homeschool assignment du jour.  I am trying to fit my own work in around the edges here (which is probably backwards).  I figure my job will be there for awhile, but Z will grow up and I don't want to miss these moments.  Once the other kids arrive home from school, we start the slog through the day's homework, packing their school things away.  Then, off to lessons, sports, or other commitments.  Finally, we have hungry children to feed, dirty children to clean, dirty clothing to clean, fold, and pack away.  Then, we have tired children to convince to bed.  Thus, only leaving a house to clean (not often), and the various other life forms that depend on us (dog, plants, yard, etc.).  Don't get me wrong - I love it all, but there is always a sense of immediacy.  This doesn't really suit my type B personality.

In the Bahamas, the stress is different.  My watch is less important - there, it is the weather.  I watch prevailing winds, temperatures, and storms to try to fit in all of our activities around the (mostly) unpredictable whims of the weather.  I worry about keeping track of our children and other people's children (my students).  I count heads a lot and try to warn people about risks that are new to them.  

In the Bahamas, parenting is different.  I don't cook or do dishes.  I have a different sense of clean and dirty for the kids' clothing (and my own, frankly).  The kids are busy all day exploring, creating, learning, and living - no homework drudgery.   The kids feed off of the playful energy of the students. The students feed off of the curiosity and unbridled enthusiasm of the kids. In addition to J watching the children, we have a dedicated helper keeping them from killing themselves or each other.  The kids are so exhausted at night that, for the most part, they pass out once their heads hit the pillow.

In the Bahamas, teaching is different.  The class is so compact that the students have a constant sense of urgency - no one gets tired of the day-to-day schedule.  Everything is new and different, which makes it more salient.  The buddy system in the water and their trepidation at the unknown (will there be sharks?  stingrays?  are the currents strong or waves rough?) makes them operate naturally as a team.  We are released from the drama that is associated with our relationships with people out of class.  We are released from the constant pull of electronic communication.

In the Bahamas, introverted folks like me interact regularly with new and interesting people from all over.  And, with the tropical setting and the communal meals - it is easier to get to know people than I find it here.

I returned home to a cold, gray and rainy world.  The kids are sluggish getting ready for school and balk at working on homework.  I know that they are having the same trouble re-adjusting.  How to balance providing compassion for this challenge and the need to make it happen?

Driving me distracted

The federal government is considering whether to force states to outlaw all cell phone use while driving.  While I understand that driving distracted is dangerous, I am not comfortable with this sort of legislation.  I am reasonably comfortable with texting, web-surfing, and typing being outlawed... all of these tasks require both hands and eyes.  But, mental distraction, as in hands-free cell phone use, is not something that legislation can control.

Sure I talk on my phone while driving, but I don't begin to consider that as dangerous or distracting as the other things that I have to do.  If they really want to make me safer on the road, it is time to implement the car-top kid carrier.  The kids really drive me nuts in the car.  They fight, they throw stuff, they moan, and they cry.  They pee in their seats, eat, ask me to look at stuff ("um, no, I'll look at the road instead"), and they drop things.

What else do I do while driving?  I sometimes eat. I almost always drink soda.  I reach for a tissue and blow my nose.  I keep my dog out of my lap, she weighs 70 pounds.  I reach for my sunglasses.

What don't I do behind the wheel?  I never text or read email or websurf.  I don't apply make-up or do my hair.  I don't apply nail polish.  Should we also address the legality of all of these things?  I see people applying make-up behind the wheel all the time.

How about instead of legislation to outlaw distractions, we make people more culpable for damage they inflict by being irresponsible? 

Enabler.

I have a student signed up for a course.  This course is a study abroad offering.  Thus, there is a lot of paperwork and planning required.  Most of this rests on me.  But, there is a substantial amount of planning and preparation that I have to require of the students.

This year, one of my students has, thus far, failed to complete a single piece of this preparation on their own.  His mother has been the main point person on every piece of paperwork, documentation, and meeting.  His mother has finished the papers, sent the emails, contacted me, and sent apologies. 

What will this child do when he gets his first job?  Will she serve as a go-between for his boss?  Will she wake him up so he can get to work on time? 

Kid.  You are in your 20s.  You are a college student.  You want to live "independently".  With that kind of power comes responsibility.

Kid.  It is time to buck up, grow up, and do the right thing.

Mom.  It is time to back off, let your kid face his own consequences, and force your kid to grow up.

I hope that I am never this mom and that my child is never this child.

New technology.

Z is working on a science project that covers innovations.  While discussing the advent of mobile phones, texting, the internet, and email - he suddenly froze.

"How did people communicate before mobile phones?"

"We waited until we got to our destination."

Wow.  Maybe someday I'll blow his mind and tell him about tv that you can't pause (and came only in black and white - with three channels and a roof antenna), phones that all have cords, and music spinning on a big black vinyl record.

Suddenly it makes more sense that I need reading glasses.

Dear Abby thinks "Worst First"

A "working mom in Kansas" asked Dear Abby this morning how old her child needs to be before she can leave them alone at all.  Abby's response can be found here:
http://www.uexpress.com/printable/print.html?uc_full_date=20111208&uc_comic=da

Essentially, her answer is never, because something could happen.

Here is my response...

Dear Abby,


On 8 December, you responded to a working mom that wanted to know at what age a child can be left in the house alone. You responded “I don’t think children should be left alone if there is any alternative…” because “Too many things can go wrong…” This is a classic example of what Lenore Skenazy (www.freerangekids.com) refers to as “worst-first” thinking. Because of rare tragic things that could happen, we will handicap our children’s ability to gain from the many positives associated with this kind of independence. Further, we will handicap this parent’s finances and their ability to shop alone for brief periods of time.

Can you really not imagine any age where a child is capable of being left alone in their home? Not at 8? Or 11? Or 14? Or 17? How is it that these children will learn to be capable adults if they don’t get to practice gaining increments of independence under the (sometimes remote) supervision of their parents or guardians? Is this why, as a professor, I see college students today that are incapable of facing the regular bumps and glitches of daily life without calling on their parents to fix their problems for them?

Perhaps instead of “never”, we can look for indicators that a child is capable of short time periods home alone. In that each child develops differently, the right age for gaining responsibility and freedom will be different. Here is one article highlighting the signs of readiness: http://kidshealth.org/parent/firstaid_safe/home/home_alone.html. After experimenting with leaving them home during short errands, children can gain confidence and earn additional freedoms. Practice can help children gain confidence in solving their own problems on the road to becoming capable adults.

Instead of infantilizing our children due to remote risks, we need to empower them. If you will recall, just a few decades ago, we did that very thing. I was a latch-key kid at nine and babysitting at 11. In the 70’s, this was regular practice. Before you argue that the world was safer then, note that the crime statistics show that life is safer today than it has been since 1970 or earlier. In that time on my own, I learned how to feed myself when I was hungry, how to clean up after myself, how to take care of others, who to call when you need help, and I developed the confidence that I could take care of myself. That experience was invaluable.