“I’m going to loose you to your computer, aren’t I?”
“No, honey. I promise. I just want to get this thing going. It’ll just be a couple of hours.”
“Right. I know you.”
“No, really honey. I just want to get some stuff written up.”
That was Tuesday night as he went to bed. I’d been sitting at my computer most of the afternoon clicking away. Wednesday morning he left for an all-day seminar, and I sat down to jot down a few thoughts. When he returned from the seminar in the evening, I was still jotting. I’d called a one-day vacation, the kids were free to pursue their own pursuits, and I was typing away.
“I knew it. Do we need to hire a maid?”
“No, no, honey. It was just today. I just needed to get this stuff together, now I’ve done it, and tomorrow will be back to normal.”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s Thursday morning. I’ve restrained myself considerably, and have managed to get our usual morning routine started. But, then I got this idea. So, here I am, surreptitiously clicking away while dearest hubby is in the shower. It’ll only take a minute more…
I recently saw an interview with Cornelia Funke, author of the “Inkheart” trilogy. She has a beautiful little writing cottage behind her house, and after sending her son off to school in the morning, she walks back to the cottage and writes (and draws, as she is also an illustrator ). I want a cottage like that. You have to see it to really appreciate it.
Funke described ideas as soap bubbles. If you don’t catch them while they’re floating there, they will disappear and be gone forever, so you have to write them down as they come. If you’re not near a computer, use a paper and pen; if you don’t have paper, be sure to have a pen that will write on your skin. (If you go to see the “Inkheart” movie, you’ll get a little jolt of recognition at the end). If you are a writer, or want to be a writer, then this is what you have to do…write!
The past few days, I’ve been a writer. Not a good writer necessarily, and certainly not an important writer. But, the Muse has visited me. I’m sprawled out on the floor and she’s sitting on my chest blowing bubble after luscious bubble all about my head. I know I really should vacuum and do laundry and make dinner, but there’s just some irresistible force pulling me to the computer. And, I’m too weak-willed to resist.
I also know that if I don’t attend to the Muse while she’s here, she will leave. She’s very fickle that way. She demands your full attention whenever and wherever she cares to show up. And, if she doesn’t get it, then “Pooh on you”, and she abandons you in mid-key-stroke. I’ve gone through so many long, long spells when I have not been inspired to write. Now that I’m inspired, I’m sneaking in every key-stroke I can.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Book Review – The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (Part Two) (TJed)
Can't you just smell the lovely mustiness wafting from this wonderful old volume?
As often seems to happen, there’s been a nice serendipitousness to my studies and our family study time. I began reading “The Wind in the Willows” to the kids right around the time I started reading Stephen R. Covey’s “The Leader in Me” as part of our “Study the Classics” book club (click on “Groups” and scroll down to “Study the Classics”). Being immersed back into the Seven Habits gave me a whole new appreciation for the characters in “The Wind in the Willows”, and you bet I jumped on the opportunity to blend the two during KidSchool. When I asked the kids “Which is your favorite character?” the answer was pretty much “Toad, because he’s so funny.” But, when I asked “Which character do you most want to be like?” the answer was “Badger”. Even if they weren’t sure exactly why, they knew that Badger was the better example to follow, the one they wanted to be more like. In short, the better role model.
Badger is the consummate Leader. He sees what needs to be done and does it, though always mindful of the right time. He is the animal trusted to lead out in Toad’s intervention. His rightness and strength of character inspire respect and admiration in other animals. At the same time, he is infinitely kind and patient (even when, in Toad’s case, we might say it was not deserved). He is brave, forthright, and not afraid to act. He is the living embodiment of moral authority. In direct opposition to Toad.
Oh, my, Toad. What a sad, sad example of an animal. Toad is never responsible for his own actions, always a victim to the whims of the moment, never plans ahead, is completely disorganized, and certainly is not, in any way, humble. Nothing is ever his fault, even when he is clearly guilty of criminal acts. When he accidentally falls into uncommon good luck which inadvertently rescues him from his own ridiculous idiocy, he prances about boasting, bragging and bellowing about what he considers his own greatness and cleverness. Into trouble, he’s blubbering about how Fate has turned against him. Out of trouble, he’s taking all the credit. Definitely not very proactive. Dr. Covey would be horrified should ever Mr. Toad appear in one of his seminars.
We are ultimately left with a small glimmer of hope for Toad. He has promised reform in the past, which has not stuck. But, in the end he shows signs that he may at last be settling down when he chooses to refrain from boasting and bragging at the banquet. One can only hope.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Book Review – The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (TJed)
I recently finished reading “The Wind in the Willows” to the kids. Despite a little initial grumbling about “We already saw the movie” and “Didn’t we already read that one?”, as usual once the story started, they were drawn right in. By the end of the first chapter, they were bellowing “One More Chapter!”
I love this book in large part because of the language. It was originally published in 1908, long enough ago that author still considered eloquence in language not only a noble pursuit, but an essential tool in word craft. The descriptions of the natural world are so tantalizing, they make me want to bolt down the street of my tidy little suburb in search of some Wild Wood to get lost in. I am certain that if I turn just the right corner, it will be RIGHT THERE, waiting for me. I can almost smell it as I turn the pages of my well-worn old hardcover book. Okay, maybe that’s just mustiness; my copy is about fifty years old.
I also love this book because of the character. Not the “characters”, as much as the “character”. Rat and Mole, each in their own unique way, embody goodness, rightness, and the greatest of friendship. When Ratty is tempted to follow the relentless and soul-wrenching call to the South, Mole gently and very firmly holds Ratty until he begins to come back to himself. He begins talking of the beauties of home and hearth and the life that they live, until Rat realizes that he does not truly wish to give up the home that he knows and loves. But, Rat is still despondent, and Mole does not leave him in that state. Nor does he give Rat a “pep talk” to try to get him out of his depression. Mole shows an extraordinary empathy and understanding of his friend by quietly offering Rat a focus and outlet for his restless urgings.
“Presently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and a few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at this friends elbow.
“It’s quite a long time since you did any poetry,” he remarked. “You might have a try at it this evening, instead of – well, brooding over things so much. I’ve an idea that you’ll feel a lot better when you’ve got something jotted down – if it’s only just the rhymes.”
“The Rat pushed the paper away from him wearily, but the discrete Mole took occasion to leave the room, and when he peeped in again some time later, the Rat was absorbed and deaf to the world; alternately scribbling and sucking the top of his pencil. It is true that he sucked a good deal more than he scribbled; but it was joy to the Mole to know that the cure had at least begun.”
I cried when I read that part to the kids. They, as usual, looked at me kind of funny. But, I think they’ve almost gotten used to me tearing up (okay, sometimes emitting a gasping sob) during the really touching, happy or sad parts of stories. There was just something so beautiful in that passage about the friendship and dedication between two friends, and something so deeply touching about one friend knowing the other so well that he could offer, in just the right way, just the right cure to another friend’s woe.
I love this book in large part because of the language. It was originally published in 1908, long enough ago that author still considered eloquence in language not only a noble pursuit, but an essential tool in word craft. The descriptions of the natural world are so tantalizing, they make me want to bolt down the street of my tidy little suburb in search of some Wild Wood to get lost in. I am certain that if I turn just the right corner, it will be RIGHT THERE, waiting for me. I can almost smell it as I turn the pages of my well-worn old hardcover book. Okay, maybe that’s just mustiness; my copy is about fifty years old.
I also love this book because of the character. Not the “characters”, as much as the “character”. Rat and Mole, each in their own unique way, embody goodness, rightness, and the greatest of friendship. When Ratty is tempted to follow the relentless and soul-wrenching call to the South, Mole gently and very firmly holds Ratty until he begins to come back to himself. He begins talking of the beauties of home and hearth and the life that they live, until Rat realizes that he does not truly wish to give up the home that he knows and loves. But, Rat is still despondent, and Mole does not leave him in that state. Nor does he give Rat a “pep talk” to try to get him out of his depression. Mole shows an extraordinary empathy and understanding of his friend by quietly offering Rat a focus and outlet for his restless urgings.
“Presently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and a few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at this friends elbow.
“It’s quite a long time since you did any poetry,” he remarked. “You might have a try at it this evening, instead of – well, brooding over things so much. I’ve an idea that you’ll feel a lot better when you’ve got something jotted down – if it’s only just the rhymes.”
“The Rat pushed the paper away from him wearily, but the discrete Mole took occasion to leave the room, and when he peeped in again some time later, the Rat was absorbed and deaf to the world; alternately scribbling and sucking the top of his pencil. It is true that he sucked a good deal more than he scribbled; but it was joy to the Mole to know that the cure had at least begun.”
I cried when I read that part to the kids. They, as usual, looked at me kind of funny. But, I think they’ve almost gotten used to me tearing up (okay, sometimes emitting a gasping sob) during the really touching, happy or sad parts of stories. There was just something so beautiful in that passage about the friendship and dedication between two friends, and something so deeply touching about one friend knowing the other so well that he could offer, in just the right way, just the right cure to another friend’s woe.
The Children Have Taken Over the Kitchen (TJed)
Tom (9) wants to be a professional chef. This week. Next week, it is sure to change. Yes, he’s in Lol Phase. This week, when I asked him “What do you want to learn about this week?” his response was something akin to “Can we just cook all week?”. “Okay”, I said. I attempted to begin a conversation about meal planning, ensuring we had all the ingredients necessary, etc., but he kind of wandered off in pursuit of a stray thought relating to LEGOs. We’re still working on the “focus” thing.
Now, just for clarification, we have “family study time” each weekday in which I do my best to pull off something resembling “KidSchool” and I read aloud our “family book”; usually a classic the kids have chosen out of my pre-selected selections. In addition to this, Tom and I have an hour each day set aside when I’m available to help him with whatever else he wants to learn. I won’t go into my own expectations about this, but let’s just say that most of what he wants to learn is a bit over my head. Like skydiving, rock climbing, and adobe brick making. (I think I might be able to pull off the adobe brick making; we do live in Georgia, the Land Of Red Clay, after all). So, when he says “cooking”, I’m all over it. That, I can do.
So, on Monday I taught Tom how to make bread. He made a wonderful loaf of bread, and some mighty fine cinnamon rolls, which we all enjoyed.
Today is Tuesday, and he decided to make more bread; twisty bread to go with his Secret Ingredient Chicken Noodle Soup (which he’s been developing for a few weeks now), and Monkey Balls (I think it’s actually called Monkey Bread, but I call it Monkey Balls for sentimental family reasons…but that’s another story). Okay, one child in the kitchen I can pretty much handle. But, while I was “multi-tasking”, addressing a few e-mails on the computer, Tom quietly enlisted his two younger brothers into the dinner-making adventure. The result was a pretty tasty dinner, and this…..
I tried to explain the concept of “clean up as you go”, but it doesn’t seem to have sunk in. And, yes, those are LEGO creations sitting at the far end of the counter....I think they were somehow involved in the dinner making process, but I'm not sure how. Of course, the rule in our home has always been “The cook doesn’t have to clean up.” Let’s see….all three boy were involved in cooking, we only have three children, so clean-up is left to…..hmmmmm.
Please excuse me while I go clean up the kitchen…
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Rediscovering Knitting (TJed)
I've just rediscovered knitting. Not that it was lost, mind you. But, I’ve discovered that I can still knit after many years of not knitting. Kind of like riding a bicycle…it seems to come back to you, even after many, many, many (you get the idea) years.
Now, I was never a great knitter to begin with, and my skills certainly did not magically hone themselves during the long pause between needle flashes. But, my little projects seem to be passable enough. There are three objects somewhat resembling scarves (one for each child), and an item that could pass itself off as a hat if you don’t look too closely. But, the kids don’t seem to mind I’m not a great knitter. That’s the great thing about kids. If you catch them young enough, they don’t seem to be too picky about the details; they’re happy enough with whatever comes off the needles if they can wear it. And the great thing about homeschooling is, the kids my kids hang out with all think that homemade stuff is cool, too, so they don't get laughed at or ridiculed when they show up at Park Day wearing something mom made.
So, here’s Mike sporting my first finished pieces. He picked the yarn, and for him, it’s all about the colors. Not that I can argue with him. There’s just something every satisfactory about knitting with variegated yarn. I love the shocking contrasts of colors (especially in Mike’s selection), and then the unexpected blending and bleeding together of rows. And, every once in a while, you get a very cool pattern that you couldn’t have done on purpose if you’d planned for a month. Mike’s hat has one of those. My husband couldn’t figure out for the life of him how I managed to “make it do that”. I tried explaining I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I also couldn’t explain the magic of variegated yarn.
So, here is my knitting basket. There are three projects in there, because when I “take something up” I can’t possibly do just one project at a time. That would be like reading only one book at a time, and what sane person would ever do that?!? So, there are two more scarves on the needles, black for Tom and red for Will, both about half finished. But I think what will end up being my favorite is my Milkweed Project contribution, the lovely, soft, fuzzy white confection that I hope will be included in the final exhibit. This one is the best to work on while reading (yes, just like my mother, I can knit and read at the same time…I think it’s genetic) because I don’t have to count anything. The scarves (which I have to count) are great to do while watching TV. It’s amazing how many rows you can get done while watching Hamlet (especially Kenneth Branagh’s version).
But, maybe the best thing about this recent spat of knitting is that my oldest son wants to learn to knit. He wants to contribute to the Milkweed Project, so I picked up a couple of knitting looms (of course, I had to figure out how to use the darn thing before I could teach him), he selected a “pound-o-yarn” (yes, they actually sell one pound skeins of yarn…who’d have thought), and he’s gotten a start. He can do it by himself now, and the great thing is that he can do it during family reading time. It gives him the all-important Something To Do With His Hands while I’m reading aloud. Whew. All you out there with BOYS! know how challenging it can be to get them focused and sitting (“still” is not necessarily required) during reading-aloud time. And here I thought I had lost out on the joy of teaching my kids handcrafts, just because they’re all boys. It’s enough to warm a mother’s heart. Just wait until Grandma hears about this...
Info on the Milkweed Project here (because I don't know how to make one of those cool click-on hyper links): http://sticksandstitches.squarespace.com/the-milkweed-project-you-p/2009/1/12/the-milkweed-project-info-and-guidelines.html
Now, I was never a great knitter to begin with, and my skills certainly did not magically hone themselves during the long pause between needle flashes. But, my little projects seem to be passable enough. There are three objects somewhat resembling scarves (one for each child), and an item that could pass itself off as a hat if you don’t look too closely. But, the kids don’t seem to mind I’m not a great knitter. That’s the great thing about kids. If you catch them young enough, they don’t seem to be too picky about the details; they’re happy enough with whatever comes off the needles if they can wear it. And the great thing about homeschooling is, the kids my kids hang out with all think that homemade stuff is cool, too, so they don't get laughed at or ridiculed when they show up at Park Day wearing something mom made.
So, here’s Mike sporting my first finished pieces. He picked the yarn, and for him, it’s all about the colors. Not that I can argue with him. There’s just something every satisfactory about knitting with variegated yarn. I love the shocking contrasts of colors (especially in Mike’s selection), and then the unexpected blending and bleeding together of rows. And, every once in a while, you get a very cool pattern that you couldn’t have done on purpose if you’d planned for a month. Mike’s hat has one of those. My husband couldn’t figure out for the life of him how I managed to “make it do that”. I tried explaining I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I also couldn’t explain the magic of variegated yarn.
So, here is my knitting basket. There are three projects in there, because when I “take something up” I can’t possibly do just one project at a time. That would be like reading only one book at a time, and what sane person would ever do that?!? So, there are two more scarves on the needles, black for Tom and red for Will, both about half finished. But I think what will end up being my favorite is my Milkweed Project contribution, the lovely, soft, fuzzy white confection that I hope will be included in the final exhibit. This one is the best to work on while reading (yes, just like my mother, I can knit and read at the same time…I think it’s genetic) because I don’t have to count anything. The scarves (which I have to count) are great to do while watching TV. It’s amazing how many rows you can get done while watching Hamlet (especially Kenneth Branagh’s version).
But, maybe the best thing about this recent spat of knitting is that my oldest son wants to learn to knit. He wants to contribute to the Milkweed Project, so I picked up a couple of knitting looms (of course, I had to figure out how to use the darn thing before I could teach him), he selected a “pound-o-yarn” (yes, they actually sell one pound skeins of yarn…who’d have thought), and he’s gotten a start. He can do it by himself now, and the great thing is that he can do it during family reading time. It gives him the all-important Something To Do With His Hands while I’m reading aloud. Whew. All you out there with BOYS! know how challenging it can be to get them focused and sitting (“still” is not necessarily required) during reading-aloud time. And here I thought I had lost out on the joy of teaching my kids handcrafts, just because they’re all boys. It’s enough to warm a mother’s heart. Just wait until Grandma hears about this...
Info on the Milkweed Project here (because I don't know how to make one of those cool click-on hyper links): http://sticksandstitches.squarespace.com/the-milkweed-project-you-p/2009/1/12/the-milkweed-project-info-and-guidelines.html
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Tooth Fairie
My sister-in-law has a 9-year old daughter. Like many parents, she has been playing Tooth Fairy for most of her daughter's life, swapping out cash for teeth in the middle of the night. And, of course, there have been the occasional panic-swaps when mom forgot until the child was actually waking up, and the cash had to be slipped under the pillow in the middle of a Good Morning Hug.
Well, the most recent tooth-swap was of the last variety. Mom actually forgot entirely until it was pointed out by the child that the Tooth Fairy didn't show. Mom made up some slick cover, suggested that maybe the cash slipped down between the bed and wall in the middle of the night, or some other fib, but she managed to pull off a last minute swap. However, she was left with the tooth to be hidden in the middle of showering, dressing and getting ready to head out the door (for which these two lovely folks are always running late). So, she stashed it in one of the bathroom drawers.
Some days later, child finds tooth and demands an explanation from mom. Mom pulls the tried-and-true "what do you think" tactic, and daughter comes back with "You are the Tooth Fairy!" Not that mom has been playing "tooth fairy" for daughter all of these years, but that
mom is THE Tooth Fairy for every child on the planet, and she's running around all night swapping out cash for teeth for every child who has lost a tooth the previous day. Which explains why mom is so tired all of the time.
Now, I'm not telling this story to start a debate about whether or not we should be lying to our children and leading them to believe in traditional fictitious characters, or to start up a discussion about the Tooth Fairy. I just wanted to share, because I thought it was really funny. But as an aside, I certainly don't want to be around when this particular strong-willed daughter is finally completely dis-illusioned about the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Angels and/or God. It will not be pretty!
Well, the most recent tooth-swap was of the last variety. Mom actually forgot entirely until it was pointed out by the child that the Tooth Fairy didn't show. Mom made up some slick cover, suggested that maybe the cash slipped down between the bed and wall in the middle of the night, or some other fib, but she managed to pull off a last minute swap. However, she was left with the tooth to be hidden in the middle of showering, dressing and getting ready to head out the door (for which these two lovely folks are always running late). So, she stashed it in one of the bathroom drawers.
Some days later, child finds tooth and demands an explanation from mom. Mom pulls the tried-and-true "what do you think" tactic, and daughter comes back with "You are the Tooth Fairy!" Not that mom has been playing "tooth fairy" for daughter all of these years, but that
mom is THE Tooth Fairy for every child on the planet, and she's running around all night swapping out cash for teeth for every child who has lost a tooth the previous day. Which explains why mom is so tired all of the time.
Now, I'm not telling this story to start a debate about whether or not we should be lying to our children and leading them to believe in traditional fictitious characters, or to start up a discussion about the Tooth Fairy. I just wanted to share, because I thought it was really funny. But as an aside, I certainly don't want to be around when this particular strong-willed daughter is finally completely dis-illusioned about the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Angels and/or God. It will not be pretty!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Autumn Means…Hand-Me-Down Day! (CHE 9/23/08)
The air is turning cooler, the nights pleasantly chilly enough to throw the windows wide open and sleep comfortably snuggled under a light blanket. The kids are asking for their footies, even though they’re still too hot in them at night. Thomas (9) wants to start building fires in the fireplace again. It’s Autumn. And, at our house, Autumn means Hand-Me-Down day. Out comes the trunk full of winter and not-quite-fitting clothes, line up the kids, and figure out who gets what. The kids are jumping up and down, squirming with excitement so much it’s hard to hold up the sweatshirt across the back to measure the arms, or even hold the folded jeans up to a waist to measure the legs. I’ve got my sharpie marker at the ready, adding dots* as needed, creating three piles on the floor. Quick little hands are grabbing items out of the trunk, “My snowman jammies!”, “My fish shirt!”, “My volcano jacket!”, quicker than I can check size and sort them. Everyone grabs an armload of new-old treasures and races off to their room to put them away.
I wore hand-me-downs as a kid. I was never quite as excited as my kids are about it, except on those rare occasions when I got a batch of really fashionable clothes from a well-thought of older family friend. The rest of the time, it was really basic stuff. And I was acutely aware that I was supposed to be ashamed to wear them, because it was a constant reminder of my family’s relative poverty. I knew this because the kids at school and in the neighborhood always reminded me of it. Like an Islamic women’s black burqua draping her in the traditional Muslim color of shame, my hand-me-downs and homemade clothes draped me in shame.
My kids don’t wear shame in the way I did, because they don’t know they’re supposed to be ashamed of wearing other people’s cast-offs. There are no kids telling them they should be ashamed, so they’re not. For them, each new article of clothing is a gift, something their older brother loved, and so they will love it, too. Just as they will love the new clothes they’ll get to fill out their wardrobe, knowing they will one day pass it along to their younger brother. Except, maybe for the occasional ultra-cherished PJ that they just can’t seem to let go of.
Am I ashamed of dressing my kids in hand-me-downs? No, I’m not. We could probably afford to buy all new clothes for each of the boys each season-change, but we chose not to. For me, it’s a responsible thing to do, getting the most use from an article of clothing. It honors the hard work my husband puts in every day to earn the money that supports our family. Unnecessarily spending money on things to feed my own vanity would be dishonoring his efforts and his gift to his family. I’m proud of my kids’ hand-me-downs in a way I was not able to be proud of my own.
So, we’ve completed one Autumn ritual, a sign that the year is turning, and the holidays are right around the corner. The boys will be sporting their well-worn and well-loved britches and sweatshirts and sweaters, in addition to a few new items. And, I am content with the blessings enjoyed by our family.
*For those wondering about the dots, here’s the explanation. We have three boys, with two and three years between each. The older two, particularly, are pretty close in size. So I can keep track of which clothes go with each child when folding and sorting laundry, I started putting dots on the tags of their clothes. One dot is the eldest, two dots is the middle child, three dots is the youngest. When a shirt or pant gets too small for its present inhabitant, I add a dot and it goes to the next in line. Yes, I know, I’m a genius.
I wore hand-me-downs as a kid. I was never quite as excited as my kids are about it, except on those rare occasions when I got a batch of really fashionable clothes from a well-thought of older family friend. The rest of the time, it was really basic stuff. And I was acutely aware that I was supposed to be ashamed to wear them, because it was a constant reminder of my family’s relative poverty. I knew this because the kids at school and in the neighborhood always reminded me of it. Like an Islamic women’s black burqua draping her in the traditional Muslim color of shame, my hand-me-downs and homemade clothes draped me in shame.
My kids don’t wear shame in the way I did, because they don’t know they’re supposed to be ashamed of wearing other people’s cast-offs. There are no kids telling them they should be ashamed, so they’re not. For them, each new article of clothing is a gift, something their older brother loved, and so they will love it, too. Just as they will love the new clothes they’ll get to fill out their wardrobe, knowing they will one day pass it along to their younger brother. Except, maybe for the occasional ultra-cherished PJ that they just can’t seem to let go of.
Am I ashamed of dressing my kids in hand-me-downs? No, I’m not. We could probably afford to buy all new clothes for each of the boys each season-change, but we chose not to. For me, it’s a responsible thing to do, getting the most use from an article of clothing. It honors the hard work my husband puts in every day to earn the money that supports our family. Unnecessarily spending money on things to feed my own vanity would be dishonoring his efforts and his gift to his family. I’m proud of my kids’ hand-me-downs in a way I was not able to be proud of my own.
So, we’ve completed one Autumn ritual, a sign that the year is turning, and the holidays are right around the corner. The boys will be sporting their well-worn and well-loved britches and sweatshirts and sweaters, in addition to a few new items. And, I am content with the blessings enjoyed by our family.
*For those wondering about the dots, here’s the explanation. We have three boys, with two and three years between each. The older two, particularly, are pretty close in size. So I can keep track of which clothes go with each child when folding and sorting laundry, I started putting dots on the tags of their clothes. One dot is the eldest, two dots is the middle child, three dots is the youngest. When a shirt or pant gets too small for its present inhabitant, I add a dot and it goes to the next in line. Yes, I know, I’m a genius.
Friday, March 21, 2008
All the Phases in One Room (TJEd)
Our eight-year old son, Thomas, takes Aikido lessons. Our dojo is traditional, in that it is a place where adults go to seriously study the art of Aikido. But, they also offer training for children three days per week. Watching the children's class yesterday, it occurred to me that this is one of those rare learning environments in which all the Phases are represented, and it was interesting to watch how each Phase approached the class.
The most obvious Core Phaser is the instructor's daughter, who is 8. She has been compelled to learn Aikido because her dad is the instructor, just as she has been compelled to learn cello because her mother plays. She is squirrelly, wiggly, giggly, floppy, inattentive, and clearly not there to be serious. She is often the most disruptive student in the class, but she does usually manage to learn the techniques.
Her 10-year old brother is in Love of Learning Phase. He has also been compelled to take Aikido lessons as well as violin. He seems to be willing to study the art, mostly pays attention in class, always learns the techniques, and is advancing in rank. He does at times slip into goofiness and disruption, but overall he seems to take some quiet pride in being the best student in the class, and is helpful to other students.
Adults, especially parents, are encouraged to join the children's classes, so there are usually between one and three adults in practice. These are generally the Scholar Phasers. They immediately line up when class begins, sitting in perfect seiza, intensely attentive to the instructor. When it is time to practice a technique, they quickly pair up, and practice intently until stopped by the instructor. For every one practice technique the kids do, the adults get in three or four. They are grateful when the instructor gives them personal attention and corrections. They help one another clean up their movements, get the proper flow going, and can often gain a basic mastery of a simpler technique within one practice session. They have paid their money, they have bought their uniform, they've made the time sacrifice to be there usually after a long day at work, and they're going to learn this, darn it!
Every so often one of the "regular" adult students comes in early and participates in the children's class. These are folks who practice at the dojo several times a week, are working toward earning their black belt, and are very serious about studying this art. These are the Depth Phasers. They've got the techniques down, but they continue to practice, practice, practice, to master every nuance of every movement of every technique. They are calmly attentive, have a studied grace of movement, and are very helpful.
The instructor is in Application Phase. He has studied for years, he knows this stuff, and now he's teaching others.
Every so often, Sensei makes an appearance. He's the Impact Phaser. He's been studying most of his life, he still often teaches the serious students, but his most important role is as founder of the dojo. He sees to it there is someplace for students to come study, he puts together seminars to bring Aikidoists from all over, and he makes sure people know the dojo is there for those who are looking to study. Through his committed efforts, he is ensuring that the art of Aikido will continue to be a positive influence in the world. Despite his friendly and occasionally somewhat ruffled appearance when posing as a civilian, when he steps onto the mat, there is absolutely no doubt he is Sensei. He has a very quiet intensity that inspires even the Core Phasers to straighten up and pay attention. Suddenly, everyone around him is performing at a higher level, striving to do a little better.
I am trying to recall any other occasion when I've watched all of the Phases working together in a single learning environment, and I haven't been able to come up with one. So, this was a fabulous opportunity to see the "one room schoolhouse" come together, and then some, and how all of the levels function when in such close relationship to one another. It's gotten me thinking more deeply about this dynamic, and how it will ultimately play out in the context of our own home school.
The most obvious Core Phaser is the instructor's daughter, who is 8. She has been compelled to learn Aikido because her dad is the instructor, just as she has been compelled to learn cello because her mother plays. She is squirrelly, wiggly, giggly, floppy, inattentive, and clearly not there to be serious. She is often the most disruptive student in the class, but she does usually manage to learn the techniques.
Her 10-year old brother is in Love of Learning Phase. He has also been compelled to take Aikido lessons as well as violin. He seems to be willing to study the art, mostly pays attention in class, always learns the techniques, and is advancing in rank. He does at times slip into goofiness and disruption, but overall he seems to take some quiet pride in being the best student in the class, and is helpful to other students.
Adults, especially parents, are encouraged to join the children's classes, so there are usually between one and three adults in practice. These are generally the Scholar Phasers. They immediately line up when class begins, sitting in perfect seiza, intensely attentive to the instructor. When it is time to practice a technique, they quickly pair up, and practice intently until stopped by the instructor. For every one practice technique the kids do, the adults get in three or four. They are grateful when the instructor gives them personal attention and corrections. They help one another clean up their movements, get the proper flow going, and can often gain a basic mastery of a simpler technique within one practice session. They have paid their money, they have bought their uniform, they've made the time sacrifice to be there usually after a long day at work, and they're going to learn this, darn it!
Every so often one of the "regular" adult students comes in early and participates in the children's class. These are folks who practice at the dojo several times a week, are working toward earning their black belt, and are very serious about studying this art. These are the Depth Phasers. They've got the techniques down, but they continue to practice, practice, practice, to master every nuance of every movement of every technique. They are calmly attentive, have a studied grace of movement, and are very helpful.
The instructor is in Application Phase. He has studied for years, he knows this stuff, and now he's teaching others.
Every so often, Sensei makes an appearance. He's the Impact Phaser. He's been studying most of his life, he still often teaches the serious students, but his most important role is as founder of the dojo. He sees to it there is someplace for students to come study, he puts together seminars to bring Aikidoists from all over, and he makes sure people know the dojo is there for those who are looking to study. Through his committed efforts, he is ensuring that the art of Aikido will continue to be a positive influence in the world. Despite his friendly and occasionally somewhat ruffled appearance when posing as a civilian, when he steps onto the mat, there is absolutely no doubt he is Sensei. He has a very quiet intensity that inspires even the Core Phasers to straighten up and pay attention. Suddenly, everyone around him is performing at a higher level, striving to do a little better.
I am trying to recall any other occasion when I've watched all of the Phases working together in a single learning environment, and I haven't been able to come up with one. So, this was a fabulous opportunity to see the "one room schoolhouse" come together, and then some, and how all of the levels function when in such close relationship to one another. It's gotten me thinking more deeply about this dynamic, and how it will ultimately play out in the context of our own home school.
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