school Archives - Page 11 of 21

Apr 13, 2011

Geek Squared

When I graduated from high school, family and friends all asked the same question that every university-bound teen is asked: “What will you be majoring in at college?”

I’ll admit that they were disappointed when I told them elementary education, or maybe liberal arts.

At my graduation party, there were a lot of whispered conversations between my relatives and my mom. “But why THAT?” “She’s selling herself short.” “She’s got so much potential in other areas.”

And then my mom: “I know. But I can’t force her.”

Everyone expected me to become a scientist. Or maybe a doctor. Anything related to the sciences, really. Truth is, I was a whiz at math and science.

Math (other than geometry, which I still have problems with) was a breeze, and even my math teacher was impressed at my speed with calculus proofs. The math award was given out to one senior each year who had the highest math grade for all four years of high school, and that year I was the recipient.

Science was equally simple as long as I avoided physics. (Geometry getting in the way again.) I scored a perfect score on the science portion of the ACT. Chemistry equations were like a second language to me. Some classmates considered me a snob for not helping them balance chemistry equations, but it wasn’t that I didn’t want to help them – I just couldn’t really explain how I did it. I’d try to explain, they’d still be confused, and then at some point the phrase “It’s easy to see” would slip out of my mouth and they’d storm away.

Yep, I was the perfect nerd: good at math and science, poor at sports, and socially awkward. You can guess how many parties I got invited to, and chess club doesn’t count.

But back to college: I wasn’t interested in being a scientist, and becoming a doctor sounded like it would take forever and be boring. I wanted a new challenge, so of course I jumped right into areas where I often did poorly, beginning with elementary education (I wasn’t good with kids), then switching my major to theatre (yes, I have panic attacks on stage) and finally ending with a BA in History, which happened to be my “worst” subject in high school. I didn’t switch majors because I found the others hard – I simply wasn’t as interested and kept trying to find my passion. Or maybe I only wanted to pursue topics that were hard for me.

Of course, a degree in history isn’t very useful if you don’t pursue graduate school, and after one quarter of a dull graduate school experience, I quit. I had a natural talent in technology, so I worked for several years as a technical writer for e-learning courses. My abilities in the sciences came in handy for that job.

I’ve since gone back to school and have that science degree in nursing. I think my family is a little more accepting of my career at this point, if only because my job options are a little more secure. And while I resented their opinions in high school, I’m lucky that I grew up surrounded by successful women who believed that a girl could do well in science. I never experienced any expectations based on gender other than their hopes that I wouldn’t let gender stereotypes hold me back.

As the mother of two daughters now, I can already see their strengths emerging. Cordy has a natural ability with patterns and numbers, while Mira is curious about the world around her and wants to know how everything works. I’ll continue to encourage them in learning about their world, embracing technology, and developing a love for science, just as I was encouraged as a child.

And if they want to pursue degrees in art and classical mythology someday? I’ll try to remind the relatives that they’re free to do what they want.

—
This post was inspired by my friend David Wescott and his call to bring together mom bloggers and science bloggers for his #scimom project. If you want to join in, go visit his blog and learn how!

Filed Under: geek paradise, me me me, memories, school ·

Jan 14, 2011

Giving In

By Christina ·

When it comes to school lunches, we prefer to pack for our daughters. I’ve seen Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, I know how nutritionally deficient most school lunches are. French fries and ketchup count as vegetables – don’t even get me started on ketchup packets where tomatoes aren’t the first ingredient. Everything is breaded and fried and/or processed and prepackaged. The school menu looks like one processed food item after another, filled with artificial ingredients, fat and sodium.

Packing lunch has never been hard for Cordy. She’s a creature of habit who generally avoids new foods. And so every day she is thrilled to eat her PB&J, goldfish crackers and Annie’s fruit snacks. She even turns her nose up at chocolate milk because it’s different. (And we’re not about to try to push her on that, either.) She comes home each day with an empty lunchbox and usually a little peanut butter still on her mouth.

Mira is another story. At the beginning of the school year, she was thrilled to have a packed lunch like Cordy. She carried her lunch bag with pride, pointing out her name written in Sharpie on the top. But then she arrived at school and saw what the other kids were eating. And she saw the chocolate milk. She begged for chocolate milk – after all, chocolate ice cream was great, so chocolate milk must be awesome, right?

Even though she didn’t pay for a lunch, her teachers started giving her small cups of the chocolate milk because they always had extras. We frowned on it, but didn’t outright forbid it, and quickly learned that her teachers – like so many others – aren’t immune to her charms. So she started drinking chocolate milk with lunch.

But then I noticed she’d come home from preschool and some of her lunch was still in the bag. Sometimes she’d walk in the door and immediately tell me she wanted to eat her goldfish crackers, so I figured she was simply saving them for an afternoon snack. Occasionally I’d see notes from the teacher that she ate some of the school lunch, too, and they didn’t mind because they always have extras. Okaaaaaay then.

Over the past few weeks, though, Mira has come home with most of her lunch still tucked safely in her lunch bag. It’s frustrating to have to throw away an entire PB&J sandwich, and Aaron (who makes the lunches in the morning because I’m at work) was getting increasingly angry with her. He decided to try a different approach, thinking that maybe Mira wants more variety in her lunch. He began asking her each morning what she wanted for lunch, and then packing her requests. We hoped this would solve the problem.

However, earlier this week she brought home a salami and cheese sandwich, untouched, along with her other lunch items. Despite asking for it that morning, she decided not to eat it and ate the school food again instead. Throwing another wasted sandwich in the trash, Aaron declared that he was done making lunches for her. I agreed.

I’m a little surprised at how easily I agreed to let her eat the school lunch. But I can’t stand to see the food that we pay so much money for wasted every day. It still makes me cringe to think of some of the foods she’s eating. The little comfort I have is that, unlike Cordy, Mira appears to have no food sensitivities to artificial ingredients, so at least the junk food doesn’t affect her behavior.

She’s a stubborn three year old and she’s found how to get her way on this issue. (Please don’t think she gets her way with everything, though. Her pout and fluttering eyelashes have only limited power on Aaron and I.) She manipulated her teachers into letting her eat the school food even though she had a perfectly good and delicious lunch in her bag each day. And she pushed us to the point where we have given up and stopped packing her lunch.

She won. Or at least she won one battle. She’s already upset that she can’t take her Thomas the Tank Engine lunch bag to school anymore, and I’m not giving in on that. There’s no point in taking an empty lunch bag to school.

Sigh. I can already tell Mira is going to be a challenge as she gets older. I only hope I can convince her to use her master powers of manipulation for good, not evil.

T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

Filed Under: healthy living, Mira, school ·

Oct 29, 2010

Finding the Right Fit

By Christina ·

Earlier this week I sacrificed my morning sleep time for Cordy’s annual IEP meeting. (If you’re not a special-needs parent or don’t understand the letters, the link provides more info.) These meetings always stress me out. I trust her teachers to give accurate information on Cordy’s abilities, but I always worry that they’re not pushing her hard enough or we’re not pushing hard enough to get more services for her. But then I worry if I set up unrealistic expectations that Cordy will fail and suffer as a result.

So I always arrive at these meetings conflicted and nervous. Add in 20+ hours of no sleep (from working the night before) and I probably looked like a crack addict at this meeting.

It started with her teacher telling us that Cordy is incredibly smart. This was the running theme of the entire meeting, so get ready to hear it a lot in this post. She’s testing at a 1st grade level for reading and executing 2nd grade level reading work in the classroom. Her math skills are advanced. She’s getting individual instruction in her special-needs classroom and is attending a mainstream kindergarten classroom for a few hours at a time three days a week.

Social skills, of course, is where the problem lies. She can be disruptive and shriek or scream if she has to do something she doesn’t want to do. She has trouble transitioning from one activity to another. And she’s not very good at making friends – she sometimes gets confused and doesn’t know what to say when talking to other kids.

When it came to planning out academic goals, the teacher had none in mind because she’s already well beyond her kindergarten curriculum. I pointed out that if Cordy is doing so well, it’s my goal that she continue to be pushed academically – to stay ahead of the curve. If she has trouble socially, I’d rather her at least be advanced academically so she has something to keep her self-esteem up.

The mainstream kindergarten teacher came to the meeting as well, and told us that Cordy is doing great when she’s there. We knew this, though – Cordy always tells us how much she likes going to that room, and describes having good dreams at night of getting to visit that class.

Of course, one goal I wanted to see in her IEP was more mainstream time. They said they would work on that gradually, and committed to start including her in art class with the mainstream class. They’re also going to try letting her sit with the other kindergartners during lunch – this is a big deal because there are no adults sitting at the table, so she’d be on her own in an unstructured social minefield. I suggested that they arrange to let her sit next to one of the kids she knows, so at least she doesn’t feel surrounded by strangers.

Finally, the principal of the school joined us at the end of the meeting. She again told us how impressed they are with how smart Cordy is, and mentioned that they would like to explore the possibility of formally testing her for the gifted ed program. The challenge for this is that Cordy must test without any accommodations – no extra breaks, etc – or the scores won’t count. This is problematic because Cordy doesn’t have a lot of patience for being tested. She likes to do schoolwork, but she hates having to prove what she knows.

The principal said they could seek an exception to have independent testing done in place of the standardized testing. Then the testing could be done on her own time, in her own way, and with people she’s comfortable around.

It all sounded great, but then I asked what sort of programs they had for gifted students. (Assuming she tested into gifted, which is not a guarantee.) They told us that due to budget cuts and new state guidelines, they actually don’t have any gifted ed programs until fourth or fifth grade. What’s the point of rushing to get her tested then?

The only truly frustrating part of the meeting (other than my trying to stay awake) was the realization that even if she’s fully mainstreamed next year, they still aren’t sure what to do with her. Should she be in a mainstream first grade class, she’ll likely be ahead of the curriculum for reading and math. Keeping her in the class for these subjects would be letting her down academically, but sending her up a grade for these subjects might then introduce more problems with transitioning and new situations that could get her put back into a special-needs class.

There doesn’t seem to be an ideal situation. OK, well, I suppose there’s homeschooling or a private Montessori school, but those require either me to not work as much or us to make a lot more money, respectively. At the moment, both options are not available to us.

It probably wouldn’t upset me as much if I didn’t partially understand what Cordy is facing. I was never in a special-needs class, but I did test into gifted ed as a kid. I had to go up a grade level for reading class, and I hated feeling out of place with the older kids. In my own class, I was constantly bored and I had trouble connecting with my peers. The only time I ever enjoyed elementary school was the one day a week I got to spend in the gifted education class. I was in a much smaller class, I was challenged, and I genuinely liked the coursework and the other kids I was with. But that gifted ed program started in second grade, not fourth. If I had to wait until fourth grade, I might have been a lost cause by that point.

Part of going to school is learning to put up with other people and situations you don’t always like. But I can’t imagine that every kid felt the same as me in school, and I don’t want my daughter to go through that as well. If she’s as smart as they believe she is, she’s going to need a lot of support to stay challenged and interested in school. Aaron and I can provide some of that at home, but we can’t be at school with her every day.

So the meeting generally left me feeling even more uncertain about Cordy’s education. There’s a lot of good going on, and quite a lot of possibilities, but just like my daughter I want something a little more concrete. There are some good options, but if there’s an ideal option, I’m not seeing it at the moment.

To sum up: I’ve got a smart, socially-awkward little girl who doesn’t fit the system. I think we can all now agree that she is most certainly MY daughter.

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy, growing up, memories, school ·

Sep 16, 2010

You Know Your Kid Likes Her New Preschool When…

By Christina ·

…she is comfortable enough with her surroundings to settle in on one of the couches for a quick nap:

(photo – and sweatshirt/blanket, I’d guess – courtesy of her teacher)

Mira started her new preschool last week. Her teacher, the much loved teacher that Cordy had for special-needs preschool, has won over the second born as much as she did the first. Mira is absolutely thrilled to go to her afternoon preschool class and comes home each day with stories of all of the cool new things she did that we don’t let her do. (Like use scissors.)

But having a full day of school – with morning preschool at one location and afternoon preschool at another location – is affecting her nap schedule. She doesn’t have the ability to nap in the afternoons now, leaving her a grumpy mess by dinnertime. The situation above hopefully won’t be a trend, and she’ll either adjust or learn to sleep when being transported between schools.

Ask Mira if she’d rather nap or go to school, though, and she’ll quickly tell you she’d rather be at school. My little one insists on growing up as fast as possible despite my efforts to stop her.

Yet when I come home in the mornings, she still makes me “I missed you” cards (even though she slept while I was at work) and sometimes cries when it’s time for daddy to take her to school. It breaks my heart, but it also confirms for me that no matter how fast she tries to grow up, she still can’t avoid being my baby.

Filed Under: growing up, Mira, school ·

Sep 8, 2010

Please Forgive The Bragging

By Christina ·

I know it’s generally considered bad form to brag. And bragging about how your kid is a genius is probably near the top of the bragging no-no list, right up there with “I can lift way more weight than anyone in my gym” and “I had my baby in 45 minutes with no epidural and it didn’t hurt at all.”

So if you don’t want to read about how smart my kid is, I understand. But you’ll miss out on some Cordy art and a great story from her at the end of the post.

We received a call from Cordy’s teacher today. When she started the call with, “I wanted to see how things are going with Cordelia at home,” I immediately braced myself for the bad news of how she was misbehaving at school or some other unwelcome announcement. Calls home from school never end well.

Instead, she went on to tell me that they have completed all of the screening assessments on Cordy to know just where to begin with her, and she wanted us to know the full results.

According to the standardized test, Cordy reads at a second grade level. Second grade! Not only can she read at that level, but her comprehension of what she reads is equally impressive. I confessed that I had no idea she could read that well, but I credited a lot of it to the Columbus Metropolitan Library’s Summer Reading Club this summer, where she really took to the idea of reading every day.

Before that, she often treated reading like it was a forbidden activity, doing it quietly in a corner or in her room. When you asked her to read something to you, she protested and acted like she couldn’t read at all. She still refuses to read out loud, but her teacher has reached a compromise where Cordy reads at a whisper so she can still be evaluated.

Beyond reading and comprehension, she also knows most of her numbers and can handle basic addition and subtraction. Money is the one area she still fumbles with, but that will come with time. Still – addition AND subtraction!

(Have I mentioned that we’ve never really taught her much of this? She hates being taught and prefers to pick it up on her own.)

The teacher told us they were all so impressed with her abilities, remarking that she and the aides often forget that Cordy is only five years old and in kindergarten. She expects that if Cordy’s social skills can improve, she’ll be in a mainstream classroom full time next year, and also said it’s probable that Cordy will be given the educational label “twice exceptional” – special needs and gifted – which will also give her access to the gifted ed programs.

I wasn’t expecting so much praise over the phone. It’s obvious Cordy has charmed her new teacher and staff just like she charms everyone she meets. The kid has a talent for making everyone love her.

So yeah, I’m a wee bit proud of her today. My warrior princess continues to amaze me every day. So often I feel like I’m never doing enough for her, and there are many times when I feel like I just don’t know what to do with her. But she’s seemingly oblivious to my worries and shortcomings, learning and growing and doing it all her own unique way.

Speaking of her unique way, I promised some art and a story, didn’t I? To go along with today’s phone call, Cordy’s teacher sent home a few of the assignments Cordy has been working on in the past week. I had no idea she was writing full sentences now.

The cats are real pets. The bunny is Sammy, aka the GIANT stuffed Miffy doll that has been her best friend for over two years now.

(Translation: The boy is going down the slide. He is happy.)

And finally, the story. Cordy spends nearly every evening in the kitchen by herself (and she INSISTS on being ALONE!) “making up stories.” We hear her mumbling to herself as she paces and hops and flaps back and forth along the kitchen floor. When she goes to bed at night, too, she often stays up for hours making up more stories.

The few times I’ve convinced her to tell me one of her stories, I’ve been treated to an amazingly wild stream-of-consciousness story that usually involves characters from several different TV shows all together in one psychedelic Nick Jr. mash-up.

I begged her to let me record one of her stories today, and she grudgingly approved. It isn’t nearly as long or as detailed because she was nervous about the camera being on her (and I was trying to make it as inconspicuous as possible, hence the brilliant shaky-cam cinematography), but it’s a small glimpse of what goes on in that brilliant little mind of hers.

Our next blogger, perhaps?

Wonderpets Save the Train (from the Vampire) from Christina M on Vimeo.