Progress is a beautiful thing, no? A girl can struggle to keep up, what with all the horseless carriages around, and those fancy typing machines. Life moves so fast these days!
In keeping with this amazing time of ours, I decided to check out this Facebook thingamadoodle all the kids are raving about. I even made a Hot Water Bath group to record all our collective home food preservation fun.
Seriously, through. Susie J suggested nearly seven years ago that I start a canning-related message board, a recommendation that thrilled and terrified me in equal measures. Now that these crazy youths are willing to do nearly all the work for me at a time when home canning seems to be undergoing a modest renaissance (could it ever be as cool as knitting? Sewing? ), well, the time seems to be right.
I'll still be here, with canning, cooking, cocktails and documentation of my fascinating life's minutia. While I'm doing that, I hope you wander over there. See you?
Showing posts with label work avoidance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work avoidance. Show all posts
Regretably, Outlander was checked out (all six copies) when Brainiac went to the library for me. In its stead he brought me something called Blackthorne Cottage wherein the heroine inherits from a kindly employer a tumbledown cottage in a small (quaint, natch) English village where she sets about to correct some sort of problem vexing the Vicar's property committee while (whilst?) also falling in love with the estate agent who wishes to purchases the house from her for less than its value and whose motives, alas, may not be entirely pure. Or something like that.
Luckily, the cool grey rainy-ness we're expecting over the next several days makes for the perfect environment in which to settle in with exactly this sort of book. With it, Shirley Valentine in from Netflix, and the task of producing a large number of Halloween-themed cupcakes for various kid events set before me I figure I'm in for a very cozy, restorative weekend. My original plan for tomorrow included running around to various purveyors of I don't remember what and a schlep up to Ikea, but no. Plan B, now in effect, dictates going nowhere, buying nothing, resting lots. Better, I think.
Mad props go out today to Jenn who suggested the best use yet for the embarassing excess of green tomatoes hanging out on my kitchen table: chopping and freezing them for use in curries. Ding Ding Ding - I think we have a winner. I've been putting off making the mincemeat because I couldn't really see anyone enjoying it outside of my own satisfaction in making something different (to us) and conquering a new recipe and it seemed like such a waste of food, energy and time to create what might well have been successful only in the abstract. So I am taking Jenn's suggestion and chopping/freezing is exactly what I'm going to do and I'm going to do it tonight - to most of the tomatoes, anyway. Coincidentally, I planned on a curry for tonight's dinner but it never once occured to me to include the tomatoes but you can bet at least a couple will make it into the pot. Fab. Thanks, Jenn.
Luckily, the cool grey rainy-ness we're expecting over the next several days makes for the perfect environment in which to settle in with exactly this sort of book. With it, Shirley Valentine in from Netflix, and the task of producing a large number of Halloween-themed cupcakes for various kid events set before me I figure I'm in for a very cozy, restorative weekend. My original plan for tomorrow included running around to various purveyors of I don't remember what and a schlep up to Ikea, but no. Plan B, now in effect, dictates going nowhere, buying nothing, resting lots. Better, I think.
Mad props go out today to Jenn who suggested the best use yet for the embarassing excess of green tomatoes hanging out on my kitchen table: chopping and freezing them for use in curries. Ding Ding Ding - I think we have a winner. I've been putting off making the mincemeat because I couldn't really see anyone enjoying it outside of my own satisfaction in making something different (to us) and conquering a new recipe and it seemed like such a waste of food, energy and time to create what might well have been successful only in the abstract. So I am taking Jenn's suggestion and chopping/freezing is exactly what I'm going to do and I'm going to do it tonight - to most of the tomatoes, anyway. Coincidentally, I planned on a curry for tonight's dinner but it never once occured to me to include the tomatoes but you can bet at least a couple will make it into the pot. Fab. Thanks, Jenn.
I have finally wrested the computer from Brainiac on the strength of my conviction that one cannot control the remote, the laptop and the satellite radio simultaneously. He loves nothing more than to surf the latest gearhead and/or medical instrumentation news while watching one of those wretched military history shows that feature re-enactments AND computer-generated "footage" of aerial dogfights. No more, I say, one must choose one's media input. We'll see how far I get with this.
Now that I have control of the laptop (which I am using while watching with him a documentary of the Six Day War which, although wrenching in many ways, at least does not offer much in the way in the way of computerized fighter jets - small mercies and all that) I must figure out something about which to write. I am on the record as having hated February and being somewhat non-plussed about March; April and May were merely trying. I am still waiting for June to bring results for my efforts to solve long-standing challenges and so feel a bit at loose ends lately.
So. Here we are. I'd love to share with you my latest project but I cannot because my younger sis reads here and it's all supposed to remain a surprise for now. Or I could show you the dining room chairs I trash picked and am prepping for recovering but that would mean putting the laptop down and leaving the room to get the camera and I cannot risk that the machine would be waiting here for me on my return (Brainiac's corollary to my "one media input" at a time rule is "if you put it down, it's mine" so you can understand my motivation to stay here until he plies me with so much wine that I have no choice but to leave the room). I could tell the story of how I taught the young Ukrainian woman living with us how to make tomatilla salsa - to her sincere and acute alarm, but now that I've come up with all these things I should do but will not I am now exceedingly tired and quite hopped up on Syrah and must attend to other needs. You understand, right?
This weekend we are taking the kids fishing (!) and I am confident that any number of amusing tales will result, and I am also planning to lay in a batch of both chocolate sauce and marinated mushrooms. With luck and the ability to avoid military documentaries, not to mention June taking the turn for which I am hoping, I should have lots to share. Stay with me, will you?
Now that I have control of the laptop (which I am using while watching with him a documentary of the Six Day War which, although wrenching in many ways, at least does not offer much in the way in the way of computerized fighter jets - small mercies and all that) I must figure out something about which to write. I am on the record as having hated February and being somewhat non-plussed about March; April and May were merely trying. I am still waiting for June to bring results for my efforts to solve long-standing challenges and so feel a bit at loose ends lately.
So. Here we are. I'd love to share with you my latest project but I cannot because my younger sis reads here and it's all supposed to remain a surprise for now. Or I could show you the dining room chairs I trash picked and am prepping for recovering but that would mean putting the laptop down and leaving the room to get the camera and I cannot risk that the machine would be waiting here for me on my return (Brainiac's corollary to my "one media input" at a time rule is "if you put it down, it's mine" so you can understand my motivation to stay here until he plies me with so much wine that I have no choice but to leave the room). I could tell the story of how I taught the young Ukrainian woman living with us how to make tomatilla salsa - to her sincere and acute alarm, but now that I've come up with all these things I should do but will not I am now exceedingly tired and quite hopped up on Syrah and must attend to other needs. You understand, right?
This weekend we are taking the kids fishing (!) and I am confident that any number of amusing tales will result, and I am also planning to lay in a batch of both chocolate sauce and marinated mushrooms. With luck and the ability to avoid military documentaries, not to mention June taking the turn for which I am hoping, I should have lots to share. Stay with me, will you?
I've never been one for rebellion. I've also never been one for going-along-to-get-along. My position on most things is that to the extent what I do has no bearing on another, I don't expect comment. I have a pretty strong internal locus of control and don't require much in the way of others' approval. Luckily, Brainiac shares my feelings on the subject of, as he says, the coloring-within-the-lines thing and so we experience very little conflict between us on issues about whether or not we should do or not do X because everyone else does it or doesn't do it.
Does this make sense? What I mean is that we're pretty good at making decisions about stuff on the basis of whether or not it's right for us without worrying if it's not done, too alternative, too mainstream or too whatever. This is not to say that we don't have a sense of community responsibility, just that we'd rather bring our garbage cans in after trash day because it's a desirable thing to do, not because the home owners' association handbook says we must, you know?
There's one issue, though, that is bringing us up short in terms of what is expected versus what we believe to be the best choice for us and it's proving to be harder to manage the more we discuss it, rather than our conversations having an illuminating effect. Real-life friends and relations are sick to death of hearing us talk about it and, for reasons that will become obvious, subject-matter experts cannot be called upon for their objective views. As we have hit a standstill regarding this very large elephant in the room (see it there over in the corner? wearing a lampshade? and chaps?) Brainiac suggested that I take it to the blog, so here I am.
The Boy Wonder is enrolled in a half-day (half-day is a euphamism for 2.5 hours) Kindergarten program at our highly regarded elementary school. He wanted to go on the grounds that it was a guaranteed daily playdate with two of his buddies and has, for the most part, been positive about the experience. Reports back from the classroom (from teachers and other moms) indicate that he is happy and doing well.
But (you knew it was coming, right?) Brainiac and I aren't thrilled with what he's actually doing, school-wise. We're not all in with the Give 'Em Phonics in Preschool crowd or anything, but we've got a kid who started reading (C-A-T cat, S-A-T sat, M-A-T mat) before his fourth birthday and is now doing pretty well with independent reading, who is learning (at his request) how to add double and triple digit numbers, and who thinks that Beowulf is, like, the greatest story ever and read it again Mom! Please understand, I'm not making claims to giftedness or genius or anything like that, merely that he's had the benefit of two fairly geeky parents who spent a loooooong time in school and who have had the time and inclination to bring him and his sister along for the ride.
The activities he's toting home from school bring me up a little short in that I was expecting to have to defend him from too much academics (haven't we all heard that "kindergarten is the new first grade") and instead I'm in the position explaining to him why he's coloring in a picture of the number thirty as part of his math instruction. "Mommy," he said to me not long ago, "I think the plan is that we're going to play now so that we'll have time to learn later in the year."
The school has acknowledged that he is ahead of the curriculum for reading and math and has been quite frank in their plans to do nothing about it. They will not differentiate within the classroom, they will not accelerate, they will not enrich, they will not explain why.
My mother-in-law, a retired second-grade teacher, has pointed out that the kids on either end of the reading and math bell curves tend to join the kids at the top sometime around second grade and has suggested that this may be the basis for the school's disinterest in actually teaching the Boy. Such a norming may be a pedagogical certainty but I think it's actually irrelevant as an explanation - why is it a better educational option to let a kid sit around doing nothing for as long as two years waiting for his skill level to be at the median as opposed to reaching him where he is at the moment? It's clear to us that the Boy is squarely in a gray area where he is one of those kids who can be safely left alone, requiring little attention of any kind. These kids, if they're lucky, reach that top of the bell curve point without hating school as a boring, pointless environment. If they're unlucky, they reach that point with the understanding that being smart and motivated gets you nothing but hassle and make-work. Now there's a lesson I bet isn't in the formal curriculum.
Brainiac and I find this situation sad, angry-making and utterly unacceptable. For his part, the Boy is a little confused as to why he spends his afternoons cutting triangles, learning songs about Mr. M and having his questions about how the intercom system works go unanswered, although he enjoys that it all happens in such a bright and happy environment. He's asked, though, if we could find him another school for next year. "Maybe one that has more science." he suggests.
So. What to do? We're looking at private schools ($15K a year for first grade! and a first grade that's not really better than what we've got), magnet schools and homeschooling. Homeschooling seems to be the best answer, for us and for the Boy. We've essentially been homeschooling him from that moment we realized in the summer before he turned four that he was reading street signs and have continued to respond to his interests with all kinds of books, outings, experiments and activities. He has always responded well and enthusiastically to educational and informative stimuli wherever he finds it.
But man, homeschooling is coloring waaaaaay outside the lines. I have no fear of our ability to provide an excellent and thorough education for our children, none at all. I think, though, that homeschooling comes right up against my ability to do more or less what pleases me, sticks its toe on the line of not caring what people think and dissolving into tears over same and gives me a raspberry. It's one thing to choose a "love me, love my choices" sort of life for oneself but it's quite another to choose it for one's child.
You know, if the Boy Wonder were developing an enthusiasm for some unhealthy thing - a drug, maybe, or not eating enough, I'd move heaven and earth and spend every cent available to me to support him in healing. Why is it so hard to kick what I see as another unhealthy habit - this particular school and perhaps school in general - because it's "what people do". Why am I so afraid to be different about this, to take the plunge, to proclaim loud and proud "we are homeschoolers" when about so many other things in my life I do what I do with no thought or concern as to the general response?
Why is this different?
Does this make sense? What I mean is that we're pretty good at making decisions about stuff on the basis of whether or not it's right for us without worrying if it's not done, too alternative, too mainstream or too whatever. This is not to say that we don't have a sense of community responsibility, just that we'd rather bring our garbage cans in after trash day because it's a desirable thing to do, not because the home owners' association handbook says we must, you know?
There's one issue, though, that is bringing us up short in terms of what is expected versus what we believe to be the best choice for us and it's proving to be harder to manage the more we discuss it, rather than our conversations having an illuminating effect. Real-life friends and relations are sick to death of hearing us talk about it and, for reasons that will become obvious, subject-matter experts cannot be called upon for their objective views. As we have hit a standstill regarding this very large elephant in the room (see it there over in the corner? wearing a lampshade? and chaps?) Brainiac suggested that I take it to the blog, so here I am.
The Boy Wonder is enrolled in a half-day (half-day is a euphamism for 2.5 hours) Kindergarten program at our highly regarded elementary school. He wanted to go on the grounds that it was a guaranteed daily playdate with two of his buddies and has, for the most part, been positive about the experience. Reports back from the classroom (from teachers and other moms) indicate that he is happy and doing well.
But (you knew it was coming, right?) Brainiac and I aren't thrilled with what he's actually doing, school-wise. We're not all in with the Give 'Em Phonics in Preschool crowd or anything, but we've got a kid who started reading (C-A-T cat, S-A-T sat, M-A-T mat) before his fourth birthday and is now doing pretty well with independent reading, who is learning (at his request) how to add double and triple digit numbers, and who thinks that Beowulf is, like, the greatest story ever and read it again Mom! Please understand, I'm not making claims to giftedness or genius or anything like that, merely that he's had the benefit of two fairly geeky parents who spent a loooooong time in school and who have had the time and inclination to bring him and his sister along for the ride.
The activities he's toting home from school bring me up a little short in that I was expecting to have to defend him from too much academics (haven't we all heard that "kindergarten is the new first grade") and instead I'm in the position explaining to him why he's coloring in a picture of the number thirty as part of his math instruction. "Mommy," he said to me not long ago, "I think the plan is that we're going to play now so that we'll have time to learn later in the year."
The school has acknowledged that he is ahead of the curriculum for reading and math and has been quite frank in their plans to do nothing about it. They will not differentiate within the classroom, they will not accelerate, they will not enrich, they will not explain why.
My mother-in-law, a retired second-grade teacher, has pointed out that the kids on either end of the reading and math bell curves tend to join the kids at the top sometime around second grade and has suggested that this may be the basis for the school's disinterest in actually teaching the Boy. Such a norming may be a pedagogical certainty but I think it's actually irrelevant as an explanation - why is it a better educational option to let a kid sit around doing nothing for as long as two years waiting for his skill level to be at the median as opposed to reaching him where he is at the moment? It's clear to us that the Boy is squarely in a gray area where he is one of those kids who can be safely left alone, requiring little attention of any kind. These kids, if they're lucky, reach that top of the bell curve point without hating school as a boring, pointless environment. If they're unlucky, they reach that point with the understanding that being smart and motivated gets you nothing but hassle and make-work. Now there's a lesson I bet isn't in the formal curriculum.
Brainiac and I find this situation sad, angry-making and utterly unacceptable. For his part, the Boy is a little confused as to why he spends his afternoons cutting triangles, learning songs about Mr. M and having his questions about how the intercom system works go unanswered, although he enjoys that it all happens in such a bright and happy environment. He's asked, though, if we could find him another school for next year. "Maybe one that has more science." he suggests.
So. What to do? We're looking at private schools ($15K a year for first grade! and a first grade that's not really better than what we've got), magnet schools and homeschooling. Homeschooling seems to be the best answer, for us and for the Boy. We've essentially been homeschooling him from that moment we realized in the summer before he turned four that he was reading street signs and have continued to respond to his interests with all kinds of books, outings, experiments and activities. He has always responded well and enthusiastically to educational and informative stimuli wherever he finds it.
But man, homeschooling is coloring waaaaaay outside the lines. I have no fear of our ability to provide an excellent and thorough education for our children, none at all. I think, though, that homeschooling comes right up against my ability to do more or less what pleases me, sticks its toe on the line of not caring what people think and dissolving into tears over same and gives me a raspberry. It's one thing to choose a "love me, love my choices" sort of life for oneself but it's quite another to choose it for one's child.
You know, if the Boy Wonder were developing an enthusiasm for some unhealthy thing - a drug, maybe, or not eating enough, I'd move heaven and earth and spend every cent available to me to support him in healing. Why is it so hard to kick what I see as another unhealthy habit - this particular school and perhaps school in general - because it's "what people do". Why am I so afraid to be different about this, to take the plunge, to proclaim loud and proud "we are homeschoolers" when about so many other things in my life I do what I do with no thought or concern as to the general response?
Why is this different?
It appears that comments have gone haywire again. I'll add it to my list of things to worry about and see what can't be done. In the meantime, I've got a new e-mail address. At least I can say I got something done today!
ETA: Wow, look at me go. Comments fixed and even the archives are back. I'd love to take credit but apparently choosing a new template will do this for a person. Now off for more work avoidance to fix my links. Rock on little blogger!
ETA: Wow, look at me go. Comments fixed and even the archives are back. I'd love to take credit but apparently choosing a new template will do this for a person. Now off for more work avoidance to fix my links. Rock on little blogger!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)