My new year's goals for 2013 were to write more and exercise more. I succeeded at the former and failed at the latter. (I didn't exercise more because I was writing so much.)
I'm going to focus on the positive, though. Let's look back at the year's accomplishments:
* Daniel's DI team went to state.
* Eric did well at a state math competition.
* Sam transitioned from "talking like a toddler" to "talking in recognizable, complete sentences."
* Sam is now potty trained. One more to go. I can do this. I mean, Jeff can do this.
* Jeff actually decided to start talking. He is now babbling meaningful phrases, like "Oh, thanks, mom."
* Jon continued to be wonderful and awesome. He says he can't think of a specific accomplishment, but then, he has so little room for improvement. It's so much easier to move from the 48th to the 49th percentile than to move from the 98th to the 99th. In a world where too many people abrogate responsibility, a calm, steady, smart, honest, hardworking, unselfish, quietly funny dad who unobtrusively always does the right thing should be cherished. Thanks, sweetheart.
* Eric and Daniel delivered "The Summer of Harry Potter," a fantastic two months in which they read and re-read the books, analyzed characters, predicted plot points, acted out wand duels, sent "owl post" messages to each other, and taught their little brothers Latin words. It was a glorious moment when the boys both finished book 5 and were then allowed to watch the movie for the first time. In the opening scene, as the Dementors swooped in to attack, Sam, age 3, pointed a chop stick "wand" at the TV and shouted "Expecto Patronum!"--before Daniel Radcliffe said it. What reflexes!
It has been a good year.
For myself, here is a list of what I'm most proud of:
* I stopped whining about "nobody ever giving me a chance to teach" and just decided to make my own opportunities. I started a writing camp for kids over the summer. It was successful.
* Afterward, a chance to lead an elementary math group fell into my lap, and I seized it. So much fun! Isn't it interesting how decisions drive destiny?
* I stopped thinking of myself as a "wanna-be/prospective/someday/future" writer, and started thinking of myself as a "real" writer, now. This happened at the same time I pitched my services to mathleague.org and said "You should hire me to do some technical writing." Something about getting paid to write--even if it is just "soulless procedures"--made it all seem official.
* It wasn't just the paycheck, though. I effected an internal shift. "Adulthood isn't an award they'll give you for being a good child," wrote Lois McMaster Bujold. "You
can waste...years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you,
as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do
enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just... take it.
Give it to yourself, I suppose." I decided to start thinking of myself as a writer. Period. Even if I never get published formally, writing is part of my identity. I can't not write.
* I have forced myself to be more outgoing. Invite people over more. This has met with generally positive results.
I feel like everyone in the family has grown in positive ways. I know I feel like a "bigger" person than I was last year.
Let's see what growth 2014 brings.
Although...actually, what I'd like for 2014 is to see some shrinkage--of my waistline. [Wink]
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Pickets and Picnics and Pigs, Oh My! (Also Bears, My Bane.)
I enjoyed playing legos with my boys today, but people are accusing me of sneaking in a homeschool lesson on a Sunday. You be the judge.
Daniel assigned me to set up a "store" and stock it with merchandise in legoland.
Bear added that he refused to be sold as meat. I suggested that I could sell him as a bear skin rug, instead. He protested. What about bear claws? He still objected. Then I suggested selling bear fat. He began to protest, but I pulled him aside and whispered a business deal: I would help him lose weight, and he would submit to liposuction. He countered that he got to keep 33% of all my proceeds, not my profits. I sighed that he struck a hard bargain, but we shook on it.
Our jars of bear fat were pretty successful. I began marketing them as a cooking ingredient, or a way to waterproof one's boots, or a healing salve for chapped winter skin, or even a method for slicking back one's hair, if desired. I emphasized that this was an animal-friendly, fair trade process, and that no animals were being exploited or harmed.
Soon, however, Bear began demanding a bigger take of the proceeds. I declined, and began hunting for Checkov (Eric's Russian bear) as an alternate supplier. Bear thwarted this idea by organizing a union, though they did sign at the 33% figure.
When the contract was expiring, Bear attempted to use his collective bargaining power to push greedily for a 40% take. I refused.
Next thing I knew, there was a line bears picketing outside my factory. I brought in some pigs as scabs and started mixing bear and pig fat together, changing the labels from "Mommy's 100% Bear Fat" to "Mommy's Bear Fat: 100% Organic!"
The bears shouted some insulting things (and oinks) at the scabs. The pigs retorted "We may be working for only 25%, but at least this way she'll have an incentive to keep us alive; otherwise we'd be murdered this winter.") Bear claimed this demonstrated my unfair leverage over them and made the exploitation worse.
Then Ursa Major crossed the picket line. ("But I have a baby to support!") Bear was furious.
Bear launched a PR campaign to uncover my duplicitous labeling. It turned out my new jars were only about 10% bear fat. (But my labels weren't LYING, darn it!) Still, sales fell off.
After some unhappy financial consequences for both sides, we sat down at the negotiating table again. I agreed to 35%, plus free food to help the bears fatten up again. (They had already been low on fat storage, and the long strike hadn't helped.)
Things have now calmed down considerably, although Ursa Major is still not being invited to the union picnics. ("No picket, no picnic!")
Later, Eric finished his emporium and announced it was "a bricks and mortar store." I couldn't help laughing. They asked for clarification, and I gave a brief--brief!--explanation of the dot-com bubble in the late 90s.
The whole thing was unplanned and unscripted. Really, it felt more like an impromptu bedtime story than a sneaky homeschool lesson. After surviving the dispute with the bears, the last thing I need now is a dispute with my own children.
So, what do my loyal readers think? I'll admit things got out of hand, but Bear totally started it.
I'm still not sure what happened to the pigs...
Daniel assigned me to set up a "store" and stock it with merchandise in legoland.
Bear added that he refused to be sold as meat. I suggested that I could sell him as a bear skin rug, instead. He protested. What about bear claws? He still objected. Then I suggested selling bear fat. He began to protest, but I pulled him aside and whispered a business deal: I would help him lose weight, and he would submit to liposuction. He countered that he got to keep 33% of all my proceeds, not my profits. I sighed that he struck a hard bargain, but we shook on it.
Our jars of bear fat were pretty successful. I began marketing them as a cooking ingredient, or a way to waterproof one's boots, or a healing salve for chapped winter skin, or even a method for slicking back one's hair, if desired. I emphasized that this was an animal-friendly, fair trade process, and that no animals were being exploited or harmed.
Soon, however, Bear began demanding a bigger take of the proceeds. I declined, and began hunting for Checkov (Eric's Russian bear) as an alternate supplier. Bear thwarted this idea by organizing a union, though they did sign at the 33% figure.
When the contract was expiring, Bear attempted to use his collective bargaining power to push greedily for a 40% take. I refused.
Next thing I knew, there was a line bears picketing outside my factory. I brought in some pigs as scabs and started mixing bear and pig fat together, changing the labels from "Mommy's 100% Bear Fat" to "Mommy's Bear Fat: 100% Organic!"
The bears shouted some insulting things (and oinks) at the scabs. The pigs retorted "We may be working for only 25%, but at least this way she'll have an incentive to keep us alive; otherwise we'd be murdered this winter.") Bear claimed this demonstrated my unfair leverage over them and made the exploitation worse.
Then Ursa Major crossed the picket line. ("But I have a baby to support!") Bear was furious.
Bear launched a PR campaign to uncover my duplicitous labeling. It turned out my new jars were only about 10% bear fat. (But my labels weren't LYING, darn it!) Still, sales fell off.
After some unhappy financial consequences for both sides, we sat down at the negotiating table again. I agreed to 35%, plus free food to help the bears fatten up again. (They had already been low on fat storage, and the long strike hadn't helped.)
Things have now calmed down considerably, although Ursa Major is still not being invited to the union picnics. ("No picket, no picnic!")
Later, Eric finished his emporium and announced it was "a bricks and mortar store." I couldn't help laughing. They asked for clarification, and I gave a brief--brief!--explanation of the dot-com bubble in the late 90s.
The whole thing was unplanned and unscripted. Really, it felt more like an impromptu bedtime story than a sneaky homeschool lesson. After surviving the dispute with the bears, the last thing I need now is a dispute with my own children.
So, what do my loyal readers think? I'll admit things got out of hand, but Bear totally started it.
I'm still not sure what happened to the pigs...
Monday, November 11, 2013
In the Manner of the Adverb--Hilariously, Compassionately, Contentedly
Today after homeschool and chores were done, we played "In the manner of the adverb." My thanks to Renae Kingsley for teaching me this game!
I could explain the rules, but you'll pick them up better in context. Let me just describe a few rounds and you'll get it.
I left the room while Eric and Daniel conferred. When they were ready, I came back in. "Eric," I said. "I want you to tap dance in the manner of the adverb."
It was comical to see him trying to tap dance. It was hard, though, to tell how much of the wild gesticulation was due to his mysterious adverb, and how much was due to his inexperience.
Next I asked Daniel to pretend to cook dinner in the manner of the adverb. He walked into the kitchen, picked up various ingredients lying around, and mimed dumping them into a pot. He made a point of mentioning that the pot was dirty, then "threw in" stovetop stuffing, cheesecake mix, various spices, empty jars formerly containing alfredo sauce, pieces of trash...
Finally, I asked both boys to pretend to dig holes in the manner of the adverb. Eric's "hole" was more of a "trench" that careened wildly all over the living room. Daniel comically mimed tossing dirt high into the air, and then flailing about with his shovel when the dirt landed in his face. (I'm pretty sure he "hit" Eric with his imaginary shovel a few times, but Eric didn't react appropriately. Tsk.)
After those three prompts, I had to guess the adverb. I tried "crazily," "randomly," and "wildly" to no avail. If I'd gotten a fourth try, I would have tried "haphazardly." Nope. They stumped me. It turned out their adverb was "untraditionally."
I laughed.
Next Daniel left the room while Eric and I conferred. When Daniel re-entered, he asked me to "build a redstone circuit computer in minecraft in the manner of the adverb." I stood sharply, saluted, and marched over to an imaginary computer screen. "Hmm," I boomed. "Yes, I can see the benefits to having a computer internal to minecraft. We could use it to calculate trajectories. This will require a lot of contract work. It will cost a million dollars and it will be three years late, but the end result will work, mostly. Remember it's vital to national security!"
(I was proud of that improvisation, by the way.)
Next, Daniel turned to Eric. "Eric, tell me what the adverb is, in the manner of the adverb." Eric froze. "You're not allowed to ask me that--" he began, but I pulled him aside. After a whispered consultation in the library in which I coached him, he returned to Daniel, saluted, and said, "Sir. That was an illegal order, sir!" (I wanted him to say "According to the UCMJ", but I figured he wouldn't remember that, alas.)
Finally, Daniel asked both of us to spar in the manner of the adverb. Eric and I began pretending to trade punches, and I started yelling. "You call that a block? You think the enemy will be impressed with your puny efforts, private? Drop and give me twenty push-ups, you miserable excuse for a recruit!"
Daniel said, "I know what you're doing, but I don't know the word for it. It's like you're in the army."
I gave it to him. "The word," I beamed at him, "was 'militaristically.'"
It was fun. Sam ran around, imitating everyone else and getting in the way. Jeff was asleep in the office.
I enjoyed playing with my boys.
Yesterday was hard. It was concurrently Marian's sixth birthday and the yearly kid's program at church.
As I looked at all the cute little girls singing "I am a Child of God" and "Families Can Be Together Forever," I thought "She ought to be up there." I reminded myself that every person has problems in life. Everyone has some heartache, often privately held. He might be facing divorce, addiction, guilt, cancer, infertility, debt, abuse, mental illness. She might be facing a floundering business, a dying parent, an unhappy marriage, a spiritual crisis. If Christ's infinite suffering gave him perfect understanding, surely my lesser griefs can give me expanded empathy for others.
One more reason to be kind to everyone; you never know who is suffering secretly.
Today was better. "You do not betray your sorrow to set it aside for an hour....Remember to take joy." [*1] I have four healthy, brilliant, creative, hilarious boys. Today I played with them. I enjoyed the moment, and then I recorded it for posterity. I chose to be thankful for my blessings, and happy in my circumstances.
In my head, I'm replaying the footage of Eric trying to tap dance "untraditionally." (It looked vaguely like Dick Van Dyke doing "Step in Time" in Mary Poppins.)
Priceless.
[*1 From The Sharing Knife by Lois McMaster Bujold.]
I could explain the rules, but you'll pick them up better in context. Let me just describe a few rounds and you'll get it.
I left the room while Eric and Daniel conferred. When they were ready, I came back in. "Eric," I said. "I want you to tap dance in the manner of the adverb."
It was comical to see him trying to tap dance. It was hard, though, to tell how much of the wild gesticulation was due to his mysterious adverb, and how much was due to his inexperience.
Next I asked Daniel to pretend to cook dinner in the manner of the adverb. He walked into the kitchen, picked up various ingredients lying around, and mimed dumping them into a pot. He made a point of mentioning that the pot was dirty, then "threw in" stovetop stuffing, cheesecake mix, various spices, empty jars formerly containing alfredo sauce, pieces of trash...
Finally, I asked both boys to pretend to dig holes in the manner of the adverb. Eric's "hole" was more of a "trench" that careened wildly all over the living room. Daniel comically mimed tossing dirt high into the air, and then flailing about with his shovel when the dirt landed in his face. (I'm pretty sure he "hit" Eric with his imaginary shovel a few times, but Eric didn't react appropriately. Tsk.)
After those three prompts, I had to guess the adverb. I tried "crazily," "randomly," and "wildly" to no avail. If I'd gotten a fourth try, I would have tried "haphazardly." Nope. They stumped me. It turned out their adverb was "untraditionally."
I laughed.
Next Daniel left the room while Eric and I conferred. When Daniel re-entered, he asked me to "build a redstone circuit computer in minecraft in the manner of the adverb." I stood sharply, saluted, and marched over to an imaginary computer screen. "Hmm," I boomed. "Yes, I can see the benefits to having a computer internal to minecraft. We could use it to calculate trajectories. This will require a lot of contract work. It will cost a million dollars and it will be three years late, but the end result will work, mostly. Remember it's vital to national security!"
(I was proud of that improvisation, by the way.)
Next, Daniel turned to Eric. "Eric, tell me what the adverb is, in the manner of the adverb." Eric froze. "You're not allowed to ask me that--" he began, but I pulled him aside. After a whispered consultation in the library in which I coached him, he returned to Daniel, saluted, and said, "Sir. That was an illegal order, sir!" (I wanted him to say "According to the UCMJ", but I figured he wouldn't remember that, alas.)
Finally, Daniel asked both of us to spar in the manner of the adverb. Eric and I began pretending to trade punches, and I started yelling. "You call that a block? You think the enemy will be impressed with your puny efforts, private? Drop and give me twenty push-ups, you miserable excuse for a recruit!"
Daniel said, "I know what you're doing, but I don't know the word for it. It's like you're in the army."
I gave it to him. "The word," I beamed at him, "was 'militaristically.'"
It was fun. Sam ran around, imitating everyone else and getting in the way. Jeff was asleep in the office.
I enjoyed playing with my boys.
Yesterday was hard. It was concurrently Marian's sixth birthday and the yearly kid's program at church.
As I looked at all the cute little girls singing "I am a Child of God" and "Families Can Be Together Forever," I thought "She ought to be up there." I reminded myself that every person has problems in life. Everyone has some heartache, often privately held. He might be facing divorce, addiction, guilt, cancer, infertility, debt, abuse, mental illness. She might be facing a floundering business, a dying parent, an unhappy marriage, a spiritual crisis. If Christ's infinite suffering gave him perfect understanding, surely my lesser griefs can give me expanded empathy for others.
One more reason to be kind to everyone; you never know who is suffering secretly.
Today was better. "You do not betray your sorrow to set it aside for an hour....Remember to take joy." [*1] I have four healthy, brilliant, creative, hilarious boys. Today I played with them. I enjoyed the moment, and then I recorded it for posterity. I chose to be thankful for my blessings, and happy in my circumstances.
In my head, I'm replaying the footage of Eric trying to tap dance "untraditionally." (It looked vaguely like Dick Van Dyke doing "Step in Time" in Mary Poppins.)
Priceless.
[*1 From The Sharing Knife by Lois McMaster Bujold.]
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Sinister, Subversive Silliness
"Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" She chortled in her joy.
In Daniel's defense, I volunteered him for this primary talk. When word went out that senior primary needed a substitute, I turned to him, asked if he would like to do it, and volunteered to assist with the writing thereof.
In my defense, Daniel agreed promptly. Like me, he generally enjoys giving talks.
In Daniel's defense, he helped outline the talk in great detail. His ideas and examples were excellent and well-organized.
In my defense, he let me draft the paragraph-form version.
In his defense, he didn't have much time to read the thing. I typed it up during second hour of church, printed it from the library computer, and handed it to him right before third hour started.
In my defense, he still had several minutes. And, really, you'd think he'd be more suspicious of his dear, sweet mom by now. I mean, if I handed you a piece of paper and said, "Here, read this out loud in front of fifty people," wouldn't YOU glance through it first for subversive content? Of COURSE you would!!! But then, you are more experienced than a nine-year-old. Poor naif, trusting, innocent, boy...
Here is a picture of the talk:
I added the highlighter in after the fact. It reads, "I want to serve God with my might, so I have decided to do all my chores at home cheerfully, and even volunteer for extras." (Ain't no way I was going to call attention to that language in advance.)
I was curious to see if Daniel would read the talk through before giving it. And if he would notice that wording. And if he would edit out that sentence.
He didn't. He delivered it verbatim.
I have witnesses.
Heck, I have VIDEO. It will join the the burgeoning ranks of mama's blackmail folder.
BWAHAHAHAHA...!
It is a glorious day.
Tomorrow, when I remind Daniel that he is going to help me clean the entire house in advance of his grandparents' arrival, that will be--(hopefully, oh, please, let it be so)--that will be an even better day.
My house is very messy. It's a combination of still working the kinks out of a new chore system, saving money by dismissing the cleaning help I've had the last two years, and starting a new math group. Plus doing some more freelance stuff.
But here's the good news: I weep no more. You can't see my cheshire-cat-sized grin right now, but even if Daniel balks tomorrow, I have this moment. The glories of my victory will carry me through the next several hours of Sabbath-violating cleaning.
It is, indeed, the most frabjous of days.
--I reference, above, "Jabberwocky" and "The Walrus and the Carpenter", both by Lewis Carroll, whose skill with silly poetry rivals that of Dr. Seuss.
In Daniel's defense, I volunteered him for this primary talk. When word went out that senior primary needed a substitute, I turned to him, asked if he would like to do it, and volunteered to assist with the writing thereof.
In my defense, Daniel agreed promptly. Like me, he generally enjoys giving talks.
In Daniel's defense, he helped outline the talk in great detail. His ideas and examples were excellent and well-organized.
In my defense, he let me draft the paragraph-form version.
In his defense, he didn't have much time to read the thing. I typed it up during second hour of church, printed it from the library computer, and handed it to him right before third hour started.
In my defense, he still had several minutes. And, really, you'd think he'd be more suspicious of his dear, sweet mom by now. I mean, if I handed you a piece of paper and said, "Here, read this out loud in front of fifty people," wouldn't YOU glance through it first for subversive content? Of COURSE you would!!! But then, you are more experienced than a nine-year-old. Poor naif, trusting, innocent, boy...
Here is a picture of the talk:
I added the highlighter in after the fact. It reads, "I want to serve God with my might, so I have decided to do all my chores at home cheerfully, and even volunteer for extras." (Ain't no way I was going to call attention to that language in advance.)
I was curious to see if Daniel would read the talk through before giving it. And if he would notice that wording. And if he would edit out that sentence.
He didn't. He delivered it verbatim.
I have witnesses.
Heck, I have VIDEO. It will join the the burgeoning ranks of mama's blackmail folder.
BWAHAHAHAHA...!
It is a glorious day.
Tomorrow, when I remind Daniel that he is going to help me clean the entire house in advance of his grandparents' arrival, that will be--(hopefully, oh, please, let it be so)--that will be an even better day.
My house is very messy. It's a combination of still working the kinks out of a new chore system, saving money by dismissing the cleaning help I've had the last two years, and starting a new math group. Plus doing some more freelance stuff.
"If seven maids with seven mops
swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," sighed the mama, stressed,
and shed a bitter tear...
But here's the good news: I weep no more. You can't see my cheshire-cat-sized grin right now, but even if Daniel balks tomorrow, I have this moment. The glories of my victory will carry me through the next several hours of Sabbath-violating cleaning.
It is, indeed, the most frabjous of days.
--I reference, above, "Jabberwocky" and "The Walrus and the Carpenter", both by Lewis Carroll, whose skill with silly poetry rivals that of Dr. Seuss.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Number Line Protocols
This year I'm helping to start an elementary math group for homeschooled kids, similar to the groups Eric does but on the fourth- or fifth-grade level.
On Tuesday, I tried an experimental "number line" activity. I wasn't sure how well it would work, but the theory seemed sound.
First, I took four different clotheslines, each 50' long. Then I took clothespins, wrote on them in permanent marker, and made four different number lines. One was simple, going from 0 to 50, with each clothespin spaced a foot apart. Another two were harder, with knots or clothespins only 6 inches apart. They covered -50 to +50.
The fourth and final number line dealt with fractions and decimals. Not very many kids wanted to attempt it, but the few who did seemed to "get" the idea pretty quickly that adding .4 + .7 wasn't any harder than adding 4 + 7. There were just dots involved.
(You can argue that I was oversimplifying, and that's a fair criticism. My reply lies in Lockhart's Lament, which argues that formal arithmetic, taught only on paper, kills a kid's intuition for how numbers actually work. The essayist argues that this approach is like teaching a kid "music" only by giving him mind-numbing, abstract theory exercises ("transpose this up three steps") without encouraging him to hum the tune, pick it out by ear on the piano, or compose a variation.)
Several parent volunteers and I laid out the lines in the grass at Girlstart, our fabulous host venue. Here's a picture of some kids attempting a few problems:
There are many things I would like to tweak now that the debut is done. I want to make a new number line where the numbers are spaced further apart and the markers are larger. We were all, kids and parents, inexperienced, but I expect we'll all improve with a little practice. Hopefully by March, children will be bounding up and down like professional bunnies, blithely solving "8 times negative three [flip!] equals...[hop, hop, hop]...negative 24!"
It's a work in progress. I welcome feedback and suggestions. In particular, I wish there were some way to handle multiplying and dividing by negative numbers better. It seems like 8 x (-3) should involve hopping backwards, somehow...
I also have this idea for a color-coded number line, with dots of paint or pipe cleaners representing different ideas. Example: 20, normal; 21, red (multiple of 3), orange (multiple of 7), and blue (Fibonacci number); 22, normal; 23, yellow (prime); 24, red (multiple of 3); 25, green (square number)..."
I was very proud of the kids who were introduced to negative numbers and didn't flinch. I believe in exposing them to big ideas, even if they aren't completely grasped.
This girl did great with it, though, and picked up on the idea immediately:
Some of the parents asked for a copy of my number line rules so they could try something similar at home.
I'm happy to share! Anyone may borrow this for non-commercial, educational purposes. Once again--I get tired of saying this--forgive blogger's idiotic formatting issues. Thanks to my brother, Ronald, for his help working out some kinks, and to Eric and Daniel for helping to alpha-test.
On Tuesday, I tried an experimental "number line" activity. I wasn't sure how well it would work, but the theory seemed sound.
First, I took four different clotheslines, each 50' long. Then I took clothespins, wrote on them in permanent marker, and made four different number lines. One was simple, going from 0 to 50, with each clothespin spaced a foot apart. Another two were harder, with knots or clothespins only 6 inches apart. They covered -50 to +50.
The fourth and final number line dealt with fractions and decimals. Not very many kids wanted to attempt it, but the few who did seemed to "get" the idea pretty quickly that adding .4 + .7 wasn't any harder than adding 4 + 7. There were just dots involved.
 |
| The decimal number line. It ran from 0 through 10. Spread out you see 4.4 through 5.0; halfway through I ran out of clothespins and had to get more before finishing. I face constant tangling and can't wait to upgrade to something better, like large beads. Empty ribbon or thread spools might be even better. Feel free to donate! |
(You can argue that I was oversimplifying, and that's a fair criticism. My reply lies in Lockhart's Lament, which argues that formal arithmetic, taught only on paper, kills a kid's intuition for how numbers actually work. The essayist argues that this approach is like teaching a kid "music" only by giving him mind-numbing, abstract theory exercises ("transpose this up three steps") without encouraging him to hum the tune, pick it out by ear on the piano, or compose a variation.)
Several parent volunteers and I laid out the lines in the grass at Girlstart, our fabulous host venue. Here's a picture of some kids attempting a few problems:
 |
| Why are people walking, not hopping? Ah well, give it time. |
There are many things I would like to tweak now that the debut is done. I want to make a new number line where the numbers are spaced further apart and the markers are larger. We were all, kids and parents, inexperienced, but I expect we'll all improve with a little practice. Hopefully by March, children will be bounding up and down like professional bunnies, blithely solving "8 times negative three [flip!] equals...[hop, hop, hop]...negative 24!"
It's a work in progress. I welcome feedback and suggestions. In particular, I wish there were some way to handle multiplying and dividing by negative numbers better. It seems like 8 x (-3) should involve hopping backwards, somehow...
I also have this idea for a color-coded number line, with dots of paint or pipe cleaners representing different ideas. Example: 20, normal; 21, red (multiple of 3), orange (multiple of 7), and blue (Fibonacci number); 22, normal; 23, yellow (prime); 24, red (multiple of 3); 25, green (square number)..."
I was very proud of the kids who were introduced to negative numbers and didn't flinch. I believe in exposing them to big ideas, even if they aren't completely grasped.
This girl did great with it, though, and picked up on the idea immediately:
 |
| For some reason, the girl sandals at -12 made me suddenly want to do a number line decorated with big, cheerful foam flowers. And not just because I was sick of the cheap clothespins snagging and tangling all the time. |
Some of the parents asked for a copy of my number line rules so they could try something similar at home.
I'm happy to share! Anyone may borrow this for non-commercial, educational purposes. Once again--I get tired of saying this--forgive blogger's idiotic formatting issues. Thanks to my brother, Ronald, for his help working out some kinks, and to Eric and Daniel for helping to alpha-test.
Number
Line Protocols
by
Gail Berry
“Facing
positive” means that you are facing the direction in which numbers get bigger. Start
at 0. If you see 1, 2, 3, 4… stretching out ahead of you, then you are facing
positive.
“Facing negative” means that you are facing the
opposite direction. Start at 0. If you see -1, -2, -3, -4… stretching out ahead
of you, then you are facing negative.
“Flipping” means changing your orientation. If you
are facing negative and then “flip,” you are now facing positive.
Note: Always
start by facing positive. “Flip” from positive to negative only as
indicated below.
ADDITION/SUBTRACTION:
·
Stand
[first number], facing positive.
·
Face
[operation].This means you face “forward/positive”
for addition, “backward/negative” for subtraction.
·
Move
[second value].
Examples:
·
3 + 5, you start at three, face the
positive direction (for addition), and move forward 5, ending at 8.
·
For 3 - 5, you start at 3, face the
negative direction (for subtraction), and walk 5, ending at -2.
·
For 3 + (-5), you start at 3, face the
positive direction (for addition), and walk BACKWARD 5 (for the negative second
value), ending at -2.
Note:
3-5 and 3 + (-5) yield the same result. The only difference is the direction
the kid is facing. Feel free to invite the kid to think about why this is or to
suggest a better protocol.
·
For -3 - (-5), you start at -3, face
negative (for subtraction), and then move BACKWARD 5, ending at +2.
MULTIPLICATION:
·
Start
at zero, facing positive.
·
Listen to the entire problem.
·
“Flip”
once for each negative sign you hear.
·
Jump
[first number], [second number] times.
Examples:
·
For
2 x 4, you start at zero, face positive, and then hop forward by 2s, 4 times.
End at 8.
·
For
2 x (-4), you start at zero facing positive, "flip" so once you're
facing negative, and then hop by 2s, 4 times, ending at -8.
·
For (-2) x (-4), you start at zero facing
positive, "flip" TWICE so you end up facing positive, and then hop
forward in increments of 2, 4 times. End at positive 8.
DIVISION:
·
Start
at zero, facing positive.
·
Listen to the entire problem.
·
"Flip"
once for each negative sign.
·
Move
in increments of the second number.
·
Count
your increments.
Examples:
·
For 15 / 3, you start at zero, face
positive, move forward by 3s, and count how many iterations you move. (“Zero to
three, that’s the first one; three to six, that’s the second; six to nine, I’ve
taken 3 steps, nine to twelve, that’s four, twelve to fifteen, I took five
steps.”) It’s fine to use fingers to keep track of which step/iteration you’re
on. When you reach 15, you have moved 5 iterations, so you say "5."
15 / 3 = 5.
·
For 20 / 3, you start at zero, face
positive, move forward by 3s, and count iterations. You get 6 iterations,
arriving at 18, with a remainder of 2. So 20 / 3 = 6, remainder 2.
·
For (-15)/3, you start at zero, “flip”
negative, move forward by 3s, and reach -15 after 5 iterations.
·
Note: at the moment, I am avoiding
negative division problems with remainders. If you want to try them, I suggest
using decimals. Or having an argument about why it’s “negative
six, remainder two,” not “negative six, remainder negative two.”
VARIATIONS:
·
Crawl,
slither, dance like ballerinas, gallop, “galumph,” saunter, stroll, or imitate
any animal of your choice. For addition or subtraction which involve moving
backward, you could try a crabwalk. For multiplication and division, try “hop
like a frog” (or kangaroo, or bunny, or astronaut on the moon in 1/6th
gravity) or "hop on one foot."
·
Let
the kids assign problems to adults, or to each other.
·
Ask
what happens when you run out of number line? What if the problem is 7 x 8 but
the markers truncate at 50?
·
Try
"skip counting" by a number, starting at somewhere that is not a
multiple of that number. For instance, start at 2 and skip-count by 3s. (2, 5,
8, 11...). Or start at 1 and skip-count by 3s. (1, 4, 7, 10...) See if you can
find any patterns.
Make
your own number line. What if it only counts by 7s or 12s? How would you use
your special number line to solve a problem like 15 + 9?
QUOTE: “Negative numbers aren’t scary. They’re just in the opposite direction.”
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Tortured and "Twitter"pated: Highlight Reel
B-i-l challenged me to do go a week
posting a max of 140 characters per update. He's evil; I'm intrigued. Let the
self-abnegation begin!
(136)
(136)
Week 3 since Bear's disappearance.
Probably sulking, supplanted by the usurper Theodore. More disturbing: Daniel
refuses to mount a search. (139)
August 14
"Twitter" abbreviations r like ancient Hebrew. Old scrolls, no vwls (vowels), ok. But information age? Seriously? Sad language devolution.
"Twitter" abbreviations r like ancient Hebrew. Old scrolls, no vwls (vowels), ok. But information age? Seriously? Sad language devolution.
Gail Homer Berry Tdr--prbbl. Hbrw's jst th mst fms. Pls Jwsh frnds hv mntnd th mssng vwls. & 'v rd abt t n bks. Nd trnsltn? (107)
Translation: Tedra—probably. Hebrew’s just the most famous. Plus Jewish friends have mentioned the missing vowels. And I’ve read about it in books. Need translation?
Gail Homer Berry With vowels, above comment minus last two words would be 134. Saved 27 characters. Worthwhile? Nope. (100)
Just read "Bear's Baptism"
story to writing camp kids using Theodore "Teddy" to act it out.
Ultimate usurpation of poor Bear! Guilt! (132)
Reading Les Miserables. Do we feel
sorrier for the ex-convict raising a teen-age girl, or for the girl being
raised by a clueless ex-con? (137)
[Someone asks if these short posts will become a permanent style.]
Gail Homer Berry [Name]--just for 1 wk. It's an interesting exercise & builds character. Seems I'm replacing quality w/quantity, tho. Feels like a poor trade. (139)
Eric & Daniel have gotten
sanguine about the nightly "lights out/book arrest." Now Sam also
hands over books as soon as he sees me coming.
(138)
(138)
Brian Thomas Now if only your posts had words cavemen like me could understand. (94, including this text)
Gail Homer Berry @Brian: Me hyper-verbal, loquacious wordsmith. You math person. [Gail points] Word woman...math man. Ugh! Caveman capiche? I mean, u get it? (140)
Years ago, I heard a story about a
girl @ BYU Japanese house. Unable to communicate nuanced feelings, she had a
nervous breakdown. Sympathy! (140)
Gail Homer Berry http://www.byu.edu/oncampushousing/flsr.shtml
(Explanation of target language immersion "houses.") (98)
August 16
"I'm not even going potty all the way! I'm only going potty a little bit!" --Gail trying (unsuccessfully) to divest herself of an audience. (139)
"I'm not even going potty all the way! I'm only going potty a little bit!" --Gail trying (unsuccessfully) to divest herself of an audience. (139)
Clint Kimball Almost all of your statuses have been 136+ characters. I
get the sense you're struggling with that upper limit. (112)
Clint Kimball Yeah, I don't feel bad either. I have no problem whatsoever rubbing it in your face that I can use as many characters as I want in my reply. (141)
Gail Homer Berry @ Clint -- HAHA--! [Laughter syllables truncated by stupid rationing requirements.]
(83)
Gail Homer Berry @ Carolyn: Short answer: YES! Long answer: Not if u laugh a lot. Mirth makes me feel appreciated & redeems some joy from this torture.
(134)
Q1: Sociopath?
Q2: 1 pic = 1K words =>Overbudget?
117 +/- approx. 5000
(139)
Translation: Eric built a torture chamber and showed it to me. My first question was “Is he turning into a sociopath?” My second question was, “If I post a picture, and that picture is worth a thousand words, does that mean that I’m way overbudget in my character count?”
I had 117 so far, plus or minus 5,000 more characters if you counted the picture against me. And adding that tally brought my final text to 139 characters.
Gail Homer Berry Lego guy dangles by feet over fire &/or lava while
impaled by cruel guard's saber. (82)
Snoopy: It was a dark & stormy
nite. Suddenly a shot rang out. The maid screamed.
Me: Everybody died & they all lived happly vr ftr.
ARGH!
(140)
Me: Everybody died & they all lived happly vr ftr.
ARGH!
(140)
Matthew Calabresi Sounds like a vague retelling of "Clue: The
Movie"
Gail Homer Berry A demonstration of what we lose by imposing silly length
restrictions. Disciplined brevity is good, in moderation, but so is nuance.
Sigh. (139)
New paradigm: brevity thwarts
decryption. I will embrace this format w/zeal, honoring the tradition that
includes "sighted sub; sank same." (140)
Tressa Winmill Mitchell You know you're almost waxing poetic. You could work this to your advantage.
Gail Homer Berry Practice makes perfect.
Tennyson: 'To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'
Gail: To edit, re-write, cringe, then misspell "shEld."
(138)
As Harry Potter character deaths
mount, I keep offering grief counseling. Boys look bemused and refuse. No
emotional investment! Weird... (137)
"Sam, change out of your
wet...um...Thingies...right now!" [Blanking on "swim trunks"]
Irreversible vocab damage? [Nail biting]
(127)
Irreversible vocab damage? [Nail biting]
(127)
Home stretch: 1) 2.5 days of torture
remain, 2) planning lengthy, loopy, loquacious blog post on it, 3) past
screaming; mostly whimpering.
(138)
(138)
2 gener8 a
plot, I always say,
Just torture karacters. O dire day!
4 now I no exactly how it feels
+ theres no plot, just silly poem peals.
(139)
Just torture karacters. O dire day!
4 now I no exactly how it feels
+ theres no plot, just silly poem peals.
(139)
Translation:
“To generate a plot,” I always say,
“Just torture characters.” O dire day!
For now I know exactly how it feels--
Plus there’s not plot, just silly poem peals.
And commentary:
“To generate a plot,” I always say,
“Just torture characters.” O dire day!
For now I know exactly how it feels--
Plus there’s not plot, just silly poem peals.
And commentary:
I faced
layered irony.
Reading Lois McMaster Bujold taught me something amazing. When I’m writing a fictional story, I think “What’s the worst thing I could possibly do to this character?”—and then I do it.
Reading Lois McMaster Bujold taught me something amazing. When I’m writing a fictional story, I think “What’s the worst thing I could possibly do to this character?”—and then I do it.
And it
works! You get all kinds of interesting and funny results that way. (Bwahaha!)
Now I was doing it to myself. And it worked! I got all kinds of interesting and funny results.
It was uncomfortable, though, and it gave me sudden sympathy for all the characters I’ve ever forced to experience messy minions, asphyxiation, orange polka dots, and long division. If things were reversed, what would they do to me?
This silly poem claimed that I was torturing myself to no good purpose since the exercise wasn’t generating a plot, just bad verse. (And I don’t believe suffering innately confers good karma: taking the epidural does not mean you’re a spiritual cripple who loves your baby less.)
The lack of plot was not entirely true, though. Yes, the length restriction were driving me batty, but I was also enjoying how the challenge was generating an awesome conversation among my friends, and that conversation, plus my “hammed up” suffering, were all becoming part of a greater, funny story.
I was torturing myself and tickling myself at the same time.
Yes, I’m crazy.
Now I was doing it to myself. And it worked! I got all kinds of interesting and funny results.
It was uncomfortable, though, and it gave me sudden sympathy for all the characters I’ve ever forced to experience messy minions, asphyxiation, orange polka dots, and long division. If things were reversed, what would they do to me?
This silly poem claimed that I was torturing myself to no good purpose since the exercise wasn’t generating a plot, just bad verse. (And I don’t believe suffering innately confers good karma: taking the epidural does not mean you’re a spiritual cripple who loves your baby less.)
The lack of plot was not entirely true, though. Yes, the length restriction were driving me batty, but I was also enjoying how the challenge was generating an awesome conversation among my friends, and that conversation, plus my “hammed up” suffering, were all becoming part of a greater, funny story.
I was torturing myself and tickling myself at the same time.
Yes, I’m crazy.
A new dIrectiv: 2 sAv spAs, I vow
2 spel "long vowls" w/capitals, lIk now.
& also swAr that I'l elimin8
rEdundant leters. This'l B so gr8!
(138)
Translation:
A new directive: to save space, I vow
To spell “long vowels” with capitals, like now.
And also swear that I’ll eliminate
Redundant letters. This will be so great!
Phillip Porter And so it begins.
2 spel "long vowls" w/capitals, lIk now.
& also swAr that I'l elimin8
rEdundant leters. This'l B so gr8!
(138)
Translation:
A new directive: to save space, I vow
To spell “long vowels” with capitals, like now.
And also swear that I’ll eliminate
Redundant letters. This will be so great!
Phillip Porter And so it begins.
Gail Homer Berry @ Phillip--so what begins? The rapid devolution of
"twitter/texting" English is already underway, and my insanity is
also well documented. (138)
Matthew Calabresi I feel like I'm witnessing some sort of triumph of the human
spirit, but it's of someone whose only goal in life is to bounce off of padded
walls.
Gail Homer Berry
A padded cell no prison makes
if I have paper, quill,
And no restrictions on their use.
(Plus real food, not swill.)
(117)
A padded cell no prison makes
if I have paper, quill,
And no restrictions on their use.
(Plus real food, not swill.)
(117)
Gail Homer Berry
A second thought--I'd get more done
Without my kids in tow;
But with no reader feedback...?
Nah, I guess that I won't go.
(122)
Gail Homer Berry
@ Matthew--I am laughing, still,
@ comment u just made.
My big regret? My meter changed.
I've played, strayed, prayed, and paid.
(128)
Commentary: It drove me crazy that I switched from straight iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line with alternating accents) in my original poem posts to a pattern of 8/6/8/6 syllable lines, albeit still in iambic feet in the comments. That’s what I mean by my “meter” changing.
A second thought--I'd get more done
Without my kids in tow;
But with no reader feedback...?
Nah, I guess that I won't go.
(122)
Gail Homer Berry
@ Matthew--I am laughing, still,
@ comment u just made.
My big regret? My meter changed.
I've played, strayed, prayed, and paid.
(128)
Commentary: It drove me crazy that I switched from straight iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line with alternating accents) in my original poem posts to a pattern of 8/6/8/6 syllable lines, albeit still in iambic feet in the comments. That’s what I mean by my “meter” changing.
Carolyn Homer Thomas I feel like Brian and I should have also imposed a "no
non-standard abbreviation" limit on you, too. I HATE l33tspeak with a
fiery passion.
Gail Homer Berry
I hAt it 2! But how else cud
I skwEz a 4-lIn stanza
In2 restrictions u impOzd?
Cant soar, just glide. Lufthansa!
(112)
Translation:
I hate it, too! But how else could
I squeeze a four-line stanza
Into restrictions you imposed?
Can’t soar, just glide. Lufthansa!
Commentary:
Well, obviously “Lufthansa” was a stretch. I was trying to evoke imagery of a majestic bird hobbled by a clipped wing, or a sleek airplane hampered by silly governmental regulations. Something that should be soaring but is just managing an awkward glide. I was also desperate for a rhyme.
It's also true I hated the "mixed cAs" spelling. Awful. And obnoxious. Another sad compromise.
At no point, though, did I ever say "wood of" instead of "would have." i hav sum standerds
I hAt it 2! But how else cud
I skwEz a 4-lIn stanza
In2 restrictions u impOzd?
Cant soar, just glide. Lufthansa!
(112)
Translation:
I hate it, too! But how else could
I squeeze a four-line stanza
Into restrictions you imposed?
Can’t soar, just glide. Lufthansa!
Commentary:
Well, obviously “Lufthansa” was a stretch. I was trying to evoke imagery of a majestic bird hobbled by a clipped wing, or a sleek airplane hampered by silly governmental regulations. Something that should be soaring but is just managing an awkward glide. I was also desperate for a rhyme.
It's also true I hated the "mixed cAs" spelling. Awful. And obnoxious. Another sad compromise.
At no point, though, did I ever say "wood of" instead of "would have." i hav sum standerds
Carolyn Homer Thomas considering you had another 30 characters with that one,
I'm pretty sure you could have done it.
Gail Homer Berry
That last one, true. I did it to
Annoy you, natcherly,
But pause and think: though it pained you,
the "scorched earth" burned, more, me.
(136)
Gail Homer Berry
Some "triage" principles apply
to all my verse, I fear.
If I must change 1 vowel, then
perhaps I /all/ should shear.
(116)
Commentary: I did consider, seriously, capitalizing even words where it was unnecessary, like “mE” and “hE”, just for uniformity. I refrained. Aren’t you proud of me?
Clint Kimball If it were me I would have truncated your original post to:
"I've got it! I'll replace long vowels with capital letters and eliminate redundant characters! (95)"
Then again the truncation would defeat purpose of the post in the first place. Hmm...
Gail Homer Berry @Clint:
Two motivations have I: first,
From all this pain, make art;
The second--it's ignoble, aye--
To others, pain impart.
2 Ne 2:27
(136)
Commentary: I’m particularly proud of that one. I think it was the favorite poem I wrote that week.
The scripture reference is about how Satan is selfish and “seeks to make all men miserable like unto himself.”
It’s petty and cruel and I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I will confess I took an unholy pleasure in spreading the suffering around. And it DID help me feel better.
As Alcatraz Smedry would say, “I am not a nice person.” Also “Authors write books for one, and only one, reason: because we like to torture people.”
Yup.
If U cud undrstand my prEvyus pOms,
I pity U, mE, languj & al tOms.
The rIming is such fun thO; I intend
2 kEp it up 'til I or English rend
(140)
I pity U, mE, languj & al tOms.
The rIming is such fun thO; I intend
2 kEp it up 'til I or English rend
(140)
Translation:
If you could understand my previous poems,
I pity you, me, language, and all
tomes.
The rhyming is such fun, though; I
intend
To keep it up ‘till I or English
rend.
I've hit my stride! I'm writing
terse, cute odes.
Just ten. More. Hours. Pray I don't expl--
Just ten. More. Hours. Pray I don't expl--
Aftermath:
I survived!
As an over-reaction, I wrote a loquacious blog post about how I'm normally:
+Articulate with adverbs, appreciative of allomorphs, authoritative on articles, antsy at antecedents, and even ardent about aspectful auxiliary verbs.
+Babblish*, even with bound morphemes.
+Chatteritive*, using classifiers in compound-complex clumps of clauses. Copiously circumlocutious...
...and on through the alphabet.
Then, just as I was regaining some equilibrium, I spent many hours doing some very dry technical writing. That threw me off-kilter again.
At the moment, I am still experiencing some severe over-corrections, like babbling maniacally. (More than usual. And I heard that.)
I am confident that I'll return to "normal" Gail style...any day now.
I survived!
As an over-reaction, I wrote a loquacious blog post about how I'm normally:
+Articulate with adverbs, appreciative of allomorphs, authoritative on articles, antsy at antecedents, and even ardent about aspectful auxiliary verbs.
+Babblish*, even with bound morphemes.
+Chatteritive*, using classifiers in compound-complex clumps of clauses. Copiously circumlocutious...
...and on through the alphabet.
Then, just as I was regaining some equilibrium, I spent many hours doing some very dry technical writing. That threw me off-kilter again.
At the moment, I am still experiencing some severe over-corrections, like babbling maniacally. (More than usual. And I heard that.)
I am confident that I'll return to "normal" Gail style...any day now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)