There’s a sign outside the neighborhood elementary school that clarifies the school’s policy on taking off jackets at recess.  (It’s been balmy the last few days.)  Children in grades K-2 are to keep their jackets on, children in grades 3-5 may take them off.

I’ve watched many battles over jacket-wearing, and I don’t quite understand it.  When kids get cold, they usually (in the absence of actual thermostatic dysfunction, which the reading I’ve done suggests is extremely rare) act quickly.  And they’re not usually quiet about it.  Getting their needs met is not something children tend to take lightly.

So it’s a little strange that we decide to try to regulate their temperatures for them.  To me it seems like a recipe for not learning how to regulate various things for yourself in much the same way as scheduling meals and eating regardless of hunger can teach kids to eat when they don’t need to and shouldn’t.  We tell them they’ll be cold, if they don’t wear a jacket, though we have no idea how they’ll actually feel because their hormonal makeup is entirely different from ours. (As each of ours is from everyone else’s.)  They don’t get the chance to find out whether they’re hot or cold, how many layers they need, whether they need a jacket or not.

If it’s too warm to be wearing a coat, left to their own devises, kids know.  And similarly, if they’re too cold, they can put coats on.  We say these things, like “wear a coat or you’ll be cold,” with good intentions, but they don’t always hold up under inspection.  When kids resist, it’s worth a look to find out what the source of their resistance may be…

A popular way to teach vocabulary is to issue a list of words and then instruct kids to look them up, write them in a sentence, record the part of speech, and complete a variety of other related tasks.  Often we give them blanket tasks to perform for all the words even when the tasks can’t be applied to some of the words.  (Adjectives with very specific meanings like “indentured” that don’t really have antonyms, for example.  I heard a child suggest “someone who has to work for their own servant?”)

Kids mostly glaze over at this kind of assignment.  Particularly if it’s a regular part of their school or homework, they just slog through it.  Kids who can’t make sense of the definitions, and this is a lot of them, come away with at best a vague understanding of a few of the words, at worst thorough but inaccurate understandings.  Dictionary definitions are not written for people who have been reading for only a few years.  They’re written with great formality, and by formula, so as to be consistent.  Unfortunately the form renders them nearly unreadable to young readers.  (Not to mention that it exposes a great hypocrisy.  Kids are told not to use a word in its own definition, but the dictionary, it’s OK for the dictionary to do that (and don’t try to tell them that what we meant was they couldn’t use the exact form of the word in its definition; they know that’s not different).) The dictionary ends up feeling like just another club kids aren’t invited to be a part of.

But I digress.  I went looking for an online dictionary that might be written such that it conveyed for at least some words a degree of meaning that could be ascertained by a typical 10 year-old reader.  Here’s the best I found, Scholastic Word Wizard.  Pronunciations, definitions, synonyms, antonyms (where possible), and often a sample sentence.  The pages are mostly unencumbered by advertisements, which can’t be said for most online dictionaries I’ve found.  If you’ve found a better one, please let me know and I’ll pass it on.

A recent New York Times article apparently inspired some chatter about book choice for young people. Here’s Nancie Atwell’s clarification of her approach and her response to some of the criticism.

Last weekend’s episode of This American Life had me a little nervous for a few minutes, as NPR correspondent Adam Davidson set out to convince his cousin DJ that dropping out of college was the worst possible thing he could do in an economy like this one. It’s not so much that I’m in favor of dropping out of college, but I was worried about yet another argument for the necessity of a college education. I know plenty of folks who’ve thrived at least in part thanks to their college educations, but plenty more who in my opinion have thrived without one, or in spite of the one they did complete. There’s plenty of agreement out there in the world with the notion that college is the only access to success, wealth, happiness, and it’s not been my experience that that is the case. So susceptible am I to frustration on this particular topic, I was tempted to turn the episode off. I didn’t, and the spot didn’t disappoint. Davidson enlists the support of Georgetown professor of economics in his quest to talk his cousin back into college. Her response surprises him, and all three participants in the conversation come away with new perspective…

The Roscoe Riley series has recently lit up one of the reluctant readers I know, so I figured I better include a quick mention, though I’m sure it’s probably already popular with most library-frequenters.  My young reading friend shared a passage that had us both chuckling, in which Roscoe describes his fractured femur as a “busted leg.”  Roscoe’s narrative voice (thanks to author Katherine Applegate) feels spirited and authentic.  The stories seem to revolve primarily around school, where Roscoe finds himself to be something of a trouble magnet.  Each book in the series has as its subtitle the cautionary tale told inside: Never Swim in Applesauce, Never Swipe a Bully’s Bear, Don’t Tap Dance on Your Teacher, Don’t Swap Your Sweater for a Dog, Never Glue Your Friends to Chairs, and the latest Never Walk in Shoes that Talk.  The chapters are short, and there’s plenty of white space on the pages.

I picked up a copy of a local parenting magazine yesterday and found this refreshingly unbiased article about the choice to school or homeschool.  The magazine is published in and about Maine, so the specifics about guidelines don’t apply elsewhere, but I wanted to pass along the article anyway.  I don’t often encounter a piece that’s laid out this way, with the tone suggesting that no educational option gets the distinction of being The Right Thing to Do. 

I narrowly missed reading a great book this week. I’d requested Turning Learning Right Side Up from interlibrary loan, but glanced only passingly through its pages before deciding it was too academic and heady for me to read. I’ve grown impatient, over the years, with the likes of these. They take too long to get to the point, I tend to stereotype. Fortunately, for some reason, I gave this one a chance. Read more