There’s more than one way to learn to read.  Actually what I mean is that there’s more than one way to read.  I think we’re pretty clear that there’s more than one way to learn.  But people actually read differently.  Some never get the hang of sounding out, for example.  Sylvia Ashton-Warner built a whole system of literacy teaching around choice and recognition of words.  Here’s a link to a post with an excerpt from her book Teacher as well as a lengthy bio.  The book is worth reading for anyone interested in learning of any kind for any reason.  Another related resource is Katie Johnson’s book Doing Words which describes the method she developed based on Sylvia Ashton-Warner’s work.

From Teacher: “Organic reading for beginners is not new; it’s our rejection of it that’s new.”

It’s been a lot of years since I first read Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences; I’ve started reading again from the beginning, with Frames of Mind (1983).  It amazes me that such a compelling argument for widening the scope of what we consider worth recognizing, acknowledging, developing in young people can have brought us such a short distance from where we were when he first published this book.  If you haven’t read it, especially if you’ve got a kid who doesn’t seem compatible with the traditional school offerings of our time, I’d recommend you have a look.

It’s early August, and I’ve started hearing from parents as they gear up for another school year (whether or not their kids will be in school).

When September starts to loom, if it hasn’t been going well (whatever it might be; math last year, getting promised projects done in July, reading, finding the apprenticeship with the right person), it can suddenly feel like time to do something, and quick.

And the doing something can look lots of different ways, and can yield results that are or aren’t what you’re actually after.

Here’s my early August invitation.  Before you take action, get clear with yourself about the what is really important to you when it comes to your kids.  What really matters?  What really matters now, and what will likely matter later?  How do you want things to turn out?

That simple inquiry can profoundly affect the choices you make about what actions to take and what actions to not take.  Actions that are in synch with your actual commitments and values are more likely to move things in the direction you want them to move.

Sometimes the behaviors that drive you crazy when your kids practice them on you (in particular, resisting and generally refusing to comply without inquiry) are the very ones you want them to implement when faced with situations involving pressure from their peers or other sources. In those other unpredictable situations you want them to be discerning.  You don’t want them to follow without question. What’s annoying when it’s done to  you could well be a boon when it turns up at a party or behind the wheel - in the face of the unpredictable.

And it’s easy to point out the difference in the situations; you know that what you’re trying to get them to do is in their best interest (at least you have decided it is).  And they should be able to tell the difference.  But the point is that their parents are the only ones kids can safely practice on, so it’s actually quite wise, and a relief, that they at least begin with you. If you won’t honor the inquiry implicit in their resistance (as distinct from engaging in a power struggle about it), they’re likely to give up on practicing, or take their practicing elsewhere.

I’m trying to create a practice of not writing about books until I finish reading them, but I’m not particularly patient when it comes to this sort of thing, so I thought I’d just mention that I’m reading The Genius in All of Us, by David Shenk, in case it sounds interesting to anyone else.  So far, I’m learning a lot about how we came to think the way we do about intelligence and what’s possible for humans in general.  Probably compelling reading for anyone with an interest in how and what kids (specific ones or all of them) do in the world. Let me know what you think.

A 9 year-old said to me the other day “I’ve never seen anyone do long division except in school.  I’ve seen multiplication and subtraction and addition, but not long division.”

Indeed.  Why exactly are we still belaboring it?  And belaboring it is - it’s not just that we’re still teaching it.  We’re insisting on many many repetitions of it, insisting on the remembering of the procedure, insisting on the procedure itself.  I looked up belabor in the dictionary, to be sure I wasn’t overdoing it here.  All of the definitions I found match experiences I’ve seen kids having (and heard parents reporting) as a result of long division in school and at home.  Here’s a quick definition compilation:

to discuss repeatedly or at length; harp on

to attack with blows; hit, beat, or whip (!)

to explain or insist on excessively

to assail verbally

to explain, worry about, or work at repeatedly or more than is necessary

If you’re convinced that long division is necessary, or anything else you find yourself immersed in that might otherwise fit the description, then by all means, carry on.  I’m not anti-labor; it can be tremendously rewarding and useful.  But if any of these definitions fit your experience of long division or anything else, particularly more than is necessary and/or explain or insist on excessively,  I invite you to reconsider.  Why belabor it?  Is it worth what it’s costing you (and any other belabor-ees)?

I love my digital camera.  Honestly, it takes better pictures than I deserve to be taking with my limited photographic skill.

The thing I can’t stand about it is that it’s designed to decide by itself what to focus on.  It’s supposed to be smart this way.  Even if something’s not in the middle of the frame, if the camera thinks it’s the most important thing, it’ll choose it.

Our relationship to children and childhood is a little like this at the moment.  We’re looking at kids through an auto-focus mechanism in which a preexisting force determines what we should look at, and thus not only what we’re able to see clearly but what we decide to put our attention on and pour our resources into. The things we know to look for and look at include reading or not reading, remembering multiplication facts or not, paying attention during the school day or not, getting in fights or not, doing homework and chores cheerfully or not.

The things we don’t tend to look for or see are the things about kids that are already beginning to determine and predict what they actually have to offer and what might make them thrive.  We might notice in passing, but we don’t give our attention to these things, because we’re busy with what the camera wants us to look at.  We don’t see the hints as to what activities and tasks kids are best-suited to, what kind of social situations are most comfortable for them and thus bring out their most pro-social behavior, what kinds of work they’ll likely be able to thrive at and sustain as adults.  Even though it’s right there in the frame.

What might change if you made the switch to manual focus?  What would you see?  Who is your child already, beyond the ways in which she doesn’t excel in school or other activities?  What does she do for hours at a time (exclusive of those things she does out of exhaustion or resistance)?  When is she full of vitality?  Who are the people who bring out the best in her?

You’ve seen your child’s brilliance and capacity, but you may also have been encouraged in this way to think of it as peripheral.  What if you moved it to the center of the frame, and let the rest get fuzzy as you go to work on honoring, validating, developing the brilliance and capacity that’s already there?