Everything I Need to Know I Probably Didn’t Learn in Third Grade

The other day, my nine-year-old daughter, Grace, sent an email to my husband and I, as well as to her grandparents. Since she is just nine, those are the ONLY people with whom she is allowed to have email contact. Still, she is so enamored with having her own account that we are often treated to her random thoughts for the sake of her being able to send a message. This was one of the most recent:

I cant believe I’ve started long division so soon. In thierd grade I learned so much, like… science, multiplication, division, and now you know, long division. I won’t know if this is right or wrong until i’m older, but…WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO LEARN?????!!!!! I’ve already learned addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and long division. When do I use this stuff in my life anyway, besides school? But I geuss I should Know how to do this, just in case.

When do I use this stuff in my life anyway? 

Every teacher everywhere has heard that question before. I actually just heard it from a fellow parent regarding the aforementioned long division as we chit-chatted during our sons’ baseball practice. Her daughter sat next to us, trying to trudge through two more homework problems before being allowed to play on the playground. Part of me sympathized with her frustration. My own daughter has been struggling with the demon that is known as long division, and homework time has dragged on with a lot more whining and overly-forceful erasing. And whining. Did I say whining? Because there is whining. And that can only lead to a passive-aggressive Facebook post from me:

Dear Long Division,

I did not like you much when I was a kid. I still don’t like you much as a parent. I’m starting to think “United we stand, divided we fall” was really an outcry against any homework focusing on you.

Love, English Nerd

It is sometimes hard to justify why learning certain things are important, especially when your child does not always see you using those specific skills in your everyday life. You, after all, are probably the first model your children look to as a barometer of what adulthood will be like. And hey, if you’re doing just fine without long division, why should they have to learn it? It also does not help matters when mom and dad can not quite seem to answer those “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” questions.

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Grace all dressed up to “teach.” She was very thorough in her research on how to look like an educator. She even asked me, “Mom, how did you wear your hair when you were a teacher?” In a spinster bun, naturally.

Just last week, I got to be Billy Madison. In case you don’t know who that is, he is a character played by Adam Sandler, who, as an adult, had to repeat grades one through twelve in order to take over his father’s business. I, on the other hand, only had to repeat third grade, and my teacher was none other than my daughter…and the rest of her class. “A Day In Third Grade” was a way for her and her friends to demonstrate to their parents what they have learned during this school year. And I was worried I would show my daughter on an even grander scale how much I do not remember from grade school, further demonstrating just how little retention of the the third grade curriculum is necessary for success later in life. I mean, we are talking about me, the woman who ran into some trouble helping Grace with her FIRST GRADE math homework.

Sure enough, my old nemesis long division reared its ugly head as one of the lessons, along with spelling, grammar (which I DOMINATED), a test on natural resources (on which my b.s. answer of “we would die” to the question “what would happen if we didn’t have trees?” was counted as correct), and an incredibly anxiety-inducing timed math game.

My daughter and her partner taught a lesson on cursive. Cursive? There are schools out there still teaching cursive? Doesn’t that seem a little archaic in this technological day and age? I know several schools in our area have done away with teaching cursive. But I am thrilled my daughter’s school still does. I’m even begrudgingly happy about the whole long division thing. And I will tell you why.

Educational standards are constantly coming under scrutiny in order to make sure our children are learning the skills they will need to succeed later in life. I have seen more and more emphasis on things like technology, which has pushed out many skills now viewed as passé, like cursive. Handwriting in general doesn’t seem all that important either, seeing as how so much of our daily communication happens electronically. And there is only so much time in the school day.

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Textese doesn’t look so lazy if you write it in cursive. (photo credit: fung.leo via photopin cc)

Yet I would argue that my children are receiving a gift by going to a school that still believes in teaching things like cursive. But not because I think cursive itself is that important. Heck, I don’t even use cursive anymore, in favor of printing. However, I worry that we are becoming a society who cares so much more about the product than the process. If the product itself is not crucial, then it can be easily tossed to the side. But the way I see it, even if we may not end up using the product, the process is still incredibly valuable. Things like teaching cursive help children master a skill. They learn to practice over and over to make perfection. All this technology we use automatically makes many things perfect for us. How is that good for developing brains? How does that encourage growth? How does that foster the idea of learning for learning’s sake? How does that contribute to future generations of culturally literate populations?

I may not use cursive anymore, but those hours at a desk with a freshly sharpened pencil and a sheet of lined paper, repeating the curves and bends and flows of letters, was the beginning of a realization that I could train my hand to do better. And every time I sit down to create an illustration, or pipe a decoration onto a cake, or create something for someone I love, I know how to control my movements. More importantly, I know it is not always going to be perfect the first time. If I want a desirable product, I have to pay attention to my process.

That is also what I console myself with when I sit with my daughter, helping her remember each and every God-forsaken step of long division. Even that little awkward mathematical outcast, the remainder.

And it is why I spent my day in third grade as an attentive and enthusiastic student.  I wanted my daughter to feel like what she has been learning this year is valuable, even to someone who does not directly use all those lessons on a daily basis in her grown-up life. After all, it is much better to have a well-stocked reserve of information floating around in your brain, as Grace pointed out in her email, just in case.

Still, I am doing a happy dance that this is the last week of school before summer vacation. I need a homework break. Because you know fourth grade is going to pick up with fractions. Those little bastards are always ‘effing with me.

•••

By the way, my dad was the first to reply to Grace’s email with one sentence. And as is my dad’s way, his response spoke a simple, no-nonsense truth that could not be negated by even the girl who once justified that, even though we live in the center of the country, her biggest fear was getting her arm bitten off by a shark because she might one day live in Hawaii:

Grace,

You need to know long division in case your computer or calculator is not working.

Papa

Boom. *drops mic and walks off stage*

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How Real Love Stories Go

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photo credit: Forty Two. via photopin cc

It’s four minutes to six. We’re sitting at a blinking yellow stoplight, waiting to make a left turn to get to baseball practice. I’m watching the steady stream of oncoming traffic, feeling new muscles tense at the thought of running behind, coming off the heels of piano. If I could just get them there, I can go home and enjoy some solitary moments while making dinner.

There is bickering coming from the backseat. By most respects, they’re still small people; their voices should be small. But they aren’t. They’re big, and relentless, and grating. Those voices fight for the attention I should be paying to the road. Why are they doing this? Why are they continuing to do this after I have repeatedly asked them to stop? They clearly have no idea.

They have no idea that while they’re bickering about Grace not sharing her lollipop with Michael, I’m fumbling in my purse for the pair of socks my son needs to wear with his cleats…socks he doesn’t even realize he needs. And cleats he needed to be reminded to bring.

They have no idea that while Grace was practicing piano, I was sitting in my car checking calendars and scheduling our lives.

They have no idea that while they were having an after-school snack and neglecting my “x amount of minutes until we leave” warnings, I was readying piano books and baseball gear. Like that pair of socks.

They have no idea that while shuttling them home from school and being blinded by the sun, I realized I left my sunglasses on the field as I tried to video-record Michael’s outdoor May ceremony earlier that day. And in my haste to get to the ceremony on time, I had neglected to put on sunscreen, resulting in a rosy pink sunburn on my shoulders.

They have no idea that the reason I was leaving at the last minute to get to the May ceremony was because I was trying to finish a freelance job I picked up for extra money. Extra money my husband and I hope to use to take the family to Disney World.

They have no idea that I lost precious working time this morning when I went up to school for an event Grace’s class was having, only to find out it had been rescheduled for two days later…and Grace had simply neglected to inform me of the change.

They have no idea that every morning when I check my schedule, most of it is directly related to them. And now I’m sitting here, trying to make a left turn in rush hour traffic, and I’m the only one concerned that we are going to be late for one of their activities. Right now, all they seem to care about is hating each other, ignoring my pleas for silence, and that damned lollipop. They have zero appreciation for anything I have done for them today.

Then I see it. A small opening in traffic. If I can squeeze through and make this turn, we might just get to practice on time. But can I make it? Those cars are coming awfully fast. But the sooner I get there, the sooner I can hand them over to someone else. And I can have time to myself. I think I can make it…

…But if I don’t make it, time to myself may be all I have left. And when I check my schedule every morning, I might only be able to wish all of it could be directly related to them.

In an instant, getting to practice on time doesn’t seem to matter. And neither does the fact that they’re still arguing over a lollipop instead of marveling at the sacrifices I make for them everyday. Because I still get to make sacrifices for them. There is no way in hell I am going to let the last thing I ever hear from them be a pointless fight or the last thing I feel for them be extreme annoyance.

So I let the light turn red. I let the clock tick past six. And they still have no idea.

But that’s how real love stories go.

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My Big Announcement: “I’m Cheating On You”

Some of you may have noticed I have been a little distant lately. Phoning it in with archived blog posts. Not reading or commenting on the works of my fellow bloggers. Failing to dazzle you with my freakishly vivid childhood memories as part of the Remember the Time Blog Hop. I understand that all good relationships need to be nurtured, and I am not really doing my share over here. And it is time you knew the reason why…

I have been cheating on you. Artistically speaking.

I would like you all to meet the pair who has been on the receiving end of most of my creative energy lately:

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Rough copy of the cover

This is Lulu and Milo. They are the starring characters in my very first children’s book, Absolute Mayhem. The story is complete, and I am currently working (very painstakingly, I might add) on the illustrations.

This book has been a dream years in the making, and while I am closer than I have ever been to making it a reality, it sometimes still feels I am eons away from completing it. I have even had second…and third…and fourth thoughts about sharing just this little bit of it with all of you. Because I can’t say exactly when Lulu and Milo will be ready to fly. I fall in love with these two crazy kids more and more each time I make the curves of their over-sized heads or put the sweet circles of rose in their cheeks. So I want them to be perfect when I send them off into the world.

Thankfully, their first introduction to anyone besides my family and a few close friends was pure deliciousness. My son’s Kindergarten class had been working on a storytelling unit, and his teacher asked if I would bring in my sketches so the children could see the creative process of writing and illustrating a book. And since a bunch of five- and six-year-old kids are pretty much my exact target market, I figured this would be a brilliant way to get some valuable feedback.

And feedback I got. The kids were engaged, curious, and gave the sweetest, yummiest compliments I could have ever hoped for. One little boy raised his hand and simply said, “I think your drawings are beautiful.” I pretty much melted into a pool of maple syrup. They asked intelligent and thoughtful questions about the writing and illustrating processes. I was as impressed with them as they seemed to be with my book.authorvisitmontage

But guys, that wasn’t even the best part. After I had spoken to all four Kindergarten classes, I walked out with my son to the lunch room and sat with him while he ate. Kids kept coming up, asking me for hugs and saying hello. The next night, his school had a movie event, and again, kids would run up to me and say, “Hey! I saw you! I know you! You’re the book lady!” I felt like an honest to goodness celebrity with the bestest littlest cutest most huggiest fans ever. And I promised those kids that Lulu and Milo would be out to play with them soon.

So now you know where my priorities are for the moment. I have some kindergartners to answer to. I am still going to try really hard to post here once a week…but don’t be surprised if archived posts pop in now and again. (Or if any of my blogging buddies want to help a girl out with some guest posts, just let me know!) I am still going to try really hard to visit the other blogs I love and read the awesome things you all have to say…but don’t be surprised if I fall short now and again. (At any given moment, I have open tabs with blogs I hope to get to later that day. Some of those tabs stay open for weeks.) But when it comes down to it, Lulu and Milo need me more right now.

So I am hoping you all will stick with me. I know blogging is a fickle business, so I haven’t been surprised by my recent declining stats. It is what it is. But I would love for you to keep your eye out for more updates on Lulu and Milo sprinkled in between my regular nonsense. In addition to the blog, I will be keeping my Facebook and Twitter accounts abreast of book happenings as well (but let’s be honest. I’m mostly just on Facebook. Whenever I open my Twitter feed, I just get anxious and overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy over my apparent tweeting disability).

OH, and since I have nothing else going on, I have also decided to officially make my editing services available to a wider market. I have been quietly doing freelance editing as a side dish, but have now taken the plunge to make it more of a main course. You can find more information on my Editing Services page.

As a final note, I love you guys, and thanks for being such supportive cheerleaders. You always make this a fun little party space.

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Baby Changing Stations in the Men’s Bathroom: Gender Stereotypes and The Sister-Brother Relationship

Snips and snails and puppy dog tails, that what little boys are made of. Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what little girls are made of. 

Nowadays, we do not find it very enlightened to pigeonhole boys and girls in such a manner. Yet despite society’s ever-increasing openness to gender bending, many children still come to embody the stereotypes, even in the absence of labels or coaching. I see it on a daily basis as the mother of one girl and one boy. My daughter and son also clearly notice the disconnects that sometimes occur because of their differing genders. Continue reading “Baby Changing Stations in the Men’s Bathroom: Gender Stereotypes and The Sister-Brother Relationship”

The Firefly Effect: The Disappearance of Childhood

This archived post has been on my mind lately. Maybe it is the promise of warmer weather. Maybe it is the recent articles I have read about whether or not parents should try to manufacture magic for their children. Maybe I have just been feeling more intensely the constant taunt that the childhoods of my children are as impossible to grasp hold of as one of those willy water snake toys you could always find near the cash register at K•B Toys. Regardless of of what brought this post back to the surface, I took it as a sign to breathe a bit of new life into it…

“Hey look! A firefly!” Continue reading “The Firefly Effect: The Disappearance of Childhood”

Hi. My Name is Kelly. And I’m a Trend Killer.

A few months ago I wrote about my plan to dethrone the Rainbow Loom and offered multiple suggestions for new, cost-free, eco-friendly fads. Little did I know I needn’t spend all that creative energy trying to end the trend of jewelry made from glorified orthodontic rubber bands. I had unknowingly already set that wrecking ball into motion with the simple act of purchasing the Rainbow Loom.

Continue reading “Hi. My Name is Kelly. And I’m a Trend Killer.”

Similar Tastes: A Letter to My Daughter On Her Birthday

My daughter is turning nine years old this week. In the midst of buying last minute gifts, finding a recipe for cookie cake, and confirming party plans at the bowling alley, I felt compelled to revisit something I had written for her two years ago. As time passes, and she seemingly grows into a new person, all the while becoming even more the girl I have always known, the need to tell her things becomes more desperate. Just today, I was out to lunch with her and my son, and as I calculated the tip in the head, I thought, “When they are old enough to start eating at restaurants alone with their friends, I need to remember to tell my kids about tipping. And how much to tip. Because there is nothing worse than a group of obnoxious teenagers who don’t realize they are supposed to leave a few extra bucks for the server.” See? I have a lot to teach her. But then I remembered this letter, and figured it was a pretty good place to start.Because she is still only just nine years old…

Continue reading “Similar Tastes: A Letter to My Daughter On Her Birthday”

What I Learned From Science This Week: Worry About Yourself

I often tell my children, “worry about yourself,” meaning as long as they are making the right choices for themselves, they need to stop sticking their nose in the decisions of others. Most recently, this played out when my daughter decided to tattle on her brother, whom she had deemed to be rewarding himself with an extra helping of Girl Scout cookies without clearance from me. But she clearly needed to mind her own business, because what she didn’t realize was that he never had the first helping of cookies, and I had indeed granted him the Continue reading “What I Learned From Science This Week: Worry About Yourself”

I Am A Different Mom Now

I am really excited to have Maggie Singleton guest posting today for the second time on this blog. (You can read her first guest post about being married to an enginerd here.) Maggie has a serious talent for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, and writing about it so sincerely and in such a Continue reading “I Am A Different Mom Now”

Hallmark, Schmallmark. I Got Your REAL Valentines Right Here.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Here is a little something I wrote last year for the holiday of love:

I just spent a mind-numbing half hour helping my son sign eighteen valentine cards for his classmates. Even he was getting bored, evident by his increasingly lax standards of how to make the letters in his name: “This is a different way to make a ‘C,’ Mom.” Looks good to me, buddy. No one is going to pay much attention to your valentine anyway since mom here went the cheap-o route this year and got the ones that don’t come with any Continue reading “Hallmark, Schmallmark. I Got Your REAL Valentines Right Here.”