My son, Jaron, is now six and is suddenly learning how to read. He has known his letters and sounds forever, but just started to care about learning to read. I'm very excited the day has finally come- there were times when I wondered if he'd ever be motivated.
We were reading together yesterday and I was reminded to how many different sounds different letter combinations make and how hard it makes it to decode. The book we were reading had a lot of "ou" words in it, but also words with the "oul" combination. So, before reading I introduced the different sounds and letter combinations to him through several activities, but it just wasn't sinking in.
Then I decided to think out of the box. I gently pinched him and said what does "ou" say? And in response to the pinch he said, "ow!" and I said, "right!" Then I pretended to punch myself in the gut and said, "oouuh" then I pretended to punch him in the gut and said, what does "oul" say? And, of course, he got it. Now he doesn't miss them a single time and loves to teach new people his what he's learned- especially by pretending to pinch and punch them! Ah well, one lesson at a time :)
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Lawn Fire
I have the tenancy to over exaggerate my personal abilities now and then. Last night was one of those times. My husband wasn't home and we have had this huge pile of dried out lilac trimmings just sitting in the driveway for a month now. Usually Corey (my husband) takes care of such things, but I thought, "how hard can making a fire be?"
Well, much harder than it looked. I squatted on the ground for a good half and hour trying to get it to start while the kids whined for my attention and begged for smores. Finally I got it started. It really got going so I decided to start piling on the dead leaves and branches. It was amazing to see them turn into tiny pieces of black ash so quickly. The flames grew quickly too and I noticed that I had put the portable fire pit too close to a low branch on our butternut tree. First the leaves turned dark green, and then began to curl a bit.
I should have realized at that point that I was putting too much on at once, even more importantly, I had not been wise in my placement of the fire pit. There was a circle of grass that was dry and yellow from the last time we made a fire, so instead of putting the pit somewhere away from the dry grass, I wanted to save the rest of my lawn from becoming a yard of yellow circles. So, I did the only logical thing and put the fire pit right on top of the driest grass in the yard- you can tell where this is going.
I only had so much time before I had to put the babes to bed so I wanted to get as much burned as possible. I just kept piling on, and not carefully at all. The fire was getting hotter so I was tossing the branches from a farther distance. The branches started landing on the fire so that leaves were draping down either side of the pit, but this had happened before with no consequence, so I didn't even think about it, until I noticed that the smoke was not only coming from the pit, but the grass underneath it too.
I sent my kids in side, where my six year old quickly found a plastic left over magic hat from his birthday party and started filling it up with water. I started taking trips from the house and back until the fire underneath the pit was out, but not before the yellow circle of grass was completely black. Now what am I going to do with a black circle in the middle of my yard?!?
Well, much harder than it looked. I squatted on the ground for a good half and hour trying to get it to start while the kids whined for my attention and begged for smores. Finally I got it started. It really got going so I decided to start piling on the dead leaves and branches. It was amazing to see them turn into tiny pieces of black ash so quickly. The flames grew quickly too and I noticed that I had put the portable fire pit too close to a low branch on our butternut tree. First the leaves turned dark green, and then began to curl a bit.
I should have realized at that point that I was putting too much on at once, even more importantly, I had not been wise in my placement of the fire pit. There was a circle of grass that was dry and yellow from the last time we made a fire, so instead of putting the pit somewhere away from the dry grass, I wanted to save the rest of my lawn from becoming a yard of yellow circles. So, I did the only logical thing and put the fire pit right on top of the driest grass in the yard- you can tell where this is going.
I only had so much time before I had to put the babes to bed so I wanted to get as much burned as possible. I just kept piling on, and not carefully at all. The fire was getting hotter so I was tossing the branches from a farther distance. The branches started landing on the fire so that leaves were draping down either side of the pit, but this had happened before with no consequence, so I didn't even think about it, until I noticed that the smoke was not only coming from the pit, but the grass underneath it too.
I sent my kids in side, where my six year old quickly found a plastic left over magic hat from his birthday party and started filling it up with water. I started taking trips from the house and back until the fire underneath the pit was out, but not before the yellow circle of grass was completely black. Now what am I going to do with a black circle in the middle of my yard?!?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Set Up
I love books written in the mid 1800s. I'm still in the process of figuring out why. Part of it is the reflection of the Industrial Revolution and the empowerment to the lower classes it brought, but there is more. For a few years I've been reflecting on why I would rather read Elizabeth Gaskell, the Bronte sisters, etc. Even Jane Austen a little earlier and E.M. Forester a little later hold my interest much better than authors of today.
Finally I realized what it is. Its the character development. I love to understand and identify with the characters. Through the characters, I find truth to my own life or realize I identify with them about things I never before knew about myself.
I'm not a plot reader. I'm a character reader. Fancy plots mean nothing to me without being able to identify with the person or people experiencing the action. Maybe I'm alone out there- I must be to some point because not many books are being written these days focused on the characters rather than the plot, but if anyone can recommend current fiction with amazing character development, I'd love to know about it.
Any way, back to the point. I just started an Elizabeth Gaskell book, Mary Barton, and as I was starting it I quickly noticed that the first chapter did not even introduce Mary, the main character, and not even until the fourth did she become a major character. It was about her parents, her mothers death, and the effect it had on her childhood and relationship to her father. Now, as I start to read about her life as a young adult, I have a much better idea of what she is thinking and how she will react to events that come her way.
Its all about the set up. Its all about the introduction to the story. The best story would be left bland and tasteless without drawing in the audience before complexities start.
The same with education. Controls and variables to experiments mean nothing to children who have never wondered about the world around them, and had that curiosity encouraged. Addition means nothing to a child who doesn't understand the power of being able use it in their world.
Its all about the set up.
Relationships too. With out actually taking the time to listen, to hear the background of the life that they're living, to crawl into the skin of a friend in an interesting situation, how could one ever identify and care?
Its all about the set up.
Finally I realized what it is. Its the character development. I love to understand and identify with the characters. Through the characters, I find truth to my own life or realize I identify with them about things I never before knew about myself.
I'm not a plot reader. I'm a character reader. Fancy plots mean nothing to me without being able to identify with the person or people experiencing the action. Maybe I'm alone out there- I must be to some point because not many books are being written these days focused on the characters rather than the plot, but if anyone can recommend current fiction with amazing character development, I'd love to know about it.
Any way, back to the point. I just started an Elizabeth Gaskell book, Mary Barton, and as I was starting it I quickly noticed that the first chapter did not even introduce Mary, the main character, and not even until the fourth did she become a major character. It was about her parents, her mothers death, and the effect it had on her childhood and relationship to her father. Now, as I start to read about her life as a young adult, I have a much better idea of what she is thinking and how she will react to events that come her way.
Its all about the set up. Its all about the introduction to the story. The best story would be left bland and tasteless without drawing in the audience before complexities start.
The same with education. Controls and variables to experiments mean nothing to children who have never wondered about the world around them, and had that curiosity encouraged. Addition means nothing to a child who doesn't understand the power of being able use it in their world.
Its all about the set up.
Relationships too. With out actually taking the time to listen, to hear the background of the life that they're living, to crawl into the skin of a friend in an interesting situation, how could one ever identify and care?
Its all about the set up.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Wall
Its covered with vines. There's no way to tell if they could hold my weight, but what option do I have? The slapping of rubber soles on the cement grows louder and louder. Taking a deep breath I jump up.
Its strange the things that run through your head in heat of the moment.
Concentrate.
Concentrate.
Think of where your foot can find a hold. Save your attention for looking for the thickest vine, not if you turned the coffee maker off. Its a hotel room. The maid will be in the room within an hour to turn it off any way. I suppose she'll also find... concentrate.
Concentrate.
You're almost there. These vines won't hold on much longer.
They've seen me. There's a shout. And another. They've found me. Two more feet. Just two more feet and I'll be up. A vine breaks out of my left hand, and the one my right foot is resting on too. I jump up with my left foot, grab the top of the wall with my left hand. I pull my body up and with out even looking what is on the other side, I jump. I land, well fall really, roll, and stand up.
Oh my....
What have I done?
I should have stayed on the other side and risked what the consequences would have been if caught.
I hear them chuckling on the other side. They know my mistake.
But maybe...
Okay. I've obviously been reading too many novels. :) But its the moment of making a crucial decision and the consequence of the decision made by the character of the story that draws us in, doesn't it? Maybe because a part inside of each of us wants to be in that place of having to choose the unknown and the excitement that is involved, but its so much easier to read about it than actually place ourselves in such a scary place, and have to live with whatever the consequences are once we've made that decision.
I have some very good friends who have taken that risk, just last Saturday. They're great friends and have always had my respect, but now they have raised a level in my mind. Now they are role models, examples to live my life like.
They sold their home, he left his job where he was well respected, where he had been given liberties to help grow the company, and where he was making enough that she, his wife, was able to comfortably stay home with their small son. Now they are somewhere between here (MN) and New York in a rental car going to meet their few boxes they shipped that are waiting at their one room apartment at the International House at Columbia University where they will live for two years while he gets his MBA. They have this crazy dream wrapped up in ambition and excitement that caused them to leave the comfortable life to possibly become something great. There's no guarantees that they will do great things as a result of this move, but they were sure they wouldn't do great things unless they did take an incredible step like this. Leaving all that's familiar to them- friends, family, the Midwest, income, to whatever might be on the other side of that wall.
Amazing.
I hope someday I'll have that kind of courage.
Its strange the things that run through your head in heat of the moment.
Concentrate.
Concentrate.
Think of where your foot can find a hold. Save your attention for looking for the thickest vine, not if you turned the coffee maker off. Its a hotel room. The maid will be in the room within an hour to turn it off any way. I suppose she'll also find... concentrate.
Concentrate.
You're almost there. These vines won't hold on much longer.
They've seen me. There's a shout. And another. They've found me. Two more feet. Just two more feet and I'll be up. A vine breaks out of my left hand, and the one my right foot is resting on too. I jump up with my left foot, grab the top of the wall with my left hand. I pull my body up and with out even looking what is on the other side, I jump. I land, well fall really, roll, and stand up.
Oh my....
What have I done?
I should have stayed on the other side and risked what the consequences would have been if caught.
I hear them chuckling on the other side. They know my mistake.
But maybe...
Okay. I've obviously been reading too many novels. :) But its the moment of making a crucial decision and the consequence of the decision made by the character of the story that draws us in, doesn't it? Maybe because a part inside of each of us wants to be in that place of having to choose the unknown and the excitement that is involved, but its so much easier to read about it than actually place ourselves in such a scary place, and have to live with whatever the consequences are once we've made that decision.
I have some very good friends who have taken that risk, just last Saturday. They're great friends and have always had my respect, but now they have raised a level in my mind. Now they are role models, examples to live my life like.
They sold their home, he left his job where he was well respected, where he had been given liberties to help grow the company, and where he was making enough that she, his wife, was able to comfortably stay home with their small son. Now they are somewhere between here (MN) and New York in a rental car going to meet their few boxes they shipped that are waiting at their one room apartment at the International House at Columbia University where they will live for two years while he gets his MBA. They have this crazy dream wrapped up in ambition and excitement that caused them to leave the comfortable life to possibly become something great. There's no guarantees that they will do great things as a result of this move, but they were sure they wouldn't do great things unless they did take an incredible step like this. Leaving all that's familiar to them- friends, family, the Midwest, income, to whatever might be on the other side of that wall.
Amazing.
I hope someday I'll have that kind of courage.
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