I want to scream so therefore I will blog. The phone rang this morning at 8:02AM while we were sleeping in after a late night of sitting in lawn chairs in our front yard watching the Perseid meteor shower. The viewing coming after a week of immersing ourselves in meteors, comets, and all things astronomy. I didn't recognize the phone number so I wandered out to listen to the answering machine located in the kitchen. It was the school district wanting to know if Rebecca would be joining them this year in their "ELP." ELP stands for "Extended Learning Program," and from their own website, the program, "is designed to challenge intellectually and academically gifted students." One of my first questions is why these programs are always being disguised in covert acronyms: MGM - "Mentally Gifted Minors" (that's from WAY back in my elementary school days), GATE - "Gifted and Talented Education," and TAG - "Talented and Gifted Education." I'm sure there are more. I do believe it is the first step in the weed-out process by making the acronym so confusing that the ordinary parent cannot figure out what it is.
I mean no offense to the nice teacher calling to inquire about Rebecca, but the message itself made me laugh when she said, "We're practically on the other side of the world from you," in relation to where the school is located: distance to the school = 22 miles, distance to my work = 38 miles, distance to Mike's work = 29 miles, distance to the pediatrician = 27 miles, etc. Seeing a pattern? If 22 miles away is, "the other side of the world," then I would like to know how this program plans to broaden my child's scope of the world? So I looked again at the handout they sent home with Rebecca on the first day back to her homeschool enrichment program. The program meets once per week, all day, and some sample sessions are: "Snap It" - take pictures using iPhoto complemented with creative writing (CHECK: Does making her own vacation DVD this summer using iDVD count? How about writing and publishing her own posts for this blog?) "Fold It Up" - learn about Japanese art and origami. (CHECK: I think she earned a girl scout badge for origami because I remember the two of us one day making oodles of origami creatures to take to a meeting. How about our recent trip to the Phoenix Art Museum and checking out the Asian Art display? Her haiku notebooks she keeps?) "Flying High" - the principles of flight and designing a structure that will survive launch into orbit. (CHECK: Challenger Space Camp? The rocket she built and launched with her dad, the cub scout leader?) I'm sure these activities would be great if she wasn't ALREADY doing them! If she needed a break from the boring classroom where she was already way ahead of the rest of the class, then I would sign her up. However, here's where I want to make another case for homeschooling: I designed the curriculum with my child's individual needs already in mind!
New day and I'm still trying to figure out if I'm challenging my "gifted" child. I've decided to analyze what we're doing for signs of "gifted." Here is a true sample window into my world this morning:
- Around 8:30AM wandered out to find Rebecca on the couch reading Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. She's excited about reading this book because she wants to partake in a book club with her friends, and this is the book they're reading. "Did you eat breakfast?" I say. "Yes, I had Nutella on toast, watermelon, and milk," she says.
- I make tea, and check to see if I'm up on Facebook Scrabble (a.k.a. "Mommy's teacher lounge.")
- Patrick wanders out and pours himself a bowl of Raisin Bran and a glass of orange juice. He sits at the table and starts reading his 933-page Philip Pullman novel that he selected for himself at Half Price Books earlier in the week. I laugh at parents struggling to find "A.R." (Accelerated Reader) books from the school's list when this process is so easy, and I want to brag for a minute: they both had near-perfect reading comprehension scores on their standardized tests without ever taking a single "A.R. comprehension test."
- Everybody's done with breakfast, and we decide it's time to start math. We spend nearly an hour on the following problem from Life of Fred: Beginning Algebra by Stanley F. Schmidt, Ph.D.: "Snow stopped breathing (he is an army sergeant that has kidnapped Fred, our main character through the math book, who is a five-year-old college math professor), and the nurse indicated to the doctor that there may be something wrong. The doctor concurred and ordered that Snow be given some medicine. What he said to the nurse was, '30 cc of 25% cough medicine,' figuring that if Snow would cough, he'd have to start breathing again. The nurse ran to the cabinet and found two bottles. One of them was too weak. It only contained 20% of the cough medicine by volume. The other bottle was too strong. It was 35% of the cough medicine by volume. The nurse had to mix the two together to get 30 cc of 25% medicine. (A "cc" is a cubic centimeter. That's about the volume of a small sugar cube.) How much of each were used?" This math question led us to pull out a bottle of Robitussin, a bottle of Axe (we didn't have another cough medicine), and a medicine syringe, as we did a physical demonstration of what was being asked. They made legends, devised an equation, added the values, discussed the hypothetical possibility of whether or not this medicine would solve Snow's medical issue, and they argued like all good 10 and 12-year-old siblings do. In the end, they solved the problem.
- After math, they went to work on writing blog posts for Our Homeschool Mystery since we have a loose goal of one blog post per month, and they haven't done one for August yet. While they write, I write too, as I am doing right now. I can't think of a better way to motivate them to write, then for them to watch me do it, as well.
As part of my research for this topic, I have been looking into what a true "gifted curriculum" entails to see if my morning fits the bill. I've written before about the feelings of self-doubt that homeschooling parents face from time to time. I think when anyone does something slightly different from the norm, there are always those times when you ask yourself, "Am I doing the right thing?" There's a lot less to think about when you're in the middle of the herd of sheep, following along, instead of going solo on a new path. So I went to the National Association of Gifted Children website, and clicked on "publications" which led me to their quarterly magazine:
Parenting for High Potential. I'm sure this is a fine publication, but I can't get past the title. My question is:
high potential for what?
High potential to learn? A gifted child with a learning disability doesn't have any higher potential to learn than a non-gifted child.
High potential for success? How do we measure success?
High potential for happiness? Does having a "gifted education" make you any happier in life? Does being "gifted" make you any happier in life? One of the most prolific books I have ever read was
Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman. I'm not going to go too in-depth into this book other than to say: read it! He has many specific case examples of how getting along with others, empathy, and self-discipline have more to do with our futures than IQ.
I asked Rebecca if she wanted to go to the gifted school because ultimately we have a democratic household. Her response: "I would miss my friends." I said: "But maybe you could make new friends?" Her response: "The kids in that class are all nerdy boys, one annoying girl, and one sassy girl." Well, that sounds fun! After her first day back to her two-day-per-week enrichment program, the first thing she wanted to tell me when I picked her up was how she led the class around to all their rotating classrooms because she had "memorized the map" and knew where everything was (they are at a new campus.) This was the most fun part of her day. She enjoys being the leader. She likes it when her peers ask for her help with things. Why would I want to put her in a class where she is no longer the leader? When she gets in the "real world," will she not be with all walks of life -- followers and leaders? So . . . for all those people that criticize homeschooling for segregating children, I say to you: school segregates children! Homeschooling allows kids to learn at the pace and level appropriate for each child, and they can then make friends the way the rest of us do: through common interests, clubs, groups, church, sports, and shared social time together.
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