January performances--Mary

I'm finally posting some pictures of Mary's final dance/gymnastics show. (Hi, Mom!) What is a blog for, if not to post pictures of your kid in tap shoes??

Accordingly, here is a picture of Mary in her tap shoes:

Here is a video of Mary performing her tap dance:

Oh, wait. That wasn't a video. That was a picture. But, trust me, staring at that picture is EXACTLY like watching Mary's tap dance performance. Yes, she stood perfectly still, like a deer caught in the head lights. I guess we can't all be natural performers at age three--and fifteen minutes after waking up from a nap.

Oh, wait! She moved! It's a miracle:

And that was the highlight of the tap number.

Next up--ballet.

Look, she changed from her tap shoes to her ballet slippers all by herself.

(In my book, a kid who can put on her own shoes beats out brush steps and toe taps any day!)

The ballet dance:

Again, you're not missing anything (NOTHING!) by not seeing the video footage. (Though you should probably visualize David to get the full effect: There he is, buried in his Lego magazine, only to look up occasionally and make helpful loudly whispered comments like, "This isn't going well," or "Mary is having a problem," or "Mary's not doing it," or "This REALLY isn't going well." Remind me to leave Mr. Grumphead home next time.)

Fortunately, by the creative movement portion of the program, Mary had relaxed...

..and she was on fire!

Just in time for the gymnastics portion!

We all moved into gym and were well supplied with pom-poms for cheering. (Mr. Grumphead himself even cheered!)

Mary started off the show with a forward roll...

Then continued on the bars...

And she finished up on the beam, where she gracefully transformed from a caterpillar into a butterfly...

Like I said, she was on fire!

And very happy to receive her medal.

Somebody was jealous...

It all ended with the requisite stamps...

Including the ever important belly stamp...

Mary was proud of herself afterwards...

...and seeing her feeling confident and good about herself was the very best part.

Hooray for Mary!

P.S. Mary declined to wear a leotard or special dance attire. She told me she preferred to wear her pants and shirt. I like that. She is welcome to wear a pink froofy tutu anytime. But I appreciate knowing that it's the dancing and the gymnastics she enjoys--not just the clothes.

January performances--David

We were lucky this month to attend TWO important performances. The first was Mary's, from which the details are still in the works, and the second was David's.

Each month David's school meets together for a community gathering. This month the kindergartners were the stars of the show.

Here are the cute little kiddos filing in for their big debut....

That's David and his BFF.

The kiddos are in their places and ready to perform. David's teacher is introducing their performance, and that's David right behind her.

Now would be an excellent time to insert adorable videos of the performance. But I just upgraded to Windows 7 (hallelujah)--the transition was seamless, except for the mysteriously missing videos of David's performance. Sigh. (I haven't given up hope yet, otherwise I would be weeping, not sighing.)

After their heartwarming songs about mittens (in English and Spanish), a few big kids joined the bunch to lead the school in a rousing rendition of the school song.

Hooray for [name of David's school]!

Hooray for kindergartners!

After the performance, family members were invited back to the classroom for morning reading time. David showed us his reading box, and, at Mary's request, read to us a story about a mouse who eats in bed.

Then, at David's request, Daddy read to us the story of Mike Mulligan.

We love our kindergartner!

Hair topper

Every so often Mary wishes for ribbons, bows, pigtails, or curls. This is when I run hide under my covers and pretend I can't hear her. But sometimes I give in--and then she pulls out my hard work five minutes later. In her defense, I would pull out my hard work too: It looks like a four-year-old did it.

This morning Mary was bubbling with the desire to wear this little flower clip she found. Without even trying to hide in my room, I dutifully clipped it in behind her ear. She immediately ripped it out and insisted it go right on the top of her head.

David, the resident expert on what is/is not acceptable in public, decreed the flower on top of her head "dumb." I was hoping Mary would listen to her brother. Brutally honest older siblings come in handy sometimes. But she knows what she likes, and off to school she went.

Oh, I love that girl.

As for her brutally honest older brother, he stayed home from school today with an upset tummy. At eight o'clock this morning we both went back to bed, his head in the crook of my arm.

Oh, I love that boy.

Good night. May there be no upset tummies here tomorrow. But I think flowers on top of the head are okay.

P.S. Greg was the hero again. Upon receiving an SOS text, he rushed out of the engineering building and drove to Mary's school in order retrieve a beloved Angelina Ballerina who was left behind earlier today.

I love that man.

Mommy's Montessori day in

Yesterday morning I erased the clutter from my calendar--my calendar can be much like my kitchen counter, stacked with small random stuff that seems too important to trash but really just makes life more complicated than it has to be--and spent three hours quietly observing Mary's class.

Last fall, after Mary had started school, I read several books on the Montessori method (the best of which was this, the worst of which was this, and the medium of which was this). I realize most people research first, then decide. But we decided to enroll Mary based on a gut feeling. Then I spent October catching my mind up with my gut. This meant I also spent the fall laying awake at night thinking about the history of the modern educational system. I also spent a lot of time interrupting Greg's talk of Markov chains to explain "the absorbent mind." (Stochastic modeling and Montessori: we had some really romantic evenings, let me tell you, trying to bore the beans out of each other. Anyone care to join us on a double date?)

After all of the reading and talking to my dear, sweet audience of one, I was anxious to observe for myself an entire three-hour work period in Mary's class. Three months later, I finally got around to making the time (which clearly makes this more important than the dentist...but less important than Costco...what does that say about me?).

This post would be much better couched in an introductory explanation of the Montessori method. But I want to write my observations down as soon as possible--so you're getting them without the context. My apologies. So, without further ado, here are some thoughts I had as I sat on a tiny chair in Mary's classroom.

1. The children are polite, helpful, and kind. One girl quickly popped out of her chair and offered to tie Mary's apron for her. They are comfortable asking one another for help, and they naturally give it. I frequently heard "Excuse me," "Please," and "Thank you." The older children, who are kindergarten age, watched out for the younger ones, but also treated them with respect and equality. Rambunctious behavior was minimal.
2. At any given moment, there were a handful of children in deep concentration, a handful of children working on a lesson but not necessarily in deep concentration, a handful of children busy with tasks like preparing a snack or washing dishes, a handful of children purposefully transitioning from one activity to another, a handful of children watching or helping other children, and a handful of children wandering aimlessly. There was also always Mr. Grumps. More about him later.
3. The responsibility of choice can be a difficult burden to bear. The children are free to choose their own activities. I didn't appreciate before how much initiative and self-motivation this requires. Sometimes it was almost painful to watch a child try to decide what to do next. They can seem so vulnerable in that moment, seemingly without inner direction, so lost, even forlorn. I wanted badly to swoop in and provide some nice, safe, steadying outer direction: "Oh, sweet child, come here and play the bells. Or might I suggest something from the geometry cabinet?" It was painful like how it's painful to listen to a child sound out a new word. You want to take away the struggle and just say the word--but then you steal the opportunity for growth. And the satisfaction of successfully reading the word. There truly seemed to be something deeply satisfying for the children when they are able to choose, retrieve, complete, and put away a lesson, all on their own. Choosing was harder than being told exactly what to do, but valuable: Right before my very eyes I could see kids developing independence, initiative, and responsibility. (By the way, plenty of children received direction or redirection from the teacher throughout the morning, as needed. Also, their choices always have certain boundaries, of course.)
4. Some kids are just going to be more successful at school than others, no matter what educational philosophy their schooling follows.
5. I'm not completely "sold" on the large class size. An ideal Children's House (ages 3-6) classroom should be 35 (!) with one lead teacher and one assistant. Mary's class has 28, and there were 24 kids present yesterday. A large class size allows for a good mix of all the ages, it provides increased stimulation and opportunities for socialization, and the large class size encourages (forces?) the children to learn both independence (see #3) and cooperation (see #1). The class kind of reminded me of what it might be like to grow up in a really big family. Your mom isn't always hovering above you, telling you what to do every single second and wiping your nose for you. You have to wipe your own nose. Or perhaps another kid will see your boogars and give you a tissue. And you have to use your own initiative and brain power to fill your time. I couldn't help but think that those children in Mary's class were experiencing something most middle-upper class American children their age never experience: They didn't have an adult helicoptering around them. So I could see the benefit of the large class size. But.....I guess part of me still wants each child to have his or her own personal adult nose wiper. Oh Maria, it may be blasphemy, but I'm hanging on to the thought that a Children's House room should a population no larger than 24.
6. It's such an efficient system. Sure, at any given time there are children wandering about aimlessly. I'll be honest--you can glance into the room and it may look like there is a lot of time wasting going on. But what is amazing is that each child is progressing at his or her level--so time is actually used more efficiently. No child who is not ready to read sits lost in a reading lesson; no child who is reading chapter books sits bored in a lesson on short /a/. The Montessori materials, the classroom environment, the mixed ages, and, yes, the large class size, allow each child to progress at his or her pace. I always, always thought that the only way to get closer to the ideal of each student progressing exactly at his or her own pace was to get as close as possible to a 1:1 teacher-student ratio. (When I taught at the Sylvan Learning Center, the ratio was 1:3--and it was still seriously lacking.) Who knew, that under the right circumstances and with the right materials, the exact opposite could be true.
7. There was no division between girls and boys. I've noticed this about Mary's class many times before, and it is amazing to me. (Because I think the friendships in David's class divided down girl-boy lines within the first twenty seconds of the school year.) The boys and girls interact together without regard to gender. I don't know if it's the dynamic of these particular kids, their home environments, the Montessori method, the teacher, or what. But I think it's great.
8. Group time. For the last twenty minutes, the class meets together for songs and additional instruction. This did not go perfectly, but it went very very well. (When it was time, the teacher turned on some quiet, graceful music, and they children all migrated to the circle marked on the floor, where they walked gracefully and carefully on the circle until all of the children had joined them. It was magical! And I liked how they were walking in a line where no one was first and no one was last.)
9. Mr. Grumps. I loved Mr Grumps. This four-year-old boy did nothing the whole time. NOTHING. I think that in and of itself is a great feat. With all of those wonderful, inviting materials around, and he did nothing for three hours? Amazing powers of persistence! What determination! He spent a good deal of the time sitting on a chair muttering about how much he hates school. Mr. Grumps was a nice reality check. Even in the sometimes-proclaimed utopia of the Montessori classroom, you get a stinker or two. In Mr. Grumps's defense, he was having a bad day. We all do. Even at Montessori school.

It would be nice to round off the list with a number 10. But I'm ending it with my good pal Mr. Grumps. I might not be as grumpy as say, Mr. Grumps, but I do tend to be very cynical. So my verdict is still out on Montessori--but there is a part of me that is completely won over and so wants to embrace it with my whole heart and being. We'll see. In the meantime, I look forward to seeing Mr. Grumps again, giving him a hug, and wiping his nose.

By the way, this was my Montessori day in. You can see pictures of Mary's Montessori night out here. And this website gives you some nice information about Montessori schools.

Still my baby

Mary usually conks out in the car on the way home from school. Polishing silver can be quite exhausting. When we get home, I move her to her bed, snow pants and all.

I love the sounds she makes in my ear as she stirs in her sleep in my arms. I carry her down the hallway, and I hear little moans, squeaks, and breathy groans. Just the noises she would make when she was a tiny baby.

She is not so tiny.

But still my baby.

Sunday report

Take One

When I asked Mary what she learned in her class on Sunday she responded, "The mommy showed a picture but I didn't know that guy's name."

Take Two

Later, when David was telling us about how Joseph Smith read the Bible and decided to pray, Mary interrupted him, "In my story the guy said no prayer!"

Huh?

Take Three

David then whispered to us the story of how the boy Joseph was brave when a piece of infection in his bone was cut out. (Apparently this story is so terrible that it must be spoken of only in whispers.) Mary, her voice well above a whisper, began talking about Joseph Smith and the lions.

Joseph Smith and the lions?

"Wait! Mary," I interrupted, "Did you learn about Daniel and the lions den? Is that the picture your teacher showed you?"

"Yeah! Daniel! That's that guy's name!"

Take Four

"Let me try again. The guy his name was Daniel and Jesus said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room--"

"Mary, I don't think it was Jesus who said not to say prayers. I think it was the king."

Take Five

"Okay, let me try again. The guy his name was Daniel and the guy his name was King said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room and said a prayer so he got thrown into the lions but he said a prayer and the lion didn't hurt him."

Looks of astonishment.

"WOW!! Mary! We LOVE what you learned in Sunbeams! Thank you so much for telling us the story!"

She looked at us very seriously, her head barely reaching over the top of the dinner table.

Take Six

"I want to tell it again."

David is playing air guitar beside her with the accompanying kindergarten rock-n-roll noises and spittle.

"The guy his name was Daniel and the guy his name was King said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room and said a prayer so he got thrown into the lions but he said a prayer and the lion didn't hurt him."

"Wow, Mary! Thank you! We are so happy you shared that story with us. You know it very well."

Take Seven

Exactly the same as Take Six.

Take Eight

No more air guitar.

"The guy his name was Daniel and the guy his name was"--

David interrupts, "Oh, no! Not again!"

Mom and Dad, "Hush! Stop complaining and listen to your sister!"

Meanwhile, Mary continued, "King said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room and said a prayer so he got thrown into the lions but he said a prayer and the lion didn't hurt him."

"Okay, Mary. Thanks."

Take Nine

"The guy his name was--"

David moans and covers his ears, "AAAHHH! Not again!"

"Um, Mary, maybe you can wait--"

"--Daniel and the guy his name was King said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room and said a prayer so he got thrown into the lions but he said a prayer and the lion didn't hurt him."

Takes Ten through Fourteen

The same as Take Nine, except that by this point David was rolling around on the floor, holding his head in his hands, writhing in pain, screaming, "I can't take it anymore! Make it stop!! I can't hear this story again! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

(Greg and I felt much the same way.)

Mary looked very cute and serious.

Take Fifteen

"The guy--"

"Mary, this is the last time, honey."

"Why?"

"Um...because we'd like to talk about something else. But we're very happy that you learned that story."

"Okay. The guy his name was Daniel and the guy his name was King said NO PRAYERS and Daniel went in his room and said a prayer so he got thrown into the lions but he said a prayer and the lion didn't hurt him."

"Thank you, Mary."

"You're welcome."

The foolish man who built his house upon the rock

Ever since we visited The House on the Rock with Grandma Evie back in September, David has wanted to return with his dad (who missed out on the fun last fall). Since it's too cold today to go skiing, which is what was originally on the agenda, we decided it would be a great day to make a quick trip out to The House on the Rock, especially since Greg isn't drowning in his classwork (yet).

I worked a whole plan on how we could see the most and spend the least, only to discover, once we got there, that they do things entirely different during the winter months. So we had to take a tour. Sigh. And spend more money than we had planned. Double sigh. But we pushed ahead...

after a snack...

and an informational video...

So what is The House on the Rock, you may ask? It's a massive tourist trap complex that reveals the inner workings of one Alex Jordan. The centerpiece of the complex is an actual house on an actual rock, which Mr. Jordan built in the 1950s.

Below is a picture of the snow-covered, frozen gardens. Behind the gardens (which are really quite lovely), is a covered ramp leading up to the house. The house is hidden among the trees, but you can just barely see the top of it in this picture.

Here is another view of the central gardens at the complex:

Like I said, Mr. Jordon built the house in the 1950's. Some might say it is an architectural marvel; others would say it is an architectural mess. It may have been inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright; it may have been built to spite Frank Lloyd Wright. Either way, it was opened to the public in 1959.

The house started out small, and, over time, Mr. Jordan made grand editions. This is a picture of the original room, and the one that Mr. Jordan used most frequently even after the house was expanded.

You can see that he liked carpeting, couches, low ceilings, large fireplaces, and he preferred lamplight over sunlight. (Basically it's like living in a carpeted cave with Tiffany lighting.)

In the 1980s he built The Infinity Room.

Here we are waiting to go in.

Finally, some sunlight! And some beautiful views!

You can just barely see a red barn in the above picture.

Here below is a lovely rural Wisconsin scene.

Look, David posed for me! And it was his idea!

Love this picture of my crew at the end of The Infinity Room:

Looking down through the glass coffee table from The Infinity Room:

Now, on to the rest of the madness.

Oh, by the way, here is a picture in The Infinity Room of The Infinity Room. (In case you haven't noticed, they really like Capitalization at The House on the Rock. Very Serious.)

Mr Jordan realized that he could bring in quite a bit of revenue if he charged people an entrance fee. He could then use that revenue to grow his collections. And then even more people would come and he could charge them even more money. And then he could add even more collections and more buildings and more displays. And then even more people would come and he could charge them even more. And on and on.

We saw the tiniest little bit of The House on the Rock collection. Tiny! But even that was overwhelming.

Here are just a very very few images of the little slice of randomness we saw. Feel free to try to make sense of it. (And get back to me if you do.)

Below is the "amazing three-story bookcase"! It's got some great reads on it. (Please, click on the picture and you will see for yourself the sarcasm of that last statement.)

Are you screaming at me to stop yet? Don't worry, I'm finished. But trust, me you ain't seen nothin'. That place is out of control.

Here are some thoughts Greg and/or I had:

1. It's a tourist trap in the truest sense. Which makes it kind of cool because it's a crazy insane tourist trap. Like the ultimate tourist trap.
2. If you build it, they will come.
3. I have so much contempt and disdain for it all--but there I was, forking over the outrageous admissions price. And spending the rest of the day thinking about it, discussing it, analyzing it.
4. It's exactly like you're in a hoarder's house, except this hoarder has acres and acres of covered buildings in which to display all of his or her crap.
5. It's like being in your grandma's cluttered house and your chest gets really tight because there is so much STUFF. It might even be nice stuff, but there's just so much of it that you feel like you're suffocating.
6. That place makes me itch. Itch to throw stuff away.
7. It's creepy that they try to make Alex Jordan out to be some kind of visionary or genius or something. He's not, that much is apparent. (Except for the fact that I did fork over all that money. Maybe he was a genius, and the joke's on me.)
8. The House on the Rock makes me appreciate museums, precisely because it is not one. There is no educational value. Nothing is labeled or explained or meant to teach. It's purely an entertainment experience. What does it say about us tourists that we flock to it?
9. I can't look away!! It's like the wreck on the highway or bad reality T.V. You know you should look away, but you can't.
10. This could only happen in the Midwest.

Enough about The House on the Rock. It was a fun outing, and I'm glad we went. I mean that very sincerely. But I will say that it was wonderful to be outside again, on the road back home.

We passed dozens and dozens of dairy farms....

...including lots of cold cows....

Don't you think those cows are cold? (Click on the picture to see them better.) But I guess, if I were a cow, I'd want to get out of the barn sometimes too, even if it's 9 degrees outside.

I love Wisconsin. (I really do!)