Learning to think like scientists, and learning how to think about science

I meant to post earlier this week about Natalie Angier's most recent NYT "Basics" science column when it first appeared, but schoolwork and festivities got in the way. You can read the entire column here (registration is free); and here are some bits and pieces (emphases, as always, mine):

[Faye Cascio’s ninth-grade physical science] ... students can articulate their reasoning because, for one thing, they have no choice. One recent morning, Ms. Cascio asked several students in succession to explain the logic of their answer to the same question — and, “Uh, yeah, I agree with Yasamin and Josh” just wouldn’t do.

“It’s called dipsticking,” Ms. Cascio said. “It’s really important to make sure the kids are picking this information up, and so I ask, Is this clear to you? Do you really understand it? and I won’t go on until I get a positive, satisfying answer.”

A bigger reason the students seemed to wear the material comfortably emerged when they pulled from the classroom closet genuine items of clothing: white lab coats. The Academy of Science ["the almost sneakily rigorous high school magnet science program in Loudoun County, Va., of which Ms. Cascio’s physics class is a part"] is built on the principle of what its director, George Wolfe, calls inquiry-based learning. “I want them to learn to think like scientists*,” he said, “rather than regurgitate facts.” From the moment they enter the program, students do experiments, lots of experiments. Not canned experiments, either, of the sort found in the average “science is fun!” book that spell out every step. Here, the students must design experiments themselves, which means they must learn essential lessons like how to ask questions in an answerable way, what’s your error bar, and, will you please just give me some data already. ...

Ms. Cascio, 57, is a law of motion herself, a stylish dynamo whose voice retains the comforting vibrato of her natal Jersey City. As an undergraduate at Douglass College of Rutgers University, she studied molecular biology and planned to become a doctor, but while living in Greece she began teaching and fell in love with the profession, eventually earning master’s degrees in biology and education. With her decades of experience and a string of national teaching laurels, Ms. Cascio could easily have settled into rote mode, but instead she decided to join the fledgling Academy of Science, where, she admits, the pace can be grueling. “It takes a lot more time to teach inquiry than by plug and chug, by getting up in front of a class and lecturing by the book,” she said.

But how much more satisfying the nosy approach to knowing can be, and how amusing, too. In one biology class last year, for example, Ms. Cascio’s students acquainted themselves with the cell, the nucleus, DNA, proteins, evolution, taxonomy and other bold-faced biology concepts by analyzing meat and seafood products from the supermarket, discovering that, hey, the things that had been sold as scallops were actually pulverized trout pressed into scallop shapes.

Through its emphasis on Socratic parrying and creative laboratory work, the program could well serve as a model for remedying misconceptions. Nearly all scientists and educators agree that somehow, at some point during their pedagogical odyssey, most Americans get the wrong idea about what science is, and what it is not.

“Science is, or should be, about the world, not about science,” said Eugene Levy, a professor of physics and astronomy and the provost of Rice University. “But for too many students, science has been presented as a large series of manipulations that they rarely understand or connect to the reality around them.” If there is a message that he wants his students to take from his introductory science class, he said, “it is to grasp that the world is in fact understandable, that rational inquiry can lead to understanding, and that there’s rarely an excuse to say understanding is beyond them.” ...

By the way, I read another article (from the Albany, NY Times Union) recently about teaching science, this one about teaching chemistry in the home, by home educating parent and "hands-on learning columnist" for Home Education Magazine, Kathy Ceceri, who writes, "I decided I wanted my kids to discover a little of that fun [with science experiments], too (within reason). What I learned, however, is that doing chemistry at home is a lot harder than it used to be." For anyone interested in the history of children's chemistry sets, and their sad demise over the past 40 years, you'll be interested to read the rest of the article.

One book Kathy recommends in her article is The Joy of Chemistry: The Amazing Science of Familiar Things by Monty L. Fetterolf, head of the Department of Physics and Chemistry at the University of South Carolina-Aiken, and his wife and fellow USC professor Cathy Cobb, who specializes in books on the history of science for lay readers (including this and this).

Reading to the end of the article, which includes a list of resources, I was pleased to find that last month Kathy has started a new blog, Home Chemistry; from her sidebar,

This is the year I have decided to finally tackle lab science with my homeschooled kids (14 and 11). Despite horrendous memories of my own experience in public high school chem (mostly centered around experiments that didn’t work and savvier classmates who made out their observation charts first, then invented the data to fit), I’m hoping that -- freed of state testing requirements and other barriers to having fun -- we'll all get to enjoy the excitement of science without the angst.

Lots of good stuff to read through.

* I'll put in yet another plug for one of our favorite science books, How to Think Like a Scientist: Answering Questions by the Scientific Method by Stephen P. Kramer with illustrations by Felicia ("If You Give a Mouse a Cookie") Bond

Figuring out if Cybils-nominated titles are child-friendly

Over at the Cybils blog, Cybils co-founder Kelly Herold wrote a post earlier this week, "Who Put the Kid in Kid-friendly?":

When [Cybils co-founder] Anne and I led a panel session on the Cybils at the 1st Annual Kidlitosphere Conference this [past] weekend in Chicago, one theme in particular kept popping up during discussions: How do we decide if a book is child-friendly or not?

This is an important question for the ninety panelists and judges evaluating the hundreds of children's and YA books nominated this year. One of our main goals is to find quality books children will love. In other words, we're looking for well written, intelligent, and kid-friendly titles.

But how do we -- a group of 88 adults and 2 [3?] teens -- decide what is child friendly? What are our criteria? Will we know child-friendly when we see it?

Tell us what you think. How does an adult reader recognize a child-friendly book? What are your tell-tale signs of a fun and compelling read? Feel free to answer in the comments or on your own blog.

One of the reasons I was eager to participate in the Cybils again this year is that my kids had so much fun with all of the poetry books that arrived last year. With yet another package slip from Canada Post in the mailbox requiring a trip to the post office to pick up a brown box or padded envelope, the kids started squealing, "It's just like Christmas!"

My simple answer for how I recognize a child-friendly book is that my kids enjoy that particular book. And I don't expect all three kids -- a ten-year-old girl who prefers historical fiction and stories about horses, an eight-and-a-half-year-old boy who likes best Asterix and how-to manuals, and an almost seven-year-old who enjoys stories about horses, pioneers, and how-to manuals -- to enjoy the same books, either. One out of three is good enough for me, provided that that one child thinks the world of that one book.

Last year, the easiest way to find which books the kids really liked was to search their beds. The books they didn't like -- that didn't catch the kids' interests or left them cold -- stayed in the designated "Cybils piles" in the living room. The books the kids enjoyed were discovered in their respective beds, under pillows and stuffed animals and on top of quilts, and with bookmarks (sometimes just torn slips of paper) between the pages.

This year, with middle grade and young adult nonfiction on my plate, it won't be quite as easy for me to read all the books with my children, since some titles will certainly be too advanced in language or emotion (or both) for them, at least for the boys whose combined age is 15; often, I'll use one book on a subject for Laura and something simpler, usually a picture book, for the boys. From all the review's I've read of Grief Girl, Erin Vincent's memoir about her adolescence following the death of her parents in a traffic accident more than 20 years ago when she was 14, it seems the sort of book I would gladly give Laura in a few years, but not now at age 10.

But even with some books meant for older readers, the kids in general and Davy (not quite seven) in particular have made their way by looking at the pictures and reading, or having me read aloud, the captions. And after all the books we've read together, I have a pretty good idea what their thoughts and tastes will be in a few years, which books will be worth keeping, and even adding to our home school studies. As home schoolers, too, we have the luxury of adding any books that arrive to our late autumn/early winter curriculum, or just to our afternoon and bedtime readalouds. We can set aside for the moment Farmer Boy or our study of Lewis & Clark, to spend a few afternoons and evenings reading about trash, dinosaur eggs, and James Beckwourth.

One thing I found interesting last year was how some of the titles that tried too hard to appeal, and be appealing, to kids -- whether they are "educational" (a definite concern in this particular category, where a lot of the titles are purchased by libraries rather than individuals and many tend to be the kind of book children use "just for reports") or simply (and sometimes scatalogically) underestimate children's senses of humor and sophistication and awareness of what's clever were among those that did not make it to kids' favorites lists. Which is why, last year, Adam Rex's Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich -- a true Halloween delight, by the way, which you still have time to order from your favorite bookseller or via interlibrary loan -- made a considerably larger impression on the assembled Farm School children than, say, Hey There, Stink Bug!

* * *

By the way, speaking of children and nonfiction, don't miss author Marc Aronson's current post, "I Want to Be a Historian" at his blog Nonfiction Matters on the subject, or the conversation to which he refers over at Alison Morris's ShelfTalker: A Children's Bookseller's Blog, with her latest post, "Who's Borrowing? Who's Buying?".

Film Club interview

from The Canadian Press. Here's an excerpt (emphases mine):

What [the book] details is a father's struggle to connect with a beloved son who is totally disinterested in homework and who, at six-foot-four, is a man-sized adolescent frequently skipping out of high school to wander about the big city at will.

"All we ever talked about was his poor performance at school," the Toronto author and winner of a Governor General's award for A Perfect Night to Go to China explains in an interview.

"And it really was turning him into a liar. And it was creating antagonism between the two of us. And finally I just said 'I can't do this, I've already done Grade 10. I can't do your homework for you. I can't do this. You're going to have to make a choice.' And to my horror, he said 'I don't want to go to school anymore."'

Gilmour makes a deal with Jesse, telling him he can quit school as long as he watches three movies a week with his dad and absolutely stays away from drugs.

"I was trying to salvage my relationship with him because I thought not only am I going to lose the school battle but I'm going to lose him over it."

Jesse Gilmour, now 21, is doing a few interviews alongside his well-known father as the book about his sometimes tumultuous adolescence is launched, and he concurs that dropping out was the correct -- and probably the only -- course of action for him.

"I hated high school, I hated it. I was completely happy to get out of there. And even now, I'm going to university now, which I like, but even if I could go back, I probably would do the same thing again," he says emphatically.

"For some people high school just doesn't work for them. It's just terribly straining and boring in a way that it becomes unhealthy to you."

But if high school was a strain for Jesse, the decision to let him opt out was nothing short of terrifying for his dad.

"I spent about a year waking up at 4 o'clock in the morning with my heart thumping thinking, my God, he's going to end up in a cardboard box in Los Angeles ... where can you go in this world with a Grade 9 education?" Gilmour says.

People of his own generation went to school out of fear because they were terrified of what would happen if they didn't have an education, he notes.

"Most of us got a B.A. because we were frightened of the consequences," Gilmour says. "His generation isn't frightened of that stuff at all. I don't know why they're not. But they're really not."

Gilmour, who has worked as a film critic and cautiously served up erudite observations about plot, direction and acting techniques to his son, doesn't even attempt to describe the three films per week as a substitute for an education.

"He really didn't get anything out of it except he got to spend time with his father, and what teenage boys really need is to spend time with their fathers," he says.

"We could've gone skydiving, or we could've gone scuba-diving. It wouldn't have made a difference. It wasn't really the films. It was an opportunity for the two of us to spend time together before he was gone for good."

As it turns out, the films worked as a kind of conversation-starter, and father and son would go outside on the porch, smoke cigarettes and "talk about everything under the sun" - including Jesse's attempts to sort out matters of the heart when he falls hard for one girl, and later, for another. There are troubled times, too, when Jesse breaks his vow to stay away from drugs.

But Jesse's opinion diverges somewhat from that of his father when he talks about the "nourishment" he got from seeing a range of movies, including some he describes as "great art."

"On The Waterfront," "Notorious" and "A Streetcar Named Desire" were among the many films the pair watched together.

"The more you learn about it the more you can appreciate it. So it's true the movies were more just kind of a jumping off point that me and my dad could spend time together, and have a real relationship during that time. But yeah, I think I got a lot out of the movies."

A few years after the film club began, Jesse decided to go back to school and signed up for a crash course in the required subjects, with tutoring by his mother. Last month, he began studying Italian cinema, classical mythology and world religions at the University of Toronto. ...

Gilmour, 57, says that during those "film club" years, his professional life was "a catastrophe." Now, he calls it an unbelievable stroke of luck because it gave him time at home with his son at a time when teens are "gradually shutting the door on their parents and they're keeping their private lives to themselves."

"It was like winning the lottery, and not recognizing it until about halfway through that this was actually a victory, not a life catastrophe."

You can read the rest here.

Science with Tom Edison

John Holt, on helping a very young boy learn the names of different words, from How Children Learn:

I was careful, when I told him the name of something, not to tell him as if it were a lesson, something he had to remember. Nor did I test him by saying, "What's this? What's that?" This kind of checking up is not necessary, and it puts a child in a spot where he will feel that, if he says the wrong thing, he has done wrong and is in the wrong. I have seen kindly, well-meaning parents do this to young children, hoping to help them learn. Almost every time the child soon took on the kind of tense, tricky expression we see on so many children's faces in school, and began the same sad old business of bluffing, guessing, and playing for hints. Even in the rare case when a child does not react this defensively to questions, too much quizzing is likely to make him begin to think that learning does not mean figuring out how things work, but getting and giving answers that please grownups.

* * * *

A bit of a confession here from the would-be well-trained Farm School.

Literature-based studies work very well for us, especially for English (what newfangled types call "language arts"), and history. But literature-based science studies have been a bust. First, following The Well-Trained Mind's suggestions, with one discipline a year, life science or earth science/astronomy or chemistry or physics, and heavy on the narrating (with written "Narration Pages") and notebooking (with written "Experiment Pages"). Then, in an effort to make things easier for myself, with more formal programs (Great Science Adventures, Living Learning Books), with fiddly little make-your-own booklets and worksheets. After a while, it occurred to me that while teaching science was more pleasurable for me this way, it wasn't an interesting or effective way for my kids to learn. In fact, this rather bloodless approach was sucking the fun and fascination out of what would otherwise be very fun and fascinating subjects and ideas. They're good books and curriculum, just not right for my kids, right now.

After a year or so of mulling the subject, a year in which we unschooled science and the kids learned a good deal (not to difficult to do in the country on the farm when dinnertime conversation tends to revolve around plant and animal genetics anyway) and in which I carefully studied Rebecca Rupp's Complete Home Learning Sourcebook and read all sorts of things, including Natalie Angier's new The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Beautiful Basics of Science, I realized that young Tom Edison didn't have programs, curriculum, or lesson plans. No sirree. He just burned down barns and boxcars with his experiments and exasperated his teacher before being sent home to his mother for his education.

I knew we'd have to move away from a well-laid out, book-heavy program for my own sake -- ever so much easier to plan and co-ordinate -- to a more hands-on method for the sake of my kids (ages 10, eight-and-a-half, and almost seven) -- not quite so easy to plan and co-ordinate -- to keep them excited about and interested in science, before it turns into incomprehensible drudgery. And dare I say it and sound like an unschooler, but often the kids' best lessons, and when they learn the most, is when things aren't Planned-And-Co-ordinated. Of course not. That would be too easy.

This coming year, after much thought and reading, we're trying something new -- heavy on the experiments and experimenting, light on lab reports, narration, and even reading, especially when it comes to biographies and "the history of science" stuff, which I adore but which the kids regard as frilly extras. I figure there's plenty of time for that later. What there's little time for now, though, is hooking the kids on the magic and fun of science. And instead of spending the entire year on one facet of science -- chemistry or physics or biology, etc. -- which the kids with their many interests lose patience with quickly, we're going to do both chemistry and physics, with the usual natural history thrown in, too; if we were following the WTM framework, we'd be starting our second, more in-depth study of biology, which just might send everyone here around the bend. As far as I was concerned, that wasn't even an option, though I was sorely tempted by Noeo Science for chemistry and/or physics, but in the end realized I didn't want us to be constrained by someone else's lesson plans, though I have found some wonderful book suggestions on Noeo's reading list (including, from Physics I, Rubber-Band Banjos and Java Jive Bass which I mentioned the other day; Fizz, Bubble & Flash; and How Do You Lift a Lion? and from Physics II, Gizmos and Gadgets: Creating Science Contraptions That Work (& Knowing Why)).

So here is the non-plan for science this year:

Chemistry:
I'm going to take a page from Tom Edison and let the kids become boy and girl wizards. Messy, our-flasks-and-test-tubes-bubble-over experiments galore, no lab notes, and minimal books, mostly for experiments:

the old and dangerous Golden Book of Chemistry Experiments (which I wrote about here several months ago); I found a free PDF download of the book here, which I've printed out and put in a binder. Lynx at One-Sixteenth is using The Golden Book too, so we'll be able to compare bangs and booms shortly. That previous PDF link has been disabled; try this instead,
The Golden Book of Chemistry Experiments -- with thanks to Kathy at Home Chemistry for the new link.

Our old out-of-print How and Why Wonder Book of Chemistry by Martin L. Keen

Two older Dover books already on the shelf: Entertaining Science Experiments With Everyday Objects by Martin Gardner and Chemical Magic by Leonard A. Ford and E. Winston Grundmeier

Mr. Wizard's World six-DVD set; though I think I'll ask Tom to help the day we electrocute the hot dog.

There are so many good experiment books available, new and out-of-print, including a number by Mr. Wizard, aka Don Herbert, and even a dandy Thomas Edison one); I decided to go with what we already have on the shelf.

Physics:
I ordered the K'NEX Simple Machines Set, and I plan to keep it in the living room and let the kids loose with it, with minimal assistance and guidance from me. Mechanically-minded Daniel will have a field day,

On the bookshelf, just in case:

Physics in a Hardware Store and Physics in a Housewares Store, both by Robert Friedhoffer and both out of print but which I found easily and cheaply secondhand; recommended in Rebecca Rupp's Complete Home Learning Sourcebook. I can't think of a better way to involve Tom's carpentry experience and the kids' love of tools with basic physics principles. And while we're in the kitchen with the housewares, we can make use of kitchen scientist Harold McGee's Curious Cook website -- "exploring the science of food and its transformations".

And on the reference shelf, if the kids want more information, though I will try not to push it, because I know that while I prefer to read about science, my kids prefer to live it:

How to Think Like a Scientist by Stephen P. Kramer and illustrated by Felicia Bond

David Macaulay's The Way Things Work, and the related DVD series which I found in the library system; 26 discs, 13 minutes each.

* * *

I'll wait to see how this year goes before planning any more science. If the approach works this year with the kids, I have my eye on a couple of books following the same approach for the high school years, Hands-On Physics Activities with Real-Life Applications: Easy-to-Use Labs and Demonstrations for Grades 8-12 by Cunningham and Herr, and Hands-On Chemistry Activities with Real-Life Applications: Easy-to-Use Labs and Demonstrations for Grades 8-12 by Herr and Cunningham. I think the latter would be well paired with the Thames & Kosmos Chem C3000, which looks like one of the better chemistry sets available in these toothless times.

Just a bit more from John Holt on How Children Learn:

There is a special sense in which it may be fair to say that the child scientist is a less efficient thinker than the adult scientist. He is not as good at cutting out unnecessary and useless information, at simplifying the problem, at figuring out how to ask questions whose answers will give him the most information. Thus, a trained adult thinker, seeing a cello for the first time, would probably do in a few seconds what it takes a child much longer to do -- bow each of the strings, to see what sounds they give, and then see what effect holding down a string with the left hand has on the sound made by that string. That is, if -- and it is a very big if -- he could bring himself to touch the cello at all. Where the young child, at least until his thinking has been spoiled by adults, has a great advantage is in situations -- and many, even most real life situations are like this -- w here there is so much seemingly senseless data that it is impossible to tell what questions to ask. He is much better at taking in this kind of data; he is better able to tolerate its confusion; and he is much better at picking out the patterns, hearing the faint signal amid all the noise. Above all, he is much less likely than adults to make hard and fast conclusions on the basis of too little data, or having made such conclusions, to refuse to consider any new data that does not support them. And these are the vital skills of thought which, in our hurry to get him thinking the way we do, we may very well stunt or destroy in the process of educating him.

(L at Schola has been reading John Holt too.)

* * *

Other recent Farm School science mutterings, natterings, and ramblings:

More food for thought: connections and disconnections

Science summer school

In search of freedom and independence, and big bangs

The beautiful basics of science

Poetry Friday: A bit of Browning and a huge delight

A poem for back-to-school season for all parents who teach, guide, educate, explain, discuss, and develop.

Most of the great English poet Robert Browning's education took place at home, centering around his father's library of some 6,000 volumes in English, as well as French, ancient Greek, and Latin. He began composing rhymes even before he learned to read and write by the age of five. Browning wrote the following poem, toward the end of his life, a loving thank you to his first and best teacher. I can easily picture father and young son, gallumphing around the library floor, sofa cushions stacked nearby, surrounded by books and surprised family pets.

Development
by Robert Browning (1812-1889)

My Father was a scholar and knew Greek.
When I was five years old, I asked him once
"What do you read about?"
"The siege of Troy."
"What is a siege and what is Troy?"
Whereat
He piled up chairs and tables for a town,
Set me a-top for Priam, called our cat
-- Helen, enticed away from home (he said)
By wicked Paris, who couched somewhere close
Under the footstool, being cowardly,
But whom -- since she was worth the pains, poor puss --
Towzer and Tray, -- our dogs, the Atreidai, -- sought
By taking Troy to get possession of
-- Always when great Achilles ceased to sulk,
(My pony in the stable) -- forth would prance
And put to flight Hector -- our page-boy's self.
This taught me who was who and what was what:
So far I rightly understood the case
At five years old: a huge delight it proved
And still proves -- thanks to that instructor sage
My Father, who knew better than turn straight
Learning's full flare on weak-eyed ignorance,
Or, worse yet, leave weak eyes to grow sand-blind,
Content with darkness and vacuity.

* * *

Make your way to Semicolon for today's Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Sherry!

Why safer isn't always better

Listening to CBC Radio's "Sounds Like Canada" show last week (podcast here; let me know if the link doesn't work), I heard summer host Kevin Sylvester interview Matt Hern about the new U.S. edition of his book, Watch Yourself: Why Safer Isn't Always Better, out last month in paperback; it was published in Canada last summer, but both Amazon.ca and Chapters list it with 4-6 week and 3-5 week availability, never a good sign, I've found.

The radio conversation, which was continued on today's "Sounds Like Canada" show, and subject of the book, are right in line with my own thoughts about childhood fun, danger, acceptable risk, responsibility, and independence. From the publisher's website:

From warnings on coffee cups to colour–coded terrorist gauges to ubiquitous security cameras, our culture is obsessed with safety.

Some of this is drive by lawyers and insurance, and some by over–zealous public officials, but much is indicative of a cultural conversation that has lost its bearings. The result is not just a neurotically restrictive society, but one which actively undermines individual and community self–reliance. More importantly, we are creating a world of officious administration, management by statistics, absurd regulations, rampaging lawsuits, and hygenically cleansed public spaces. We are trying to render the human and natural worlds predictable and calculated. In doing so, we are trampling common discourse about politics and ethics.

Hern asserts that safer just isn’t always better. Throughout Watch Yourself, he emphasizes the need to rethink our approach to risk, reconsider our fixation with safety, and reassert individual decision–making.

Much more conversation on the radio than the website about the effect of all this caution on our children.

Looking up the book and author online, I was interested to learn that six years ago Matt Hern founded the Purple Thistle Centre for Youth Arts & Activism, a "deschool" in Vancouver, BC with "alternative ways of taking in information or learning skills". Hern has written more about his thoughts of learning and deschooling in two books, the out-of-print Deschooling Our Lives (shades of Ivan Illich) and Field Day: Getting Society Out of School.

On a more lighthearted note on the subject of danger, I ran across this post, The Borderline Sociopathic Book for Boys, at the new-to-me and very enjoyable blog Sippican Cottage. The post has inspired Sippican's new blog, The Borderline Sociopathic Blog for Boys, guided by the words of Mark Twain, "Now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates." And, just in time for back-to-school season, don't miss Sippican's post last week on schools and education.

Teacher meme

Another day, another meme, but this time I was tagged and some time ago, too. Literacy Teacher at Mentor Texts & More tagged me for a teacher's meme, and I very much appreciate the fact that a NYC public school teacher thought of me for this one, which I find both nifty and generous. (Do I mention here that I grew up down the street from P.S. 75 in Manhattan?)

And since I've spent the past couple of days ordering books and curriculum -- more books and other fun stuff (list to come in a future post) than curriculum (a few Explode the Code workbooks for the boys and the next level of Singapore Math for everyone) -- I am getting more in a teaching mode if not mood.

1. I am a good teacher because... I try to incorporate each of the kids' interests and passions in our studies. Because I try not to answer Davy's questions -- "How fast do clouds move?" [variation: "How fast do the blades in the blender turn?"], "What weighs more, the bull or the truck?" -- with "Ask your father." And because learning and reading are among my own greatest passions, which makes it easier than not to pass both along to my children.

2. If I weren't a teacher, I would... still buy as many books and other goodies for the kids. But it's nice to have an official excuse, er, reason. As for a different profession, after the kids are up and out, the weekly newspaper always seems to need reporters, not to mention editors with a good supply of sharp red pencils.

3. My teaching style is... more guiding than teaching. And following the Yeats quote beloved by so many, "Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." Oh, and an offshoot from my mothering: the ever-trusty method of reverse psychology. "Do you really think you could possibly read a Nancy Drew book in one short day?" said with a very worried, doubting expression on motherly face. (And guess what? Laura is now reading her way through Nancy Drew books -- is there a better way to spend the last few weeks of summer vacation? -- at the rate of one a day.)

4. My classroom is... everywhere from the kitchen table, where the kids do their seatwork (math, writing, penmanship, grammar, and so on); to the boys' bedroom, where I sit cross-legged on the floor and read aloud while all three play with Lego or Tinker Toys, or draw; to the stage at the local college theater for drama; to our corrals and fields for nature study and animal husbandry; the little village down the road, where the kids have art lessons; and everywhere in between and beyond.

5. My lesson plans... are minimal, in part because the kids will be in second, third, and fifth grades. Some of our programs and texts -- math (Singapore), spelling (Avko Sequential Spelling), grammar (Growing with Grammar), composition (Write with the Best) -- incorporate lessons, minimizing the planning for me. Other subjects, such as history, where we mostly read books and discuss them; and science, which this year will be more experimenting and observing and (gasp!) less reading and writing, are very light on the lesson plans.

I've also found -- surprise, surprise -- that the more I plan, the more life gets in the way. Such as the all-planned-out October several years ago, when we suddenly and delightedly found ourselves in NYC with my parents for several weeks. No plan, but great fun and tremendous amounts of learning.

6. One of my teaching goals is... for the kids to learn to think for themselves and to work more independently each year.

7. The toughest part of teaching is... not passing on my own biases and prejudices to the kids, especially when it comes to math and science, which were my least favorite, and least successful, subjects from about fifth grade. Mostly, it was the way the subjects were taught, from the philosophy and structure (New Math, anyone? Even my parents didn't understand my homework) to the methods, such as textbooks and dry delivery for the most part.

The revelation of home schooling has been that science and math taught properly can be engaging and exciting, for the kids and for me. I revel in this lucky second chance to learn more about both subjects, in many cases to understand a good number of concepts properly for the first time.

8. The thing I love most about teaching is... watching my kids make connections, and come up with ideas, thoughts, and questions I've never considered (how fast are those blades in the blender turning?).

9. A common misconception about teaching is... that Tom and I aren't teaching when school is officially out for the summer. Instead, it's when we enter one of our unschooling, low tide phases of the year. Again, not so much planning, but an awful lot of learning.

10. The most important thing I've learned since I started teaching... is never to underestimate a child's abilities and interests.

This is a busy time of year for teachers of all stripes, so I'll leave the tag open for anyone who wants to play. Leave me a note in the comments if you do. And thanks again to Literacy Teacher, with all best wishes for the upcoming school year.

* * *

Just a quick reminder that Literacy Teacher hosted the very first Picture Book Carnival earlier this month. If, as I did, you missed it, you have another chance -- the second Picture Book Carnival will be up no later than Saturday, September 1; deadline for submissions is Wednesday, August 29, and the suggested theme is picture books good for readalouds.

Worth reading

o Stephanie at Throwing Marshmallows has a terrific post about Feminism and Homeschooling.

o David Harsanyi of The Denver Post writes that Adults, not boys, have changed. Just a sampling:

What makes The Dangerous Book for Boys somewhat contentious, though, is its implicit assertion that boys and girls are very different. That boys and girls are interested in different things and, gulp, excel at different things as well.

And according to Jim Hamilton, a program coordinator with Colorado 4-H, it's the adults who need help, not the boys.

Hamilton contends that in his 20 years of involvement with Colorado youth development, boys haven't changed very much at all. What's changed, he claims, is the reaction adults have to the activities boys tend to engage in.

"What boys do isn't necessarily what I'd call dangerous, anyway," explains the father of four. "But they have a need to push their own limitation. And it hurts them when we won't allow that to happen. Sometimes it forces them to learn and deal with those limitations on a bigger stage - where it's much more difficult. Then people overreact. Boys are often on the edge. And that's basically what adults react to in a poor way."

o The BBC's correspondent in America, Justin Webb, this past Saturday, on America's great faith divide and his visit to the creation museum:

There is nothing remotely convincing about the Creation Museum and frankly if it poses the threat to American science that some American critics claim it does, that seems to me to be as much a commentary on the failings of the scientific establishment as it is on the creationists.

There is a reason, I think, why theocracy will never fly in the United States and it has been touched on, inadvertently, by George Bush himself.

Mr Bush often makes the point that the philosophy of the Islamic radicals, full of hate and oppression, would not be attractive to people who truly had the freedom to choose.

Similarly the philosophy of the Old Testament, so much celebrated by some evangelicals here, has a limited power to enthral free people.

At the Creation Museum, goggle-eyed children watch depictions of the Great Flood in which children and their mums and dads are consumed, because God is cross.

In a nation of kindly moderate people I am not sure this is the future.

I put my faith - in America.

Bet you didn't know I read "Chemical & Engineering News"

Just for the articles, though.

Three of them, in fact, from tomorrow's issue. The first is on homeschool science curricula, especially high school chemistry:

It's Monday night at the Strouds', and David is at the dining room table with his two daughters, Fisher, seven, and Ripley, nine. On this particular evening in February, David is performing an electrolysis experiment using a battery and a penny immersed in water. Monday night is chemistry night, and David and his wife, Annemarie, have invited C&EN to join them for the evening. Fisher and Ripley giggle as bubbles begin to form on the coin.

The Strouds are among a growing number of families in the U.S. who homeschool their children. An estimated 2 million students now are being homeschooled in the U.S., and that number is growing at a rate of 7 to 10% per year, according to the National Home Education Research Institute.

More parents are also deciding to homeschool their children beyond middle school, and as they do so, they are discovering that the availability of already prepared chemistry curricula is quite limited. The situation is especially challenging for secular homeschoolers, who say there are virtually no secular high school chemistry curricula out there for the homeschooling community.

The market is slowly responding to these trends, and several high school chemistry curricula that cater to a diverse audience of homeschoolers now are in development. In addition to helping families teach the fundmental concepts of chemistry, these curricula address an important practical question: How do you carry out lab experiments that are challenging and informative yet safe to be carried out in the home? ...

Read the article for the rest, including some more on the programs under development.

Another article is on "Help For Homeschoolers: Opportunities abound for learning science outside the home":

As awareness of the problem grows, more opportunities for learning science have become available to homeschoolers around the U.S. For example, the Maryland Science Center, in Baltimore, for the past eight years has been offering several weeks of educational programming in September specifically for homeschoolers. Students visit the planetarium, watch IMAX films, participate in discussions of various exhibits, and do hands-on experiments in subjects ranging from biochemistry to archaeology.

In upstate New York, the Cornell Center for Materials Research, in partnership with the Ithaca Sciencenter Museum, offers hands-on materials science workshops for homeschoolers. The workshops are led by Cornell faculty, postdocs, and graduate and undergraduate students. ...

The American Chemical Society doesn't offer any formal programs for homeschoolers, but it offers educational opportunities through its student affiliate groups and other programs. For example, the ACS student affiliates at Waynesburg College, in Pennsylvania, offer a laboratory program in which they do chemistry experiments with homeschoolers. And ACS member C. Marvin Lang, as part of his speaker service tour last November, provided an afternoon of chemistry demonstrations to students and parents of the Marshfield Area Home Educators Association in Marshfield, Wis.

The third article, "Former homeschool students reflect on their educational experiences", profiles several former homeschoolers who continued on with college studies and careers in science, including Seth Anthon, who

... grew up in rural North Carolina, where the nearest public school was an hour's drive away. So his mother, who had worked as a teacher, decided to homeschool him. When Anthony reached high school age, his mother began taking a chemistry course at North Carolina State University as a prerequisite for entering pharmacy school. His mom would bring home her assignments, and they would do the chemistry problems together. "Homeschoolers have a tendency to turn all sorts of situations into learning situations," Anthony says.

For the chemistry labs, Anthony came up with a lot of his own experiments, many based on simple household chemistry. "When you're doing household labs, you don't go to the store and buy glacial acetic acid; you use the vinegar you have in your kitchen cabinet," Anthony says, adding that through his experience he gained a greater appreciation for how chemistry fits in with the real world.

In contrast, he remembers being frustrated with the general chemistry labs when he entered college. "It was very cookbook," he says. "Everyone was attuned to the procedural way of doing things. I was thinking in a different mind-set.
"Honestly, I can't say I learned a whole lot about chemistry from the labs," says Anthony, who is now a Ph.D. candidate in chemistry at Colorado State University.

Good Guardian

article on home education in the UK, primarily a very even-handed profile of the Newstead family, who have, along with many other UK home educators, "simply tried the mainstream and found it wanting."

Best quote from the home educating father,

People say 'Isn't socialisation a problem?' And we say, 'Yes it is, which is why we've taken our children out of school.'

Thanks to Carlotta at Dare to Know for the link.

Supersize me?

"Please accept my resignation. I don't care to belong to any club that will accept me as a member."
Groucho Marx, The Groucho Letters (1967)

"Include me out."
Samuel Goldwyn

Earlier this week, I discovered I'd been nominated for a blogging award, but being the crabby type and a Marxist (Groucho, not Karl) as well as a Goldwyn Girl, I wrote to the organizers as soon as possible to ask that my nomination be withdrawn. I never heard back from anyone, and voting ended the other day, with Farm School mercifully at the bottom of the pile. Since a few oblique words about the award made it into some of the recent comments here, I thought by way of explanation I'd post the gist of the letter, edited and amended, that I sent as soon as possible:

Dear All,

While I'm very, very pleased that someone likes my blog well enough to nominate it for an award and that a few others would even vote for it, and while I understand the spirit in which the category, SUPER-HOMESCHOOLER (yes, all caps like that) and its description are meant and am accordingly touched and flattered, I'm also exceedingly uncomfortable with both the category and its description. Which is as follows:

"Ever feel like a looser [sic] after reading someone else’s lesson plans, seeing their field trip photos, listening to them talk about what they got done today, or seeing pictures of their children’s accomplishments? You were probably feeling the effects of visiting a SUPER-HOMESCHOOLER’s blog. These are the A-list homeschool parents that just BLOW YOU AWAY with their enthusiasm. We all have our good days, but this blogger has us all beat."

Oh dear.

First, while I realize the description isn't supposed to be literal -- the only lesson plans I've ever posted are those by other homeschooling parents, I haven't posted any field trip photos (and only recently, in fact, figured out how to use my digital camera), I post long lists of what I've done only when I'm making excuses about why I haven't blogged lately, and certainly can't take full credit for all of my kids' accomplishments -- I'd hate to think that anything I've ever written on the blog or elsewhere would make anyone feel like a loser, loosely or otherwise. And if I have, I certainly don't want an award for it. I don't like the idea of comparing, especially another homeschooling mother comparing herself to me, when all of our families, our children, our circumstances, are so different. And while I didn't start my blog to be an encouragement to others -- my family comes first -- I didn't start it to show others up, either; first, I wanted to see if I could master the technology, and then I thought it could be a place where I could record some of the things the kids and I have done, and note possible things we could do, read, watch, and listen to in the future. Along the way, it became a place where I could share interesting bits of information, such as new book titles, resources, and the occasional news article, and a place to put thoughts and opinions that just come spouting out because there's really no other place to put them.

Plus, I'm just not a Super Homeschooler, or even, like Mary Poppins, Practically Perfect. I don't have X-ray (let alone 20-20) vision, I could be much more diligent with the kids about certain schoolwork subjects (most of the time, I tend to let life on a farm and in the country, with field guides galore, substitute for the dandy, formal science curriculum that watches us from the shelf), I'm not as consistent with the kids as I'd like to be (as I should be), the kids probably watch too many movies, my house could be cleaner, my backside could be smaller (speaking of supersizing), I'm woefully behind in The Great Conversation about The Great Books, and, to top it off, I haven't blogged much lately since real life has been so busy. And sometimes the things that I do do well have a habit of backfiring on me, which is why I still have a nine-and-a-half year old who believes mightily in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. If I had to describe the kids and me, I'd call us all "bright and motivated" rather than "gifted and talented", which I think puts us squarely, and fairly, in the non-Super category.

There's a reason Farm School wasn't nominated in the Nitty Gritty category, because I don't do Nitty Gritty. Both by nature and by nurture, I'm predisposed toward keeping it in rather than letting it all hang out, in part because I'm never sure just who is out there reading this and because I'm not as comfortable sharing our private thoughts and deeds as other bloggers are. I'm purposefully very careful, selective, and stingy about what I choose write on my blog and it's certainly not a comprehensive record of our days and our homeschooling, not like some other dizzyingly dazzling home educating bloggers (you know you who you are, and you know who I think you are, too), including single working parents, each of whom makes me look like a piker by comparison.

If I overwhelm any readers with my enthusiasm, it's probably because I prefer to write about our high points, which just seem more interesting to write about. Which automatically means the low points don't get much coverage, so my blog really isn't a fair way to assess our family's homeschooling or our life. And to think of using it as a measure for anyone else's homeschooling is just crazy-making. As I write in every so often to a couple of online homeschooling groups, my idea of following any method is to take what works fand leave the rest behind, far far far behind, without qualms or guilt or comparisons. Don't make yourself and your kids crazy trying to do everything in The Book or The Program, The Guide or The Website, and certainly not on Another Woman's Blog.

All of which is a very long way around of saying thanks so very, very much for the honor, but I'd be much more comfortable as an observer than as a nominee. Anyway, that's what makes horse races.

Some weekend questions for homeschoolers in general, and Charlotte Mason types in particular

from a couple of children's literature blogs I enjoy:

The first bunch from Roger Sutton, editor of the Horn Book, from his blog Read Roger; and the second bunch from Liz at A Chair, A Fireplace, and A Tea Cozy.

My blogging has been sporadic as it is, likely even more so over the holiday weekend and with calves possibly popping like Peeps, so I'll try to get back to this with a proper post in (I hope) the next few days. In the meantime, the short answer to Liz's question is "Of course not!"

A late winter Field Day

Here, with great thanks to Dawn!

Bits and bobs

Blogging will be intermittent and sporadic for the next, possibly long, while. We're planning to visit my parents, and Tom and I have a ton each to do before we get on the planes (not to mention locating 100mL/100g/3oz. mini bottles of unguents, potions, and toothpaste for onboard use).

Here are some fun and useful things I've found in the past few days:

The indefatigable Kelly at Big A little a has ready the January issue of The Edge of the Forest online magazine of children's literature; of special note is the article on leveled reading, Helping Children Choose Books Beyond Level by Franki, a teacher and mother of two:

I am a mother of a first grader and a tenth grader. Both have learned to read during the era of, what I call, Level-Mania. I want both of my daughters to have more than going higher/higher, faster/faster in their reading lives. I want them to find the joy in reading and to read because it sustains them. I think it is time that we think about what messages these leveling systems are giving to our children. What are we teaching them about lifelong reading, book choice, and learning? What can they learn if they are scoring points and getting prizes for reading? How can they fall in love with a character when their goal is to get to the next level?

Next month, February 10, is the Edge's anniversary issue.

LaMai, a single working indefatigable mother in NYC, has a great post about why homeschooling is for you; take a look at her previous post to see that for her son, homeschool rarely means staying home.

I know there are other things I meant to post about, but after our third trip to town yesterday (morning/appointment; afternoon/homeschool gym day for the kids; evening/4H meeting for Laura followed by remnants of homeschool support group meeting), this is all I can recall for now. Besides, I'm supposed to be buying five plane tickets. Back with more as I remember...

Home in Kenya is where the school is

Since I have family who live in Kenya, every once in a while I check the online edition of The Standard for the latest news. I was surprised this week to find an article, and a positive one at that, on homeschooling in Kenya, "Home is where the school is". Here's some of what reporter Kevin Mwachiro wrote, and you can read the rest here:

When I first heard about home schooling some years back, I dismissed the concept, believing that the particular missionary family was sheltering its children from the real world.

I pitied the children, believing they led a boring life with their mother-cum-teacher in a life where bedrooms doubled up as classrooms. Looking back, I recognise that my ideas were formed from a point of ignorance.

The concept of home schooling may be new to many, and one that we believe is only practised by foreigners and we quickly dismiss the concept. Truth be told, there is a small but growing number of Kenyans who are opting to educate their children within the comfort of their homes. ...

The Gitongas have three children, Gloria (9), Stano (5) and Joy (15 months). Patrice is self-employed and Liz is a teacher. They had never considered homeschooling as an option for their children. They had struggled to find a school for Gloria, with Liz having strong reservations about putting her children through the heavy workload of the 8-4-4 system.

The schools that they considered would require a trans-Nairobi commute or a full day at school and the notion that her three-year-old was to face a full day at school was too premature for the Gitonga’s [sic]. Liz remembers describing the suggestion of homeschooling as ridiculous, when it was offered to them by an American friend. Patrice was more welcoming to the idea. After some thought, they agreed to give it a try for a year.

By the time the year was over, Liz found herself on an adventure that she could only describe as exciting. With the aid of resource materials and teaching ideas offered to them by the same American friend, she witnessed her Gloria blossom at a rate that shocked them. This was a confidence booster for her, "If I could teach my child to read I could do anything," says Liz.

When Gloria was ready for standard one, the Gitongas found themselves questioning what education was and whether the education being offered in Kenya would empower their children to be that best they could be. The teacher-student ratio was also another concern for them.

The pull to continue homeschooling was easy. Liz and Patrice felt that they would be able to impart solid foundational values onto their children. They strongly feel that parents expect too much of teachers by expecting them to discipline their children, give them values and teach them as well.

"It’s just too much to expect of the teachers. We can influence our children by being examples for them, imparting values, monitoring their learning and giving them a holistic education," says Liz. For Liz and Patrice, the important thing is to expose their children to a world bigger than themselves, and show them that they can actively contribute to society not only now, but in the future.

"There is no rigidity to their learning. One day we will be learning about photosynthesis and the next thing we are out in the garden seeing how it works. We want to expose our children to an education that shows them the interconnectivity of life. Learning is better remembered in this way. When I started off with Gloria, we went through many biographies, so that we could expose them to individuals who achieved great heights and made a difference in their society. We want to expose them to what they can achieve as human beings. One of Gloria favourites is the children’s version of Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom," explains Liz. ...

And my favorite part of the article,

Liz and Patrice have faced criticism from people who question the sensibility of actions. They have no apologies to offer to anyone, citing that homeschooling is an option and is similar to choosing private or public schools. When I asked whether she would describe themselves as being over-protective, she smiled, stating that they were only playing the role of parents.

I would quibble with the reporter's contention about the disadvantages "to having the parent as the teacher": "If the child is home-schooled from the start, the child will always have the same teacher. If you have the same teacher year after year, eventually the teacher’s strengths will become the student’s strengths, and the teacher’s weaknesses become the student’s weaknesses." Aside from the fact that this doesn't take into account a child's natural ability for a particular subject, if the parent as teacher is doing a proper job, each year the child becomes more and more of an independent learner and thinker.

But by the end of the article, even Mr. Mwachiro seems to have second thoughts about the perceived disadvantage as he writes, "As a teacher, you learn as you teach; parents can grow as teachers, while the children grow as students."

letters to the editor

A couple of different responses to The New York Times article on unschooling, Nov. 26 -- one ahem, one amen:

To the Editor:

I am shocked and saddened to read about the growing numbers of parents who are joining the unschooling movement.

I consider “child-led learning” to be an incredibly foolhardy philosophy. Not even older teenagers, much less the very young, should be put in the position of making unalterable decisions regarding their future welfare.

Achieving a satisfying and rewarding career is tough enough for those with a mainstream education that encompasses the breadth and depth of subject matter.

Many unschooled children may very well become deeply disappointed when, as adults, they find that the doors leading to exciting endeavors in disciplines like science, medicine and technology, among others, are forever closed to them.

Somehow, tossing precious potential to the winds seems a costly and irresponsible way to provide a freedom-filled childhood.

Mary K.

and this:

To the Editor:

We are home-schooling our children. Although we’ve opted to pursue a classical, college preparatory approach to our children’s education, we know many “unschooling” families, including several whose unschooled children have gone on to college and who seem to be well-adjusted adults leading happy, productive lives.

We see no reason to heed the concern and call for regulation expressed by Prof. Luis Huerta of Columbia University. As your article noted, there is little data suggesting that the unschooled population is at risk.

Also, given how many barely literate children graduate from government-run and supervised schools each year, it would be imprudent to divert the attention of our legislators and officials toward unschoolers.

We would rather see our taxes used to address the well-documented and distressing state of our country’s schools and the millions of children who leave them unable to pursue basic college work or to perform skills necessary to support themselves.

Margaret M.
Charles S.

The Magnifying Glass
by Walter de la Mare

With this round glass
I can make Magic talk --
A myriad shells show
In a scrap of chalk;

Of but an inch of moss
A forest -- flowers and trees;
A drop of water
Like hive of bees.

I lie in wait and watch
How the deft spider jets
The woven web-silk
From his spinnerets;

The tigerish claws he has!
And oh! the silly flies
The stumble into his net --
With all those eyes!

Not even the tiniest thing
But this my glass
Will make more marvellous
And itself surpass.

Yes, and with lenses like it,
Eyeing the moon,
'Twould seem you'd walk there
In an afternoon!

*******

Liz at A Chair, A Fireplace and A Tea Cozy has the week's Poetry Friday round-up, including news about the naming of Jack Prelutsky as the new Children's Poet Laureate, a choice I just can't get too worked up about...

*******

We've been very busy this past month, a different kind of busy than the usual farm and garden busy that kept us so busy at home over the summer. This busy needs us in town more often and has us relying on meetings and other people. I don't dislike it, but it takes some getting used to. Plus the kids are on a roll with school, and Davy has cracked the reading code, which is thrilling. It's been a round of music and art lessons resumed (new voice lessons for Laura, adding Daniel to art), the semiannual homeschool facilitator meeting to check our progress ("There's learning going on in this house!" he smiled at me), the start-up of homeschool gym days and homeschool support group meetings, and an organizational meeting for a new 4H baking club, so it looks as if Laura might be in two 4H clubs (the other meeting for the beef club is next week). And the calendar for the rest of the year is starting to fill up -- Christmas music recitals, the possibility of a Halloween party at a friend's house instead of the usual trick-or-treating, homeschool poetry recital, and more. Oh, and Canadian Thanksgiving is much too close (next weekend). I'll try to get back here with some more posts, updates, and links, in which I'm sorely behind...

I'm sending you off to see Carlotta

Just as I was forwarding Carlotta the two emails my father had sent me this morning with the two recent articles from The Spectator on home education -- with a "have you seen this??!!" -- she was writing a post about them.

I will likely be posting my own two cents, but until I do, and particularly in case I don't, head over to Carlotta's blog, Dare to Know, for her thoughts.

Reading your way through American history with picture books

Kids' author and home educating dad Chris Barton (husband to Redneck Mother, too) the other day posted his most recent American history picture book reading list for children, for 1925-1975, along with -- and this is the very, very good part -- all of the previous lists and their wrap-ups, from Prehistory-1621 (list and wrap-up) to 1975-the Present (list and wrap-up).

Makes a great Master List for a fun family project, and if you start now you just might make it to the Pilgrims in time for Thanksgiving! Thanks very much for sharing, Chris.

Since Saturday

Finally made it to Staples on Saturday for our fun school supplies, mostly for Davy, who is overjoyed about starting first grade: oversize (5"x8") index cards with primary ruling for beginning writers; Laurentien's new best quality "Studio" colored pencils (not as pricey as Prismacolor Juniors which are more than Davy needs right now, but better than the usual store brand -- even he noticed a difference, and Laura our colored pencil expert said they compare favorably to the Prismacolors); Crayola IQ Sketching markers; oversize index tabs long enough to peek out beyond the plastic page protectors; yet another package of aforementioned page protectors; new binders for Davy (orange, because purple and green have already been claimed); stickers for everyone (Hot Wheels x 2, and farm animals x 1); a new Mead "Upper Class" student planner for me (where I can write each day what they actually did for the day rather than what I planned for them to do); the Staples "house version" of the Desk Buddy (Desk Jockey? Desk Buddy?) with 10 slots (three of each -- how did they know I had three kids? Plus the one extra in the middle for my own stuff) that will make it easy for us to keep pencils, rulers, erasers, etc. on the table and corralled while the kids do their seatwork; and an impulse buy from the Teacher's Aisle, a $10 Multiplication Songs CD.

******

The leaves and the sun, sadly up later and down earlier, not to mention the geese and ducks gathering together in droves, are all saying "autumn", but the air temperature, still near 90, is saying "summer". Rather a nice if unusual combination for the prairies, all in all. No rain either, good for harvesting and for leaving sneakers on the deck, but the trees are starting to get pretty thirsty again.

Tom decided to celebrate Labor Day and the good weather by inviting some family and friends to say goodbye to our incubator-hatched wild ducks -- once and for all identified as blue-winged teals. After chores on Monday morning, he and I boxed them up, and then we all drove over to our pond, where we released what I still think of as my eight babies. I suppose I expected them to waddle out of the tipped over cardboard toward the water, but as soon as the lid was lifted, all of them took flight and circled around the dugout, practicing their takeoffs and landings. The kids gasped and giggled and said their goodbyes. For the past few mornings, the kids and I have taken part of a loaf of bread to feed our former babies, and while we can't tell which ones of all the ducks swimming around are "ours", they all seem to be more than happy with the treat. We wish them goodbye and goodspeed, literally and figuratively, in evading the arriving hunters and heading south.

We ended the day rather differently, by the side of the road 10 miles north of home, the kids and I standing by in the dark with pails of water, a shovel, and a fire extinguisher while Tom welded one of the bearings that had piled up (this is apparently a technical term) in the swather, the part on the tractor that cuts the grain stalks and lays it in a tidy, erm, swath. All the fire precautions, including moving the tractor out to the side of the road from the field, were to prevent a stray spark from the welder causing a fire in the ripe grain, which is after all just dry grass. Think tinder. Tom finally got everything fixed by 9:30, and if the kids hadn't needed showers before we left the house, they certainly needed them on arriving home. So much for my grand plans of an early bedtime before our first day of school.

******

All the more reason, along with our early harvest, to start yesterday's back to school efforts gently, and with lots of coffee. The day began with the "goodie bags" I started a couple of years ago, when I realized that I didn't really want to squirrel away the really fun books, art supplies, and CDs I had found over the summer: the American Girl Kaya story collection and the AG school planner for Laura, a few Jim Weiss CDs, some DVDs, a Timex learner's watch with the dinosaur strap for Davy, a couple of Robert McCloskey books for Daniel, a couple of small Lego kits for the boys. The kids each did one lesson of Singapore math and some penmanship, we looked after the animals, then headed to town after lunch for the first music lessons with new teachers, piano for Laura and Daniel and voice for Laura. Both of the teachers seem personable and pleasant, and I needed to make some changes to keep Laura interested and inspired in lessons.

Today we did some more math, penmanship, and managed to read aloud some of the goodie bag books (George Shrinks, Lentil) before Tom spirited the kids away to work on the new-to-us grainaries at the corrals. This morning Daniel asked for a spelling test, so we may start spelling tomorrow, then grammar and history in next week, and science the week after that.

****

I'm predicting a pretty slow day tomorrow too. Tom didn't get in with the kids until almost eight, and after a quick dinner and necessary baths, they're all unwinding by watching the "Bridges" volume from the goodie bag DVD, "Building Big" with David Macaulay (did you know that there's an activity/experiment with the kids from "Zoom" at the end of "Bridges"? I didn't). Or I could just consider that the science lesson for the day and go ahead and check it off my list, knowing full well the kids will attempt the activity on their own tomorrow...