This afternoon I was in the grocery store, and I saw a mom there with a couple small kids, wearing what was clearly a school T-shirt. The back of it said "ACADEMIC RIGOR EVERYDAY."
Here's what I think about academic rigor every day: it does not sound good to me at all.
Now, before I go any further, I want to be very clear. I know that parents usually choose their child's school very carefully, and they have a lot invested there. If the school on this T-shirt is your school, I'm not trying to say your choice is wrong. I don't know anything about this school. I don't even know what school it is. I'm sure it has great teachers, involved parents, and bright, talented students, and I have no desire to criticize it. I'm not even going to mention that the official school shirt proclaiming academic excellence incorrectly uses "everyday" as a single word--that's another post entirely. (Actually, I should probably stop what I'm doing right now and write that post instead, as it would probably be funnier to read and less likely to offend.) Anyway, let me say one more time, I'm not criticizing your school.
However, having given that disclaimer, let me just ask you one question. What does the word "rigor" remind you of? If, like me, it immediately makes you think of death, I want to suggest there might be a reason for that. Let me explain what I mean.
Education--true education, the kind that has actual value for living--is about more than just the acquisition of information. Kids who can be regarded as well-educated possess more than a head full of facts. They possess an intrinsic love of learning, an insatiable intellectual curiosity. They are eager to find out how what they're learning can be applied in real life, and excited about exploring new possibilities that haven't been tried before. They are unafraid to take the risks involved in innovating. They actively seek for ways to integrate all kinds of seemingly unrelated information into the scheme of what they already know. And unfortunately, none of these qualities can be acquired by means of what usually passes for "academic rigor."
I was raised in a family that highly valued education, and I learned all these qualities from my parents. In my entire life I've yet to encounter anyone as excited about learning, anyone who approaches even the most seemingly trivial pieces of information with as much wonder and appreciation, as my mom and dad. They are voracious learners. (I once had the following actual conversation with my mother. Mom: "Do you know anything about Normandy?" Me: "No, not really." Mom: "I have to find out something about it." Me: "Why?" Mom, indignantly: "Well you shouldn't just be ignorant!") This attitude was contagious--they passed it on to us. But they didn't do it by forcing us to spend 45 minutes each day after school doing language and math exercises. They did it by communicating--by believing--that learning is fun and exciting, that it's relevant to life, that ideas are valuable and that information is the vehicle for those ideas.
I'm not suggesting that school or learning should always be entertaining and fun, like video games except with multiplication facts. In fact, I've written quite clearly in an earlier post about the idea that some things we need to learn are boring, tedious, difficult, or not inherently meaningful. And I'm not against expecting kids to meet high standards in terms of both knowledge and skills. My quarrel is with methodology. Attempting to implement rigorous academic standards too often means simply the transmission of factual information, presented in the absence of context, reinforced by repetition and testing. But learning, in order to lead to true academic excellence, cannot be based on rote memory and repetition--the style of teaching we used to affectionately refer to as "drill and kill." Instead, it needs to be based on wonder, discovery, passion; it must be demonstrated to be meaningful in a larger context; the skills required to accomplish it need to be valued and celebrated. All of which, unfortunately, the drill often does, in fact, kill. And that lends a whole new meaning to "academic rigor" that I can frankly do without.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Why Getting Sick is Good For Me (Sometimes)
When I'm sick, it shakes my irrational half-subconscious belief that I am somehow in control of everything that happens to me. Because--you might not believe this--I don't like getting sick. So, as I "jokingly" told my husband, that's why I don't do it. Don't get me wrong--on a purely intellectual level, I know I can't really will myself not to pick up the random germs and viruses that surround me on a daily basis, but the fact that I am hardly ever really ill somehow lends to the illusion that I can. In the words of an old Roger Miller song, "I don't like to do things I don't like to do." And so, I simply do not get sick. I don't want to. (If that last bit didn't sound a little bit crazy to you, I have bad news. You, too, may be a control freak.) However, this time I did. Which forces me to openly acknowledge that there are some things in life I just cannot control, like it or not. And that can't be bad for me.
When I'm sick, I don't get any of my stuff done. It's not just that I can't go to work, although that's annoying too, but it's all the other "stuff" of life that fills up most of my days, which no one can really do but me. All my little chores, tasks, errands and projects have to be put on the shelf. My checklist is bare of checks, and I can't tell you how much that bothers me. Which leads me to ask myself, "why does this bother me so much?" Answer? It's messing with my sense of self-worth. Because, sadly, even at my advanced stage in life, when I should know better, I still tend to equate being a worthwhile person with being a person who gets a lot of stuff done. Not being able to check off a million daily accomplishments causes me to come up short against the truth that this "failure" does not diminish my value. Is doing all those things the source of my acceptance by my family? My friends? God? No. Therefore leaving me no logical room to make it the standard of acceptance by myself. And--brace yourself for an ugly personal truth about me--also leaving me no moral high ground, on the days when I'm feeling up to snuff, to subtly regard others as inferior to myself for not "checking off" what I consider to be a reasonable number of completed tasks.
When I'm sick, nobody else gets their stuff done either. The kids don't do their chores or clean up behind themselves. Phone calls don't get made, nobody takes a shower, trash doesn't get carried out in a timely fashion. Everyone just meanders off to play video games, dress up in costumes, eat snacks instead of dinner, and otherwise enjoy themselves. They have a wonderful time. It's almost like all those things they do on a daily basis are just a list of my priorities that I've made and imposed on them. Wait....maybe all those things are just a list of my priorities that I've made and imposed on them. And maybe, just maybe, even the things they really do need to take care of have been usurped by me to the degree that they no longer have to feel any personal responsibility for them at all. After all, if I'm willing to be responsible for them instead, why should they bother? So perhaps I need to practice on a daily basis allowing each person in this home to truly feel the ownership, take the initiative, and experience the consequences involved in discharging their own responsibilities. Maybe this team needs more than one player.
When I'm sick, I'm forced to put myself first. Given the obvious megalomaniac tendencies displayed above, perhaps you think I need no great encouragement to do this. I admit, attempting to control everything around me, shore up my own credibility with personal accomplishments, and assume responsibility for everyone in the house could be regarded as a fairly selfish approach to life in general. But, as I think most females on this planet probably know, no matter how much of a control freak you may be, if you are a woman, wife, and mother, these tendencies are nevertheless coupled with a nasty habit of putting the needs (and even wants) of everyone else far ahead of your own. Being sick makes me take care of myself in the right way. It lets me allow others to take care of me, too. It forces me to prioritize what I need, and to ask others to prioritize it also. It tells everyone--including me--that Mom is human too, and sometimes she needs a day off. (Or two.) And that's not only OK, but it's important, because it puts us all together in the same boat. It lets us relate to each other honestly and be real with each other; it teaches us that we're all vulnerable, all valuable, and all worthy of care, for each other and for ourselves.
So being sick once in a while is likely one of the healthiest things I can do for myself. Although I have to admit, I sure hope I go back to work tomorrow--there's no point in getting carried away.
When I'm sick, I don't get any of my stuff done. It's not just that I can't go to work, although that's annoying too, but it's all the other "stuff" of life that fills up most of my days, which no one can really do but me. All my little chores, tasks, errands and projects have to be put on the shelf. My checklist is bare of checks, and I can't tell you how much that bothers me. Which leads me to ask myself, "why does this bother me so much?" Answer? It's messing with my sense of self-worth. Because, sadly, even at my advanced stage in life, when I should know better, I still tend to equate being a worthwhile person with being a person who gets a lot of stuff done. Not being able to check off a million daily accomplishments causes me to come up short against the truth that this "failure" does not diminish my value. Is doing all those things the source of my acceptance by my family? My friends? God? No. Therefore leaving me no logical room to make it the standard of acceptance by myself. And--brace yourself for an ugly personal truth about me--also leaving me no moral high ground, on the days when I'm feeling up to snuff, to subtly regard others as inferior to myself for not "checking off" what I consider to be a reasonable number of completed tasks.
When I'm sick, nobody else gets their stuff done either. The kids don't do their chores or clean up behind themselves. Phone calls don't get made, nobody takes a shower, trash doesn't get carried out in a timely fashion. Everyone just meanders off to play video games, dress up in costumes, eat snacks instead of dinner, and otherwise enjoy themselves. They have a wonderful time. It's almost like all those things they do on a daily basis are just a list of my priorities that I've made and imposed on them. Wait....maybe all those things are just a list of my priorities that I've made and imposed on them. And maybe, just maybe, even the things they really do need to take care of have been usurped by me to the degree that they no longer have to feel any personal responsibility for them at all. After all, if I'm willing to be responsible for them instead, why should they bother? So perhaps I need to practice on a daily basis allowing each person in this home to truly feel the ownership, take the initiative, and experience the consequences involved in discharging their own responsibilities. Maybe this team needs more than one player.
When I'm sick, I'm forced to put myself first. Given the obvious megalomaniac tendencies displayed above, perhaps you think I need no great encouragement to do this. I admit, attempting to control everything around me, shore up my own credibility with personal accomplishments, and assume responsibility for everyone in the house could be regarded as a fairly selfish approach to life in general. But, as I think most females on this planet probably know, no matter how much of a control freak you may be, if you are a woman, wife, and mother, these tendencies are nevertheless coupled with a nasty habit of putting the needs (and even wants) of everyone else far ahead of your own. Being sick makes me take care of myself in the right way. It lets me allow others to take care of me, too. It forces me to prioritize what I need, and to ask others to prioritize it also. It tells everyone--including me--that Mom is human too, and sometimes she needs a day off. (Or two.) And that's not only OK, but it's important, because it puts us all together in the same boat. It lets us relate to each other honestly and be real with each other; it teaches us that we're all vulnerable, all valuable, and all worthy of care, for each other and for ourselves.
So being sick once in a while is likely one of the healthiest things I can do for myself. Although I have to admit, I sure hope I go back to work tomorrow--there's no point in getting carried away.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
This Is A Really Squatchy Area
In honor of a friend, I decided to compile and share a short list of facts I've learned about sasquatches. In case you are preparing to question the veracity of these facts, don't bother--they have been gleaned from hours spent viewing Finding Bigfoot, and those guys are nationally recognized leading experts in the field of true bigfoot facts. Here they are:
1. Sasquatches love bacon.
2. If you're planning to lure a sasquatch with bacon, you must eat some yourself first so he can see that you are not trying to poison him.
3. Facts 1 and 2 above also apply to doughnuts.
4. A sasquatch and a bigfoot are just different names for the same thing. You could also accurately call one a "squatch," a "skunk ape," or a "Kentucky wood-booger."
5. Sasquatches will not eat cattle. This is because they know that cows are human food. Since we humans do not eat their deer, they try to return the favor by not eating our cows. (I'm not sure why this fact does not apply to doughnuts or bacon. Maybe they really would eat cows, but because they have never seen a human actually eating one, they suspect the cows might be poisonous.)
6. Sasquatches are extremely intelligent. This explains the shortage of indisputable physical evidence for their existence--they're so smart that they are very successful in eluding detection by humans. (This fact really reminds me of a joke my 8-year-old loves to tell, which goes as follows: "Have you ever seen a giraffe hiding under your table?" "No." "Pretty good hiders, aren't they?")
7. Squatches love a rockin' party. They get bored in their environment. A party in the woods is irresistible to them.
8. If you're out in the woods listening for a sasquatch, and you hear something, but it turns out to be a coyote instead, that probably means there is a sasquatch. Because coyotes and sasquatches often team up and work together to hunt for food.
9. There's not just one sasquatch, or even just a few. In fact, there could be as many as 6,000 sasquatches living in North America at this very moment. (Skeptical? See fact #6 above.)
10. Trying to find a sasquatch requires a lot of walking around in the woods at night, using video equipment, flashlights, infrared cameras, and other assorted props. A squatch will be much easier to find if you are not actually trying to find one.
11. The state of Ohio has a disproportionately large number of sasquatch sightings and encounters. (I don't know what this fact means for the state of Ohio, I'm just putting it out there.)
12. Those "Messin' With Sasquatch" commercials are woefully inaccurate with regard to true squatch behavior. So don't believe everything you see on TV.
1. Sasquatches love bacon.
2. If you're planning to lure a sasquatch with bacon, you must eat some yourself first so he can see that you are not trying to poison him.
3. Facts 1 and 2 above also apply to doughnuts.
4. A sasquatch and a bigfoot are just different names for the same thing. You could also accurately call one a "squatch," a "skunk ape," or a "Kentucky wood-booger."
5. Sasquatches will not eat cattle. This is because they know that cows are human food. Since we humans do not eat their deer, they try to return the favor by not eating our cows. (I'm not sure why this fact does not apply to doughnuts or bacon. Maybe they really would eat cows, but because they have never seen a human actually eating one, they suspect the cows might be poisonous.)
6. Sasquatches are extremely intelligent. This explains the shortage of indisputable physical evidence for their existence--they're so smart that they are very successful in eluding detection by humans. (This fact really reminds me of a joke my 8-year-old loves to tell, which goes as follows: "Have you ever seen a giraffe hiding under your table?" "No." "Pretty good hiders, aren't they?")
7. Squatches love a rockin' party. They get bored in their environment. A party in the woods is irresistible to them.
8. If you're out in the woods listening for a sasquatch, and you hear something, but it turns out to be a coyote instead, that probably means there is a sasquatch. Because coyotes and sasquatches often team up and work together to hunt for food.
9. There's not just one sasquatch, or even just a few. In fact, there could be as many as 6,000 sasquatches living in North America at this very moment. (Skeptical? See fact #6 above.)
10. Trying to find a sasquatch requires a lot of walking around in the woods at night, using video equipment, flashlights, infrared cameras, and other assorted props. A squatch will be much easier to find if you are not actually trying to find one.
11. The state of Ohio has a disproportionately large number of sasquatch sightings and encounters. (I don't know what this fact means for the state of Ohio, I'm just putting it out there.)
12. Those "Messin' With Sasquatch" commercials are woefully inaccurate with regard to true squatch behavior. So don't believe everything you see on TV.
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