In which the expected happens

Snow before Halloween in Denver isn't uncommon; it's expected. I recall one of the largest snowfalls I experienced in Denver to be just before Halloween while we were living downtown. There are great pictures somewhere.

Last night or early this morning it snowed - not a lot, but an inch or two; enough to completely cover everything. A snowstorm earlier this week had already dumped about 3". It had already completely melted, of course. But the Halloween decorations are out, and so there's an interesting confusion of seasons going on.

Remember, "winter" is exactly two months away.

In which we gain more understanding of the school system

We had a parent-teacher conference with Mrs. Flagg, Evan's kindergarten teacher, this week. I can't say that I feel better about what's happening with my kid, but I understand where it's coming from.

The good news is that Evan is both maturing (a little) and getting a lot better with his literacy skills. We had noticed that the literacy homework was not coming home any more, and had wondered. Mrs. Fisher confirmed that her assistance was no longer needed to get Evan up to speed with his letters.

The bad news is that the school still expects half an hour of "homework" on week nights and an hour daily on Saturday or Sunday, and the behavior problems that we see at home are the same that Mrs. Flagg sees at school.

Sigh.

When the "experts" recommend that children average 5 minutes of homework per grade level (and Kindergarten is "0"), this still seems excessive to me. I have never questioned if Evan can do the work, rather if he should be doing it. Of course, the school has its standards and we're not going to be able to change them or be an exception to them. And really, I believe in standards. But what to do if I think the standards are beating the love of learning out of the kids?

I still don't have answers, but I do have a few explanations.

1) The school has exercised their right to set expectations based upon the desires of the parents whose kids attend Lenski. The expectations are somewhat above the district standards. I think that what has happened is that Lenski has bowed to the pressure from parents who have bought into the early childhood over-education movement. There are a lot of indications that simply because kids can learn to read and add at age three or four, the consequences of making them read before Kindergarten - stress, anxiety, learning that is a chore not a delight - aren't worth the effort. Equally troubling is research that says that for all the stress that we put the kids through, they're not really getting a leg up on their peers by the third, or fourth, or fifth grade - that all that "ahead" at Kindergarten doesn't equate to "ahead" later in school.

Thus, by the time Evan entered Kindergarten, 60% of his peers were academically ahead of him, which placed him - through no deficit of his own - behind before he'd even started. We felt like horrible parents. We played the catch-up game. Per the advice of the school, we bought him DVDs and LMax cartridges. His game and TV time were restricted to only the TV and games that would enrich his literacy and math skills. In addition, he was bringing between one and four pages of literacy homework home nightly. The DVDs and LMax were his diversion between 4:00 and supper's start at 5:00; after supper he spent up to another hour with the homework pages, or a workbook I bought at Albertson's, or some time with the full page of "suggested home activities" to improve his skills. Through all this we were (and still are) aware that Evan is not emotionally ready to sit down and concentrate on any one thing at a time. It's a chore, both for him and for us. For him, because he's getting frustrated at our insistence that he complete a task; for us because we're frustrated at having to continually redirect his attention to the homework at hand. Getting him to even sit still is a challenge.

2) The "objectives" distributed by the school district aren't really objectives at all. Because they are written without outcomes ("the student will write the numbers 1-100 in a 20-minute time frame by March of the school year"), they don't really communicate the expectations that the kids are supposed to achieve. I took the packet of objectives that were sent home to the conference. "These aren't objectives", I said. "How do these relate to what is expected of Evan - both as an entering student and by the end of the school year? Because if we know the expectations we will do what it takes to get him there." It seems that the Back to School night would have answered a lot of these questions.

3) The school's flurry of activities have caused a level of school-fatigue (think of giving-fatigue, the condition that charities encounter when there are more needs than donators can serve) that prevents us from prioritizing the importance of any one event. Back to School Night was presented in the same way as the ice cream social. While we could have skipped the ice cream social, we should have not have skipped Back to School Night. If we needed to get Grandma to watch Evan that night we could have, but we didn't know.

As a student in education, we spent a lot of time discussing how to get parents involved in their kids' educations. In the eighties, it seemed that this was one of the prime issues facing and impacting education - and I can't say that in general, the situation is any better or worse twenty years later. However at Evan's school, it seems that the uninvolved parental unit is a rare exception rather than the norm. In Lenski's case, this means the parents not only attend parent-teacher conferences and PTA meetings regularly, they are expected to volunteer at the school, organize fundraisers, serve as paraprofessionals during class time, monitor playgrounds, and the like. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing, but there is a certain level at which every parent is prepared to participate, above and beyond monitoring homework.

I don't volunteer at the school and I don't donate every time a cry comes out. Let's consider what we do do as parents. We "volunteer" at least half an hour every day to Evan's homework. We "donate" money to his education in the form of learning gadgets and books. I should not feel guilty that my "only" involvement in Evan's school are those teacher conferences, and checking up with Mrs. Flagg regularly about Evan's progress and how to help from home.

4) Much of the success of Lenski is due to the volunteer corp. They not only provide sevice to the school which would otherwise have to be paid for out of school funds, but they raise a lot of money to pay for some of the professional services that contribute to that success. The literacy teacher for instance seems to be paid solely out of school-raised funds. Which in a lot of ways explains the incessant fundraising. At least once a month - and up to three per month - there have been solicitations for donations to the school. "This is crazy", I think as I look another solicitation, this time to purchase gift certificates which benefit the school, after writing a check for Spanish and Science "enrichment" classes.

Where is school district money? Why should a second language - or art, or music - be "enrichment"? How does the district justify not paying a teacher to assist kids who may need extra help with their letters? Lenski isn't exactly having to buy books with bake sale proceeds, but public schools should be able to be successful without "taxing" the parents. Otherwise let's privatize the syetem.

5) The standards are set by the government. Probably "no child left behind". Or is that "unfunded"? If 20% of the kindergarteners cannot write the numbers 1-100 in 20 minutes in March, or if they cannot pass a word recognition reading test in April the school looses a bit of its funding. Not that Lenski might notice with all the fundraising, but I suppose it could be a significant part of the budget of schools with a less-involved parent base.

I suppose that with some understanding comes a little more tranquility about my relationship with the school and Evan's education. I was involved in Montessori while in college and am still a deep believer in the benefits of learning in a more natural, child-centered fashion. So I'm still uncomfortable with the "training" that we're imposing on him. He's not mentally ready for it, although he has demonstrated that he's intellectually ready. I wonder if selecting a school (partially) based upon test scores was a mistake for a mental pre-schooler. Maybe the arts school would have been a better choice; I'm beginning to think it was a good thing that we didn't get into Littleton Academy.

And yet, I believe in excellence. The teacher keeps telling us that we're going to be surprised when Evan's mental maturity catches up with his intellectual maturity. I believe that; I'm just getting increasingly impatient with how the school deals with it until then. Until that happens, I've opted to not push for gifted and talented education, which would seem to pile on additional layers of stress, anxiety, and fear about learning. Only time will tell.

In which sewing is causing a bit of whining and a need for wine-ing

I've done period costuming for so long that to use a modern pattern and modern techniques is really causing some whining and gnashing of teeth.

I'm working on Halloween costumes, and of course Chris' comes from a modern pattern. Period patterns use techniques like draping or making patterns from the wearer's body, but with a modern pattern, you get what you get. My first complaint is that the pattern is printed on flimsy paper, which 1) you have to be really careful with or you can't use it again, and 2) it's impossible to re-fold, not to mention that 3) it never fits back in the same pattern envelope.

The cynical Melanie says that these challenges are intentional on the part of the pattern company; after all their interest is in selling patterns, and they don't really want you to ever re-use the blasted thing. The practical Melanie carefully unfolds, cuts, pins, unpins, re-folds, and replaces the pieces in a 9"x12" Manila envelope.

Next comes the sizing. The largest patterns come one size too small for Chris. So I have to add an inch to all the outside seams in between the shoulder and waist. The pieces never, never, never fit correctly after that. So much for the pattern company's much touted "easy sizing" scheme. It's a lie. I'm currently struggling with the bloody neckline. I laid it aside last night and stitched up the sleeves and placed the interfacing and facings on the frockcoat's skirt. I'm going to have to go back to it today, but I'm not prepared for it. Maybe some wine would help?

The paper of course has to be pinned to the fabric. In another example of why I hate to pin things, the fingertips on my thumb and first two fingers are in pain from sticking all the blooming pins in, and then taking them out again. I far prefer draping.

When cutting out a pattern, to use the pattern company's directions, you have to remember to cut in all sorts of fiddley points and mark dots. It's not just a pain, in some cases it's totally useless. "Pin at the center point of the neckline and the back, matching the triangles." Heck, if you've got the center of both pieces, the stupid triangles match anyway!!!

After all that, if I follow the directions, I have to do all sorts of nonsensical things like stay stitching, or applying tiny little facings that don't remain in place because they're too tiny. Who came up with the notion of fusible interfacing anyway? When it does stick it bubbles the fabric; when it doesn't, it's too limp to be of any use.

I better start sewing today with a glass of wine. I can't wait to work on my costume- there's no bloody pattern; it's all draping!

And yes, some sharp cheese with that would be tasty.

In which I am greatly moved

My trip to Mount Hope Cemetery last night yielded several moving moments. In particular, I confess to a difficulty dealing with the graves of children - the imagery is so painful. Little lambs, child-sized stone shoes or socks perched on top of the headstones - they cut too close to that grief that I carry.

There was one headstone which I found deeply moving for other reasons. This is stone caused me to pause a bit. When I think about the human condition, and how it has changed in the past two-hundred years, I must also consider the raw guts that it took Miss Anthony to stand up and say what must be said. She is a hero to all people, and especially to women. To her we women owe almost everything that we have in this county.

I was also struck by the modesty of her grave - just this simple white marble marker, embellished only by the garden that the friends of the cemetery maintain in the Anthony family plot. It's relatively small, perhaps only 24" or 30" high, and shares the space with similar markers and an obelisk in the center of the family plot. Small stones may be seen on the pedestal, symbols of honor that have been paid by visitors.

I don't think I will ever forget the feeling of that moment.

In which the signs of change are unmistakable

My hotel in Rochester is in a rural area on south side of the metro. My room happily overlooks an empty field, part of which seems to be wetland. Besides being very colorful with the changing leaves and purple asters, I have noticed that there seems to be quite a bit of wildlife over there.

At dusk last night, I noticed that the deer are in rut - there were a couple of sparring males and a half-dozen others lingering about.

It's fall.

In which an important safety lesson is learned

Today's important safety lesson: If you're right-handed, don't try to swirl boiling water in a paper cup in your left hand.

I had picked up one of those "cup-a-soup" type miso soups to go with the sushi from Wegner's last night. Both were surprisingly good; the soup has an envelope of miso paste and the tofu, onions and see vegetable are freeze-dried. The sushi is dispensed from a cold case adjacent to the sushi kitchen at the supermarket. Other than using sea-leg in the California Rolls, the sushi was very good.

I started prepping the soup by pouring the miso paste into the paper cup in which it was packaged. Thinking I'd rather eat soup out of real dishes, I changed to a ceramic bowl. This meant that some of the miso was left in the cup, and if I'd just swirl some of the hot water in the cup to rinse it....

I am frankly surprised that I don't have blisters all over the back of my left hand. I carry one or two little foil envelopes of Burn Gel in my bag, and I was grateful to have it. I applied it in great gobs twice, and wrapped my had in a hotel towel to keep the gel from migrating to places I'd rather not have it.

Other than being a little sensitive this morning, my hand feels OK. But it could have been worse. I don't know if I'm more chargrined at the injury, or my stupidity.