Unschooling kids

There is a trend within the homeschoolers. It is called unschooling (great article in the NYT on the topic) and it's all about having kids take the lead in their learning. From what I read, it seems like the essence of learning, i.e. you do what interests you and have someone who helps you understand the principles behind your questions.

There are none of the usual structures (books, classroom, teacher-pupil relationship). The emphasis is on the child, his curiosity and his passions. I looked up web sites on the subject too which brought my enthusiasm up a notch.

I am really dismayed by our general reliance on figures of authority who tell us what to do in our daily lives. I guess my first-hand experience was with an institution for old people where my grandmother went. I felt that every aspect of her life was arranged to make life easier for the staff - her privacy was not their concern. And so of hospitals. And schools. We tend to forget the basic truths about human beings and hide behind rules. What a strange evolution. I wonder how that is tied in with the ills of our civilization? Still reading on Emotional Intelligence which has tons of ideas on the topic (reading in between Ludlum which explains the slow pace ; )

I guess the message is: Think! Feel! Don't "go with the flow". Trust yourselves. But you don't need me to tell you that now, do you?

Quiet... and action!

Anytime in Quietville these days, the sound of a shot will pierce the silent air. Apart from a turn of the mouth, nobody will twitch or start. The hunting season is on, and there's nothing you can do about it. An innocent walk in the woods become unnerving when you hear shots and start to wonder how visible this green coat really is in a forest? and how doglike does your dog really look when he gracefully jumps over a fallen tree blocking the path (coincidence? accident? I think not!).
I have been going to Ferguson Forest where hunters can hunt with bow and arrows for 6 days in the fall. I have a friend who hunts that way. Think huge technologically sound bows. Forget the one you made as a kid with a branch and some string. Those are deadly weapons.
The 6 dreaded days have come and gone so I don't need to worry anymore. The forest is now host to people who train their dogs for dogsled races - I have heard they have started training but have not seen them yet. I go on narrow uneven trails, the proverbial "road less traveled". Peace and quiet, peace and quiet. I better look inside 'cause the outside world is not getting any quieter...

Something New

In my "Nothing New" blog, I mentioned the AtomicTumour blog I accidentally discovered. In it, a young man was baring his soul after his wife had been admitted to the hospital for something that looked like a bad case of flu. She passed away yesterday (we still don't know what attached her). I am grieving as though I lost a friend (though we only met through her husband's posts). Hundreds of people - strangers like me - have been touched by this blog and condolences are pouring in.

Thanks to that post, I also discovered you can light virtual candles on the Net. This is where I went (http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/enter.cfm?l=eng) but other addresses are also listed.

Frika passed away 2 months ago today - I think I will go light a candle now.

Getting in the Groove

I am finally getting with the program - I am listening to Yahoo launchcast. It's like having your own personal DJ. You go through a list of pre-selectedbands and select the ones you like. You then add a few more of your favorites for good measure. It will play those and similar songs (to expand your horizons). They choose the similar songs based on recommendations - did I mention you rate the songs as they play? This will indicate the frequency at which you are likely to hear it. Rating is just a click away. You can also skip to the next one if you don't like it. Very cool. The free station runs commercial ads but you can upgrade so you are not subjected to that (I hate having people talking over the radio - I would rather listen to silence)

TeeVee Toons

Interestingly enough, I went looking for a CD I obtained in a Freecycle transaction. After listening to it once, I thought I was done and kept it as a conversation starter... : ) but the tunes are so lively, they're fun to have as background (not unlike Christmas carols - I wonder if it will put me in a buying mood - oooh Meow cat food!): they are TV tunes, that is, TV ads.
I find commercials, as much as TV series or movies, are something of a common cultural bond. Regardless if your social, racial, religious affiliations, if you've got a TV, you will have been subjected to the same ads. The fact that you like them or not is irrelevant.
These days, my mom is preoccupied with the definition of culture (it's a long story I won't get into). She likes to equate culture with artistic or scientific outputs.
I would like to submit that culture is "environmental" as much as "mental". It is a shared understanding of reality. In that sense, TV tunes are cultural icons as much as Warhol's pop art (we always come back to him...).

So get me a slinky while I drink my Coke to go with my Harmer hot dog... and hum along!

Happy Days

I took a walk in a different part of the property today. It was pretty wet, as it is a swampy low-lying area and seeing we've had plenty of rain these past few days. The water was clean, though, and I enjoyed wading through it with my high boots. I was imagining playing there with my young niece - there are lots of fallen trees, with moss on them and I thought we could imagine a Florida swamp with crocodiles (or is that alligators?). Then I moved on to more grown-up thougths: what if we had a paintball fight in there? I drafted up two teams, quickly, all wearing fatigues and marvelously hidden. Where would my dog fit in? Maybe he could guard the flag?
Ah - the small pleasures of life! Of course, I was walking with Minuit, though you couldn't tell as he was doing his thing, out of sight. We were off the beaten track; as he doesn't go over two feet or so, I don't tend to follow him or I would end up on all soggy fours. Still, he comes when called, a friendly furry bouncing blast of energy and joy, just the thing to start of the day in a grand old way.

Nothing New

I come to my blog and there's nothing new. Just the silly counter that indicates I've come and gone. I guess I must be very happy, 'cause I have nothing to write and "les gens heureux n'ont pas d'histoire" (c'mon, you know enough French to figure that out). We watched the Giller award last night. http://www.scotiabankgillerprize.ca/home.htm There were 5 contenders for this Canadian non-fiction litterary award. Three Montrealers - 2 French that were translated so we got a glimpse of the translators (go team!). The sole Torontonian won - Alice Munro was positively taken by his novel way of writing. I had actually read a review about it this summer so I wished him well. Actually, I will add the five books on my book list... That was more fun than watching the American elections result - they were front page news anyhow this morning. No way you were going to miss out unless you live under a rock (I wonder if they would slide the newspaper under a rock... Yeah, I guess they would.)

Oops - I wrote this on Tuesday and the server crashed or something. So I went looking for entertainment on my friends' blogs and was redirected to a blog to which I got hooked. It is a very sad story from a guy whose wife had flulike symptoms and went to the hospital. After a few days of her getting worse, she almost died. This is a daily diary and it is very moving. It really stays with me. http://www.atomictumor.com/

Boring normal life is so unbelievably cool.

Book List

This was such a bad idea - I don't think I read more than a handful of the books I set off to read in January. I got sidetracked with a slew of books by Ken Follett, an Amy Tan one (Hundred Secret Senses - I became an instant fan of the author), and others who escape me right now.

A few days ago, I started reading two books in parallel. They were published roughly at the same time and seem to answer each other. One is "Our guys", published in 1997),an account of the gang rape of a retarded teen by the young elite of an affluent community. It questions the motives and society's attitude towards the crime to understand where America has gone wrong. The other book is "Emotional Intelligence", currently on its 10th anniversary reprint. It was a ground breaking scientific study on the psychological aspects of a social phenomenon viewed as the breakdown of values and the rise of crime in America. In a nutshell (and I am still on chapter 2 so don't quote me), it denigrates the system which equates IQ with success, explaining that IQ tests will show how good an academic you could be while not evaluating human skills such as compassion. It is fascinating to read both books at the same time as they basically address the same issue from a different standpoint.

I find "Our Guys " to be a compelling if gut-wrenching read as it portays real events with little distance (the information is largely tributary to live interviews) contrary to "Emotional Intelligence" which strives to be didactical yet accessible.

A recommended read (4 stars)

Answer to the Life Story quizz

Take out your description and let's go through it.

1- Nationality: If you are a Canadian living in Canada, did you think of mentioning your nationality? I think perhaps if you live in Quebec, you might have put something down regarding your nationality, seeing as you don't want to pass for an Anglo. Perhaps, born and raised in Quebec, Canada, or something. Or Montrealer, if you are so inclined. Somethhing to affirm your distinct status. Of course, most of you are not from Canada, and so, as a minority will be touchy on the subject, wondering if you should mention anything at all and being in turmoil about it. That is because our identity is so linked to other people's reaction. I read that Jewish people starting reclaiming they were Jewish when persecutions started. In the movie "Shall we dance?", there is a sentence to the effect that we marry so we have a witness to our life, so that our life does not go unnoticed. It all ties in.

2- Sexual identity: If you are heterosexual, why mention it? It is obvious, normal, and you don't even think of it, right? Yet is it a core characteristic of your being. Again, unless you are in a minority, gay, bi, transgender, you won't give it much thought when defining yourself. We define ourselves against inner or outer conflicts.
In psychology of old, a "normal" person was deemed to have all the qualities people associated to males. By definition, females were a bit askew...

3- Race: Being Caucasian in Canada goes without saying, right? Again, these assumptions are what biases are made of. The first IQ tests were nothing more than cultural tests. They did not measure intelligence but social conformity. If you were a white middle-class kid in the US, you were pretty bright. If not, you were out of luck.

(BYW, these are examples I am making up just to challenge your assumptions. There are many other categories. I just selected those that came to mind.)

4- Religion: This is another interesting one. You might have decided to write something relative to that topic. The province of Quebec was overwhelmingly Catholic until the 60s so depending on your age, you might have decided to take a stand - "I am an atheist" too oppose Catholicism which used to be such a strong force. Your upbringing might have been strict, you might have been sent to a private school manned by brothers or sisters, priests or nuns. Not at all unusual if you were destined for higher education.

5- Handicaps: Did you mention any? Or mention you were whole? I guess that is a bit stretching it but again I was thinking that people these days associate with their disease. "I am a cancer survivor" defines many people.

6- Trivial? I am not a lefty. When I grew up, my best friend was a lefty and that was a real issue for her in a world where objects are designed for right-handed people. Did you think of mentioning you were right-handed?

In class, we created a mental map using our answers of who we were and identified the values that were important to us. We linked the different attributes and saw those that were emotionally charged by the number of arrows that went to them and came out from them. It was revealing and intriguing, a nice way to get to know ourselves.

If I can just remember the teacher's name, she wrote a book about her method... I will look for it and let you know...

Life Story

I am fascinated by the fact that people have Life Stories. I am talking about a narrative that everybody has about themselves. It is typically a story that reflects their view of themselves and that they can recite (or write) to new people they meet.

It consists of little stories meant to show certain character traits or a persona that they carry around. I became aware of this one day when I read part of an email a friend was sending. I had done the exercise in a psychology class, but had never thought that was actually done in real life. I guess it seems obvious, but it was actually quite a shock to me.

I don't believe I am "the youngest of three kids, the only girl" of my family. I don't feel it describes who I am, and yet it helps define my relationship to the world. Isn't that strange? How could this information make someone decide to be my friend? Ah, yes! I too have two brothers! Shall we bond? I don't think so.

Somehow this fact has helped shape who I am but - other girls in a similar situation react differently because of who they are. So how could this be relevant in any way? And yet, that is what I say when asked to describe my family - rank and gender.

I was told that if you are in the majority (say, a boy, in this case), you won't find it necessary to assert that you are a male. It goes without saying. So, to me, what you don't say is as important as what you do say because it reflects your self-image.

Try it. Take a few minutes to see how you would describe yourself to a total stranger. Look for what you omit as obvious and what it says about how you think of yourself and how you feel about yourself, your family, your country, politics, religion.

We'll talk some more about it when you're done.

Children's rhymes

I based this little ditty on the popular kid's game "Snakes and Ladders". I hope you enjoy it!

Snakes and Ladders

With the roll of a dice
From heaven to hell
Who you will be I never can tell
Friend or foe – I never know

Chorus
Up and down
I get pushed around
The games you play
Yet still I stay

Sometimes I find myself
On the slippery slope of your affection
The snake rears its ugly head
Down I go

Chorus

From your balcony, you shout for me
I climb into your head
And nestle in your heart
Sweet ladder of delight

Chorus

I hope I win this time
I need to stay ahead
I long for the end of the game
I feel I’m going insane

Hope

When I was in school, as a child, we learned the population stats for the countries we studied. Hence Canada is home to 24 million people, right? That's an easy way to tell somebody's age... We had already passed the 30 million mark in the 2001 census and (gasp!) the number keeps changing.
As a kid, I sang "500 million of Chinese and me, and me". Not sure where that came from as there are over 1 billion Chinese. Has the population doubled since my childhood or did I learn the song from my mom and so the population would have doubled since her childhood? How far back do we go?
All this to muse on the 300 million people landmark that the US achieved last week. Is this something to celebrate? We are bombarded with doomsday scenarios of aging baby boomers eating up our resources. I read an analysis from EDC (Export Development Canada) refraining from catastrophic forecasts, instead asserting "... the doomsayers are discounting yet another important compensating force: technological progress. New technology means that the workers of tomorrow will produce more for themselves and for their retiring parents." They back that claim with numbers and projections of economic growth. As I am an optimist, it really resonated with me. I am tired of hearing of apocalyptic scenarios. It only shows lack of faith in the creativity and resilience of humans. I believe imaginative solutions will be created to address the challenges ahead in the same way that the population in Asimov's Foundation trilogy found a way to counteract "The Mule". Hope is at hand...

Pillow Talk

You sleep with it every night, yet for all you know it may be infested. When was the last time you changed your pillow? If you are using a foam pillow, I read (and was told) that they start to break down after two years.
A friend saw a doctor for a sinus infection and he said she might mistake colds for allergy atacks. He also suggested she might want to buy a new pillow as a way to ward off the sore throat and congestion she experiences.
As this sounded remarkably like me (I clog up when I go to bed but sleep well on the couch), I decided I needed a new pillow and went on the Web to find out all I needed to know about buying a pillow but was afraid to ask. The only surprise came from the rationale of a hard vs soft pillow. I always put that down to preference but it turns out it depends if you are a "back sleeper", a "side sleeper" or if you sleep on your stomach (would that make them "tummy sleepers"?)
The site states : "Back sleepers ... will need fairly flat pillows while side sleepers should have something more substantial that can support their head. (...) You'll want a firmer pillow if you sleep on your side and a flatter, softer one if you sleep on your stomach. " The intent is to keep your spine straight while you sleep.
I will keep you posted on the results of my search - hopefully to tell you I am sleeping much better.

Good luck charm

Our cell phone was acting up lately. If you were lucky, it would work. If not, it would get a line but the person on the other end would speak and not hear you answer. That led to funny conversations - I guess as close as the ones in person - where two people are basically talking by themselves:
- I don't know if you can hear me but I can't hear you.
(...)
- Can you stop and get some milk on your way home?
(...)
- I will hang up now. I hope you're ok?

And from the other side:
- Damn phone
- Hellooooo! I can hear you. Can you hear me?
- Helllooo - no don't hang up. I will stop the car and face the East. Maybe, just maybe...

So we carried the phone for a few days, confident in its self-healing powers. We dutifully charged it, again and again. It seems we lugged it around out of habit, for the sense of security it brought in case of a mishap on the highway. Our own high-tech talisman. Except it was broken.

After many frustrating one-way conversations, we finally brought it back to the store.

You want a new one? asked the helpful clerk.
No, we want you to repair it.
The new ones are really hip! he said in a forced jovial voice
No. Fix it.
It will be ready tomorrow.

And so we resume our love-hate relationship.

Microcredit

Ok, you might not be interested in money but this is something else entirely.
Thirty years ago, one man made a $27 loan to 42 villagers in Bangladesh at a time when the country was struck by famine. This was the beginning of a movement that spread across countries as far and rich as the US. Mr. Yunus, then teacher of Economics in a nearby town, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his pioneering work.
What makes this so exciting is the sheer simplicity and brilliance of his idea. He always believed in people: ".... people have the drive and creativity to build small businesses with loans as small as $12" He created a bank (the Grameen Bank) which has dedicated itself to helping the poorest of the poor.
The effects of his work are far-reaching. In a largely Muslim-dominated society (in Bangladesh, where he started), he loaned to women, which empowered them. Through women's efforts, children got better education and were able to get out of the cycle of poverty.

I first heard of his work through 60 Minutes, years ago, but he has been on the talk circuit with no less than ex-President Bill Clinton (also fighting poverty).

His bank loans to beggars:
All we are doing is telling beggars that, well, since you go house to house begging, would you like to take some merchandise with you, some cookies, some candy, something?” he asked a crowd that hooted with delight at this clever notion.
“A typical loan for a beggar is something like $12,” he said. “With $12, she has a basket of merchandise she carries around and goes house to house.”
“Today, we have more than 80,000 beggars in the program,” he said. “Many of them have already quit begging completely.”

Read more at: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/14/world/asia/14nobel.html?pagewanted=2&th&emc=th

Growing Old

I have been giving some thought to an article I read about 4 women who decided to pool their resources and live together. They are four friends who are retired and were looking for alternative living arrangements. They sold their houses and got rid of duplicate appliances, keeping only the best.
Their goal was to avoid moving into an old folk's home, They carefully drafted a contract between them, outlining how they wanted to deal with one person leaving or dying. They agreed they would buy out the share of the one who left and that noone could move in without their consent (to avoid heirs upsetting the delicate balance they achieved).
I think this is an experiment that needs to be followed carefully. I have started a mental list of friends I could spend my old age with... They need to get along though... I am starting early : )

What's In A Name? (3)

Fascinating subject (to me - third time at the bat)

This morning, I read an article in the NYT (http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/12/fashion/12names.html?th=&adxnnl=1&emc=th&adxnnlx=1160655010-/qdueI3USczo/kDjHkVfzA) that was just what I was looking for. As America is embracing its diversity, foreigh-sounding names are no longer shunned. Less new citizens are choosing to anglicize their name and people are reverting to their "ethnic-sounding" names as they age. It has to do with coming to terms with their identity and embracing their cultural heritage.
An African friend of mine was given the name "Joan of Arc" when she was in school. (Can you imagine being called "Joan of Arc"? What were they thinking?) Her "normal" name was inadequate for the nuns, I guess. She emigrated to Canada, where people called her Jenny, a further departure from her real name (which she used as her last name). Where she comes from, there is no last name.
As a young adult, she reclaimed her African name as her own. Now this trend is growing, much to my relief. I don't believe in homogeneity at all costs for people. What is it supposed to achieve? Aren't we losing the salt of life? (I know, I know. Salt is bad for you, right?)
Well, I want salt. And pepper, please.

The Forgotten Month

If you are born in October, please accept my apologies for the blog I am about to write.
On my planet, there is no month of October. However hard I try to remember, I can never quite grasp that there is such a month. Somehow, I totally forget this month exists. I tend to ignore it until it bites back (which makes for awkward excuses - I can't believe it's your b-day! - because all along I was sure that special day was in November).
It is not by any means a sad month or a month to forget. The fall colours are shining and there is a nice crispness in the air. Not yet winter, but the promise of it.
It seems there are 11 months in my world. October and November are nicely tucked in together, snuggly fitting in one bloated month. I can't explain it: it just is, and it puzzles me to no end.
Just thought I would share that with you...

Surprise!

So, what do you think of the new look?
As a kid, I would change bedrooms with one of my brothers. He would grow bored of his and would ask me if we could switch. One bedroom was large, with vast windows overlooking the street and a door to a balcony. It had a large closet. The other was cosier, smaller, with one good-sized window onto the backyard and a small closet. Both were fine and we did not really mind switching. Just having a new room to decorate made it fun.
We would spend a good part of a (summer) day cleaning and moving furniture. My parents would come home from work and we would casually have them check out something in one of the bedrooms then watch the expression on their faces. I think my mom was usually pleased because that meant my brother had (finally) cleaned his room.
There came a time when the switch did not work anymore because the furniture was too customized and our tastes differed too widely. Well, it was fun while it lasted...

Who's your (flat) daddy?

Apparently, relatives of soldiers can ask for a cutout of their loved one (soldier). They get a cutout (referred to as "flat soldier" presumably to be gender neutral) from the waist up that can be seated on a chair and conveniently transported around. It seems it's a hit with families with young kids who otherwise forget what the parent looks like. They bring the cutout at graduations or other important events the parent is missing and so they are in the pictures and so on.

Now, doesn't that sound like something useful to have? "My (fill in blank) could not come. I hope you won't see the difference. He is usually so quiet anyways..." Good-bye boring meetings, so long tiring in-laws... Did you even notice I wasn't there? Did you think I was more polite than usual? It think it would be worth a try.

Read more from the article in the New York Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/30/us/30daddy.html?_r=1&oref=slogin