wordless wednesday

 indulge me while i share some pictures from susanna's photo shoot (with a few of liam thrown in there too) ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

S is for ...

for the longest time, susanna has shown no interest whatsoever in learning to read.  which is totally fine with me; liam read early, but only because he wanted to.  neither chris nor i ever really taught him how to read -- he just figured it out on his own -- so we're still learning what activities and methods are effective for helping children develop reading skills.

at the kindergarten open house last week, the literacy specialist made a brief presentation to the parents, and just in that two-minute talk, i gleaned some insightful tips.  she explained how important rhyming is in terms of whole word recognition, and suggested that while we're in the car, we point out objects we see and then try to come up with words with our kids that rhyme.  she also encouraged us to sometimes point to the words in a story as we read them out loud, so that while our child hears them, she's simultaneously seeing them.  and she also recommended emphasizing the first letter in words as we say them, and then brainstorming with our child a list of other words that start with that same letter.

i realize that none of this is earth-shattering, but it wasn't anything we've been doing, so those three points in particular struck me as helpful. i took them to heart and have been trying to implement them into our everyday life when i can.

just a few days into it, and susanna is already picking up on my new approach.  she's often the first one to want to play the rhyming game, and has started to sound out short words as my finger reaches them on the page in one of her princess stories.  but the first-letter list is probably her favorite.  "i know another word that starts with P!" she'll exclaim.  or, "when D is the letter of the week at school, i'm going to bring in my doll!"

as we were winding down bedtime last night, we finished our prayers and i sang my nightly "oh susanna" to her.  but before i could turn off the light, she sat up in her bed.  "we forgot something!" she told me.  she smiled.  "and it starts with the letter S."

i retraced the steps in our nighttime routine.  she had gone to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and put on her pajamas.  she'd placed her dirty clothes in the hamper and cleaned her room.  we'd said our prayers and sung our song.  i couldn't think of anything left -- especially something that began with S.  i told her that she was going to have to help me out on this one.

"oh mommy," she sighed.  "right there, behind you."  i turned around to see her daily allowance chart, full of magnets for the tasks she has to complete.  we call it her responsibility chart.

"that's it!" said susanna.  "my Sponsilibity Chart!"

you gotta Spect her for that one.

wordless wednesday

there's something about haircuts that freaks me out a bit.  i think i traumatized myself for life at the age of nine, when i became so frustrated with my thin, wispy hair not staying in its barrette that i took matters into my own hands.  i marched into the kitchen right before leaving for the bus stop, grabbed the desk scissors, and took a good whack at my hairline right above my forehead.  (who needs a mirror -- or common sense -- when you're nine?)  for months afterward, i had this patch of hair resembling a crew cut that was so noticeable that classmates would reach over and pat it every time they were walking past my chair.  it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to get rid of that thing.

so please understand that there's some history between me and haircuts.  i always try to err on the side of caution.  better too long than too short, i always say.

anyway, this week i knew susanna needed a haircut, since a) it's been about six months and b) the season of summer necessitating ponytails and pigtails is sadly almost over and c) she has her portrait being made next week and the ends were really looking stringy.  so i took her to our upscale salon of choice SuperCuts for their $10 children's special.  i showed the hairdresser the approximate amount of a trim i wanted by placing my fingers on susanna's hair and saying, "about here is good." 

and this is what i learned: units of measure were created for a reason.  when using your fingers, instead of, say, inches, you need to be specific.  like, are you talking about the top of your fingers, or the bottom?  i looked away for literally ten seconds to answer one of liam's never-ending questions, and when i turned back, there were three inches of wet hair on the floor when i meant for there to only be two.  and let me tell you something else i learned: an inch on a little girl's head makes a big difference.

and one final thing i learned: between the drastic chop and the head wound that has yet to clear up, i might need to reschedule her portraits.

wordless wednesday

as soon as the bus rolled up to our stop this afternoon, i could see liam animatedly waving something to me through the window.  it was his homework assignment, which turned out to involve not one, but two full worksheets on multiplication facts.  what in the ham sandwich?  i'm a math teacher by trade and i wasn't aware kindergartners should be doing any sort of multiplying.  but there he was, fifteen minutes later, laser-focused and hunched over the first sheet at our kitchen table.

and below is the end result.  it's obvious i had nothing to do with it (i was reading a story to susanna at the time), because it was only after he finished that i realized that he thought he needed to write each answer on top of the equal signs.  it made it a little difficult for me to check, but they're all there, completed in less than two minutes -- and they're all correct.

think he'll continue throughout his educational career to be as excited about homework as he was today?

NOT reading between the lines

liam's just this funny kid.  (i could use "weird" or "confusing" in its place, but "funny" has a much more positive connotation.)  in this context, it all stems from one basic fact: he read before he talked.  i mean, think about that.  that's pretty darn weird confusing funny.  isn't basic human development designed so that babies and toddlers hear first, and then start to form sounds that then connect into words that then connect into sentences?  and then, after they're conversing, reading starts to happen?

but no.  not liam.  he could sit for an hour, absolutely enthralled with a story, and read it start to finish.  but if we tried to figure out if he'd truly understood it, he could only explain to us his understanding in short, choppy, rudimentary answers.  we could piece together that he had indeed gotten it.  but no other adult could.

his speech slowly, surely, began to improve, thanks to hundreds of speech therapy sessions.  but i still hold on to one specific memory to show how unorthodox his progression was, which was when we called my sister on her birthday when liam was three years old.  i knew that if i handed him the phone, he would sit there, elated to be holding the ever-elusive gem of technology but completely silent on his end.  his verbal communication skills just weren't developed enough to extemporaneously convert thoughts in his head to words out of his mouth.  BUT, i figured out that if i wrote out a script that went something like, "happy birthday, aunt leslie!  it's liam.  hope you have a great day!  i love you!" he would deliver it with ease. 

i mean, seriously.  weird confusing funny, right?

and the funniness now continues to school.  on the second day of kindergarten, liam's teacher had already realized his reading ability, and asked the school-wide reading specialist to work with him.  she pulled him into her office and gave him a three-page story to read out loud to her.  she e-mailed me later that day, citing his "wonderful fluency and expression", which, according to a literacy consultant friend, means that he reads like an adult would and emphasizes the appropriate words, which demonstrates that he really comprehends the overall message of the passage.  apparently, most kids at this age who can read do so in a stilted fashion, piecing together sentences word-by-word and faltering when asked about the material.

this story that he was asked to read was some sort of second grade benchmark, meaning that second graders are given this as a way for teachers to assess whether or not they're ready for third grade level work.  of course, by the end of the second grade year, students have three school years under their belts of being asked assessment-type questions.  they're used to the drill.

but liam is not.  he's been reading solely for fun's sake every day for the past three years, without having to dissect the stories or almanacs or encylopedias he loves to pore over.  which explains what happened in his session with the reading specialist.  the following is from her notes, which she shared with me with a giggle or two in our follow-up meeting.  the story was titled Frogs and Toads, and i think it focused on two fictional characters doing something that wrapped up neatly in the end.

mrs. b: "so, liam, what was this story about?"

liam (thinking that mrs. b truly didn't know what the story was about, and trying to be as diplomatic as possible): "um, well, this story was about frogs and toads."

duly noted.  and then:

mrs. b: "where did this story take place?"

liam (probably at this point wondering how this poor woman wound up with a teaching degree): "right here, mrs. b.  see this book?  the story was on pages 7, 8, and 9."

and let's face it.  that's not weird or confusing.  that's just plain funny.

wordless wednesday

ms. lauren, susanna, and ms. kathy. these teachers (and all of the others we've had at st. michael's) are truly angels on earth

and she's off!  susanna's last first day of preschool (does that make sense?) was today, and our formerly-shy little girl marched into that classroom like she owned the place.  of course, it helps that our preschool teachers come for home visits prior to the start of school, so susanna had already spent a good hour or so with ms. kathy, showing her her bedroom, doll house, critters, and princess dresses.  it also helps that liam had ms. kathy last year.

[random side note: liam attended preschool for four years, and susanna will have attended for three.  and out of those seven total years, we have had SIX lead teachers named ms. kathy.  that's not even counting the music teacher at our preschool, who's also named ms. cathy.  isn't that a little bizarre?]

anyway, for her first day, she was wearing a pretty dress, had her snack bag in her hand, her bookbag on her back, her hairbow in her hair ... and two nasty gashes on her forehead to tie the whole look together.  sigh.  somehow on tuesday afternoon her skull met the brick hearth of our fireplace, resulting in heavy tears and a blood-stained rug in the family room. a quick trip to the pediatrician and some dermabond (skin glue) later, and she'll be as good as new in a week or so.  it's hard to believe that we've gotten through ten years of parenting without any stitches, broken bones, or emergency room visits. 

our summer has officially come to a close, but we're ready!  bring on the fall!  (just not any more, um, falls.)

news reports

i don't know if i'm ever going to get used to the fact that i now won't know everything that's going on with liam every minute of the day. with preschool, a) he was still with me for the majority of his waking hours and b) i walked him into class every morning and spoke to his teachers every afternoon at pick-up. so i was always aware of what he was doing, what songs he was learning, who brought what to show-and-tell, and who he was playing with on the playground.

but kindergarten, i'm learning, is vastly different. this isn't a gradual distancing; this is all-of-a-sudden, full-fledged, BAM! HE'S NOT A BABY ANYMORE. i get quick reports from his teacher in a folder in his backpack, but for the most part, i have to rely on what he chooses to tell me and what he remembers.

here are some of the highlights of his first three days:

"i learned this cool thing called Rock, Paper, Scissors on the bus. some kids also do lava and avalanches." (i'm not quite sure what trumps an avalanche.)

"i had a great day, but we didn't do ANY math.  but we did play this really fun game where we stood in a circle and counted off and you had to say 'BUZZ' every time you got to a number with a 3 or a 5 in it."  (methinks the boy's been reading my pre-algebra teacher's edition a bit too much.  i better redefine what the term "math" means in kindergarten.)

"at rest time today, one of the kids fell asleep.  i mean like really asleep.  our teacher had to wake him up.  but not me -- i just lie there."  and then, after a short pause, "since we had rest time today at school, i think i should get to go to bed later tonight."

"there's this tv show every morning with kids on it.  [that's the news show put on by the fifth graders, i believe.]  and then we stand up and say the pledge of legions.  i put my hand over my left heart.  but i think next week i might put my hand over my other heart just to be fair."

perhaps the most telling example of how my firstborn is really gaining his independence occurred on thursday.  he bounded off the school bus and immediately ran up to me, beaming a goofy grin.  it took me less than a second to recognize that he had lost his other loose top tooth.  and here's how it apparently went down:  "my tongue was just playing with it while we walked back to our room from recess.  we were standing in line and i just, you know, flicked it out, and it went flying in the air and landed on the ground near the parking lot.  ms. sullivan picked it up and put it in a baggie for me and it's in my bookbag.  and she didn't throw up or anything!" 

come to think of it, that might just be the ticket to winning Rock, Paper, Scissors.  if a lost tooth flying through the air on the way back from recess can't beat an avalanche, i don't know what could.

wordless wednesday

i've had a pit in my stomach for a week now, counting down the hours until my first-born left me for the huge, cavernous, busy, overwhelming halls of elementary school.  i couldn't sleep last night, tossing and turning as i tried to prepare myself for what i knew was to be an emotional morning.

and it was.  for me, anyway.  liam was just a bundle of excitement.  he came bounding in our room at 7:00 on the dot, proudly informing us that he had risen at 6:05 and gotten himself dressed and was ready to roll.  "i even matched my underwear with my shorts!" he exclaimed.  (unfortunately, he had chosen a wrinkled moose t-shirt and ratty shorts from his playclothes drawer, so while i applauded his drive, i chose a more appropriate outfit after breakfast.)

my tears started as we took pictures on the front step, abated somewhat on the drive over, and returned with full force as we entered his classroom.  luckily, out of the 18 other children in liam's class, we know about half of them from preschool or church or our neighborhood.  liam would have been completely fine in a room full of strangers, but for me, it was comforting to have friends give me a hug and assure me that it does get easier. 

susanna and i thought of liam all day, wondering aloud, "i wonder what he's doing now?"  and, "i hope he's having fun eating in that loud cafeteria!"  we watched the clock all afternoon and got to the bus stop at the end of our cul-de-sac ten minutes early, eagerly awaiting his arrival.  susanna assumed the role of the lookout, and as soon as that big yellow fellow crested the hill, she started jumping up and down.  he came bounding down the steps into my arms with a huge smile on his face and story after story of all the fun things he did.  "that place is AWESOME!" he exclaimed.

one school day down.  4,679 more to go!

 attempting to give susanna a goodbye kiss -- but, as i've posted before, she is no morning person

going in for the kill anyway

i took it as a good sign that the activity awaiting him at his desk involved pattern blocks!  i used those same manipulatives so often while teaching middle school math.  and, as he told his teacher, math is his favorite thing to do in school.  (wonder where he gets that from?)

his is the first stop, but he loved riding the bus so much that i think he's disappointed he has to get off so soon

thank goodness his is the "blue" route.  the boy who refused to eat cake last month at a birthday party because it had princesses on it would be none too happy having to sport a tag that had "pink" or "purple" on it