Music

The simplest posts are my favorite—when there's very little to think through or say. This, for instance, is an easy one for me. It’s a simple visualization of an artist at work.

Music expresses that which cannot be said on which it is impossible to be silent.
—Victor Hugo

Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination
and life to everything.
―Plato

We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.
―Friedrich Nietzsche

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
―Aldous Huxley

Music fills my heart with spirit. It is good entertainment.
—Calvin Ophoff

Thunder snow

This week was full of fun. We started a new grammar curriculum, we dove into studying the Celts, and on Monday the boy decided to research ventriloquism. If that last study takes I suppose that in due time I can expect the dogs to begin talking to me.

On Wednesday Calvin graduated to the top swimming class, meaning that next week will be his first rec team practice lesson—a full hour of swimming the full length of the pool. It's a big change from the half hour lessons across only the width of the pool that he's had so far. The kid is excited and proud, as he should be. I'm trying to figure out the sudden change in the schedule.

On Thursday, with feet of snow still on the ground and a short warming period underway, we experienced the rare and beautiful thunder snow—flakes as thick as quarters hiding our neighbor’s house from view while lightning lit the world and thunder shook it. Snow lit by lightning is stunning. There are so many splendid things to notice about our world.

This weekend The guys started a couple of different computer projects, and Jon is in the process of setting up my old computer for Calvin's use. Yes, we've reached that point where the computer and the internet are edging their way into our learning world. I never claimed to have banished them completely, I was only holding them off at the door for a little while, and now it seems it is time to let it in.

And then this evening, while I was preparing dinner and Jon was helping Calvin discover the world of blogging (where soon you will be able to read all the book reviews that the kid writes and posts of his own accord), I noticed that the sun was still up and bright at 5:45. We all took a moment to enjoy that realization together. It is a sign the the warmer months are coming, even if ever so slowly.

My favorite creation of Calvin's this week, the dahsboard from the Nautilus. For all the crafts that we do together, it's the things he comes up with on his own and makes when we're not looking that bring me the most joy, really.

Parenting lessons from a psych major

Calvin had an interview today with a psychology student at the university. We’re on their list of people who will obligingly come in and participate in developmental psych research projects for which Calvin is the perfect age. We’ve been called a handful of times and happily participated. Each session starts the same way, with a little play time together in the reception area, followed by Calvin and the researcher chatting in a comfortable interview room while I sit behind a one-way mirror in an observation room, surrounded by recording and sound equipment.

I have always found the process—the questions, and Calvin’s answers—fascinating. They’ve had a way of teaching me at least a little something about my son, myself, and our relationship to each other and the world.

Today's project had to do with children’s perceptions of choice. Calvin was shown images of a set of computer generated boys and given a description of a specific trait for each one. Sean, for instance, was “a very good reader”, while Max was “not very nice”, and so on. As the researcher passed through the set of about ten boys, each with his own unique trait, she asked Calvin why he thought the kid had that trait. I found myself alternately giggling and cringing throughout the conversation.

“Sam is very nice. Why is Sam very nice?”

“Because he wants to make friends.”

“Max is not very nice. Why is Max not very nice?”

“Because he doesn’t like the people around him.”

Most of Calvin’s answers about why Sam, Max, Charlie, or any of the others might have these traits had to do with their own actions. According to Calvin, for instance, Sean was a good reader because there were so many great books around that he really wanted to read. I loved that answer, and all the others he gave of his own accord.

On a second pass through all these characters, though, the researcher asked Calvin how choices may have impacted their traits. That second pass was a little iffier.

“Carl is very good at sports. Do you think Carl’s choices have anything to do with why Carl is very good at sports?”

“Yes.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think Carl’s choices effect Carl being good at sports?”

“Ten, because he chooses to practice or not.”

In fact, Calvin thought choice greatly impacted all the children’s traits.

“Charlie is very tall. Do you think Charlie’s choices have anything to do with why Charlie is so tall?”

“Yes.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think Charlie’s choices affect Charlie’s height?”

“Ten, because he eats healthy foods.”

Clearly we haven’t done enough work in the science department lately, I thought. A third pass through the characters was about how environment affects their characters, and a fourth pass was about genetics. That fourth pass was the spottiest of all.

“Charlie is very tall. Do you think Charlie’s genes have anything to do with why Charlie is so tall?”

“No. Zero. Not at all.”

In fact, as far as Calvin was concerned, genes had little to do with any of the boys’ traits. Time to touch on genetics in biology, eh?

Or maybe not. I asked the researcher about it after they were done, and she told me that almost all the kids had answered the height question similarly. Height, in most children’s mind, was directly linked not to genetic legacy, but to choice. Why? Because from birth we have reminded them to eat well so that they can grow up big and strong. It’s so ingrained in our parental culture almost all parents say it to their children at one time or another. On top of that, in our house we have been very purposeful about teaching choice and consequences, so why wouldn’t Calvin link the two—eat well, grow big and strong, it’s all a matter of good choices, right?

It's a fascinating consequence of accidental parenting, one without repercussions. Simply an "Aha!" moment. I hope they call us for another study soon because I can always learn from little lessons like these. I really like "Aha!" moments.

To Bill Nye, who has discounted homeschoolers (and others)

Most homeschoolers with half an eye toward science will have already seen the controversy over Bill Nye’s recent comment on homeschooling. The comment was made by Nye on his Facebook page during a public question and answer session. Asked if he had any plans to, or would consider, “creating a science curriculum for the ever-growing number of secular homeschoolers”, Nye replied:

“Use your judgement. The rest of us out here, want your kids to appreciate society and the importance of working together in school and in life. A person working alone will probably not build the future 797 airplane, for example. It takes people who can work with and around people. Carry on.”

The secular homeschooling community, of course, is offended by Nye’s misinformed, narrow judgement of a homeschooler’s social capabilities, but I think that’s only one ingredient in this falling soufflé of snark. In effect, with his Facebook wall polemic against homeschoolers, Bill Nye not only exposed himself as disrespectful and intolerant (ignoble traits for a scientist), he also insulted average, introverted school aged kids world wide, and I'd like to respond to that.

Dear Mr. Nye,

“Use your judgement” you say.
Before I judge, I’d like to see the data gathered showing that previously homeschooled adults underperform in the work place, particularly in research and development. To my knowledge that data has not been compiled, but data that has been shows homeschool students outperforming public and private school students in colleges and universities across the United States. Sure, that’s still an academic environment, but that’s where our researchers and developers get their start (see usnews, the hslda, and huffpost for more information).

When you reference “The rest of us out here”…
the rest of who, out where? Scientists (and everyone else) should beware the blanket statement; it makes them seem unsure of themselves, like they are seeking safety in numbers—imaginary, unnamed numbers. Two wrongs do not make a right, and a mob of misinformed people does not make a biased and unsupported statement any more or less true.

You say you want kids “working together in school and in life”,
but homeschooling isn’t synonymous with schooling in isolation. For some I’m sure it is, but many homeschoolers find meaningful ways to work and learn together through group classes, sports, theater, and music programs outside of the school system.

You're right, “A person working alone will probably not build the future 797 airplane”,
but that’s true in part because a future 797 airplane will be a collection of inventions made by people with very different skill sets. And yes, many people will be working together on such a large project (some of whom may have been homeschooled), but science isn’t only about building large scale new products. Science is also about researching, writing, observing, and deep contemplation. Plenty of discoveries are made by one lone person working late at night in a research lab. Of course this doesn’t mean they don’t consult peers, or collaborate across time and distance through journals, letters, studies, and abstracts. Working alone is not synonymous with working in isolation.

Yes, “It takes people who can work with and around people",
but again, there is no evidence that homeschoolers on average don’t work well with others. Additionally, there is no guarantee that school kids do. In fact, the recent rise in bullying incidents is pretty good evidence that there are plenty of children in schools everywhere who do not work or play well with others.

But the biggest problem here, Mr. Nye,
is the part where you imply that it’s not worth designing a curriculum for kids who won’t be designing the next biggest airplane. What you're essentially saying is that it’s not worth teaching kids who won’t become the next giants in the world of research and development. But "future great inventors" is a very small category of kids, and the kids who don't fit into it will be our future teachers, farmers, or congressmen instead, and more still will be future parents. All of these futures can benefit from a strong basic science education.

All of these futures are worth a good science curriculum.

THE winter of 2014

I love this winter. It is the winter that could. Over the past few years we’ve had mostly quitter winters. There was one year when the only time we broke out the shovels was for posterity, not for real work. And another year when we were practically picnicking on a sunny, sixty-five degree January day. But this year, this is a real winter.

When it snowed in early December we were quick to get out the sleds and the camera and make the most of it. For all we knew, and recent experience supported this hypothesis, it might have been the only snow we saw the whole season. And the dusting we had for Christmas was a beautiful cherry on top, but we still kept our expectations realistically low.

When we came home from our new years trip up north, driving through blinding, slippery snow at thirty miles an hour on the express way, and had to shovel over a foot of collected snow out of our neglected driveway, we reveled in it. We took pictures of our hard work. We braved the cold and clowned around for the camera because, really, those were the tallest snow piles we’d seen in a long time, and they were likely to be melted before week’s end. That’s January in Michigan, after all.

Except that this wasn’t any ordinary January in Michigan. This winter has far exceeded our expectations. Snow doesn’t melt when it’s negative fifteen outside. Plus...snow on snow on snow on snow. There have been times this winter when we shoveled at least once a day for a week or more. Between our drive and our neighbors’, where the strip of lawn is not very wide, there is now a four foot mesa of snow.

There are mixed views on this winter that wouldn’t quit. Many are tired of it, but you’ll hear no grumbling in our home. Although the temperatures have mostly kept us from enjoying the snow in its element, we’re enjoying it plenty from inside with blazing fires, snuggly blankets, and good books.

And a winter this unusual has all the beauty of the very rare. There have been days of bitter cold when the icy air has turned the world to a glittering land of enchantment, the trees frosty white in a deceptively yellow-orange sunlight. There have been mornings of ice fog. We have watched swirling tornadoes of snow sweep across our yard. We have joyously watched song birds take advantage of the food and ice free water we have provided them.

Of course a winter this unusual also comes with unusual challenges, and if the melting temperatures and rains predicted for next week arrive as scheduled, we may face some of the more damaging of these challenges sooner rather than later. That’s really a lot of water out there.