I have spent the last two days on a course for teaching the tricky subjects of Decimals and Fractions (which are really one in the same as we learned because decimals are of course another way of writing fractions). It was FANTASTIC!!!!! I came home on Thursday night and said to the Baby Angel, "I am
lovin this course," to which she replied that I needed to get a life but, seriously, it was fantastic.
She may be right of course; after all I do have a slight streak of
Asperger'siness about me. This is evidenced by, for example, my preference for reading every plaque at the museum or historic site. I LOVE those interpretive plaques which show you the same view of a site taken 100 years ago and the like. I spend ages standing and comparing the two versions, noting the differences, wondering when this new building was built or when an extra story had been added to that other one. I love to see the difference in the trees and think about the fact that they have witnessed so much go by.
As I dropped the BA off for her sleepover at her best friend's last night, I noticed a table full of bakelite telephones. On enquiring of her Dad what they were, I was treated to a 30 minute tour of his collection of
antique phones,
many in working order. I learned all about the 400 series and the differences between the 400 and the 401 which I think involved numbers around the dial as opposed to under the finger holes. But I could be mistaken. I learned about the phones with ringers in a wooden box on the wall and the first models to include the bells
in the phone. I learned about pyramid phones, wall phones and
French parlour phones and I observed the instructions on the dial of a 1930s phone.
"Place finger in the hole. Pull around until it stops. Let go."Most exciting was the upright style candlestick phone; the earliest kind, as seen in silent movies. I
had to lift the small but incredibly heavy brass receiver and put it to my ear.
We ended up out in his shed as he showed me army field telephones, 'pilot to bombardier' microphones and an assortment of other collected communication devices, neatly stored in shelves or lining the workbenches in what appeared to be breeding pairs.
Aspergers.
But
I was fascinated!!! I also love Trivial Pursuits and line up my coffee cups in the cupboard
according to styles. Aspergers! ( Or I suppose you could argue Obsessive Compulsive...but if you've seen my desk you'd probably rethink that one.)
However, I digress. My point is, to really
love a two day intensive workshop on Fractions and Decimals you have got to have something a bit screwy going on in the social and emotional development department. Something loopy in your 'priorities perspective'. Some sort of strange code in your 'sense of enjoyment' program.
Or maybe, just
maybe Baby Angel, I just love learning!
Whatever the motivation, I had a thoroughly engrossing, enlightening and yes, slightly challenging two days. Now this harks back to my youth and my own experiences with mathematics.
When I was 6 and a half we spent 6 months in the north of England, where I was born, and 6 months in Connecticut where Dad was doing research at Yale. Before we left Australia I had just started tens and units at school, having spent (according to my father) an inordinate amount of time on Venn Diagrams and the idea of intersections of sets. In the UK at the time, the money system was still based on 12s: pounds, shillings and pence and, thinking it may confuse me since I had only just got tens and units, my mother suggested to the school that I skip it. And so it seems I missed a chunk of maths for that 6 months. When we got to the US, I was suddenly faced with 60 second mentals challenges and 'borrowing and paying back'. My mother recalls me flouncing in after the first day of school and announcing in suitably dramatic style,"Well, I have no idea what they are on about!!"
As a pretty bright kid who had been sailing through school up to that point, I was not used to 'not being able to do what everyone else could'. I reacted predictably. I decided I could
not do maths and was
not going to try. (thus avoiding further failure...there was logic to it I assure you). My father, a scientist, a lover of learning, 'valuer of education above all things' and high achiever to boot, was horrified. We commenced what was to become about an 8 year battle over maths. He tried to teach me, I refused to cooperate, he became frustrated, I
totally refused to cooperate and burst into tears. He bribed me with chocolate and (later) money, I refused to cooperate, became frustrated and burst into tears. He met with the teachers. They all agreed I was a very bright girl who
ought to be able to do maths and they tried to help. I refused to cooperate and burst into tears.
It must be said that most of this angst centred around number related maths. I arrived back in Australia at the age of 7 and a half and the class had already started learning their tables.
I had no idea what tables were! (and, I must say, no one enlightened me) Number bonds confused me. They did not stay in my head. Mental arithmetic was a mystery to me. Now, if it came to graphs, geometry or measurement, no problem! Later I was to find negative numbers a breeze, the circumference of a circle and pi a marvellous revelation and algebra elegant in its logic and simplicity. But mental arithmetic, number bonds and tables remained elusive and emotive (remember the cycle...me ending in tears).
The introduction of calculators was a Godsend as it completely removed the stress of calculation for me. As a Special Ed teacher we refer to this strategy as 'providing assistive technology'. From that point on, even though maths often challenged me and I ended up with a tutor through Year12, I still achieved an A and a B in the advanced maths class known as Maths I and MathsII in my Matriculation. Not bad for a kid who 'couldn't do maths'.
To Be Continued.
The first time we dressed up for Halloween, the baby Angel was about 4. There was a party at a friend's house (the Brits don't really do public trick or treating..or if they do they preface it with a flyer to all the intended houses warning them that the ghoulies are coming. If you don't want to participate you put the flyer up in your window!! Very organised) and we had to throw together a costume. Being fairly broke at the time, I opted for recycled and home made costumes.
The robe was a velour maternity smock from the second hand shop, gathered at the neck with elastic and shortened appropriately. The cape was an old black half slip of mine (probably inherited from mum!!), cut up the middle with a silver tie added. I think we also decorated it with glo in the dark and puffa paints! The hat. Well, it was a good idea but we ran out of time. Lovingly constructed out of cardboard, I had intended to paint it black but left it to the BA to colour instead. You can see her efforts. But she was very happy with the hat and I figured...why knock myself out? Perhaps she is a white witch!! It would be fun to photoshop it now and mske it black!! The face painting was the 'piece de resistance' I think :-D No matter how homemade we looked, we had a great time at the party and the dress ups were used again and again in many different guises over the years.
This is two years later and involved ME going to a Halloween party!!! Similar makeup you may notice. I had managed to pick up a cheap black plastic hat so I looked a good deal more glamorous than BA had in her white cardboard hat heheheh. Somehow I don't think she minded and I think she inherited the hat in her dress ups anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!
