My First Grade Author

The wee ones are in summer school this year.  Unfortunately – and to her great chagrin – Little Miss did not get into the art class she wanted.  By the time we discovered this, the only classes open were reading and math.  I chose reading for her since her spelling and writing and behind in English since she’s in a Spanish immersion school.  She was not happy.  And yes, she let me know about it.  Personally, I can’t wait for the teen years.

That said, she brought home a series of papers last Friday of some of the work she’d done in class.  Looking through them, there were the usual worksheets on reading comprehension and vocabulary and the like where you have to circle or write the correct answer.  And then I found the writing prompts she worked on.

Honestly?  I’m still giggling.  I love seeing how her mind works, and it’s so interesting to see how she takes the language that the adults in her life use and then incorporates it into her writing.  Love. It.

When I was a baby (note that she’ll go her own way and crossed out the “young in” to better fit the story she wanted to tell) when I was in the hospital my brother took off my hat and he said – Your not supposde (sic) to wear a hat inside.

Yep, true story.  First time he met her when she was mere hours old, he came in and immediately ripped that crocheted hat off her head while she was laying in my arms, bouncing her head up and down a bit and causing a brief panic while we ensured that there was no damage to her fragile neck and head.  Apparently our rule about not wearing hats indoors had sunk in a little too well.

When I was young in Disneyland (really Disney World, we’ve never been to Disneyland, but I’ll go with it) we went on splash mountain and it has a big drop it was about 50 ft tall(.) I was not a happy camper(.) when we got off I asked who,s (sic – note there are no apostrophes in Spanish, something that didn’t dawn on me until I tried to explain them to her this spring) idea was that – mine said mi (sic – mi = my in Spanish) brother

When I was young in Six Flags we went on a ride and there was a big drop and on the way down I didn’t look(.) so happy. When we got off I said (notice the Spanish question marks) Who’s (sic) idea was that? I asked? Mine said my brother

Note: She hates the flume type rides.  She refuses to go on them.  This was her second experience (see the previous note), and I’m still not sure how they all talked her into going on it.  And her young?  That was last summer. 

When I was young in first grade we had a holloween (sic) party

Ummm and?  That’s really the best she can do?  I’m shocked that her teacher let her get away with that to be honest with you, but apparently summer school is (as it should be) a little more relaxed.  And you do all realize that she only finished first grade a couple weeks ago, right?  Apparently she has a different perspective on aging than I do.

This is another of her assignments that is going in the memory box so we can look back at it years from now and smile.  It’s cute, but it’s more than that – for me, it’s great feedback that yes, the reading (and writing) class was the right one to sign her up for this time around!  Fortunately, she’s decided she loves it, too.

What were your children’s favorite stories that they wrote or told?

My Mr. Mathy

Sometimes my husband makes me giggle. My favorite is when he tries to show me up with some sort of a mental challenge (c'mon, he's a math teacher; he's got the confidence in his skills). He doesn't succeed as often as he'd like.

This morning was a perfect example. My husband was still sleeping, as were the wee ones. In an effort to keep from waking anyone in the household earlier than necessary, I carefully rolled over to grab my phone where I started playing with the new game I'd downloaded (sound off, of course!).

Slice It is a game where you essentially try to make even sized (by area) pieces of a shape by drawing the required number of lines through it. It starts off pretty easy with circles and squares and equilateral triangles, needing to create four or fewer pieces using one or two lines. As you get further into it, it gets a little more complicated.

By the eighth level, you need to split a rhombus into six equal pieces using four lines. It's not hard to get somewhat close, cutting it in half vertically then drawing segments horizontally. Depending on how close in area the various pieces are, you can receive one to five stars. Me being me, I want five stars for every level. Because that's how I roll.

The rhombus took me a few (possibly an understatement) tries to get five stars. By that time, my husband had woken up and was watching me. As I explained the game to him, he became interested. He scoffed at my method and declared that there was a better mathematical resolution to it. He could calculate it.

I smiled and handed him my phone, interested to see what he would do. In my way, I cut it in half vertically then added my segments. (See my really bad Paint pictures below. This is why I'm not an artist by the way.)

My husband stared at it a moment or two. Long enough for the screen to go black. He handed it to me to fix it, and I suggested he start drawing his lines. He drew his first line, then sat back and scratched his head. It wasn't as easy as he'd thought.

He erased the line. Then he started calculating the size of it and decided that it was a bad size. He needed pen and paper. I giggled.

He tried drawing another line but refused to let me see it. He puzzled some more, and the screen went black again. My phone buzzed to let me know it was down to 15% of the battery remaining.

I extolled the virtues of visualization and spatial relations. He waved me away. Seven or eight minutes later, he handed me the phone back, sighing. He had never even drawn three lines to make the cuts. He gave up before that point because he couldn't do it exact without calculating the exact area of what each segment would be with pen and paper.

I giggled again. This is the same man who could not use a can of whole tomatoes in a recipe because the recipe called for diced tomatoes - even after I offered to dice them for him (and yes, they would eventually have been pureed in that recipe anyway).

As he handed it back to me, he looked at me with a bit of embarrassment in his eyes. I suppose this makes it a little harder to talk you into letting me play games on your phone, huh? Mmmm yeah. Maybe.

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Family 4 pack of tickets to Toy Story 3 on ice in Chicago here
Win one of two copies of Avatar in Blu-Ray here
Monster Truck Jam family 4 pack of tickets in Chicago here

Thanks, Dad

Genetics are key. We all know that. Some traits are environmental. And there are some that are a combination of both.

For me, I know my sense of humor comes from my dad. I'm still trying to figure out whether it's nature or nurture, but I finally found out that not all people enjoy this humor. I was in high school when this dawned on me. Since then, our humor has been a great way for my dad and I to bond.

Oh. You want to know how I figured out this little gem?

Sadly, I still remember what brought this eye-opener to bear. We were sitting in our basement, and my parents had friends over, including their daughter who was my sister's age.

My Dad: So M (my sister) is now working for Byerly's. She's been doing a really good job there.
Other Dad: Really? That's great to hear.
MD: Yep. She started out as a bagger, but they moved her to the frozen yogurt stand because she was so great with people.
OD: You have to be awfully proud.
MD: Oh, I am. I am. If she keeps this up, if she keeps working hard and does such a great job, one day she might get promoted to the produce department.
OD: Oh? That's a step up from the yogurt stand?
MD: Of course! One day, she might even be top banana.

The silence was deafening. Except for my dad and I chortling. I still think it's funny.

And now I've just lost every one of my blog readers, haven't I?