Adding two numbers to arrive at the sum of ten.
When researching important math foundation skills I learned that the more automatic this is, the better, and surprisingly many students are still actually counting each time (albeit quickly) rather than it being an automatic response. Aside from our time-telling, this first full week was about playing various games to automatize this skill. We had a quiz that they took daily and they timed themselves -- each subsequent day trying to beat, not each other, but their own best time. The Sister created a fishing game and a bingo game -- both with the premise of a number being presented, e.g. 6, and their marker/answer being the other number -- 4 -- needed to reach ten. Today at the Central Park zoo the kids made up word problems (e.g. "There were 2 Red Pandas. The zookeeper got 8 more. Now there are 10 Red Pandas."). I won't say that by this point we were beating a dead horse because we haven't moved on to subtraction yet... ("There were ten horses..."). Actually, I can't say it because I saw The Girl's face crumble the first time she ever heard that phrase. No matter how many times I said, "It's just a phrase..." She kept rebutting with, "It doesn't matter. Why would anybody say something so mean?" Dead horse beatings aside, I do feel confident that we can start incorporating other concepts into our math regime.
I'm happy to report that their first essay has come off well. They wrote about their experience with the exotic birds at Bryant Park, and while there was some grumbling about the revision process ("What do you mean I have to write it again?"), they were both proud of their finished product.
Today after the running club, my sister took the kiddos to the playground while I went and did some further shuffling about by myself. I find these times critical to clear my mind. Sometimes I'm able to chat with my older sister on the phone (she accepts the wheezing and gasping and provides creative insight and constant support), and other times I just zone out with or without music. Today, listening to Jens Lekman, I was trying to sort out what the magic formula might be... What ingredients, what balance did I need to strike for my two little pupils to be successful. I fully understand that 3 and 7 add up to the same solid, holistic ten as 4 and 6. My concern is just making sure that I'm not offering a 5 and 6 and leaving them standing with a gangly 11... Or worse, 5 and 4 and coming up short. Knowing that our plan is to go back on the grid in a year does keep me looking over my shoulder in a way that long-term home schooling families don't. Those families would probably say something lovely and idealistic to me like, "But you're not providing the numbers -- you just hand them the tools and they unearth their own numbers..." That's super nice, but come next September, my kids can't answer: "rainbow" when their teacher asks what 5 plus 5 equals.
So here was my epiphany. During the birth-preparation class I took before my first-born we had to play a little game with some cards on our very last night (after 8 awkward/lame weeks). On each side of the card there were two different options (your own doctor/doctor on-call; natural/epidural; nursing/formula; healthy/not healthy; etc.) and we had to flip the cards over according to our preferences -- and believe me, the types that take those classes have some preferences. Part two of the game was eliminating cards... if we had to take one choice off the table, what one could we give up? One by one we eliminated cards until we were all left with a single card. Despite the super strong conflicting opinions that had caused fire to flare in eyes, and arms to cross over bulges every mama was left with the same card -- "healthy." Today as I jogged I realized that nine years later the answer is the same... I can look at my options, and make my best choices, but I need to remember that the automatic answer needs to be: whatever helps us be emotionally healthy.
Cross my heart: as I headed home thinking focus more on a creating a positive environment than an academic powerhouse I received my zen moment of confirmation. I looked in the eyes of a passing largish, white tousled-haired dog and he smiled at me. Hand to heaven.
