Kid Writing

While searching for a drawing to use for my last post, I found a story that my daughter wrote in kindergarten. Her school uses a curriculum called "Kid Writing." Every day the students were instructed to draw a picture in their Kid Writing Journal and then write a sentence or two about it. They were taught to write any letters that they heard in the words (phonic based spelling). Then, an adult (teacher or parent volunteer) helped them translate it into "adult writing". Once a child became an independent writer (no longer needed help to compose sentences) the teacher required more, such as a paragraph.

When I saw this story, I just had to share it with you. Given Jason's writing skills and his recent sci-fi vignette, it is quite apparent that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree! LOL! Most of the kids write about something that their family did recently, describe a beloved pet, or draw a picture of their house. Not our kid-- she writes multichapter stories!


(Chapter 2: The Curse of the Aliens)

Abby and I were on the twirling bar. The aliens put a remote in the baby's brain. He took over the baby and made the baby scatter buttons around the world. Karen came. She didn't know about the buttons. She stepped on one. A box appeared. I opened the box! I didn't know it was Pandora's box. And all the sadness and sickness came out.

And, to further demonstrate the power of DNA-- here is a poem our other daughter wrote in second grade. (Jason can rest easy that his genes have been passed on!)

Love is like a rainbow in my heart.
Love is red like the first rose of the season.
Love is orange like a skinny pumpkin that grows in my garden.
Love is yellow like the first stars you see at night.
Love is green like a fresh bunch of grapes that came from the garden.
Love is blue like the crystal blue sky.
Love is indigo like the night sky with bright stars.
Love is violet like the beautiful flowers I pick in the meadow.
Happy Valentine's Day

Through a Child's Eyes

~drawing by my youngest daughter at age 5

I've been reading a book about infant brain development and I discovered a little fact that I'd never heard before: vision develops differently in boys and girls.

There are several different types of cells that send visual information from the retina to the brain. One is called parvocellular (or P cells) which link to the cones--they transmit information about color and shape of stationary objects. Another type is called magnocellular (or M cells) which link to the rods--they carry information about depth and motion.

Researchers have found that girls have more P cells and boys have more M cells. So, girls are born with a better skill in seeing shape and color (or "what something is"), whereas boys have an advantage in seeing motion, depth, and shades of gray (or "where something is"). I can easily see the evolutionary link here-- female gatherers need to recognize plants by shape and color, male hunters need to process the motion of prey to make a successful kill. But I digress…

The impact of this anatomy on preschool function is what I found so interesting. Girls tend to use many bright colors to draw things (like houses, flowers, people, or animals). While boys tend to use a few crayons, often black, gray, silver, and blue, to draw actions (car crashes, airplanes, etc.)

Just imagine the psychological impact on little Sam when his teacher (mostly females in preschool settings) inadvertently criticizes him for not using more color, or asks him to draw more "happy people." He'll get the message that he's not doing something right or somehow lacking.

And, his feeling of failure is more important than we realize. Other studies have demonstrated that children decide whether they like school by the end of their first year and that their decision remains stable throughout their lifetime!

Ack!-- I hope preschool and kindergarten teachers have heard about this! I don’t have any sons, so I haven't seen this play out. Have any of you?

Communication (Personality Talk, part 7)

Do you ever feel frustrated when someone doesn't seem to hear a request you've made? Or perhaps you have been labeled "bossy" despite your best intentions. Maybe you know someone who seems to be so passive-aggressive that you just want to shout at them "will you just ask for what you actually want already?!"

These communication issues may be explained by personality theory!

There are two styles of communication: informing and directing. And guess what? We each have a natural preference for one or the other, and it tends to coincide with our other thinking preferences (see previous personality posts for the type functions).

How do you ask for something? There are many ways to communicate a simple request. Suppose you are asking your spouse to get bread when they go to the store. How would you phrase that request?

We're out of bread.
We need bread.
Would you be able to get us some bread?
We're out of bread and I was wondering if you could get us some?
We're out of bread. Would you please get us some?
Would you please get us some bread?
Please get us some bread.
Get some bread.

This list illustrates the continuum from informing to directing style. The styles are rather self-explanatory. The intent of directing is to direct the actions of others to accomplish a task, often by telling or asking. The intent of informing is to give information in order to engage others in the process.

As with all cognitive functions, we have a natural preference for one style. We all use both styles for different purposes, but one style feels more comfortable. Often, our natural style can be heard when we are relaxed, whereas when under stress we may awkwardly use the non-preferred style. Also, life experiences can train us to use the non-preferred style, sometimes making it difficult to determine our natural style. For example any naturally "informing" person who undergoes military officer training is going to become very competent with the directing style. Likewise, many counselors are trained to use an informing style.

What can really interfere with communication, though, is how we also prefer to receive communication in our preferred style. Thus, when we are talking to someone of the opposite style, all manner of miscommunication can happen! A directing person may not even hear the request imbedded in an informer's statement. Imagine the frustration of an informing mother who tells her directing daughter that "the laundry is finished" with the intent that the daughter will fold the clothes. I can just hear the daughter twenty minutes later when mom is upset: "but you didn't ask me to fold the clothes!" And how about a directing girl telling her informing friend "Let's color! Go get the crayons." Her friend may start to feel that she's too bossy and stop playing with her.

The examples I've been using are clearly one style or the other. But, sometimes it's difficult to determine what style is being used. A directing person may try to soften their request by adding "please" or "would you mind" and an informing person may think they are being directive by saying "we need to go now!", but both are still using their preferred style. More examples of each style can be found here.

Ideal communication incorporates both styles -- it simultaneously provides information and tells the listener what's wanted of them. For example: "Please open the door because the guests are here." OR "The guests are here so please open the door." Only saying, "The guests are here" provides insufficient information, while only saying "Please open the door" seems rather bossy without the accompanying explanation.

So, have you figured out what your natural style is? Here's what personality theory predicts. If your preferences are: I/ENFJ, I/ENTJ, I/ESTJ, or I/ESTP you probably prefer directing. And if your preferences are I/ENFP, I/ENTP, I/ESFJ, or I/ESFP you probably prefer informing.

So (in my natural style), go forth using this knowledge and communicate more successfully with your friends and family! (please?)
:)

(back to part 6)

Connecting the Dots

Sorry I haven't been around the blogosphere much lately. Between Jason's awesome contest, a new cat (a very sweet stray cat adopted us during the holidays), and germs taking up residence in our home (ugh!-- this is the first week since the holidays that both girls are actually at school, where they belong!), I haven't had much "me time" to devote to blogging. I had no idea what to blog about when I woke up this morning. But while reading Chris Eldin's blog, an idea was sparked.

Have you ever had the experience of discovering that you can connect the dots between seemingly unrelated interests and experiences in your life? I feel such glee when this happens. But then, I am predisposed to enjoying connections and meaning thanks to my thinking preferences (you know, the I, N, F, and J ways of thinking…)
:)

So I thought I'd share one of these connections with you.

Dot #1:
Some of you know that motherhood is a topic of great interest to me. I had no idea how much motherhood would change my life (cliché, I know…), but my postpartum experience made me consider shifting gears in my career. I had been a geriatric rehab specialist. Now I'm considering breaking new ground in Occupational Therapy by starting a practice devoted to the needs of new moms who are struggling with role transition.

In my research into the struggles of motherhood, I came upon a book by Dr. Harvey Karp-- The Happiest Baby on the Block (which, btw, should be a mandatory baby shower gift!) and found his "Fourth Trimester" theory. He calls the first 3 months of an infant's life the Fourth Trimester, because according to the positive (and significant)correlation between mammalian body size and length of gestation, human pregnancy should last 12 months, not 9. But since modern humans evolved larger craniums (relative to body size) than our hominid ancestors, moms who carried to full term died during childbirth. Those who delivered at 9 months, when the baby's head could still pass through the pelvis safely, survived. And, as a result, we are left to deal with newborns who would much prefer to still be in the womb for the first 3 months of their life.

Dot #2:
When I read Dr. Karp's theory, I just smiled. Because I had heard a similar theory 15 years before I became a mother. During a time when motherhood was the farthest thing from my mind.

In college I wrote a term paper about how the pelvic and cranial anatomy of Neanderthals may predict gestation length. At that time, a new theory in physical anthropology fascinated me-- that Neanderthals' pregnancies probably lasted 12 months.

That class, Human Evolution, was the beginning of what became an anthropology minor (my major was biology). And of course, that can be connected to:

Dot #3:
When I was 8, I told my parents that I wanted to be an archeologist when I grew up. This interest came from my fascination with human evolution, dinosaurs, and:

Dot#4:
I was always interested in time travel. I read every story I could find about time travel. Those Choose Your Own Adventure books were the best!

Believe it or not, there is an even earlier connection that can be made. An interest in time and connections across time can be argued to be a result of:

Dot #5:
My inborn thinking preferences: INFJ (see my posts on personality theory for the definition). My brain was wired to gather data through intuiting processes and make decisions based on feeling. These ways of thinking, paired with introverting and judging, make for a personality type (INFJ) that finds meaning in connections and often displays ESP-like foresight.

Which is why I am so delighted when my foresight fails to predict a connection and I discover it after the fact…
:)

Happy Holidays!

Wishing you and your loved ones a wonderful holiday season! May your merriment be plentiful and your company warm.

--Aine and Jason

Visions of Sugarplums (with a few sugar quills and chocolate frogs...)

As I'm busily preparing for the Evans' family Christmas, I thought I'd share a bit about our celebration. Particularly, the food!

In our house, Jason is the cook, and I am the baker. (Though as most moms know, I cook the everyday, routine dinners--they're just not as gourmet or tantilizing as Jason's creations...) So for our family Christmas we go all out. I've been known to bake as many as 13 different cookies, plus other delights, such as a chocolate Yule log or German nut stollen.



I have recipes that my german grandmother shared when I was a teenager (thank goodness I set a date to bake with her, my notebook in hand to record them). She was a wonderful baker--she ran an informal baking "business" in her Philadelphia home with her girlfriend. They were known for the hundreds of tins of cookies and doughnuts they created and gave to churches and neighbors every year at Christmas. The recipes that I recorded that day are full of phrases like: "a pinch of...", "two handfuls", "about two cups", "until it looks like", "use a light touch", etc.



And, the dinner that Jason prepares to precede all these sweets is grand. Here's the main event:



Yes, we roast a pig in our fireplace every Christmas Eve... Jason is "the man"! He needs to turn the spit every hour through the night. Surprisingly, after twelve years of sleeping on the couch, he has yet to meet Santa...

But Santa snitches a piece of pork each year as he fills the stockings! The girls have wondered if he gets burned when coming down the chimney. We've explained that Santa has other methods of entering the house.

My personal belief is that he apparates...you know, he is distantly related to that famous Dumbledore family. Have you noticed the family resemblance: long white beard, twinkle in the eyes, loves children, employs hundreds of house elves...? Santa uses reindeer instead of thestrals because they're less creepy. But clearly he is no muggle. He obviously uses a time turner to get the job done in one night, and I bet he makes use of an invisibility cloak through the year. (Otherwise the paparazzi would have had a field day!) But I digress...

So what are some of your favorite holiday foods?

Have a Happy Christmas, everyone!

Nutcracker Dreams

This post was inspired by K.Lawson Gilbert's poem "Jo"
Thanks, K!


When I was a girl I took dance lessons. Ballet, tap, jazz. The usual mix. But it was ballet that captured my heart, and "dancer" was one of the first roles added to my self identity.

I took lessons seriously and became competent enough to be invited to join the local company's production of The Nutcracker. As a result, some of my fondest Christmas memories are associated with practices and rehearsals. The Nutcracker Suite is now strongly associated with Christmas in my brain. Just hearing the first few notes of the overture instantly puts me in a "preparing for a holiday party" mood.



And just because this video is entrancing, here is a unique version:



My most special Christmas present ever was the nutcracker that my parents gave me at the end of the closing performance the first year that I danced in the Nutcracker. I spent hours in my room dancing with that wooden soldier as if I were Clara. I still get teary every year when I pull it out of the box where it spends most of the year nestled with my small collection of nutcrackers. I remember feeling disappointed that it had a screw mechanism to crack nuts instead of the usual lever, but now I am glad for its uniqueness.


For several years I danced with the Candy Canes, then I graduated to the Russian Trepak. Here I am, probably at dress rehearsal when Mom could make me pose for the Polaroid.

Hearing those parts of the Nutcracker Suite evokes visceral reactions and sensory memories. The sound of the orchestra, the hushed voices waiting in the wings, the smell of rosin, the swish of tutus as dancers hurried backstage for costume changes. Even today, when I hear the ending notes of the dance of the reed flutes (or "Mirlitons", which preceded the Candy Canes)-- I feel the fluttering in my stomach.

The first notes of the Candy Cane dance or Russian Trepak would sing, and I would be transported-- I was no longer me. My arms and legs knew when to flex, when to stretch. I gracefully moved through the choreography, barely aware of each step as it flowed into the next. Rather, I felt the warmth of the stage lights, noticed the brightness of the costumes blurring by, and of course heard the music which fed my muscles.

I was no longer me-- I was a dancer.