Counting to 100, Vowel Boot Camp, and Building Robots

So we're driving in the car and David suddenly announces, "I can count to one hun-dwed now. Want to hear?" I'm somewhat startled. We haven't practiced this or even discussed it, really. And so, sure, I'd like to hear this. Off he goes, and with only a couple of stumbles along the way, sure enough, he chants his way up to 100. Well. And where did you learn how to do that? He replies that he's simply been practicing counting to 100 while he's lying in bed. He does this as a self-imposed exercise before he goes to sleep at night, and he's perfected it enough to feel competent to perform. Oh. Um...great! You're learning new stuff on your own...pretty motivated.

This odd response, by the way, is apparently the newest thinking as far as parenting goes. An article titled The Inverse Power of Praise hinges on the idea that if you tell a kid he's smart when he gets a right answer, he becomes scared of taking any kind of cerebral risk, lest he be suddenly seen as NOT smart. Kids who are praised for their willingness to try, or their tenacity, are being praised for a variable they feel they can control. And more importantly, one they can replicate. So they're far more willing to stretch and reach for a new concept, because it's the reaching and trying and effort itself which is reinforced, rather than the idea that either you have brainpower or you don't. Interesting idea.

Lauren's all about trying. After David's performance, she went on to count reasonably well to 39.

Nobody is quite that motivated when it comes to Phonics. This is David's most hated subject. If he had his wishes, he would only be taught History (tiny smatterings of geography and cultural anthropology), Science and Math. Period. (And Math is getting pretty suspect now, since we've moved from sorting and categorizing to these weird ideas of geometry and fractions.) Language Arts and particularly Phonics can go take a leap as far as he's concerned.

Today, however, he had to identify all the vowels within a given set of magnetic letters on his student whiteboard. He seemed shaky on it, but he did sort of OK...yet something was off. Finally I had it. He was looking past my right arm at the teacher whiteboard, where I had all the letter tiles in order and the vowels are in red. He was copping off the teacher's board! He saw me follow his gaze and I looked at him with a big grin and he sort of wilted...busted!
"You're checking off the teacher's board!" I said.
David said nothing. Slight little nod.
I nodded back.
"Actually, that's a pretty smart idea," I said. "If you're not sure of something, you can use a reference to double-check and make sure you're right."
He brightened and smiled. "Yeah!"
"However," I continued, putting the teacher's board away, "the point here is for you to learn your vowels without looking."

This is when he puts his chin on the workbook and won't look at you. Ah, but he LOVES to learn things from the computer, so it's Between the Lions to the rescue! A glass of milk and a laptop in front of him vastly improve his outlook, and he's not nearly so glum. He gets to watch Vowel Boot Camp, which makes him giggle. I leave him alone for awhile and he reruns the little movie like six times, and here and there he starts to sing along with it. After a bit he says, "OK, I'm done," and he slides off his chair. I put the laptop away again, we go back over the identification exercise, and he passes decently.

He and Lauren go play while mom does some more dishes and then realizes it's almost time for his homeschool class at the Science Center. Today is about robots. What kind? I have NO IDEA. I know the SLSC is one of five places in the country that has a Lego Mindstorms setup, so I have a sneaking suspicion that they're either going to be using it, or something terribly similar. I have to rush them both into shoes and coats and we're off.

Bad omens to begin with...there are six school buses in front of the SLSC. I HATE going to these places when school groups are there. I hate going there when Scout troops are there. The adults are outnumbered and the kids have less than no interest in the topic at hand, and are far too busy whooping and shouting and pushing and being utterly obnoxious. Great.

The next bad omen is the fact that there's someone standing out there directing traffic in the parking lot. Yikes!! I have NEVER seen the place this busy! We have to park in BFE and make a run for it. We're now officially late. We get inside and there's a huge line, we're about 20 people away from the counter. We're registered for the class, but we have to pick up our ticket before we can actually go. I fished out my membership card and suddenly we didn't have to wait in line anymore. Apparently they suck up to people with membership cards, because were were suddenly directed to a little kiosk to the side which was emblazoned with the words "Membership Services," where we were promptly greeted and tickets were printed and we were rushed off downstairs. (Dude! Orange Membership card = 1-Up Mushroom!)

I saw David off to the class and then Lauren and I went wandering. I wasn't about to try and take her to the Discovery Room, as we had JUST done that. (She suggested Science Goes Splat numerous times, but it just wasn't happening yet.) We wandered through the display on rock formations and volcanoes, on earthquakes, on pre-dinosaur era bugs. We went to the gift shop and found a pencil with a plastic Triceratops stuck to it. We got to do a chromatography experiment using filter paper, wicks, and water. (You draw on the filter, wick up the water, and it splits the ink from the pen into the distinct colors that made it up. Dark blue turns into electric blue and purple.) Finally we headed back to pick up "Bebo." We stood and waited a bit and then suddenly there he was. "Look, Mommy!" he chirps happily, holding aloft a small bit of whirring machinery. "I made a robot!" It's a Popsicle stick. On one end is a AA battery, stuck to the stick with clear packing tape. On the other end is a small motor. Wires lead from the motor to either end of the battery. One end (-) is taped onto the battery, while the the other (+) is left free so that the child can complete the circuit anytime they want to. A round cog is stuck to the motor pin, so when the circuit is closed, the cog spins round and round. A robot. David is delighted with his class, and announces that they watched a movie and got to play with a robot and then built their own.

After that we're off to swimming class (I thought homeschoolers were supposed to suffer socially and not have contact with other kids?), then back home for a very short time and then back out with Dad to go to dinner. Since it's Tuesday again, it's Fazoli's night again. On the way there David starts singing in the backseat, "A, E, I, O, U, sometimes Y is a vowel, too. Sound off, A, E....sound off....I, O, U...."

We finally got both kids stuffed into bed (David is painted up like Flash again and Lauren has a big, pink butterfly spanning her face). Tomorrow we don't have anything planned, per se, but the next day is another social homeschool thing in the morning, and then on Friday his buddy Clayton is coming over for a few hours while his parents try to sneak off for a dinner out.