Up, Down vs. Down, Up

Up, down, 

Mom grips, 

Runs,

Then lets go. 

Up, down, 

Weaving wheel 

Snake prints 

In gravel and grass. 

Up, down, 

Two pedals, 

Little bike, 

On the ground. 

Up, down,

Boy’s spirit, 

Knee Scuffed. 

Up, down, 

Little bike 

Put away 

For another day. 

Up, down, 

“I will 

do that 

when 

I know

how.” 

Up, down, 

Door slams. 

Up, down, 

Mom sighs. 

There’s no 

Explaining

That you 

Need to

Do it 

To learn

How.

There’s no 

Explaining 

Down, up.

That was a hard day.  How do you convince him that he can't just not do something until he knows how to do it?  Of course, now he's grown, having learned how to ride his bike shortly after that incident, and now rides a motorcycle!

Learning for Dummies

This past week I have been messing about with a Google program called SketchUp.  I tried my usual technique of starting out not reading any directions to see how intuitive it was to learn.  It wasn’t.

I drew some lines and rectangles of HUGE proportions, and some tiny.  Who would know?  The one that looked right had a measurement of over 1000 feet long, too big for for a house.  I went to the Help menu in the program, but it didn’t seem to do the trick for me. I needed more help than that.

Then I downloaded the book SketchUp for Dummies.  I have never. . . I repeat. . . n-e-v-e-r  e-v-e-r wanted to buy a-n-y book that said it was for dummies.  But at this particular point in time I was feeling like I might be one, so I bought it.  I read a couple of chapters, and it got me started, but I still felt dumber than I thought I was.

Next I went to YouTube to watch some demonstrations, and that is where I finally started to understand what the author of the book was trying to say.  It really isn’t that difficult a program, just not as many familiar functions as other “new to me” programs have going for them. 

As I watched the demonstrations, I tried to replicate what they’d done.  Sometimes I’d go back to the book after the demonstration just to reread parts of it.  Then I’d try it again on my own.  Slowly I’ve found it easier to work with.  Yes, chairs will still have one leg that seems to shoot out or shorten suddenly, a bit like Alice in Wonderland when she was changing sizes unexpectedly.  But more and more as I watch, read and try I am improving, and not so many weird and unwonderful things happen as I create a building or table.

What I like about learning things like this is that I can identify so much more with anyone I’m trying to instruct.  Even though this program isn’t one that I’d be teaching in my classes, there is definitely a benefit to students when I learn new skills outside of the education territory. I am reminded when I teach something that there is more than one way to learn, that hands-on is very necessary, that after learning in one way you can introduce the other methods which might now make sense, and that small chunks of learning are good, but don’t leave the new learning for long before picking it up again.

For most learning, the problems come from the way it is presented and the student’s perception of themselves as learners.  I tried three times before finding the way that worked for me.  I’m no dummy.  I know I’m not.  Kids don’t always know that about themselves; they’re waiting to find out from us whether they are smart or dumb.   Unfortunately, when they don’t get something, they assume the worst. . . they’re dummies.

Lack of time, knowledge or materials may mean that we don’t try another method. . . well, we may speak more loudly, but that is not technically another method and is rarely effective with students of normal hearing.

I am continuing to learn SketchUp on my own, another lesson to pass on to our children: they can find the resources and learn things on their own forever.  They are not dummies.  They are not dummies unless we tell them they are.

My mother once said to me

when I was

getting upset with myself

and getting tired

but refusing to quit

“Are you afraid that someday

someone will find out that

you really

aren’t smart?”

“Yes,” I said,

“I feel that way, too,” she whispered,

and gave me a hug.

“You have nothing to be

afraid of.”

*************************

Happy birthday, Mom.

I miss your wisdom.

I hope I have enough stored up
to use when I need it.

I miss your outlook on life.

I hope I can always remember
to see the world through your eyes.

 

Still Living to Learn

Maine Lupines on the Roadside

I remember my mother once saying that she was going to plant some Lupines. I did not know what those were.  She knew lots of wildflowers' names, and birds' names, too.  I was so intrigued as a little child to find out that things had specific names, not just  "tree", "flower" and "bird".  As I got older, I began to realize how really impressive it was that my mother knew them. She was a city girl who didn't have anyone to teach her the names of plants and animals.  But she was an original life-long learner and self-starter.  If there was plumbing to do, she was there by Dad’s side book in hand to "make suggestions" as to angles and materials.  Raise chickens?  No problem.  Make chokecherry jelly?  Done!

Mom and Dad always provided support and encouragement when it came to learning anything. We had pretty much free rein when it came to inventing, creating and investigating.  Knowing my love of science, my parents purchased for me a chemistry kit one Christmas and a real microscope on another. Learning was something my parents never stopped doing, and they kept all the doors open for us to follow after.

My parents moved to a fairly rural area when they were newly married, and my mother, as a young married woman with three small children and another on the way, became friends with another young mother who lived next door.  I remember playing with the neighbor’s daughter while our two mothers watched birds in the backyard and thumbed through bird books. They collected wild plants and pressed them between pages. I was 4 years old at that time, just old enough to realize my mom was learning things.

When I was 5 we moved out to the real country on ten acres of fields and woods. Mom taught me the names of birds and plants that shared our new habitat.  When I asked her a butterfly name once, she didn't know it.  So I took it upon myself to learn about butterflies and other insects. After all, she had done it!  Why couldn't I? 

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail

She bought me a couple of the little books called Insects of North America and Butterflies of North America.  I looked at those books for hours on end learning names and facts.  Often I'd carry my books with me, as I sat in the fields watching for new creatures.

At some point I saw a display of insects and butterflies mounted in frames, and so I determined that I could and would make a display board of butterflies of my own.  I had to research how to kill a butterfly without damaging the specimen.   I cannot believe that I was prepared to do that, but I thought of myself as a scientist.

So I set out to find the perfect specimen.  I found a beautiful Mourning Cloak as my first butterfly to mount. I put it in a jar that I'd put something in to kill it. I don't remember what the something was; I’d researched it, and with my chemistry kit, I’m sure I had something that would work.  It may have been simply some fingernail polish remover.  At any rate, the butterfly stopped moving, and I got my card stock and a pin. I lifted the lifeless butterfly out of the jar and carefully pushed the pin through the thorax and into card stock.  My first specimen was complete! I was a collector of butterflies and a real scientist!  What kind of butterfly would be next?  I raced outside to see what I could find.

It wasn’t until after lunch that I returned to my bedroom laboratory.  I went over to my bureau where I’d laid the butterfly specimen, but it wasn’t there.  I looked down on the floor thinking perhaps the wind had blown it off.   I found the card, but there was nothing on it.  The butterfly and pin were both gone.  My heart sank, I realized I had hurt a living creature. The small room with it's open window was no longer a laboratory, but a room of torture from which my impaled butterfly had escaped.

My mom said it was sad, but it was how we learned sometimes.
Thus ended my career of collecting specimens, but my fascination with learning has remained.  I have many things yet to try.  Thanks, Dad.  Thanks, Mom.