Daily Prompt – Page 5 – My World With Words

April 7, 2017April 8, 2017

Counting Every Moment

Apparently being good in math isn’t considered American.

Not by the rest of the world, anyway. Yes, I’m making broad generalizations, and stereotyping can be a dangerous choice, we all know that. When I was young, people from Poland and Italy were assumed to be less intelligent. The number of jokes I heard denigrating my Polish ancestry made an impression, and not a positive one.

So I’m sensitive to such comments as, “well, of course she’s good in math, she IS Chinese,” even if it’s a “good” stereotype (no such thing, but that’s for another post). Still, you can’t ignore the statistics. Asian countries place highest in math scores (well, all education scores, for that matter) and second-generation Asian-American students do better in math classes as well.

American students are way down the list. You’ve heard it before, and there are many explanations. A few actually make sense without being demeaning to anyone.

Are Asians inherently smarter? I couldn’t find any evidence of such, but two things stood out to me when I read up on this subject: one, they value education in a different way than Americans do, and two, they integrate math into everyday conversations with their little ones. Americans prize reading to their children, and there’s nothing to fault there. In fact, that’s a wonderful tradition to start in virtually any family.

numbers-40904_1280 — There are countless ways to have fun with math.

But how many Americans make it a habit of getting on the elevator and saying to their children, “we’re getting on floor 3 and going to floor 8. How many floors is that?” One of my favorite fellow bloggers has a fantastic blog dedicated to this concept, Journey to Help Children With Math. She’s taking a break right now (she just finished her M. Ed. in Math Elementary Education!), but there are plenty of past posts with great ideas for parents.

You can’t make your kids focus on education at every moment, but you can make learning fun. Even without children at home, I struggle with the balance between work and play for young students. We all need our down time, and I see so much pressure in even the earliest grades with volumes of homework and projects. Some kids thrive on that pressure, while others break. I’ve seen both sides in my own family.

That’s perhaps an American way of thinking. No apologies.

Another article I read stated Asian countries teach a more intuitive style of learning math, and (note I’m quoting here) the “top schools” in America use that same method. If that’s the case, maybe more American schools — and their students — would benefit from making a change.

During the entire time I was a student, from kindergarten to college, I would initially struggle with my math lessons, then one day, I would have a breakthrough and “get it.” Today I have a fairly good “math mind,” although a lot of that I credit to the Schoolhouse Rock episodes that would play on Saturday morning between episodes of my favorite cartoons.

Even as I’m writing I hesitate to suggest any changes, since I’m no expert and read a whopping total of five articles on this subject. And I do know of some modifications schools have made in the way they teach other subjects that shock me. In particular, I’ve heard of teachers who instruct children to spell words the way they sound, and trust they’ll learn the correct spelling as they grow older. We’re talking second and third graders who are told “edyookashun” is acceptable. So changes should be made with care and a fair level of caution.

But I do think talking to your children in everyday conversation about math is a good thing. Of course as they get older, your own knowledge of math may need to expand.

Math is relevant. You use it in everyday life, from counting change to calculating how much you can get done in an hour to figuring out how far you can go on 1/3 of a tank of gas. That’s just the basics. Virtually every profession requires some math skills, particularly anything to do with anything computer-related.

Math counts.

Images courtesy of Pixabay

Outlier

April 1, 2017April 19, 2017

The Last Minute

If it weren’t for the last minute, nothing would get done.

As a journalism student — let’s broaden that, as a college student — I was pretty amused by that quote. It was framed and hanging in the office of my journalism professor. My junior year, I was yearbook editor, and learned the hard truth. You wait to the last minute, you pay a high price.

There is a certain thrill in procrastination, and some say that’s why people do it, to get that adrenaline rush that comes from facing a deadline there’s no way you can meet. Then you do, and the surge that races through you (if you’re not dead tired) is reward enough to compensate for all, or most, of the negatives (like I mentioned, being dead tired).

There are times when you’re dependent on others to be responsible enough to meet their deadlines so you, in turn, can meet yours. Several years ago I worked as a communications manager for a major corporation in their benefits department. The company had a team of directors from numerous departments who approved all communication that went out from my department, and most of them were dependable and respectful of me, the lower-level employee making demands on their time.

Of course, one woman wasn’t so kind. In fact, she was a … . Well, you’ve all worked with the type. We had an exceptionally tight deadline, and I was depending on her to meet it. It was an absolute deadline for me, and I told her in numerous emails, a couple of phone calls and through the director of my division that whether or not I heard from her, the material had to go to press on Monday, June 7. I meant business.

That Monday came, and I hadn’t heard from her. With my director’s approval, for that matter, the support of the entire team of directors, I sent this material out.

AdobeStock_109610839 [Converted] sm — GRRRRR!

The next morning I got a call from her assistant, who sheepishly told me Director B wanted to know what day was the REAL deadline.

“It was yesterday,” I told her, and reminded her of the multiple notifications I had sent out. In barely a whisper, she agreed I was right, but told me to expect a call.

Of course, my phone didn’t ring, my director’s did, but she was prepared. I’d like to say we won that battle, but we didn’t. We won the war, however. Director B was told by executive management she wouldn’t get a second chance next time.

We paid a high price for that situation, and here’s the thing: deadlines are deadlines for a reason. No one should have to play games by giving false dates, or give in because the other person resents being told what to do by someone lesser than her.

Of course, life happens, and sometimes deadlines are missed for legitimate reasons.

While I prioritize my projects, I no longer operate on the premise “it’s not a crisis, so I have plenty of time.” That doesn’t mean I’m not scrambling at the last minute with some projects, but that can’t always be helped. And admittedly, sometimes I just don’t feel like doing whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing, and I knit instead (obviously, that’s for projects I’m working on at home). I do my best to keep those times from being a habit, and I also avoid having deadlines with my knitting.

I only wish there was some funny quote for sparing myself the drama of procrastination.

Image Credits (calendar) © grublee — Bigstock; (girl at desk) © marinabh — Adobe Stock

Later

March 29, 2017April 8, 2017

We Draw The Line — No Dogs!! No! No!

Some of you may remember when, last summer, I posted some videos of my precious, sweet, mild-mannered babies meeting two equally sweet pups for the first time.

We were house-sitting, and the cats weren’t particularly happy about staying there, but nonetheless, they were curious.

In fact, I’ll just bring one of those videos out again. You can see how Mimi was brave, yet Walter retreated at the first — and distant — sight of Allie, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Over the last several months I’ve cared for these dogs many times, and of course, come home smelling like Allie and Lulu. The cats meticulously sniff me out, and then walk away.

So I figured it was okay, when my friend told me he was selling his house and, at the same time, would be doing a little bit of traveling, to let the dogs stay at my place while he was gone. I was a bit hesitant, so we thought a trial day would be a good idea.

Turned out we were right.

Lulu and Allie stepped through my door, and I expected the cats to retreat to their safe spot, downstairs, where the two bedrooms and full bath are. Plenty of room, with food and litter boxes and a big picture window that they already love. Not to mention the closet and under the bed, their favorite hiding places. I had the stairs blocked off so the dogs couldn’t get down there, but I suppose the cats didn’t fully know that to be fact.

Mama, Where Did You Say We're Moving — Who, me? My name is Mimi, not Meanie!

My passive, loving babies turned primal, with growls that came from deep within. When Mimi appeared about to leap at Allie (who had surrendered, sitting flat on the floor, with his back to the cats), I grabbed her — and paid the price. My right arm was full of punctures, and blood had splattered on my t-shirt.

We had our answer. The pups were headed to a kennel.

Fortunately, there’s a very good kennel nearby, out on a farm, that’s also reasonably priced. Allie and Lulu likely will be just as happy, if not happier, housed there for the two weeks Roger will be gone.

I learned my lesson — bring in friends, sure. The cable guy, okay. But keep the dogs away. This is kitty territory.

Territory

March 26, 2017March 27, 2017

We’ve Got Each Other

I recently told the tale of how my babies came to be a part of my life. They are brother and sister, and have a bond deeper than any other.

They protect each other, battle with each other, and at the end of the day, snuggle with each other (and if I’m lucky, with me.)

Caturday Night

I worry about what will happen when one of them dies, but they’re not even five years old yet, so I don’t think about that for long.

Each one has his or her own power. Together they are a mighty force.

Symbiosis

March 5, 2017March 31, 2017

Tales of Wolves

About this time six years ago, I had a peculiar, eerie dream that shook me to the core. There was no clear message, no strange story to recount, but the imagery was so strong I looked it up in a book on the meaning of dreams.

There were four elements to the dream, and I’m not clear on all of them anymore, but they included a wolf wearing a mask, dancing in darkness on the edge of a road that disappeared in the distance. Dancing isn’t quite the right word. Cavorting better describes what was going on, and it felt evil.

On the side of the road were some tiny white flowers, nearly glowing in the darkness.

I was frightened.

Wolves themselves don’t frighten me; while I may not wish to walk up to one and scratch him behind the ears (I have respect for their wild nature), I think they are beautiful, almost romantic creatures. My admiration of wolves began when I was very young, and my parents received an album they really didn’t want from the Columbia Record of the Month club . That club sent you a notice of the record of the month, and would send that album to you if you didn’t return the card saying you didn’t want it. We ended up with a few odd choices in the family record collection that way.

You could return the unwanted selection, but that was a hassle, especially when both parents work and the kids are always underfoot. This particular month’s record was “The Language and Music of the Wolves,” narrated by Robert Redford. It was 1967, and he was just hitting it big, but I’d never heard of him. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t get someone famous to narrate the tale of the wolves.

For us kids, the chief value of that album was the B side, which had recordings of the wolves howling. It was great for Halloween. It wasn’t until years, decades, really, later, that I realized that album had done its work. I appreciated wolves.

I say that to help make it clear in part why an evil wolf would be so disturbing to me. Aside from Little Red Riding Hood, that wasn’t part of how I pictured them. This masked invader into my subconscious seemed to be bringing me a message, something I don’t typically find in my dreams, but I couldn’t shake it.

According to the dream interpretation book, the meaning was clear. All four elements, each in its own way, pointed to the same thing. Someone I trusted was going to betray me.

I was shaken, but didn’t believe it. I talked to my co-workers about it, people I absolutely did trust and knew would not turn against me. (They didn’t.) We mulled over the possibilities of what my dream might specifically mean, and eventually, I laughed if off.

Two months later I wasn’t laughing.

A man who I not only believed in, but supported against the beliefs and words of others because he had always treated me properly, turned on me and accused me doing something I simply didn’t do. The proof of my innocence was strong, concrete, even, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

No, that isn’t completely true. It mattered to those who mattered to me, who knew me best, who believed in me regardless of what was said and where it was said. The police believed me and didn’t trust the information they were given by that man in the beginning; they recognized the inconsistencies in both his statements and my behavior.

But I paid a price. A very high price.

There’s one part of the dream that didn’t mean betrayal, but rather, hope. The white flowers. I clung to that imagery in my darkest moments and never lost hope and faith in the future.