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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.

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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

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Chance Encounter

Today, I planned to meet a friend for lunch. She works in the courthouse building, and I scrambled to get there at the appointed time.

Just as I was getting on the elevator, only moments from her office, I received a text. She couldn’t make it today.

I barely noticed the young woman who graciously allowed me to enter the elevator first. I asked her what floor she wanted so I could push the appropriate button, then really saw her. Long brown hair, pretty, and…lost.

“Two,”  she said. Her eyes widened, and I noticed how small she looked. Not because of her size, although she was petite, but something else I couldn’t place.

Fotolia_93820319_XS“I’m getting an annulment,” she said.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” I told her. “How painful. How heartbreaking!!”

“He’s already married,” she said. “Marrying me was illegal.”

“Not to mention a horrible thing to do to you.”

We both got off on the second floor, and I helped her find the circuit clerk’s office. I know the ladies who work there; they are kind and would be supportive to this poor young woman. Really, almost a girl.

I thought about her throughout the rest of the day, and hoped she has the support she will need in the coming weeks as she processes this betrayal. Anyone who starts talking to a distracted stranger about something so personal, so painful, clearly needs to talk.

Where were her friends, her family? Why did she have to go down to the courthouse alone? Perhaps they had always suspected something was off about this man, maybe they had even warned her. Were they smugly saying, “we told her so” instead of reaching out to her?

Or had someone offered to stand by her, and she refused? Maybe she hadn’t even told her friends and family about it yet. Did she have a big wedding, or did they elope? Was Magic Castle And Princess With Princeshe afraid of what others might say to her, or ashamed to admit she’d been duped?

The numbers and human nature say she will fall in love again, but no doubt her ability to trust has been damaged. I hope she meets a loving, patient man, who is willing to bear the burden of her fear.

I hope she has the fairy tale ending we all deserve.

These chance encounters, they stay with you sometimes.

Image Credits: (Sailor’s Lass) © Thomas Mucha — Fotolia; (Broken Heart) © chuugo — Fotolia; (Fairy Tale Ending) © JackyBrown — Bigstock

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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.

bigstock-Calendar-5486982 smThere 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.

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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

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Is the plural Octopuses or Octopi?

When I was a child, we made frequent trips to the nearby aquarium. The first exhibit down one dark hall — a hall with few escapes — was the giant octopus (just how giant it was is today unclear, but at the time, I thought it was HUGE).

Now, this was not a pretty creature (name the octopus that is) and it seemed to be looking out at us, at me, with its wide eyes. I was certain it was quite angry at being cooped up in that little space, and one day was going to escape and…get me.

My parents were a little amused at this fear, but kept their smiles hidden as they reassured me that simply couldn’t happen. Even if it did get out, they told me, which was nearly impossible, it wouldn’t survive outside of water. In the dry environment, it would be immobilized.

Octopus mimics the cat
“What are you doing out? I told you to stay in the tank!”

Apparently, that isn’t the case at all, although I have no doubt my parents were certain they were telling me the truth. In fact, on one trip, I think they even got aquarium workers to back them up.

As an adult, I’ve heard numerous stories of octopuses escaping from their tanks (most recently Inky of New Zealand, whom, aquarium authorities surmised, escaped out of his tank and down a drain pipe leading to the ocean.) In fact, in an article in “True Activist,” octopus expert Jennifer Mather is quoted from an interview in “Scientific American” as saying, “They are very strong, and it is practically impossible to keep an octopus in a tank unless you are very lucky. Octopuses simply take things apart. I recall reading about someone who had built a robot submarine to putter around in a large aquarium tank. The octopus got a hold of it and took it apart piece by piece.

“There’s a famous story from the Brighton Aquarium in England 100 years ago that an octopus there got out of its tank at night when no one was watching, went to the tank next door and ate one of the lumpfish and went back to his own tank and was sitting there the next morning.”

So not only can they escape, but apparently they’re pretty clever. The Brighton Aquarium lost several more lumpfish before they figured out what was going on.

Aquarium workers acknowledge they need to keep their captive octopuses entertained or they get bored, and who wants a bored octopus? My research revealed many of these captive creatures were injured when they were captured (in a fisherman’s net, perhaps), so some humanity is exhibited in keeping them contained.

But once they are well, it can be argued that holding them in a tank is a compromised existence.

cant see the cat
You can’t see me if I can’t see you!

Which brings me back to my feelings about aquariums today. NO WAY am I going to one with an octopus. Another interesting piece of information I learned in my research for this post? Octopuses have fantastic eyesight. I know if I visit an aquarium, the resident octopus will spot me, far back in the crowd, and decide “this is it, now’s the time. I’m busting out of here and that chick is going to get it.”

Don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise. I’ve already proven I know more than the grown-ups.

Images © geosap — Adobe Stock

Note: While there is a general consensus in the discussions I read that the word “octopus” is of Greek origin, there was some disagreement about the plural. Some said it would be “octopuses,” while others emphatically stated it should be “octopodes.” One man disagreed with all of that, saying the word actually has it origins in Latin, which would, indeed, make the plural “octopi.”

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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