I'm all for education, and the basic R's--readin', ritin' and 'rithmetic. But only for other kids...or, maybe for my kid, but only as long as he doesn't bring that stuff home to the house!
I know these subjects will eventually help Mark somewhere down the line, but in the short-term, they're killing me.
He just finished a six-week "literacy project," which is a fancy term for a big ol' book report.
We started off a bit rough, when I asked Mark which book he was going to read.
"I wonder if I can do my report on this," he said hopefully, holding up The Big Book of Why.
"No," I answered. "It has to be a chapter book. You know, a story with a beginning, middle and end."
He frowned for a moment, then brightened up. "I'll read Scat!" he exclaimed.
"Didn't you read that in class last year?" I asked.
"Yeah!" he said. "That'll save a lot of time--I won't have to read it again."
"You're missing the whole point of this, aren't you?" I said. I patiently explained that he had to read a new book for each report. That news did not go over well.
Amidst great protest, Mark finally settled on The Skull of Truth by Bruce Coville. He was not happy about it, but all the copies of Scat were checked out of the library, so he had no choice.
We were also at odds about the rest of the process. We read the first five chapters together, but then Mark wanted to read (pretend to read) on his own. Three weeks into the project, I asked how much he'd read. He answered none. He also forgot what happened in the first five chapters.
"Get in your room and start over!" I yelled. "You have to read one chapter--I'm going to quiz you in half an hour."
Thirty minutes later, he sidled into the room and tossed the book to me. I started grilling him on who the main character was, what happened in Chapter 1, etc.
"I don't know," he said sullenly. "I didn't read that chapter."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "I told you to read Chapter 1!"
"No," he corrected. "You said to read a chapter--so I read Chapter 2."
Why be linear, when you can jump all over a book? Plot and order are overrated, anyway. I just sighed. This was going to be a looooooong project.
Mark finally finished the book in the fifth week. I'd made him write a summary of each chapter as he went along, hoping that would speed his memory and writing time when it came to the actual report. He did a great job. He also created a map of the universal theme, and connected idea bubbles to it with at least seven different ideas.
Under my careful observation, he researched the author.
"No Wikipedia, right?" I said. I reminded him it's unreliable because anybody (including 11-year-old boys named Mark) could change the information. (I once asked his cousin where Mark was, and she answered, "He's changing facts on Wikipedia.")
By Friday, we had the bones to the entire report. All Mark had to do was write the final draft. It was a struggle to get there, with Mark fighting me every bit of the way. To get this project complete, I needed to bring in the big guns.
"Grandma's gonna help you write this up," I said. He looked terrified and pleased all at the same time (a totally appropriate response).
With her help, he wrote the book report and most of the biography. It took them most of the day.
"He's almost done!" my mom said. "He just has to re-write it in his best writing."
"I want to type it up!" Mark said.
"NOW you're an overachiever?" I asked. "Now you want to put in extra effort?"
We hit another obstacle when Mark got sick Saturday. He was still home sick on Monday, but he spent the entire day working on the report.
"Good thing I stayed home today," he said. "Now I can get this report done!"
I reminded him he was home because he was sick, not to meet his deadline.
The only big glitch was when I realized Mark had left out the info about the book's universal theme. We'd worked on that for two hours the previous week. I asked if he remembered what the theme was.
"Relationships," he answered.
"No!" I said. "It's TRUTH! Remember the bubble map we worked on for two hours?"
"Grandma said it's relationships," he muttered, and I snapped.
"Then go call Grandma and write that up!" I yelled. That convinced him--he mumbled, "Fine, it's truth."
When he'd typed that up, I asked what lesson he'd learned from the book.
"That telling the truth gets you in trouble," he said. "So don't tell the truth."
I know these subjects will eventually help Mark somewhere down the line, but in the short-term, they're killing me.
He just finished a six-week "literacy project," which is a fancy term for a big ol' book report.
We started off a bit rough, when I asked Mark which book he was going to read.
"I wonder if I can do my report on this," he said hopefully, holding up The Big Book of Why.
"No," I answered. "It has to be a chapter book. You know, a story with a beginning, middle and end."
He frowned for a moment, then brightened up. "I'll read Scat!" he exclaimed.
"Didn't you read that in class last year?" I asked.
"Yeah!" he said. "That'll save a lot of time--I won't have to read it again."
"You're missing the whole point of this, aren't you?" I said. I patiently explained that he had to read a new book for each report. That news did not go over well.
Amidst great protest, Mark finally settled on The Skull of Truth by Bruce Coville. He was not happy about it, but all the copies of Scat were checked out of the library, so he had no choice.
We were also at odds about the rest of the process. We read the first five chapters together, but then Mark wanted to read (pretend to read) on his own. Three weeks into the project, I asked how much he'd read. He answered none. He also forgot what happened in the first five chapters.
"Get in your room and start over!" I yelled. "You have to read one chapter--I'm going to quiz you in half an hour."
Thirty minutes later, he sidled into the room and tossed the book to me. I started grilling him on who the main character was, what happened in Chapter 1, etc.
"I don't know," he said sullenly. "I didn't read that chapter."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "I told you to read Chapter 1!"
"No," he corrected. "You said to read a chapter--so I read Chapter 2."
Why be linear, when you can jump all over a book? Plot and order are overrated, anyway. I just sighed. This was going to be a looooooong project.
Mark finally finished the book in the fifth week. I'd made him write a summary of each chapter as he went along, hoping that would speed his memory and writing time when it came to the actual report. He did a great job. He also created a map of the universal theme, and connected idea bubbles to it with at least seven different ideas.
Under my careful observation, he researched the author.
"No Wikipedia, right?" I said. I reminded him it's unreliable because anybody (including 11-year-old boys named Mark) could change the information. (I once asked his cousin where Mark was, and she answered, "He's changing facts on Wikipedia.")
By Friday, we had the bones to the entire report. All Mark had to do was write the final draft. It was a struggle to get there, with Mark fighting me every bit of the way. To get this project complete, I needed to bring in the big guns.
"Grandma's gonna help you write this up," I said. He looked terrified and pleased all at the same time (a totally appropriate response).
With her help, he wrote the book report and most of the biography. It took them most of the day.
"He's almost done!" my mom said. "He just has to re-write it in his best writing."
"I want to type it up!" Mark said.
"NOW you're an overachiever?" I asked. "Now you want to put in extra effort?"
We hit another obstacle when Mark got sick Saturday. He was still home sick on Monday, but he spent the entire day working on the report.
"Good thing I stayed home today," he said. "Now I can get this report done!"
I reminded him he was home because he was sick, not to meet his deadline.
The only big glitch was when I realized Mark had left out the info about the book's universal theme. We'd worked on that for two hours the previous week. I asked if he remembered what the theme was.
"Relationships," he answered.
"No!" I said. "It's TRUTH! Remember the bubble map we worked on for two hours?"
"Grandma said it's relationships," he muttered, and I snapped.
"Then go call Grandma and write that up!" I yelled. That convinced him--he mumbled, "Fine, it's truth."
When he'd typed that up, I asked what lesson he'd learned from the book.
"That telling the truth gets you in trouble," he said. "So don't tell the truth."
I sighed again, and tried my best not to cry.
"No, it's about how lying hurts people, but also how you have to be careful with the truth," I reminded him. Then I just waved the white flag in the air, and told him to type something--anything--up.
I didn't think it would happen, but by 10 p.m. Monday night, he finished. The report looked great.
Mark admired his poster board with the report, biography, word search, and illustrated character analysis. He saw a book report--I saw six weeks of blood, sweat and tears, and a slew of new gray hairs on my head.
"No, it's about how lying hurts people, but also how you have to be careful with the truth," I reminded him. Then I just waved the white flag in the air, and told him to type something--anything--up.
I didn't think it would happen, but by 10 p.m. Monday night, he finished. The report looked great.
Mark admired his poster board with the report, biography, word search, and illustrated character analysis. He saw a book report--I saw six weeks of blood, sweat and tears, and a slew of new gray hairs on my head.
"That was easy," he said.
I just looked at him--easy was not the word I'd have chosen. But I took a deep breath and realized it didn't really matter--the report was done, which was the important thing.
People don't judge victories by the hard-fought battles, they judge it by who won the overall war.
And today, Mark won the war on literacy. Barely, but he did.
Whatever. I'm good with that.
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