This is a picture of me in sixth grade. I’d been sitting at the kitchen table puzzling over the pre-algebra problems in my textbook, which was very good at asking ridiculous (but supposedly relevant) questions, but wasn’t ever able to answer my question “WHY?” WHY is a negative times a negative a positive? WHY is multiplying by a fraction’s reciprocal the same as dividing? WHY does cross-multiplying work? After half an hour of reading the same problem over and over all I could do was cry. My dad came to help me answer the questions and looking at the word problem, said, “Is Fred crazy? What’s he thinking cutting a…
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Stressful Schools = Toxic Apples
Madeline Levine’s book Teach Your Children Well (see Judith Warner’s review, NY Times 7/29/12) includes a startlingly true statement that serves as a call to action. She says, “When apples were sprayed with a chemical at my local supermarket, middle-aged moms turned out, picket signs and all, to protest the possible risks to their children’s health, yet I’ve seen no similar demonstrations about an educational system that has far more research documenting its own toxicity.” A few years ago while I waited for our 12-year-old daughter’s swimming lesson to end, I heard a mother bemoaning her children’s lack of enthusiasm for school. “Each year I hope they’ll realize the…
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Pamela’s Interview at Lifebyme.com
uncertainty innovative home schooler. lifelong learner. possibility seeker. Pamela Beere Briggs is a filmmaker, writer, and the mother of a happy teen. Her passions include good food, engaging books, and re-thinking the wisdom of middle school. When we’re learning, we’re so much more open. There’s a freedom, a feeling of being able to change, of knowing we can make mistakes and learn from those mistakes. My central goal is to always be in that process of learning. My husband teaches at the University of California in Los Angeles and his dean’s favorite piece of wisdom is “The gift is in the problem.” When I’m learning and having fun, I’m aware…
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Little Flights Lead to Big Flights
Last year at exactly this time, we had two fledgling mourning doves living in our garden. This year, we had one. He or she became so comfortable with us that we could walk right past and call out, “Hi, Junior,” and it would acknowledge our presence without hopping away. We could tell it was getting ready to spread its wings last week when it made it to the top of the garage roof. Then, three days ago, William and I noticed that it was perched atop a telephone wire. We knew it was nearly ready to leave the safety of our garden. Sure enough, we couldn’t find “Junior” in our…
