avoiding math

Can children really have a preference?

Halley was now in her second year of this first/second grade class. I needed to make sure she was gaining math skills in a school that gave children a lot of opportunity to make choices. Her choices were never bringing her to the math area. She would much rather spend time in the greenhouse or in the art room or in the writing corner. Every time I went to request some math practice, she looked disappointed and dragged her feet.

For students like Halley, I began a system of requiring everyone to complete one activity each week, and I kept a checklist of those who had finished. It took some effort on my part, but Halley’s response was surprising. She began to get very interested in the math activities I was giving her. Instead of disappointment, she began to show real enthusiasm for her own math accomplishments, and I hardly had to remind her at all to complete the work.

When children express a preference for (or against) something, I really question how much they understand about their own choice. Often they give more value to what is familiar, since they know they will like it, in contrast with the unfamiliar, which may be pleasant or unpleasant. If they often get to choose for themselves, they can form ingrained habits, and become even more resistant to change.

The irony here is that choice makes them less free. Carried forward by unexamined impulses, children lose the ability to look deeply at anything. The desire for immediate satisfaction wins over the patience that brings real satisfaction. What Halley discovered was the joy of doing work and learning through the process. She would probably need many more experiences like that before she would challenge herself through her own initiative. The restriction I placed on her actually gave her opportunities that she didn’t know existed.

: : : Structure deepens a child’s freedom.

the social decisions

How do children make up their minds?

Our neighbor Celia had come over to play with Aimée. She was a little distracted by what was going on at her home. She went back to get something, and took some time to return. Then after a few more minutes wandering around our living room, she left again. Aimée waited patiently, knowing that she wasn’t allowed to walk out without a parent. Celia seemed to be exploring her freedom to go home whenever she liked.

The second time Celia came back, she told Aimée that her sister and dad were playing a very fun game that they rarely play, and would Aimée like to go over there and join it?

What I did not do: solve the problem for Celia by letting Aimée go to her house. (What is the learning from a difficult choice if we simply remove it?) I had several motives for keeping Aimée at home.

I told Celia that she would have to decide whether she really wanted to play with Aimée or stay at home. I also told her it seemed like she really wanted to go home, to give her some strong permission for the choice. Despite that opening, she said she would remain with us. A few minutes later, she disappeared again to get something and did not return until her mother brought her back to explain that she really wanted to be home now.

Choices are extremely hard for young children because they have difficulty weighing all the desirable aspects of one situation against another. Usually the thing right in front of them is much more enticing than the thing they can’t see at the moment. When their perspective shifts (as when Celia went home), their inclination shifts too. Sometimes only the decisiveness of an adult will make them content to remain where they are.

A choice can be very burdensome, especially when it affects other people. Children are often glad to have adults make choices for them. My students far prefer to have me pick their partners than to pick each other. The social stresses of acceptance and rejection are just too high otherwise. The authority and judgment of an adult strikes a child with a certain amount of awe, even in early adolescence.

: : : Decisions are temporary until they get the stamp of adult agreement.

erasing the work

How does a child feel about being corrected?

Nathaniel was a second-grader in my class, and the year had recently just begun. We were working on an arithmetic question on the board. He seemed proud that he could give an answer to the question. He worked it out on the board and came back to his seat. The answer was not correct.

After some discussion with the students, I indicated that his answer could not be right, and I erased it. Nathaniel stared hard at the board for a few moments and then could not hold back his feelings. He hunched over and started crying. I felt terrible! I tried to comfort him, rubbed his back, reassured him that he had done a good job. Later I mentioned the incident to his mother, wondering if he had gone home upset. She looked blank, and said he never brought it up.

My approach to teaching math has evolved since that time, and I now use class discussion to allow children to correct themselves. I tell them to say “I disagree” instead of “that’s wrong.”

I think I learned two important things from that experience with Nathaniel. The first is that young children attach great importance to the physical results of their work. In a way, the work and the physical component are identical, as if by writing a love letter, I were actually embodying my love in the letter. The second is somewhat deeper: Children have very private lives, in which their struggles may go quite unnoticed by people close to them. Who can say what passions and inspirations are passing silently through their hearts? It takes a perceptive mind to penetrate the mystery of a child’s thoughts.

: : : Children feel attached to what they create. They can be very sensitive to the judgments of others.

parroting

Why do children mimic?

Aimée, who is four, sometimes mindlessly repeats what other children say. She is a child with a strong mind of her own, but some impulse drives her to act like a helpless echo of the attitudes and intentions she hears in her environment. Once she even started participating in a light form of bullying toward a child who was refusing to join a game. Her mother witnessed this and stopped her immediately and made her apologize.

(I do not normally make children apologize. Words have a sacred connection to meaning, and children have a special sense of words. Children are far more sincere than most adults, and the command “say you’re sorry” is in essence an encouragement for them to lie, even to themselves. On the other hand, I might suggest, “you could say you’re sorry” as a way of making atonement. Then the child has a chance to choose the intention before saying the words.)

Why does Aimée at some times exert so much willful determination and at others such stupid conformity? What is her goal? Well, as always, she must be trying to grow up. Growing up takes two things: being independent, and being aware. Sometimes it is easier to focus on one of these at a time. To be independent, all she has to do is contradict. To be aware, all she has to do is mimic. So here she has two very simple, concrete strategies for becoming a person like the rest of us.

On a deeper level, children are extraordinary receivers of energy. They absorb the influences of environment the way a plant absorbs water. It will take years for Aimée to become clearly aware of the choices she makes. In a way, she cannot really make choices; she can only experiment with them.

: : : Repetition is a path toward growth and understanding.