Taking Chances

            Last night, I took a chance. But mine pales in comparison with the chances our children take every day at school. I decided to try to do something I had never done before, something that I had no expectation of being able to accomplish. Our children are faced with this day after day at school, as they take on new challenges, ones they’ve never tried before, and for which they have no experience telling them they’ll be any good at all. For those of us who have been pretty successful at life, it’s hard to remember what that feels like, and it’s a good reminder to give it a try every now and them.

            Our children come to school each day to face wondrous challenges, which can also be daunting. Whether it’s analyzing a new poetic structure, thinking about a new letter and all the ways it is used, balancing a chemical equation, learning how to play a new song in strings, or any number of other frighteningly exciting new experiences, we expect our children to stand tall and conquer. As the adults in their lives, I wonder how often we have that same experience. We’ve spent a lifetime of building a sense of ourselves and our competencies and, for the most part, we live quite comfortably in a world that doesn’t ask us to do something we are not sure we can do.

            So, what was it that put me in the frame of mind to think about how our children face new challenges, ones they are unsure they can meet, every day?  It was Pilates. If you give me a task that involves my mind, I’m pretty sure I’ll succeed. But if you give me a physical challenge, I’m much less certain. This means that I tend toward the cerebral in life, and sometimes avoid the physical. But having met with parents to discuss the book, The Genius in Children, this afternoon, a book that focuses on helping children bring out their true selves, I felt I needed to experience some of the scariness that our children face every day. For me, that meant something physical.

            You’ll be glad to know that I survived the experience and, in fact, felt somewhat successful. My instructor didn’t try to gloss over my mistakes to make me feel a sense of self-esteem, but rather clearly articulated where I was lacking and what I needed to do to improve. She reminded me that I was going to feel so much better once I really “got it.” She praised the things I did right while not being shy about letting me know what the next step was. This seemed to me to be a fantastic metaphor for what happens in a classroom. The teacher helps the child see both what (s)he is doing right and what (s)he needs to work on.

            My advice to parents who want to help their children is to take on something they don’t know they’ll be successful at. Let your children know you are challenging yourself. Let them know how unsure of yourself you are (will others laugh at you because you aren’t as good as them, will you have the right clothes, will you even be able to do the whole task, etc?). And if you don’t succeed the first time, share that, too. But most importantly, share how you stuck with it (you will stick with it, right?) until you “got it.” Let them know that they are not alone as they conquer new tasks or ideas. And who knows, you may expand your own horizons in the process!

Thinking Mathematically

           This has happened to me so many times…has it happened to you?  I’m at a party and the conversation moves to finance in one of its many manifestations. Some people are intensely engaged while other eyes are glazing over. Someone with the glazed eyes says something like, “I was never very good at math.” And heads nod, and folks agree, and the conversation moves to other areas. Somehow it’s acceptable to admit that you never really “got” math. Would the same thing happen with reading?  Can you imagine a party where some folks are sharing their love for literature, and someone says, “I was never very good at reading?” Why is it OK to say this about math, but not about reading?

            When Whiteman Primary’s mission statement refers to an emphasis on academics, we don’t just mean reading…we mean math, too. Yesterday’s Navajo family math program is just one example of how we reach outside of the classroom to instill that passion for learning all subjects, including math. When I meet with our Lower Primary math teacher, Jen Freund, she often tells me about how much she loves sharing her passion for mathematics with the youngest children in the school. That passion was evident yesterday as children and parents, with her guidance, played a variety of math games that help build strong mathematical sense. Whether our kindergarteners are playing “Monster Squeeze,” both demonstrating and building their knowledge of the relative size of numbers, or our first graders are using coins to play a penny-nickel-dime exchange game, students are building a deep understanding of the relationship between numbers that will serve them well when they move, in future years, to an abstract understanding of algebra. It was fantastic to see so many parents take advantage of the opportunity to “do math” with their children. And I’m sure that these parents will never say to their children, “I’m no good at math.” They proved yesterday how much they value mathematical understanding.

            The deep conceptualization of mathematical relationships is equally clear with our Upper Primary students. As I watched a Lakota class of fifth and sixth graders, I observed students working on a variety of application problems (aka, “real-life problems” or “word problems”). The students’ textbook had a clear, at least to me, approach it expected the children to take to solve the problems. However, as students worked using their own strategies and knowledge, their math teacher, Cindy Ruzicka, asked important questions like, “How do you know that’s a reasonable answer?” and “Do you really need to do the detailed division, or is an estimate close enough for this problem?” “What is the meaning of the remainder in this problem?” A student who used an “out of the box” strategy was recognized and his approach celebrated, and he was able to answer a peer’s question about how long it took him to use that creative strategy. Students listened to one another as they explained their thinking. All of this builds an appreciation for solving problems, which is really what math is all about.

            This week, on the same afternoon, I had two students ask me, “Do you like math?” My answer was an emphatic “YES!” I know that our teachers would answer in the affirmative, as well. I hope that your answer will be the same when your children ask you that question. Modeling is the strongest motivator, and sharing math with your children just as you share reading is exceptionally important. As you continue to explore mathematics with your child, know that Jen, Cindy, and I would all love the opportunity to talk about all the various aspects of the subject with you.

Sharon G. Mensing

Head of School

Perfection

“Perfect!” “That was a perfect answer!” “This is the perfect chair for my room!” “She’s a perfect angel!” “Practice makes perfect!” “Nobody’s perfect.” Or even, “A Perfect Storm.” What do we mean when we use phrases like this, and is perfection to be desired, or even possible? In a school, where evaluation is taking place all the time, the little imperfections that make us human can be the cause of a great deal of anxiety.

As we’ve reached the time for mid-trimester reports, and faculty have begun sharing what they have observed as children’s strengths and areas for improvement, I’ve been thinking a great deal about how we, as a school community, can help children become the best “themselves” they can be. I’m convinced that it’s not by holding up a standard of perfection and pointing out the ways that they fall short. Rather, we can help each child identify the things that (s)he does particularly well, believe that those things are important and valued, and use those things to bypass weaker areas. Working from our strengths is what helps us learn and grow. We are all works in progress, and this is especially true while we are in school. A report card is never an assessment of who we are; it is an assessment of where we are along the path toward becoming ourselves. Mid-trimester reports are one of those stepping stones; they help both children and the adults who care for them understand a bit of how the journey is going and whether there is a need to take a turn at the next crossroad. They help teachers be mindful of the mode of instruction that best supports each child’s journey, as well.

Walk into a Whiteman Primary classroom and look for the many different things that are going on at the same time. Some students may be listening to specific instructions from the teacher. Others might be reading those same instructions (or different instructions if they are working at different levels). Still others might be practicing their skills on the computer, while another group is writing a response. Those who have finished an assignment may be taking a quiz or test. Some students are working individually, while others are collaborating. Some are working on presentations of their knowledge in a graphic format, while others are writing reports or preparing for speeches. Still others are sitting on the floor playing a knowledge-based game. Not every child will find that writing is the “perfect” way to share his knowledge; nor will every child be able to express herself creatively, but each child finds something that honors his or her way of thinking and learning in the mix of teaching modalities, assessment opportunities, and social interactions that make up the classroom

When we remember that we are all different with different strengths, we can read a report card that celebrates those strengths as well as reminding us of relative weakness, as a bit of a roadmap rather than a statement of judgment. We can think about how we can shore up weaker areas by using our stronger ones. As Anna Quindlen once said, “The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” And at Whiteman Primary, we might amend that to read, “…becoming your best self.”

Philanthropy and Morality

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of joining over a hundred Heads of School and Board Chairs of top independent schools from throughout the country to discuss societal trends that affect our schools as well as recent research on how to raise moral children. The former will provide topics for future discussions, but I did not want to delay in sharing with you the important insights of one of speakers, Richard Weissbourd, the author of The Parents We Mean to Be. His talk was geared toward his audience of those invested in educating our children, rather than parents, but it was clear that his research supports the partnership between parents and faculty that is such a key part of Whiteman Primary.

There was much discussion throughout the weekend, and particularly during Weissbourd’s presentation, about the conflict that children experience between the desires to be happy, be successful, and do good. As he pointed out, people whose main goal is to be happy or to be successful often do not reach that goal. However, people who spend their lives striving to do good reach that goal, and are more often than not both happy and successful. Raising moral children involves turning their attention away from themselves and their own feelings, toward empathy for others and their feelings. Rather than asking, “How did that make you feel?” asking a child the question of “How do you think your friend felt?” is an important  step. Modeling for children a life of doing good and caring for others is essential, so parents and other adults to whom the child looks for guidance need to make their care for others evident in both action and words. Being part of a family and a school where philanthropy is clearly valued helps a child develop that other-focused mindset that leads to doing good (and, coincidentally, to happiness).

The children of LWPS are extremely fortunate to be a part of just that sort of community. Every day, the children see their parents giving their time and energy to the school. They see their teachers going above and beyond the demands of their jobs to reach out and help students and families, and to help in the community. As an example, this year, Kim shared with the students information and photos from her trip to Romania and her efforts to help a young boy attend school there. Understanding the circumstances that less fortunate children face helps build empathy for others. Our Upper Primary students’ upcoming field trip to experience life in Uganda is just one opportunity LWPS students have to internalize care and concern for others. On a more local level, the students’ involvement in supporting and working for Lift-Up is another such opportunity. Even our upcoming auction allows students to see their parents and the staff working hard to raise money for scholarships so that less financially able students can attend LWPS. Our families and faculty provide an exceptional philanthropic model, giving to others time, energy, and when possible, funds.

I came away from the conference more convinced than ever that the parent participation that is such a key part of the LWPS community is one of our most important attributes. The way that the families and faculty cooperate allows students to experience, on a daily basis, what it means to think of others and to do good. The conference made me appreciate, all the more, what “a special school in a special place,” is doing to nurture moral children.