I was reading about learning styles the other day and when I read about kinesthetic learners, boy, did I see Madison in that!

Core Characteristics:

* Sensory – internalizes information through bodily sensation
* Reflexive – responds quickly and intuitively to physical stimulus
* Tactile – demonstrates well-developed gross and/or fine motor skills
* Concrete – expresses feelings and ideas through body movement
* Coordinated – shows dexterity, agility, flexibility, balance and poise
* Task Orientated – strive to learn by doing

Students with a strong kinesthetic intelligence:

* Seek to interact with their environment
* Enjoy hands-on activities
* Can remain focused on a hands-on task for an extended period of time
* May demonstrate strong fine and/or gross motor ability
* Prefer learning centers to seat work
* Seek out other students who are physically gregarious
* Master a principle once they can manipulate materials that demonstrate the concept
* Enjoy group games and active learning tasks
* Are different from children who are hyperactive

from here.

Playing with cornstarch and food coloring

Madison has always lived very much in her body. When she was a baby, a sure way to get her to stop crying was to take her outside where the air was moving. She’d feel it on her face and laugh. She can’t NOT touch. She experiences everything through her sense of touch and smell (she is always smelling things although she is better about not tasting stuff — I am amazed that we have never had to call poison control on her). Reading that line about focus (“can remain focused on a hands-on task for an extended period of time”) is true, too, which is why I know she isn’t ADHD although folks have floated that out before after spending an afternoon with her. She actually has tremendous focus as long as she can MOVE and CHATTER. She talks back to television shows, can sit and color for longer than she can sit and look at books (books are so passive). She turns almost anything she’s doing into a conversation between things. Spoons and forks, markers, combs. Yesterday she got out my button collection and they had long conversations with each other.

She touches people a lot. At religious school, she fiddles with her friends clothes and hair without thinking. I watched her standing with a group of kids the other day listening to someone explain the rules of a game and her hand crept up to her friend’s collar and started fiddling the way she fiddles with her clothes (and our clothes) when she’s trying to sleep. She is always petting us and leaning in to sniff, like a puppy.

Her memory is amazing but she’s not reading fluently yet. She has terrific fine motor control but still draws some letters backwards. I was eyeballing this — I know it’s normal but her left-handedness and slow to start reading made me wonder but then I was looking at some of the writing of friends’ her age last night and decided to put the worry on the back burner.

She has been off-and-on interested in outside activities but she is more interested now and we’re exploring what might suit her. The things Noah did at this age (Junior Great Books, Chess) don’t seem like such a good fit for her so we’re thinking sports and music. She sings all the time while she plays and dances everywhere so I think music is something that organizes her brain. Because of that, I wondered if she would be good at math but she hasn’t shown any spontaneous math interest.

I told a friend yesterday that I find reading chapter books with her a trial because she is always asking questions about the book that are outside of the story (or way back in the story) and then I think she’s not listening (I have to stop so often to answer her) but she is. She hears every word even while her brain is running around all over the place. And she does sit nicely when she is being read to as long as you let her do a lot of talking. (This does not come naturally to me because I like to be IN the story and not constantly yanked out to answer questions. Brett is better at it.) She can hear a song or a story once and then repeat whole swathes of it.

I tell her often how much I love her energy and her need to move and we try to create lots of opportunity for it. We rearranged the furniture to open up the living room and give her more room to spin but she is at her best outside. When it was too hot to do much playing in the yard we all really felt the loss of that. She was much crankier without a lot of romping and the wading pool and sprinkler eventually paled. I have always though trampolines were tools of Satan but now I’m wondering about one with a net and then having our gym teacher friend come over and give her some safety lessons on it. She is a child who makes me rethink many of my absolutes!

(this is a self-indulgent post)

I’ve been playing Company (2007 revival) on iTunes non-stop since I watched it streaming on Netflix. (You can also catch it on YouTube.) I wasn’t much a fan of that soundtrack (preferring the original, especially after watching the documentary of the recording session ALSO available both on Netflix and YouTube) but after seeing it performed, I got to liking it a lot. I’m also now crushing on Raúl Esparza after being underwhelmed by him in Tick Tick Boom (aka “Rent Lite”). He is my new imaginary boyfriend.

But I didn’t actually find Sondheim via showtunes. I actually discovered that I loved him (not realizing how many standards he’d written) when I was deep in a decade-long obsession with female jazz vocalists. It was Dianne Reeves singing Sondheim — this song — that got me hooked.

I don’t always like his songs at first but once I’ve heard them enough, I love them. I compare that to, say, Andrew Lloyd Weber who I often like at first (with the exception of Phantom of the Opera, which I loathe) and then listening to it starts driving me insane and I feel like I’ve heard every little bit of it and can never hear that particular song again. There are exceptions but they are singular. (Although I’ll admit to a nostalgic fondness for Cats but that’s because I got the London Cast Recording for Christmas when I was 12. And the way I hear it, it’s still a good musical if you’re 12 but it’s not so great if you’re 40.) (You can disagree with me and we can start a flamewar here except I have a policy about never commenting on youtube.)

I feel the same way about Stephen Schwartz. Defying Gravity is an amazingly great song but the rest of the score? Meh. But Sondheim? I can listen to everything he wrote and I am always fascinated especially when I hear a new rendition. I feel the same way about Rodgers & Hammerstein and Gershwin and Cole Porter. Those are great songs — great, great songs. And anyone who says Sondheim isn’t hummable obviously hasn’t listened to much Sondheim.

Here’s a terrific version of a terrific song: Tim Curry giving an extremely emotional performance (only audio, no video sadly) of Losing My Mind

I think I’ll make this a monthly thing.

  • Work has been was funny today on Friday. Not funny odd; funny like ha-ha. Hands down the best thing about my job are the people I work with. I love them but they are bizarre.
  • The reason that post is all struck through is that I started it on Friday and am just now getting to finish it today (on my lunch hour).
  • Are you a runner (or like me a stagger-er) and have an iPhone or an iPod Touch? I highly recommend iTreadmill. I wanted a pedometer-type thingie for my iPod so that I wouldn’t have to run on the track and could still pay attention to how far I’m running. This thing is great. Once you’ve calibrated it to your stride, you can use it to record your distance and your speed. You can also set it to tell you when you pass 1/4 mile, 1/2 mile or 1 mile. It’s not perfect but for less than five bucks I can keep track of how I’m doing and I can do while running (staggering) to my own music.
  • Speaking of running, I keep on keeping on but I’ve backslid even though I’m running with less pain. (It still hurts some but I no longer limp when I’m done so I call that progress!) I can’t believe how slow going it is and realize how much I counted on seeing regular progress to keep me motivated. I’ve decided that running is a mind game and I need to let go of my need for progress and just run for the hell of it.
  • My hits are up but google knocked me down two notches on my google pagerank. I think it’s because I have text link ads. But the text link ads allowed me to buy my kids their (very modest) Christmas presents last year so it’s a trade-off I had to make. Text link ads are tacky, I know, but so is handing your kids an empty box on Christmas and telling them to suck it.
  • I‘ve had more caffeine today Friday at work than I’ve had in the last three days combined. I’m I was vibrating. Not in a good way.
  • I love studying for the GRE! And Noah love quizzing me on vocabulary. I am especially loving this study book: Cracking the GRE by the Princeton Review. What I love about it is the attitude, which resonates with my unschooling homeschooling self because it’s about test strategy. The other two books are about studying, which is good, too, because they have a lot of practice tests for me to try-out my strategy skills.
  • But the middle school math? I forget ALL OF IT. I’m really going to have to focus on that over the next couple of weeks because I want to take it at the end of this month. (So I can retake it in early October-ish.)
  • I’m re-reading my whole Anne Tyler collection, which I haven’t done in eons. I was surprised to find that I don’t like a lot of her main characters this time around; I find them selfish and unreasonable. This wasn’t true last time I read her. I’m enjoying it though. It’s nice to finish a book and immediately pick up another one that has a similar tone but a brand new story. (I always wondered how she graduated from college at 19 and now I see she was homeschooled until she was 11. Homeschooling doesn’t always make for brilliant spelling bee champions or university savants but it does sometimes mean kids have their own educational schedules, that’s for sure.)

I’m pretty sure this is the last of these posts for now.

I’ve not always been honest with myself about Joaquin. It took me a long time to get over him — well, not him so much as the relationship. I get into these funks where I’m thinking on it hard (I’m in one now, obviously) and I used to think it was about him but now I know it’s me trying to figure out me. Why did I love him? Why couldn’t I stay away? What part of me was hurting then and is it still present now? And this time around I’m also wondering, how was I complicit?

In one version of the story of our relationsip’s demise (this is the version I worked over for years), Joaquin throws me over several times. First with someone who went to high school with us, then with a woman with my exact same first name thereby obliterating me. (Even now I occasionally meet someone who can’t quite place me and then it ends up they have me mixed up with her.) In this version of events, I am the victim. Sure, I’m jealous and clingy but he’s the one ripping me apart into teensie-weenie little pieces and then using my attachment (addiction) to him to keep me in his back pocket as a just-in-case. This is all true.

But the other version of the story is also true and it’s one I hadn’t thought on much that has to do with my culpability. So I was thinking about how he used to say that I loved him but I didn’t like him and thinking about how it took me a few years (full of slammed locker doors, hysterical phone calls on either side and heady reunions) to realize he was right. I thought then that he probably didn’t care but maybe he did. It’s probably not a whole lot of fun to realize your girlfriend doesn’t like you all that much.

I disapproved of a lot of his choices and I disagreed with a lot of his values but I was so insecure and so defensive that I couldn’t own this and instead I would try to tear him down the same way he tried to tear me down. Because I saw him as invincible, I never thought that I could really hurt him even though I wanted him to hurt because he hurt me. But while I’m the type of gal whose feelings get hurt if the wind blows too hard, Joaquin was made of tougher stuff and so I had to work a lot harder and I could get pretty freakin’ mean. I’ve forgiven him for being a jerk but (I realize as I type this) I need to forgive myself for my own jerkiness so that I won’t be so desperate to pretend it was all on him.

(There was a lot of unkindness in me during the five years between 15 and 20; I took all of my essential hurt and tried to spread it around.)

I tried to control him as much as he tried to control me (again, with far less success since he had oodles more self-confidence than I did). I remember once in particular that I tried to get him to quit his band and focus more on his painting and I couched it in concern about his art but the truth was I was just tired of his groupies. I mean, if you really love someone you don’t try to make them give up something that they love.

I don’t really know when we stopped loving each other but I always think that if I’d just gotten over it when he dumped me for the girl in our class, we could have remained fond of each other. But I couldn’t let him go. And I guess he couldn’t let me go because he didn’t for a long time.

I used to feel invisible with him but what did I want him to do to prove that he saw me? I felt hemmed in by my girlhood — it was certainly easier for him to be a boy in a band than it was for me to be a girl who wrote poetry — but that wasn’t his fault. I was jealous of his autonomy and the room the world gave him to step out of bounds. I’d get mad when he’d declaim on feminism and ignore what I was going through right in front of him. I had sex with him and it freed him; I guess I can’t really hold him responsible for not seeing how it locked me down. He was 16! Then 17! (The last time we slept together I want to say that I was 19 and he was 21 but honestly I’m just not sure.) We were young and dumb and locked in a pattern that wasn’t kind to either of us.

If we’d just let each other go earlier! If only we hadn’t raked each other over hot coals and trampled over any good feelings we might have had for each other!

THAT is my big Joaquin regret — that I wouldn’t let it go and instead helped throttle my first love into a wilted broken thing.

Ahh well. Youth. Ignorance.

(sigh)

And this really is the last of these posts for now. (I got off subject anyway.)

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