Learning Together

During the 2020 lockdowns, I got into the habit of walking with my daughter down our country roads and telling her stories. I was writing curriculum for first, second, and third grade, and as a result, I had tons of kids’ stories rattling around in my brain. When I couldn’t think of any Thornton Burgess stories to tell, I would simplify some Edmund Spenser or William Shakespeare for her.

Today, I had the chance to take a walk with her to my in-laws.

“Can you tell me a story on the way?”

It had been awhile. I had just finished reading a book for some fourth grade curriculum the week before (George MacDonald’s The Princess and Curdie) and had the story still fresh in my mind.

“Sure,” I said.

I told her about this miner boy who had had a miraculous adventure involving a princess and her great-great grandmother but had then grown callous to the wonder of his life. I told her about how he killed a beautiful dove and how the great-great grandmother had appeared to him not only to convict him of his wrongdoing but call him back to the way he knew he should act.

Cat listened intently. When the story was over, we began talking about her day at school and what she would do at her grandparents’. She didn’t ask about hearing the next part of the story. If she does, I’ll be ready to tell it.

For two years, we’ve had a Saturday television appointment that didn’t involve college football. We’ve made a noontime ritual of watching Cook’s Country, the homecooking-friendly PBS spin-off of America’s Test Kitchen.

So devoted are we that when fund-raising pre-empts its regularly programmed showtime, we dial it up on youtube.

My daughter really loves the show, which for her is not “Cook’s Country,” but merely “Cooking Show,” as in, “When is Cooking Show coming on?” She calls the hosts by their first names (Bridget and Julia) and has been known to imitate the show’s complements of various foodstuffs (e.g. “Taste the way the layers really come together!”) when eating real food or making fake food with her play dough.

Today, my daughter’s devotion to the show hit a new level, and I hope some TV exec is reading this.

My wife is making a pumpkin spice latte bundt cake this afternoon for a family reunion tomorrow She is allowing my daughter to help her. My daughter is thrilled.

As she watched Cook’s Country, my daughter anticipated her own baking and speculated on another spin-off for the show.

“I wish,” she said, “there was a show called Kid’s Country.”

Go on.

“Yanno, where kids made all the food? I would watch that all the time.”

Does this show exist?!?

PBS, get on this! You are sure to have at least three devoted fans.

Today, my daughter read her new favorite book to her friend at school. The book is called Sumokitty. She’s had my wife read it to her every night since she got it. Where did she get it? the school library.

So she read the book to her friend at school today during one of their learning centers.

“I knew all the words!” she bragged. “Well,” she admitted, “all except the stew one.”

She was talking about the word “chankonabe.”

Considering the book contains other words like “rikishi” and “yokozuna” and “tsukidashi,” that’s pretty good. Her friend thought so too.

“How did your friend react?”

“She said, ‘You’re good!'”

She spoke truth.

My daughter has come home with three different items this week that are not hers.

1. A hairband
2. A pair of mittens
3. A belt

The first two, she claims, were gifts from friends. “They just wanted me to have them.” My wife and were suspicious–not that she had friends, but that the gifts came from those friends.

The belt initially got lumped in with these gifts, but upon further interrogation, she revealed she had found it in the art room and taken it.

“Did you ask the teacher?”

“No.”

The hairband makes me think one thing: lice spreader. The mittens make me think another thing: who’s wearing mittens in South Carolina in September? I’m glad she’s making friends. I just suspicious of the kind of friendship that results in random headbands and mittens coming home with my daughter.

“Did you trade anything for these gifts?” I asked.

“I gave them pictures.”

“Before they gave you these gifts?” I asked.

“Yes.”

My wife and I loaded the three items into her bag tonight. She will return the mittens and headband to her respective friends. She will give the belt to her teacher.

My hope is that she will make friends with some girls so that her next birthday party a year from now will feature some girls from school. If she gets mittens or a headband then, we’ll be cool with it.

Today in class, I was walking my students through the process of scheduling.

“Here’s today’s date: the 22nd. Here’s the date of your rough draft: October 8th. When are you going to settle on a thesis? When you are going to finish an outline? When are you going to sit down and write the draft?”

After they had set personal deadline for the assignment, I asked them to put down all their other commitments: other classes, jobs, athletic commitments, and simple time preferences.

Once that was completed, it occurred to me that my daughter’s near fit the night before would be a good example of what I wanted them to avoid.

So I told my students about my daughter. I bragged on her. We went through her “To Do” list, complete with its grocery list.

I explained that the night before, she had nearly lost it when she realized that she hadn’t played soccer on the day she intended to.

“But you know what?” I said. “Today, I will pick my daughter up, and we will play soccer. This list is an ideal, and if you don’t always match it, it’s okay. Just finish it the next day.”

They laughed. They understood.

And when my daughter came home, we did play soccer. And later that evening when my wife came home, I told them both how I had bragged on our daughter in class. My daughter’s grin almost broke the ceiling.

My daughter came home today and checked her “To Do” list.

That’s right. She has a “to Do” list.

On tap for this afternoon? Art.

First, she made a drawing. Then wrote a poem about God on some notecards. Here are the results.

She is a blessing from God.

Today was the South Greenville County Fair.

My daughter was excited for three reasons.

The first was that her grandfather (my wife’s dad) runs the fair and her cousins would be showing cows.

The second was that she knew she would get to show a cow (with her eldest cousin’s help).

The third was that a classmate at school told her on Friday that she would be there.

The first reason turned out great. Her grandpa was emcee for the cow show. Her cousins showed cows and showed out with multiple ribbons for their showmanship.

The second reason was a winner too. We showed up, she walked around a little calf named “Walnut,” and then she was awarded a blue ribbon for her effort.

The third reason? It didn’t materialize. I’m guessing miscommunication.

Overall, it was a good day. 4-H and cow shows are in our daughter’s future. Today was a preview of coming attractions.

Two examples from just today of why my daughter’s memory might not be a sufficient guide to what’s going on at school.

First, she went through a mini-meltdown cycle at dinner as she recalled that today was a special toy day where kids were allowed to bring a toy…and she hadn’t brought one. She accused my wife of not checking her phone or reminding her and intoned that she’d been “embarrassed.” Note: she had been talking to us about school since she got home at 2:45pm and hadn’t mentioned the toy debacle once until that very moment. The fog of embarrassment lifted soon enough, and we were instructed to remember to have her bring one next Friday.

Second, she had the following item on her person today. During the first two weeks of school, she was DESPERATE to get one of these star cards. When asked about this one–which we assume was from today–she couldn’t recall how she had gotten it! Amazing!

The best part? The card labels her a “thinker”! I’m glad “rememberer” wasn’t an option.

At dinner tonight, our daughter talked about her attempts at friendship. A classmate was crying because the teacher had taken his Chromebook away because of his behavior.

“I went to him and said, ‘If you ever need me, I will be here for you,'” she explained. “Wasn’t that being a good friend?” We said it was.

Our daughter then told about a bad friend, someone who had talked behind the crying classmate’s back. “He’s a whiner,” the child had said.

“I told her not to make fun,” said our daughter. “Wasn’t that being a good friend?” Again, we said it was.

She then proceeded to smile and ask if her face reflected both shyness and pride. I think she was trying to blush at our affirmation.

It was like she was playing out a children’s book she had been read at school. Isn’t that being a good dad?

Don’t answer that question!