a peek inside the fishbowl

You probably don’t know this about me, but I have a long and tortured history with math. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I eventually went into journalism.

It started in first grade. I was very proud to be The Smart Kid. I excelled at this. I was top of the class in everything: Group 1 for reading, Group 1 for writing, and… suddenly I found myself in Group 2 for arithmetic. I remember shyly sidling up the teacher’s desk to ask her about it right after the announcement. “I’m pretty sure I belong in group 1,” I said. She patted me on the head and told me I had to work harder. And so I did. I doubled down and eventually made it to the top group. (Not without some degree of pestering on my part either, although I now realize I may have been reallocated only because I bothered her about it so much.)

These were the years of group memorization of times tables, acres of work sheets, and struggling to figure out the right answer on the chalkboard in front of the whole class. Basically, things that didn’t work for my particular brain and introverted personality.

Fast forward to grade nine. I failed my first test, in math. I remember how awful it felt. It was a real punch in the gut for the Former Smart Kid. I struggled and studied and held on to record low grades. (Which for me, would have hovered in the 70% range at that time.)

Fast forward to grade ten. I was in the gifted math class (long story) and the teacher handed back our tests. He always wrote two numbers at the top of the page: one was your grade, and the other was your ranking in the class. I was always at the bottom, and everyone knew it. This was also the year of standardized testing. It was a multiple choice and I guessed at half of the questions. I can still remember my classmate’s faces when the teacher announced the student who placed first in the class, and me, who came in second. (!)

Fast forward to grade eleven. I can see myself sobbing at our dining room table while my father tried to show me his way of doing math. I felt like a huge idiot. How could I not understand the things he was trying to show me? He was patient explaining it, until he was impatient. I understand this better now.

It was around this time that the school guidance counsellor came into our math class to talk about planning for university. “YOU MIGHT NEED MATH,” he warned. “EVEN THOUGH YOU DON’T THINK YOU DO.” I was horrified. I hadn’t thought about this. He went on to give us examples e.g. if one of us wanted to be a forest ranger we’d need math to get into that program. Holy moly, I thought. No way. You needed math for tree patrol?!

I must have run to the library, sweating all the way. Journalism and English lit were the two degrees on my radar, WHAT IF THEY WOULDN’T TAKE ME because I’m a certified math idiot? Thankfully, I discovered I didn’t need math and I was able to avoid it completely in university. Afterwards, I sailed through life pretending I was confident in this area, when really, I am far from it.

Enter, the children. I promised myself that this was my second chance at learning math from the beginning, starting with (I am not even joking) the very early grades. Maybe this time I’d get it right. Well, what is it they say about good intentions? That was my plan but it never happened.

Where did the system fail me? It’s something I wonder about. Would I have turned out to be a different person if I’d had the right kind of support and instruction from the beginning? And what IS the right kind of math instruction? I talked to someone about it recently, and found out a few interesting things about how kids learn math skills – and confidence – to last a lifetime.

[Part two of this post is right here.]

I picked up a selfie stick at Mrs. Tiggy Winkle’s before Christmas. Maybe you got one in your stocking this year, or know someone who did?

Selfie sticks have been a hot item but they’ve also been getting a lot of flak. They’ve been banned from many places already – museums, roller coasters and zoos for example – and are generally considered to be a scourge on society.

Selfies themselves are not a very well respected form of photography. People generally don’t like the LOOK AT ME attitude that comes with the idea of the selfie – regardless of whether it’s intended that way or not. It’s considered narcissistic.

From what I’ve seen, the majority of selfies are artfully composed to show the best angles in the most flattering lighting and heavily edited afterwards to make sure no scars/pimples/blotchy skin is revealed. I personally don’t have an issue with selfies. I think most people don’t love photos of themselves, and this is a photography technique in which we can totally control the outcomes and end up with a great photo. And that’s not a bad thing.

So I found myself mulling over my purchase of a selfie stick, wondering if I would ever be brave enough to use it in public. I decided to buy it anyway. You see, photos taken with a selfie stick can offer a whole new perspective on whatever scene I am trying to capture. I wouldn’t mock a guy with a tripod, so how is this any different?

I decided to try it out in public while on the job. There was a charitable/shopping event happening in Wellington West so I thought I’d ask each participating store owner to snap a selfie using my new selfie stick. This was my first foray into the world with a selfie stick.

But first, I had to figure out how to use the thing. HOW HARD COULD IT BE? IT’S A CAMERA ON A STICK. Honestly, I should have done a test run at home before I left, because I accidentally took 200+ photos while trying to set it up and they all looked like this:

Then I handed it to each store owner, who, with good humour and a bit of patience, ended up with better results than I did with only a few boo boos along the way (and yes, that’s me, trying to get out of the way in the background):

My goal this year is to use the selfie stick for some family portraits (it’s hard to squeeze everyone in otherwise!) and maybe try a few more work-related adventures. But first I need a bit more practice. I have to admit, it will take me some time to get over the awkwardness of using it in public. Maybe it will get less weird the more often I do it.

We capped it off our winter break yesterday with our first XC ski outing of 2016. This is NCC’s Pine Grove Forest Trail:

It was pretty much the perfect ski day. The area was not busy in the least. Maybe everyone was at Stony Swamp and Gatineau.

Afterwards we picked up dinner fixin’s at Farm Boy and spent the rest of the day bundled under blankets and relaxing. Later we watched Dial M for Murder – one of several DVDs we borrowed from the library over the holidays – and later in the evening Mark and I made tea and watched Downton Abbey. Bliss.

The whole family is back to work and school today, and although we had a wonderful time together over the holidays, I am equally happy to go back to The Way Things Were Before. What can I say? I like my routine. I’ve been thinking about WHY I like routine so much, why it makes me happy, and I think it’s because we are wired from childhood to find comfort in familiar patterns: this is when we have breakfast, this is the time I go to school, when I come home there will be milk and cookies etc. We can’t help ourselves. It’s practically in our DNA.

I am wondering if routines make me happier than other people. I suppose I’m within the realm of normal on this one. Routines which include start/end times also help keep the day from getting out of hand if you know what I mean. (In other words, they prevent me from getting distracted by various projects of my own making.)

This year I’ve added to my usual work day routine. It occurred to me that since I’m already spending 30 minutes every morning in front of my Litebook I could be using this time to be a bit more productive instead of checking email and Facebook. So for the better part of the past week I’ve spent 30 minutes each morning on a writing project. I use the Chromebook at the breakfast bar, with my iPhone out of reach so I am not tempted to check it. I set a timer app and write for 30 minutes straight. And you know what, so far so good. I try not to write past that 30-minute window. If I have a great idea I jot it down in my Evernote folder for later, when I know I’ll need it.

Sidebar: I don’t know if this project is going anywhere, and I’m loathe to say too much and jinx it, but I am happy about it and feeling optimistic.

A different part of my daily routine has been put on hold for a while, even though it’s killing me to do so. I’ve been walking on the treadmill every morning for the past couple of years and it’s become second nature. Well, my heel has been bothering me this week and I need to give it a break for awhile. I blame the old pair of sneakers I’ve been using exclusively for treadmill time. We’ll see.

How was your holiday? And are you happier when routines go back to normal?