Leading Mama

Buried Treasure: Great Books for Kids

I am always on the lookout for books my son will like -- and that I won't mind reading OVER and OVER and OVER. Don't get me wrong, I think learning the names of obscure construction equipment is an important little boy right of passage. He should know the difference between a backhoe and a roller and a cherry picker, right?

Call me crazy -- I'd like him to know up and down, big and little, duck and cow and horse, too. I want him to dream about pirates, and shout "Aaarrrrr" as he uncovers buried treasure in his toybox. But shopping for books with a toddler in tow is not particularly productive. As I pull a book from the shelf and scan the pages checking out the language and illustrations, he pulls books from the shelf just to pull them down. He does so with abandon. Books fly from the shelf. In less than a minute there are so many books on the floor we'd need a Caterpillar D-11R Carrydozer Track Type Loader to scoop them all up. Really.

If you, like me, want to find excellent books for your kids but have book shopping challenges, fret not.

Visit Ethan's Bookshelf (www.ethansbookshelf.com) for reviews of wonderful children's books. Editor Jenny Rich (a reading specialist, teacher, and mom) writes thorough, vivid descriptions of each title she includes, and categorizes by age and by theme to make book shopping easy and fun. This isn't Amazon -- Ethan's Bookshelf includes only the best books for kids. You can purchase individual books directly from the site or select a whole set of books by theme and buy them all with a single mouse click.  I'm loving it.

Need to see it to believe it? Try out www.lookybook.com to preview picture books page by page. Once you decide you've found a keeper, you can purchase online or head to the local library to check it out.

To Err is Human, To Admit It Is Leadership

I'm reading a book by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson entitled Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts. Both giants in the field of social psychology, Tavris and Aronson review 50 years of research on cognitive dissonance and self-justification, explaining how we tend to rationalize, justify, ignore, and evade evidence suggesting we’ve erred. 

 

The fragile ego needs protection, after all.

 

Tavris and Aronson remark, “To err is human, but humans have a choice between covering up and fessing up.” And most often, when confronted with proof we’re wrong, become even more tenacious in our own self-deception and self-defense.

 

It’s easy to find public examples in politics and on Wall Street these days. Just last night as we watched 60 Minutes, I wondered how hedge fund managers who made MILLIONS of dollars on credit default swaps and derivatives could live with themselves as they watch the US economy crumble before their eyes. People are losing their homes, their retirement savings, their jobs. 

 

The answer, of course, is that bankers and hedge fund managers and legislators responsible for the credit crunch live with themselves “exactly the way the rest of us do.” Now I’m not saying you or I have made bad decisions that impacted millions and millions of people (and Tavris and Aronson didn’t say that either). 

 

What I am saying is the psychological process of self-justification that allows them to sleep at night is the same one that allows you or I to live with the knowledge we’ve screwed up and hurt those we love, perhaps deeply.

 

In the last 24 hours, I’ve had two opportunities to admit a mistake. I confess in the more emotional, personally meaningful situation, I responded just like social psychologists would predict (and their predictions are not usually very favorable). In the less emotional, more black-and-white business-related situation, I very quickly (though not without embarrassment) admitted my error, explained how it happened, expressed my sincerest apologies, and asked for a gracious response from the individual I wronged. (And I'm happy to say the situation was resolved positively.)

 

The difficult situation was an argument with my husband, who felt I was critical of his parenting behavior. I fairly quickly dug in my heels (“I did not criticize you”), justified my behavior (“You started it”), and walked away from additional confrontation (literally).  

 

In the minutes that followed, what flashed through my mind was all the evidence to support my position, and a host of unspoken arguments to counteract his. I won’t list them here, and I’m glad that – at least this time – I kept all those not-so-kind words to myself. Keeping my mouth shut certainly isn’t my nature. 

 

Without the prompting of Mistakes Were Made, I’m not sure I would have re-evaluated what happened yesterday. Actually, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have. 

 

While I easily find fault with my hair (it’s flat today), my thighs (not as thin as they should be), my housekeeping (not a high priority), it’s much harder to see mistakes in my own behavior. I think that’s true for most of us. Real life requires a little (well, maybe a lot) of self-deception. We all make bad decisions at times, and sometimes our behavior hurts others. In order to feel like good, honest, caring, capable people, we justify it. Then we remember it selectively, culling out the parts that aren’t so flattering like we cut bad boyfriends out of our college photo albums. 

 

While I still don’t believe I criticized him directly, I certainly see how my husband interpreted it that way. And I am truly sorry I hurt him. That seems like a step in the right direction. I admit I’ve got a ways to go.

 

Now if those hedge fund managers would fess up, we could all sleep better tonight.

Fall into Fall

Fall has arrived here in northern Virginia. The first bright red and yellow leaves adorn the maple trees and pumpkins peek from porches on our street. Our daily walk to the mailbox -- complete with squirrel chasing, acorn collecting, pumpkin spotting, and leaf inspection -- now takes more than 30 minutes each way (if I let it). There's simply too much for a toddler to take in any faster than that.

I encourage you to "fall into fall" and reclaim childhood for your kids (and yourself!)

In "Reclaiming Childhood: Letting Children Be Children in Our Achievement-Oriented Society," developmental psychologist and activist William Crain reviews research on children’s love of nature, affinity for artwork, penchant for drama, and naturally unfolding linguistic abilities. In each area, he reveals patterns of growth and development and questions whether it’s wise to redirect children to our learning goals rather than those that come naturally.

A devotee of the child-centered approach to learning advanced by Arnold Gesell and applied by Maria Montessori, Crain believes “children enter the world preeminently ‘wise’ about what they need and what they are ready and not ready to do.” Parents, then, ought to take their cues from children and create opportunities for them to explore what they find most fascinating.

If you’ve wondered how the standardized testing movement began and how it might conflict with child-centered approaches to education, Crain’s historical and sociological analyses in final chapters will engage your thinking (and make you angry).

If that’s more than you’d like to chew right now, his initial exploration of child as naturalist, artist, dramatist and linguist will motivate you to get out and play with your children in the dirt, pile up some fall leaves (and fall into them) or build a stage and star in your own family theater. Either way, both you and the kids will reclaim some childhood magic.

Reading is a Contact Sport

Today’s post is dedicated to developmental psychologist and former book-club buddy, Diane S. You really know how to pick ‘em, Diane!

 

I don’t usually look particularly glamorous in the morning. My hair ties itself in knots while I sleep and puffy eyes aren’t pretty. But I don’t usually wake up with the bruised, swollen upper lip of a prize fighter, either.

 

You see, yesterday I sustained the first injury of motherhood (pitocin-induced labor trauma aside). I’ve been working on an article on great books for toddler boys. A while back, I asked friends who are also moms of boys to share with me their boys’ favorite books. My friend Diane (mom of two boys) sent a fabulous list of titles and tips for engaging little guys as you read. This week, as I’ve been collating my research, we headed to the library to check out lots of recommended reads. One of the books Diane recommended is “Rattletrap Car” by Phyllis Root.

 

In this fun-to-read story, Jakie, Junie and the baby are hot and dusty. A cool splash in the lake sounds great, and they convince Poppa to take them. Soon they head off to the lake in their rattletrap car, carrying beach toys and sugary snacks. “They don’t go fast and they don’t go far” before a series of disasters takes place. The rattletrap car falls apart, one piece at a time.

 

Fortunately, Jakie, Junie, Poppa, and even the baby fix one problem after another using nothing but their beach toys and sugary snacks. It’s a “MacGyver meets the Clampetts” kind of tale, with wonderful rhyming, repetitious sound effects, and fun drawings.

 

It’s the sound effects that got me in trouble.

 

As I read “Poppa turned the key, brum brum, brum brum…fizzelly sizzelly…wappity bappity…lumpety bumpety…clinkety clankety…bing bang, POP,” I built such fun suspense that my son pitched himself backward in my lap to celebrate the POP and head-butted me HARD on the upper lip.

 

Tears welled up in my eyes. My teeth hurt so bad I started thinking about how we’d pay for the root canal and subsequent cosmetic dentistry. Now that’s something to cry about.

 

It took me awhile to calm down and finish the story. But finish we did. We’ve even read the story several times today -- and I'd highly recommend it.

 

I’m sure the bruise will fade soon, and I don’t think I’ll need a false tooth. But if I do, I hope the dentist “glues it in tight with chocolate marshmallow fudge delight!” My son would really get a kick out of that!

 

Eyes of a Child

One of the best things about being a stay-at-home mom is not staying home. It’s having time to get outside and re-experience the natural world through the eyes of a child.

I recently finished reading “Reclaiming Childhood: Letting Children Be Children in Our Achievement-Oriented Society” by William Crain.

 

A devotee of the child-centered approach to learning advanced by Arnold Gesell and applied by Maria Montessori, Crain believes “children enter the world preeminently ‘wise’ about what they need and what they are ready and not ready to do.” Parents, then, ought to take their cues from children and create opportunities for them to explore what they find most fascinating.

 

There is little in nature that doesn’t enthrall my toddler. He likes rocks and dirt, long blades of grass, knobby pinkish seedpods on the tree near our mailbox. Leaves of all colors and textures are greeted with squeals of delight. He grabs treasures by the fistful and brings them home from every outing.

 

At the park today, puffy clouds perched overhead while the sound of water fountains in the lake thrummed a soothing rhythm. I noticed them because Carson pointed them out – more than once.

A single gorgeous orange and black butterfly and huge black-striped-yellow bumblebees buzzed happily around some periwinkle blue flowers. Carson watched them with rapt attention for several minutes, excited each time the butterfly opened her wings or a bumblebee traveled from one flower to another. I couldn’t identify the flowers by name, or tell you what kind of butterfly sipped their nectar this morning. Carson didn’t care – the bees’ busyness was entertainment enough.  

Turtles poked their heads up through mossy, slimy water plants and paddled beneath the bridge over the pond. Around them, small fish enjoyed the shade. My arms ached from holding my son up high enough to see the fish and the turtles but he refused to get down.

 

When we finally made our way back to the car, several bright yellow dandelions caught Carson’s attention. We released the seeds from a fluffy white dandelion – the first of many times I’ll see my son’s eyes light up as the wind catches the seeds and carries them away to places he can only imagine. I’m sure the gardener resents those dandelions, but they brought us joy.

All this I experienced because children need sunshine like they need food and water and love. As children, our connection to nature is deep and automatic. But it withers as we grow, spending more and more time indoors at home, in school, at work, in malls and restaurants.

 

Remember the sense of wonder inspired by ants carrying crumbs? Perhaps you lost it somewhere on the journey to adulthood. To reclaim that childhood magic, you don’t need to look any further than your own backyard. “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Fortunately, that’s what children give parents.