School sans Carrots

TODAY'S ACTIVITIES:

• Dusting
• Bead Stringing
• Using a Dropper
• Clothespins

Over the course of the weekend, the subject of school came up several times during conversations with my son. Without fail, every time he heard the 'S' word my child would petulantly exclaim, "But I don't like school!" (E.g., "What are you doing, Mommy?" "Sewing some button holes." "Why?" "For an activity for our school." "But I don't like school!" "Well, I think school is very fun and I really like learning how to do new things with you in school." "But I don't like school!") So I anticipated school time today with excitement, yes, but also a fair measure of anxiety. I hate having to cajole--or worse yet, battle--my son to do things, and I definitely didn't want to develop a habit of strenuously persuading him each day to sit down and do school stuff with me. I know we've only just begun, but is it too much to ask to please skip the settling in period and just start enjoying ourselves already? I mean, I'm engaging in enough warfare on a daily basis between the battles over brushing teeth, cleaning up toys, getting ready to go (anywhere), bathing and eating; does school necessarily have to constitute a struggle, too?

It appeared at first that my anxiety was justified. With about ten minutes to go, I let Parker know that it was almost time for school. After shouting the obligatory, "But I don't like school!" he ran into his room and lay down in bed. (I was slightly encouraged that he didn't slam his door.) Now, there have already been times in this process when I've been tempted to say to my son, "Want to have a popsicle once you're finished with school?" or "Maybe we could go to the playground after you do some school activities?" or "I will buy you a million new Matchbox cars if you just come out of your room and start acting excited about school!" But the Montessori method is all about instilling initiative in children with regards to their education, and bribery does not beget an enterprising spirit. At the end of the day a child should want to learn for learning's sake, not for the promise of a new toy or an ice cream cone or $20 per 'A' on his report card. So I stifled the urge to stick a proverbial carrot in front of my son, and asked for his help instead. I opened up the closet doors and said, "Gee, these shelves

sure look heavy. Want to help me move them out to the other room? We can do teamwork!" Parker hopped down off his bed and enthusiastically (if a little clumsily) helped me carry the shelves out of the closet they're stored in. After that, his uncontainable curiosity kicked in and he was eager to attack the new activities I'd prepared for today. (I can't say how effective this asking-for-help technique will be when my kid is pubescent, but for the time being it almost always works like a charm. It's even great for clean up time: "Hmm, I don't know where this toy goes. Does it go here? Or here? [giggles from Parker] Will you please help me put it away? I can't remember where it goes!" Lest I abuse the power of asking my preschooler for help, I do it sparingly. I'd hate to lose my ace in the hole!)

Since working with them on the first day of school, Parker had studiously avoided the folding and clothespins activities. At the start of school today, he went so far as to ask me to put the clothespins away, saying, "Those are too hard for me! I can't do them!" Reminding my son that he didn't have to work with them if he didn't want to, I left the clothespins in situ. Well, after exploring and enjoying three new activities this morning, Parker put the basket of clothespins on his tray, carried them to his workspace and started working with them. I think it was my proudest homeschool moment thus far. He really struggled with them last time (partly because his hands are naturally really sweaty and his fingers kept slipping when he tried to squeeze the plastic pins--I should have bought wooden ones) and that upset him. He is somehow already very performance-oriented; one of the lessons I hope he learns in our school is that it's OK to not be able to master something immediately. He approached his second round with the clothespins with more patience and a longer attention span than he did his first, and that proved positive. Soon he was adept enough with them that we were able to throw in a little pattern fun ("Blue, pink, white, blue, pink, white. What comes next?"). He really liked that.

Postscript: Parker found bead stringing kind of blasé, so he spontaneously started "rounding up" the beads within the shoelace. It's funny because later on we will do a grouping (numerial) activity that looks almost exactly like this.