Dreaming Through my Daughter

Possibly the greatest thing about being a parent is being able to dream of limitless possibilities again, if only vicariously. Limitless possibility defines the human experience. It is never more true than with a young person.

Gin and Poker

I taught my daughter how to play two card games the other day: gin rummy and five-card draw poker. I also taught her the basics of wagering - and therefore bluffing - in poker. I'd never thought about it before, but in gin you're playing the cards, in poker you're playing the people.

At some point, I'm sure I'll use poker as a metaphor to explain a life situation to her. For example, some day when she finds herself in a poor situation, I'll point out that although she may be holding a lot of low cards, she can do things to cause people to react in ways that create a more favourable situation for her because they don't know what cards she has. Or I might talk to her about how to recognize people's tells, and how that can inform her decision making.

That's not a particularly healthy way for us to interact as a family. Neither of us gain much from competing with each other on what amount to questions of our honesty and transparency with each other. Not a great way to define our relationship.

Fortunately, she prefers playing the cards. For now, anyway.

Interruption

There are some things that will always make you drop whatever it is you're doing and go do something else.

Being asked, "Dad, do you want to play catch?" is among them.

Weekend Scientists

We've been playing at weekend scientist, doing unusual things with everyday items like meat tenderizer, alligator clips, water, lemons, and galvanized nails. And some not-so-everyday items, like platinum-coated wire.

Some of these experiments, such as placing a white carnation in a glass of dyed water to demonstrate capillary action, make for good (if slow) theatre. There is also a straightforward explanation for the science that's taking place.

But other experiments we've done lack both clear explanation and theatre. The hydrogen fuel cell is fascinating, but the descriptions we've found for why it works aren't particularly good: the diagrams leave much to be desired, and the specificity of the narrative changes. Worse still, many of the descriptions for this experiment on the internet repackage the same original explanation: all searches effectively lead to the same place.

The experiment is also abstract. You only really know the fuel cell is working because of the reading on the multimeter. To an adult, that's real enough, but to a child, it's just a number that goes up and goes down.

We make it comprehensible by doing our homework, coming up with our own diagrams and composing our own narratives from the information we find. We make it tangible by modifying the experiment to power a low-voltage component. Walking this last mile is the best part: we understand the science better, we're not just performing it mechanically.

All this time we're spending may not give her the least bit of scientific encouragement. But if it makes her a little more aware of the things happening around her, it is time well spent.

Learning How to Practice

Some years ago, I set out to teach my daughter how to ride a bike, something I'd never had to teach anybody before. She learned a bit about riding a bike, and I learned a bit about teaching.

Earlier this month, I was listening to her play violin. She played a piece she's been playing for quite some time. Her performance has not appreciably improved since she started.

My first reaction was that she's not practicing enough. Fact is, she isn't: she doesn't practice ever day, and when she does practice, she isn't at it for very long.

But the problem wasn't how much time she was (or wasn't) spending practicing. The problem was how she was practicing. She was slogging her way through the piece, over and over. Her arm would start to sag. Her bowing would be off the mark. She tried to memorize the fingering instructions so she could look at her fingers, as opposed to the sheet music, when she played. But when she hit a wrong note or she got distracted, she'd lose her place and have to stop. When that happened, more often than not, she'd start the piece from the top.

This isn't learning how to play the violin, this is bulldozing your way through a task.

My initial diagnosis - that she needs to spend more time practicing - was incorrect. More practice like that wasn't going to improve the quality of her play, it was only going to make her dislike the violin: showing no improvement, and being assigned the same piece week after week, she'd become increasingly frustrated and simply lose interest.

She didn't know how to practice. Perhaps she hadn't been taught, perhaps she hadn't figured it out for herself, perhaps this was my responsibility all along. Whatever the case, knowing how to practice isn't something I can take for granted.

We're spending time working with her on how she practices, developing habits that will develop muscle memory for fingerings and bowing. That should lead to greater dexterity and endurance - and greater satisfaction from playing the violin. Part of this involves sitting with her while she plays and coaching her on what to do. Part of it involves me pulling out my horn and re-learning a piece long forgotten to remember what it's like to feel the frustration at a piece I have to master, to play something repetitively, to drill on a handful of measures at a time, to re-learn how to read ahead to intuitively reach for an alternate fingering. And, ultimately, to remember that feeling of satisfaction knowing that my performance is demonstrably better - something I think she's experiencing as her performance has markedly improved in a relatively short period of time.

It's easy to recognize a poor performance. It's not always so easy to recognize the poor practice habits behind a poor performance.

Happy New

A new year is a less significant milestone to a child. It's not a gift-giving holiday. Kids aren't prone to annual planning. They're also not likely to make many resolutions: change is thrust upon them more than they have the ability (much less the self-awareness) to initiate personal change of their own.

Even if they're inclined to spend the day watching college football, birthdays and the first day of school are more significant events because children's lives are governed primarily by an academic calendar.

This changes in adulthood, because our lives governed by tax and fiscal years that tend to align with the calendar. This incongruity is helpful to a parent, as it let's us consider what age & grade they'll be, and what skills & capabilities they'll have, when the year is out.

We'll Always Have Paris

Musée du Louvre. Musée Rodin. La Tour Effel. Arc de Triomphe. La Sainte-Chapelle. Notre-Dame. Les Catacombes.

It's a privilege to introduce a child to some of the most significant cultural, engineering, and historic places in the world. Being able to inject one's personal knowledge into the experience makes it even more satisfying. Functioning successfully in a completely different place and language gives it a sense of accomplishment. And what makes it all worthwhile is hearing her express what she learned and how much she enjoyed it.

Everything, that is, but the food. I wish she'd have appreciated the culinary aspects as much as I do - beyond the desserts.

Ah, well. Perhaps it is better that she appreciate the ancient masters than the contemporary chefs.