Of math and maps and stems and leaves
Okay, if I said “stems and leaves,” what subject would immediately spring to mind? Betcha it wouldn’t be fifth grade math. Unless you’re the parent of a recent fifth grader, at any rate. So yesterday, kid comes home from school, I go through the “What homework do you have?” routine, he says, “Math. Stems and leaves,” at which point his 21 y.o. brother groans. Loudly. Since this is the kid who actually did well in math, I’m thinking this is not a good omen.
An intuition borne out when, some time later, Small Child storms back into my office, very put out because “I need help and Dad has no clue what to do.”
Not that my having a clue is a given, either. But I’m the Mother, cluelessness is not an option. So I ask for the book, sending up a pray to be struck with sudden and profound insight. What I’m struck with is the profound realization that a) this is one stupid math assignment and b) I’m glad I’m no longer eleven. All I can say, between the two of us, we got through it. The “why” of it, however, still eludes me.
Aren’t fifth graders supposed to be doing things like long division????
Speaking of stems and leaves (the real kind), a little man rang our doorbell the other night to kindly inform us that the pair of 40 foot ash trees in our yard were in very sad shape and would we like him to trim them for us? Um, these trees passed “in sad shape” years ago. More dead wood than living, lopsided, the lushest growth over the roof (what was up with that?). But the prices arborists or whatever the heck they’re called want to trim 40 foot trees are enough to give a person a heart attack. But this wasn’t an arborist, this was a little guy with a chainsaw, a pickup and a son. His price, we could handle. And while he was at it, we’re having the tree currently hugging the chimney whacked back so we can actually use the woodstove this year. And it’s not as if we don’t now have the wood. . .
And on a final note (and I can talk about this because the husband not only doesn’t read my blog, he wouldn’t have any idea how to even find the thing), I thought I’d get him a World Atlas for Christmas, since he’s constantly moaning about not having one (yes, he’s geeky like that, but we all love him for it). We used to have one, which, like the Windex, disappeared. Unlike the Windex, this thing weighed as much as a Hummer, so how it walked out of here is anybody’s guess. Anyway, commending myself for my perspicacity, I logged onto bn.com in the wee hours of the morning (don’t ask), thinking, easy-peasy, they probably have a really nice one that doesn’t cost as much as our first car (since the one in the National Geographic catalog did). And I’ll even get free shipping!
Uhhh. . .hmmm. . .
Who knew everybody and his dog puts out a world atlas?
Damn. And that was supposed to be the easy gift. . .
Hugs on math. DD is in Geometry. I haven’t been able to help her in years.
Good luck with the atlas.
Comment by mary beth — November 9, 2005 @ 4:32 am
Karen, I taught fifth grade math last year and had never heard of stems and leaves. Ridiculous thing.
I hadn’t taught fifth grade in 16 years, and the math had gotten a LOT more advanced. I don’t understand. I don’t think it’s developmentally appropriate, but no one asks me.
Comment by Mary — November 12, 2005 @ 12:14 am
See, that’s what I don’t get — if it takes the kids four weeks to “get” the concept, wouldn’t that tell somebody that they’re not ready for that concept yet? I recently read that most kids’ brains aren’t ready for algebra before 14 or 15, and yet they’re started to teach it younger and younger. An otherwise very bright kid, I remember being totally stymied by Algebra I at 13, which meant I had no foundation for Algebra II at 15, two years later. Hated, hated, hated it.
I also don’t understand the bouncing around, especially in math. There seems to be so little building on what they’ve already learned, moving up step by step. Instead each chapter seems to have nothing to do with the previous chapter, which means by the time they get back to what they had been working on, they’ve forgotten it.
And this business about making things so convoluted in some lame attempt to make it “clearer” just slays me.
I just cringe whenever the poor kid says he has math homework, and he needs help. How I’m going to deal with middle school math, I do not know.
Comment by Karen Templeton — November 12, 2005 @ 1:24 am