Late

It is late, and quiet here.

I’ve been working too much, except there’s a lot going on, and I like it. I like having that infinitessimal degree more of control that I do have. It’s amazing what a difference it makes. Huh.

And I’ve been thinking about stuff.  Actually, the thinking is occupying a lot of time, too.

I’ve been wondering about friends I’ve lost touch with, and contemplating getting back in touch with them. One has an incredibly common name, though. Like (but not) Ann Smith.

And the house is a mess, but I think I’m going to need to do something else, like go away (even just to the beach, maybe) before I’m going to want to clean it up.

And the kids are studying 24/7. Not even — N has a plan so detailed it tells her when to go to sleep and when to wake up, and it includes enough sleep every night. That is a serious plan.

I think I may crap out on them and go to bed before they do.

But I’m old.

So, goodnight —

More about N

This scintillating post started out as an email to the Lass.

Just to clarify about N, and her refusal, or really inability, to worry too much about grades:

I think a lot of people are like her, in that they don’t do things for grades. Maybe education has changed. But I really think with her it’s not just a desire to do things for higher reasons than grades. She knows she’s smart, and she is smart, but it is really not easy for her to get good grades, even in classes that she likes. It takes an organizational skill that she just doesn’t have. For her, the learning is one thing, and she can do that, but the doing all the homework and remembering to turn it in, and remembering to study for tests, and all that other administrative stuff — all that stuff is actually really hard for her, and separate from the actual learning.

And I really do think there’s a kind of a loop — 1. it’s hard for you to get good grades, even though you’re smart. 2. Therefore it’s in your best interest to think that grades do not reflect intelligence. Which 3, leads you to want to bother even less to get grades because 4 If you think they’re important 5 you’ll have to think there’s something wrong with you. Clearly, there’s nothing wrong with you, so you have to go back to 2, not caring too much, which leads you to the result of not getting good grades, which leads you back again to 2, which leads to further trouble with grades.

But, #5, there is something “wrong” with you, and as usual, if you were to actually look at it and accept it, you’d see that it’s not really “wrong” and it doesn’t mean you’re bad, and if you were to accept it as a fact, you could then think of ways to deal with it. But just getting to the looking part is scary and unpleasant.

But perhaps she will —

She probably will. She’s smart, and also generally fairly brave.

Meanwhile, I am holding my breath that she will keep her GPA up enough to actually go to college. Which I’m sure will present it’s own complications.

But also, there is evidence that as people get older, all this executive functioning stuff actually kicks in. Your brain matures, and it’s not so hard anymore.

In theory.

Ugh.

Not much to say

Just reporting in. It’s a day of meetings and running to and fro.
It’s also senior skip day — N is skipping until 5th period. She seemed fairly happy about it, too.
Now I’ve got stuff I have to do.
I am a little hungry, though.
Hmmm.

Lovely, sleepy day

The mock orange, and several roses are blooming. I got up early and finished the vacuuming. N studied in the hammock. M had a piano lesson, then went for a walk. K is at work, but wandered in for lunch. Now N and her friend E are studying for the government test in the hammock. Are they actually studying? Maybe.

It’s warm and breezy — a perfect day to hang around doing nothing.

And now I’m off to fold up a tent.

Bye.

WCW

Here’s mine:

This is just to say
I have taken
the hats
that were on
the shelf

and which
you were probably saving
for the summer

Forgive me
they were lovely
so bright
and so voluminous

via this, found via somewhere in the suburbs

Important insights

(You know I’m kidding, right?)

This therapy thing is strange. Do I need to come up with topics? Do I need to keep her entertained?

I think the answer is no, and no.

But anyway. I ran this thing about N and college and the behavioral pediatrician by her, and she assured me that it wasn’t me, it was behavioral pediatrician. So that’s good —

But in thinking further about the whole thing, I begin to see things about N that are true, and are N, and may in fact be part of her ADD, but in any case are part of her, and that I can’t really change:

• She doesn’t do well with too many things going on.
• She needs sufficient time, whole blocks of time in the morning are good.
• She has this characteristic of worrying about some things, which she views as important, and not others.

She’s in danger of getting a C in physics because the class is too easy, the labs “are all this fuss and bother, and then you do them, and you prove exactly what you knew all along would be the case,” and he requires you to do and hand in the homework, even when you get A’s on the tests without doing homework. She is not going to bother to go the extra mile to get an A, when in her mind, she knows the material. This naturally drives me crazy, being a person who generally worried about grades. You can look at it in three ways, though. Either 1) she is being a brat, and should just do the goddamn homework. How hard can it be to get an A in a class that’s too easy for you? Or, 2) how clever of you to care only for the essential matter and not the vain appearances of grades. Or, 3) why would a person for whom knowledge doesn’t naturally translate to good grades, who can’t always count on effort and knowledge in a subject yielding good grades, be too worried about grades? Grades don’t correlate to her effort, or how much she knows. In fact, if she were to accept that good grades were a valid indicator of her intelligence, knowledge and preparation, she would be forced to conclude that she wasn’t very smart. Better to just write them off as not valid, or at least not something to be too worried about.

I think it’s number three. The danger, though, [for N, I mean, and what she thinks about herself] is that even though you’re telling yourself it’s number three, you might be thinking it’s number 1, or worse, that you actually aren’t that smart after all.

Huh.

It’s all kind of interesting.

Something funny

Here’s a funny take on a familiar poem. Go look —