Gee, there’s a distinction without a difference. :rolleyes:
Be very clear: I’m not accusing you of being delusional, I’m suspecting it. Sauron explains why.
Here’s some elaboration.
When I was a kid, I was a child prodigy. Here’s my evidence:
-I played violin at street fairs for money, and brought down $100-$200 per performance.
-I was interviewed by local radio and newspaper reporters about my ability, and said stories appeared in local media.
-Pictures of me performing were used to advertise street fairs.
-My mom told me I was a prodigy.
Not good evidence? Well, there’s this:
-In the early 1980s one of the encyclopedia companies (Britannica? World Book?) put out their annual “Year in Medicine” volume. This one featured an article on child prodigies. A photograph of me playing the violin illustrated that article.
See, I’m an encyclopedia-example of a child prodigy.
Recently, my father found a tape of that radio interview, and I listened to it. It ended with one of my performances.
I sounded like CRAP. Thin, reedy, scratchy, off-tune, no rhythm.
The adults around me were delusional. I was a cute kid with some stage presence who made a good picture, and I grew up in a culture that really wanted to believe that kids were exceptional.
I tend to be very, very skeptical of claims of child prodigies.
Just so you know, I’ll be using this quote during my next work-related performance review, to help prove my assertion that I should be paid a minimum of $100,000,000 per year.
FWIW, I don’t generally talk about that (I generally talk about being a teacher, ad nauseum, and being a dad, ad nauseum, and being a gamer, etc.). I brought it up here only because someone bizarrely suggested that I don’t believe in exceptional children. If someone ever says they don’t believe in red-headed stepchildren, I’ll have another revelation to make.
Yeah, well my dog can actually talk! Seriously. I would take Mr. Spotty into bars all the time to try to score free drinks off the trick. Occassionally a bartender would allow me to show him how well Mr. Spotty could talk. I’m sure they were concerned about the health code violations but curiousity would eventually get the better of them.
“Mr. Spotty,” I would say “what’s on top of our house?”
“Roof!” Mr. Spotty would respond.
But I wouldn’t ask for my drink just yet. That’s too simple.
“Mr. Spotty,” I would continue. “What’s the opposite of smooth?”
“Rough!” Mr. Spotty would say.
At that point, I’d normally get my beer. But there was this one time the bartender just shook his head and said no. So of course I had to continue, stressing how important the next question was.
“Mr. Spotty,” I asked. “Who is the best baseball player of all time?”
“Ruth!” Mr. Spotty barked back instantly.
It was at this point the bartender had enough and threw us both out.
Picking myself up from the curb where the bouncers had thrown us both, I said “what the heck is your problem Mr. Spotty?”
He looked up at me and said “What? You think it was DiMaggio?”
Everyone – knock off the personal comments and the snark about each other, and stick with the topic at hand. If you have a beef with another poster, take it to the Pit.
Setting aside the issue of how young children can be taught to read, I am skeptical as to whether very young children should be taught to read. I haven’t seen evidence that there’s any actual benefit to teaching a baby or toddler to read.
Now, if a child is a late reader that can become a serious problem. Even if they don’t suffer from any kind of learning disability, taking longer to master reading skills could cause them to fall behind in other subjects, become frustrated, and develop a negative attitude about reading and school in general. However, I think it’s foolish to assume that a child who is instead taught to read at an earlier than average age will get ahead in other subjects, have a positive attitude about school, or even become a particularly avid reader.
I can believe that some kids learn to read at an earlier than average age because they are unusually interested in reading and voluntarily spend more time and effort on mastering reading skills than others their age. These children may well continue to love reading for the rest of their lives. But I’m concerned that kids who are pushed by their parents to read before they’re ready might instead wind up considering the whole thing a boring chore.
I agree. I actually did learn to read when I was about 30 months old, and by kindergarten, my favorite book was my aunt’s college Children’s Lit textbook, which had stories from around the world. I used to read it while the rest of the kids napped at day care. And if my daughter shows interest in learning to read that early, I’ll encourage it, but if not, I’m not going to push her.
Why do parents wait until birth? We’ve taught our seven-month old fetus Morse code, and tap out classics before bed. We started with Winnie the Pooh but he got bored so now we’re tapping out Brideshead Revisited. He’s tapping back his own poems, and one of them is going to be published in The Paris Review next month.
Yep - baby sign language is meant to help with reducing the frustration of wanting something, but being unable to communicate it. It’s also meant to assist with language skills, as they begin to put together that actions (and words said at the same time) carry meaning.
Baby From Mars has been able to understand ‘Milk’ from around 5 months - it’s helpful for me to work out whether she’s hungry or not before unpacking the gear, so to speak. Now at 7 months she’s just worked out ‘Up’, and we’re working on a couple of other words too.
I love listening to parents wank off about how gifted their kids are, it is vastly entertaining.
When they are finished with their wanking I like to raise my hand like a kid in school and get everyone’s attention, then proclaim, " My kids can burp really loud."
Someone has to average things out.
(The parents that don’t laugh at this comment, or comments like this, are COMPLETE WANKERS and MUST BE AVOIDED. The ones that do, will become your pals. Trust Aunt Shirley on this matter.)
All A’s two of the three trimesters for my two kids. One B+ each the middle trimester. Captains of their sports and they do their own laundry. Ok, that last part was a partial lie. They can identify laundry on the floor.
I don’t like the idea of ‘‘YBCR’’ because, as Lamia points out, why? Why do we need our babies to read?
The kids with the natural aptitude are going to learn to read more quickly because they enjoy doing it. They do not need a program to teach them how. They will figure it out. As for the others, leave them alone and let them do baby things.
My thoughts exactly. And like I said earlier, I would also be concerned with the type of strict direction such a program would require in most children. From what I understand from our parent educator, kids, especially babies, need to do their own thing. Plus, I can’t imagine that most babies would have the attention span.
[soapbox]So many parents (and, no, I’m not targeting anyone here) live way too much through their children. I think Your Baby Can Read reflects that. My primary concern is for children who are simply not interested in the program. In that case, forcing them to take part anyway is really for the benefit of the parent, not the kid, often so the parent can talk about how special their child is.
All I want are kids who are doing what they’re supposed to be doing when they’re supposed to be doing it. I feel blessed that both my children are on track for their age and get pissed off when friends and strangers compare their children to mine academically (especially when most of my friends’ kids are a year older, but that’s a different story). [/soapbox]
People really do this? I mean, ‘‘Jr. is the most gifted person in his class’’ I can see, but, ‘‘Jr. is so much smarter than your children?’’ Really? That sounds positively nauseating.
The reality is, I would really like to be able to have interesting, complex, intelligent discussions with my (future) children someday, but I recognize my child need not be gifted or a genius in order for that to happen. Some of the most interesting people I know were C students, but they possess some of the most practical, impressive, useful abilities and are rarely insufferable jackasses about what smart and interesting people they are. I figure just raising a kid in an environment that celebrates science and the arts and encourages him to pursue his passion is going to be enough. I think all the rallying around ‘‘gifted’’ children can definitely harm them in the end, because, as Left Hand of Dorkness points out, eventually that kid is going to grow up and discover that he isn’t really all that special after all.
I think it’s easy for people to mix up natural aptitude with natural passion. When I was a child, my three favorite things on earth to do were reading, writing, and homework. Astonishingly, I got very good at doing these three things… perhaps… perhaps because I did them all the time. I was not in a special school, never skipped a grade, never got ‘‘one on one’’ attention from staff, I was just this kid doing what I loved to do. During parent-teacher conferences the teachers would voice their concerns that I wasn’t capable of having fun because I would just sit there in a corner and read all day. My Mom would say, ‘‘Are you kidding me? She’s having a blast. This is her idea of fun.’’ When they suggested I skip a grade, she said, ‘‘Why? She’s happy.’’ For all the sorrows of my childhood, I was very fortunate that my Mother never felt the need to either apologize for my difference or make it out to be more than it was.
Actually, when I was in grade school, I once complained to her that other students were annoyed that I constantly raised my hand in class with all the right answers. Did she embrace me and say, ‘‘My poor, precious, gifted, misunderstood child, they are only jealous of your extraordinary abilities’’? No. She said, ‘‘Nobody likes a show off. Quit raising your hand so much.’’ Best advice ever.
Like Left Hand of Dorkness, I’ve gotten my hands on some of my ‘‘masterpieces’’ from grade school and they aren’t all that impressive. Hell, even some of my high school work is crap. Even without the ‘‘gifted’’ treatment I was a pretentious little shit. Any delusions I had about how special I was were obliterated when I started college. In college I was no longer the brilliant olivesmarch4th, I was student 5283 1052, and student 5283 1052 was of average intelligence among her peers and got a C+ on her first philosophy paper and a B in Astronomy. Ask me who gave a shit how old I was when I started reading.
Best advice indeed–it took me until college to learn that lesson. I really wish someone had told me in elementary school.
With my own students it’s a balancing act. I know that Meghan loves loves loves to answer questions, and that she’ll almost always have the right answer. I know that Ray hates to answer questions, and that he’s probably spacing out and will need me to repeat the question anyway, and it’ll be a 2-minute process to help him work through to a reasonable answer. The temptation to call on little Meghan every single time is there–but it’s not doing a service to either of them if I do that. Meghan needs to learn to give others a chance, and Ray needs to pay the hell attention.
I keep popsicle sticks with student names on them handy, for just this reason. I ask a question, wait for a few moments for folks to think about it, and then dramatically pull a name out of the popsicle stick jar. If it’s Meghan, she’ll pipe up right away with an excellent, thoughtful answer. If it’s Ray, he’ll jump like a horsefly just bit him and stare at me in terror, and I’ll repeat the question and help him work through until he gets the answer. (If I’m irritated, I might move his clip down for not paying attention, too).
But sometimes a concept is hard, and I realize that maybe I’m overreaching a little with a particular lesson or concept. Then, I confess, sometimes I just call on Meghan so we can get the right answer out there and move on.
Oh, yeah. It happens all the time, and it starts pretty much from birth. When your baby starts holding its head up, crawling, sitting up - everything, even solids. It’s beyond stupid. Though I do have a worst offender. She’s a close friend’s wife. It’s not explicit as in, “My son is so much smarter than yours,” but usually starts out with, “Oh, so what do they teach in your son’s preschool? Gavin is learning his letters! All his teachers love him. He’s doing so well. So, how’s yourson doing? Is he having any trouble?” Keep in mind that Gavin is five. My son is four. The two ages are worlds apart, though not quite as much as three and five, but still… Anyway, for some reason, every time we bump into each other, she also emphasizes that his preschool teaches him to hang up his things before he sits down. I guess this might be an issue for them. Whatever - we’re not exactly neat, either. Still, she always gushes, “And as soon as he gets there, he has to hang up his stuff and go to circle time,” like expecting a kid to put his things away is akin to expecting him to make his bed with military corners.
As a result, we simply don’t hang out with them much, unless we run into them at a party or something, which is a shame because I like her husband. However, I try very hard not to compare my son to other kids, so I’m certainly not going to hold him up against a kid older than him. Not only is it not fair, it’s hurtful, especially since she usually asks when both are within hearing range. My usually response is a neutral, yet factual retelling of what he’s learning (which, as it happens, is exactly the same thing her son is; also, I don’t consider knowing that you should hang your things up on walking in the door something that you should rely on a school to teach, but all that is beside the point). It usually comes out as, “Oh, mini overly is learning his letters, too. And they have a theme of the week. I think last week’s was the solar system; next week’s is how the body works. He’s having a great time and doing well, thanks.”
She generally tries to draw me into the comparison game, saying something like, “Well at that age, Gavin was already X. sigh He’s such a smart kid.then a sugar-sweet smileSo, is mini overly there yet? Not many develop that fast…” to which my response is, “Funny how they develop different things at different ages, isn’t it? Personally, I think comparing kids is like comparing apples to oranges. He’s doing whatever he’s supposed to be doing, which is what I want.”
The only thing keeping me from going for the eyes is the presence of children.
My wife has a friend who gets jealous. We don’t even have a kid, we just talk about my nephew.
He started standing completely on his own at about six months and she was talking to her friend. Wasn’t saying how amazing he is or smart or whatever, just that it’s weird to see someone so small standing.
Her friend goes, “Well, my son was walking at that age.”
My wife just looked at her and said, “I was around for that, no he wasn’t.”
