George's oldest brother brought home his report card this week from the first nine weeks of eighth grade in public school. I oohed and aahed over the Honor Roll stamp and then marveled over one more difference between this experience with George and last year's experience, wherein I mulled over his report card and wished for more feedback, wanting to know where he was weak in math and where he was strong, why he didn't like fiction and what might be the academic fallout from that. Now I know well how George's mind works -- I don't need a report card anymore.
For example I now know that George is a doubting George. When presented with Math Facts, he does not believe them readily. He prefers to work out each problem independently using manipulatives, then write out the Fact Families in his own hand, so he knows them to be true. We spent a lot of time this week on Fact Families in multiplication and division. Next week we will continue -- this is a long process but one that will send us flying forward when completed.
Currently the mood in our house is sad and concerned for Pilot Mountain, which is on fire. Pilot Mountain is bar none our favorite outdoor classroom and our favorite outdoor playground. Last I heard 800 acres had gone up in flames. We are beyond devastated, and George would like to go as soon as it reopens to "hug the mountain". On a happy-ish note, our recent discussions on habitat have taught us that habitats are incredible things, and while it will take time for the damaged land to heal, heal it will.
Poems this week were
- "Where Go the Boats?" by Robert Louis Stevenson
- "You are Old, Father William" by Lewis Carroll
- "Sea Fever" by John Mansfield
- "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer
- "The Months" by Sara Coleridge