The Ups and Downs of Dyslexia, Part 3

[My eye after the operation is coming along.  I may get the stitches out in two weeks--can you imagine stitches in your eye?  And don't rub it if it itches. Yeah, !]


I'm almost through the book, "The Dyslexic Advantage" by Eide and Eide, MDs, (2011).  In quite the same way when I read John Dewey's book on Education and Democracy, I read several paragraphs in the Dyslexic Advantage and then have to stop, recollect and ponder what might have been in my life.


It has become increasing clear that we have to teach our wanna-be teachers in new methods of dealing with children and students that have different learning styles.  Phonics is not the only answer to teaching of reading although I have taught phonics, I did teach other methods of reading.  And I believe we are on the brink of a new education in our society.  The iPad (regardless of the make) will revolutionize our teaching whether we want it to change or not.  It just will and we teachers will have to catch up.  


For example, I've been reading some children's stories on my iPad.  Now remember some Dyslexics can see better off a screen then on regular paper.  Let us imagine a second grade student reading in a grade level reading book.  The assignment by the teacher is for the class (or reading group) to read the stories and answer the questions written on the blackboard.  Sound familiar?    So our young student does just that--she/he likes to read.  However she comes to a word which she/he tries to sound out phonetically which she/he does but still doesn't understand the meaning of the word.  Seeing in context also doesn't help this student.  What to do?  In an ordinary traditional class, the proper behavior is for the student to raise their hand in the air, indicating a need for teacher's help.  However, teacher has a few other hands to assist before getting to our young student.


Now consider this same student reading the same story on an ipad.  Same sentence and same stumbling block--same word.  Only this time the student places her index finger on the word and holds it there for a short moment.  Quickly a dictionary explanation of the word is popped up over the reading page. It will even say the word out loud if requested.  Still don't understand?  Here is another pop-up frame showing, doing or examples of the word in action.  It is better then a hassled teacher.  Hey, this even works for us adults.  There are a lot of words I just don't understand--some of which have been invented by the younger crowd.  I want to stay connected.  


Decording words and then understanding their meaning is the basis for reading.  If you can't read well you are in trouble in this society.  I can attest to this fact personally.  


When I entered the doctoral program at the University of Washington my mode of operation was to write all my papers on a small electric typewriter.  [side bar: did you know when they first invented the typing machine, the people, mostly women, who learn to type were called Typewriters.  Over the years the name has moved from person to machine] I would rough out my paper on paper and then sit at the typewriter and begin to compose my paper for whatever class i was taking.  After the first draft, I would go back and redefine it and smooth it out the best I could.  Then I would hand it to my wife who would mark it up--primarily with two types of markings, one for understanding (this sentence doesn't make sense) or spelling errors.  The latter were numerous.  She would put in the correct spelling for me.  I then re-typed the paper and returned it to her for final checking.  Once approved, I would then use 26 pound water marked paper for my final work.  Yes, yes, it had white ink on it as my typing was not always that good.  Lynn would do a final reading and then I'd used the  three holed punch and put it a hard folder.  


I had done some simple research during my masters program.  I handed a stack of student papers and asked a number of professors to grade them without reading the material in them. They (the professors) were to look at the papers but not read them for content.   Papers in folders consistently got higher marks, probably because they were easier to write on the paper--hard material behind them.


So that was my modus operandi.  You with me so far?  Writing papers was time consuming operation.  Fast forward with me to the early eighties and I'm now a professor at Western Washington University in media communications (in education).  I was the preverbal audio-visual guy.  But I was still fascinated by computers and had already bought a 16K Processor Technology computer.  Very, very simple, it didn't even have a form of saving your work.  I basically learned to program on it--and not very well at that.  We gave it to the university and they in turn gave me a letter saying we donated this machine and it was worth so much money in kind.  But that gave me some saving on my income tax and Lynn and I went to Seattle to buy our second computer.


I remember driving down I-5 quite excited.  We were going to buy a Osborn 1 computer that had good write-ups and was a next generation microcomputer.  The shop and it indeed was a small shop was just outside the university district had a stack of these computers in the store window.  They came in a case that looked much like a sewing machine but when the top was folded back it looked more like a World War II radio, black with a little green screen perhaps five inches.  It had two slots on either side and a keyboard.  

I remember the salesman saying we should buy a large screen since if you used the little screen on the computer you could write half a sentence and then would  have scroll to the other side to type the rest of your sentence.  Weird.  He also had us buy ten floppy disks for a rather expensive price.

We got the computer home to Bellingham and set it up in the living room on the coffee table in front of the couch and Lynn proceeded to read me the instructions.  We first made copies of the software, the first time I've ever done that task.  

We then loaded "WordStar" one of the first word processing programs ever written.   One could write a paper, make corrections, cut and paste, check spelling, change the size of the font and do many other tasks not available on a typewriter.  At one point I typed something in the computer and then had the spell checker go over it.  It blinked on the screen that I misspelled fifty four percent of the words and it included the exact number of words misspelled.  It was humiliating. And yet, I saw something else--freedom.  And I started to cry.  Really hard.  I was letting go of some of my dyslexia although at the time I didn't realize it.  I HAD a spellchecker!  As some teens today would say, "OMG!"

Gentle reader--this is one of the major points in my life, right behind getting married and getting drafted.  I saw instantly how my life was going to change.  I now could write papers for presentations, for publications, for internal reviews.  There was just one problem.  We had nothing to print on.

So the very next day we returned to Seattle, went to the store and the salesman was waiting for us.  "Need a printer?"  And we acquired our first Epson Dot-Matrix printer.  Compared with today's ink jet printers it was horrible--noisy, not very good looking, with a ragged top and bottom.  "Besides the printer, you'll need a carton of fan fold paper."  Gee, thanks, anything else we've forgotten? 

We came home with our "extras" and that evening I wrote my first grant request for the College of Education for our first computer laboratory.  I proposed my idea, justified it and wrote it up on my new Osborn 1.  I handed to the head of the committee on computers at Western.  It was accepted--almost.  They didn't give us all the money for the first Apple computer lab for the College of Education, but most of it.  They also "copied" my request, changed the word Apple to IBM and gave the first laboratory to the College of Arts and Science.  

Politics as seen within a university.

I still have the Osborn 1 computer and that dot-matrix Epson printer.  I'm emotionally attached to them and they sit dust covered in a closet in my office here at home.  My iPhone is far more powerful and useful but I still love that old Osborn.  Some day in the future someone will be cleaning out this house and wonder why I kept that old computer and printer.  A dyslexic person might understand, then again if they are young, they might not.

I think this is the end of my discussions on dyslexia in the schools.  We've come at least a short way into understanding that learning style.  And we've come a long way in the use of technology to accommodate different learning styles for a lot of students--but not far enough.  We need to do more

I am interested that as I continue to read John Dewey's Democracy and Education, written so many years ago in that he favored different teaching methods to accommodate individual students. All students are different--one size doesn't fit all.  Unfortunately because of budget cuts, we're trying to fit all humans into the same box.  And dyslexics tend to think outside the box.

Thanks for those teachers that try to accommodate the different ways children and young adults want to learn.    

The Dyslexic Advantage, Part 2

[my apologies for not writing sooner--my excuse is that I had an eye operation. I'm better now.]


My emotions are all confused and I laugh at times and I cry at times.  I can report that while having breakfast at a restaurant and reading The Dyslexic Advantage by Brock Eide and Fernette Eide, both MDs, I find it hard to cry when reading an important point in this book that has in the past effected me.  You just don't cry in a public restaurant.  


But this is a powerful book.  Based on it alone I think we need to make major changes in our education systems.  What I am finding is that I am not alone.  There are many people who have dyslexia and have become successful people in our society.  Indeed, some have done quite well if what the authors Eides have written.  But there are many who struggle with the problem and wonder why they are so dumb.  Of course, they are not but given our school systems, too many teachers do not recognize those that may and have dyslexia.  But there is nope in this textbook.


I am making a formal request to my old Woodring College of Education that every faculty member be given  a copy of this book.  I doubt if I could expect all to read it but enough will and I believe will see that the education system needs to be changed.   I also think that ALL teachers, from kindergarten to twelfth
 grade be required reading.


I have bought both the Kindle edition and a hard copy edition.  Easier to take notes on the hard copy


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As you recall I was teaching in a grade school when I realized that I had dyslexia.  It certainly explained why I had so many problems in school while I was growing up. Interestingly enough I find that other people have used the same "coping" mechanisms that I did....like always be polite to the teacher and look like you are trying your best.  Make your work neat.  Never turn in something scribbled.  And participate in class discussions.  Actually I think that became one of my fortes in high school was class discussions.  When you do all of these things then when your test doesn't measure up, the teacher comments that you are just a bad test taker.  Boy, were they correct.  Still, in spite of my problems in school I graduated from high school in the upper ranks of my class.  How come?


I took a lot of music and art and civics.  I stayed away from classes that had a lot of rote memory such as chemistry, mathematics and history.  I could never remember dates or names.  You see, dyslexic students by and large have a terrible memory for data.  Ask me the capitals of the states and I would flunk. But ask me about the western movement and I could go on for days explaining how our country was developed and how technology helped improved it.


According to the Eides there are two types of memory, data or facts and episodic    In my case it is indeed true that I can recite whole folk tales but if you ask me when it was written and by who, I couldn't tell you.    Most dyslexics have episodic  or declarative memory.  The facts are embedded in the telling.


The Eides tell of a young woman who wanted to be a geologist but she had a very difficult time in high school and in college.  She managed by sheer effort to graduate and to get a position with an oil company.  From there is was all success as she was able to look at the terrain, rocks and sub-soils and predict with great accuracy where the oil and gas would be located.  Her method in doing this was to recreate how the land had been formed, episodic if you will.  But she could not look at the data and make predictions from mere numbers.


One of the factors that has affected me in the reading of this book is that dyslexic people "see things in their head."  My oh my, that was scary when I read that but it is true I can visualize and predict.  


I've already told you that when I was working on my doctorate at the University of Washington I was given the task of playing with an IBM 360-40 computer that they put in my office.  Well, they put the teletype that connected to that computer.  That teletype became one of the most important episodes in my life.  From that moment on I knew that computers would become a powerful force in education.  My whole career has been centered on that epic moment.  I use to say that my predictions were intuition but I now realize that my brain was already looking at scenes  that contained computers.  


There were many problems I had during my time in studying for my doctorate.  Of course they want you to write in all your classes and I was a poor writer.  I have gotten better but i still consider myself a poor writer although I am considering writing a novel.  We'll see.  But in those classes where thinking outside the box was considered valuable, I did fairly well.  It was interesting that I did well in philosophy of education.  I couldn't write it but I could articulate it.  I could see where decisions in educational policy could affect the system and I speak to those points.  So like most dyslexic people I had strong point and weak points.  On the weak points, i coped.  That is what most dyslexic students do, cope.  Find ways to get around or how to dazzle so that the other person doesn't see your faults.  Or to hide in a group.  


One thing that I noticed in this book on Dyslexia and that I have read in other books on the same subject is that dyslexic people know they are smart but they are not sure how they are smart.  But many of us have this drive to succeed in spite of what the world thinks of us. 


In another book, I'm not sure which one, there is a story of a young boy growing up in the prairies of central Canada in a strict environment.  Everytime he missed an answer or got something wrong he was told to hold out his hand, palm up,  and it was hit with a ruler a number of times according to the wrong answer.  I remember the person telling the tale saying that at times he had calluses on the palms of his hands.  But in spite of the hits with a ruler over the years he consistently knew he was smart.  He just didn't know the material they way they wanted him to know it.  Rote memory and he wasn't good at that.  


The more I read in The Dyslexic Advantage the more I know that the policy of "No Child Left Behind" and the testing that went on within that program was doomed to failure.  There isn't a dyslexic kid out there that could pass one of those tests.  I'm not sure I could even now.  Those tests are based on data  which we can't fathom.  Our memory doesn't work that way.


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I did promise to tell you how "I came out" and explained that I was dyslexic to the world.  I was teaching at Western Washington University in the Woodring School of Education--very new to the position and wet behind the ears so to speak.  But I remember in one of my Instructional Technology courses showing how machines can help students learn.  I forget now what machines I was working on, it could have been an early computer but I said something like, "Since I have dyslexia, learning from this machines is much easier and helpful to me."  It wasn't anything important, just emphasizing a point.   However it was at my next office hours that two students showed up, not to talk about technology in the classroom but about being a dyslexic.  Both wanted to know how I got "this far" and what could I tell them that would be helpful.  We talked for quite awhile and I believe that all three of us felt better after the discussion but I'm not sure I gave them any succinct help.  But a curious thing happened.  From time to time I would get a student in my office that wanted to know about how to cope with dyslexia.  Some of these students weren't even in my class.  Word had gotten around that there was this prof who understood being a dyslexic.


In fact word had gotten around far enough that a librarian in education contacted me and said she, too, was a dyslexic and she was quite delighted that I had let the student know about it.  So the two of us formed a bond of friendship on being dyslexic.  We sometimes sent a student to the other for further counseling or help.


There were sad times in all of this.  A young female student came to me in tears one day saying she was flunking a basic mathematics course--required.  I wrote some numbers down on sheet of paper and asked her what they were and she couldn't tell me.  She really couldn't see numbers.  She could read the story problem but she quite often got the numbers either backwards or mixed up.  I then attempted to get the Mathematics department to allow this student to have a reader and/or to use a calculator. The Mathematics department was against all attempts to deviate from the norm. Either she did it the same way as other students or she would fail.


She didn't fail.  She dropped out of college.  I think she was smart but she didn't have enough coping mechanism to know what to do in math.  I still have problems wondering how we should teach mathematics to students.  I believe irt is a major problem in our society.  I wonder what ever became of that young female student--did she succeed at something?  Did she always feel bad about herself?  


This is an intense subject for discussion.  Those without dyslexia need to study it as much as those that have the thinking problem.  But if I am to believe what the authors Eides have written, this world needs dyslexic people to see things as they might be.  These are our entrepreneurs of the future.  As President Kennedy once said, "I see things that are and say why.  But I see things that are not and say why not."  (paraphrased) 


My best to you all and to all those teachers who saw something in me besides problems I give my heartfelt thank you.

The Dyslexic Advantage..Part 1

Over the holidays I have been reading, between wrapping packages, decorating the tree and visiting with friends and neighbors, the book, The Dyslexic Advantage:  Unlocking the Hidden Potential of the Dyslexic Brain," by Brock L. Eide and Fernette F. Eide.  While reading this book I have yelled in enthusiasm, cried real tears, wondered what might have been, and have been sad and positive in the same moment.  It is a very positive book about dyslexia.  It's about hope and opportunities for those that have this type of brain.  I'll write more about this book in a future blog.  What i plan to write today is an individual's background being a dyslexic--me.  Problems, hopes, techniques, the sadness of it all...


The earliest I remember being in school was in second grade in Harrison, New York.  I knew early on I was different--I had troubles with spelling words, with reading and in doing "my numbers."  That's all I remember of the class except that the female teacher was big.  Not fat, but a large grandmotherly type who was not friendly.  That's what I remember.  I also remember wanting to do well.  


One of the subjects was spelling where we would get a number of new words on Monday.  I forgot what we did during the week but there would be a test on the words on Friday with special paper, a thin strip with lines big enough for each word.  We would write our name on the top and then print the words as the teacher spoke them.  I guess most kids did well--I didn't and I would get "D's" and "F's".    I remember asking my Dad to help me learn the words.  He helped me each night for a week to write my words and he would make games of how to spell each word.  I think there were twenty words.


On Friday I was ready.  During that week I probably wrote those words at least a hundred times each!  So when the teacher passed out those slips of paper for our spelling words, I was ready.  She would say the word and I would write it down.  When the test was over the teacher who had been walking around the class reciting the spelling words, looked at my paper and said that I had cheated.   Then she had me clean out my desk looking for how I had cheated.  There was nothing of course, but she was sure I had cheated.  I don't know if Mom or Dad ever came to the school about this -- I doubt it.  But at that point spelling became the bane of my existence.


It may have been in that same grade that I began to know I was different.  Everyday some lady came for me, took me out of class and we went to some small room where she worked with me to learn how to read.  I don't remember what she did with me but I did learn to read but differently from the rest of the class.  I could not "sound out a word" but I could skim it and get the meaning from its relationship in the sentence.  I will always be grateful for whatever that person did with me to get me to read.


But life did not get better even though I began to read a lot.  With the help of my dad I did learn my multiplication tables up to the 9's.  He made a Ferris wheel which he spun and I would have to give the answer of eight times ??? whatever the wheel would select.  But the effort that we put into memorizing the numbers was astronomical as to what other kids did.  I could see that.  Maybe I was born without a complete brain!


On the other hand there were times when I could shine.  Other kids had troubles with maps, I didn't.  I loved maps and made up stories about the places on the maps.  And I could draw better then most kids.  I would illustrate my papers with drawings.


I was already a member of the boys choir at church and could sing in tune.  And I could read music so that in the public school I did well in music--better then my peers.  I figured I just had more practice then the other kids but I did like music and art.


So a quick summary at this point in my school career--I could read reasonably well except when the teacher asked me to sound out a word.  Phonetic reading was beyond me...I couldn't see the letters by themselves.  I was terrible at numbers except for the times tables.  I had troubles adding large sums but if I took my time I could do them.  But a time test was my undoing.  Spelling was also terrible but I learned to use a dictionary fairly well.  But well into my early college days I could not spell.  Papers I had written for my music professors would come back with rather nasty comments.


However, it was World War II and my family moved many times to adjust to war work.  I had eight different schools by the eighth grade.  So I suspect some things got over looked during my grade school days (up to the eighth grade--no middle school)


I ended up in the sixth grade in Richland, Washington, a war town.  I would impress the teachers by my reading abilities and I would escape by being quiet and not causing problems.....just read about far away places.  But I had problems with left and right.  We learned to march but I was always turning the wrong way.  One day we had physical education outdoors by playing softball.  As usual I would be one of the last to be chosen, a horrible fate for a sixth grader.  My side was up to bat and it was my turn.  I remembering almost begging in my mind, "let me hit the ball well..please!"  AND I DID!  I was thrilled and ran to third base, then on to second--when the teacher stopped the game and took me by my hand and in front of the entire class, walked me to the first base, then the second and finally the third and then home...saying something to me about not paying attention or not being serious about playing the game.  I don't remember playing before this time and first and third looked the same to me.  It probably was the reversal feature that dyslexics have that caused me to "go wrong."  To this day, this is probably the most humiliating and embarrassing moment in my life.  In front of the whole class.  I still remember it with great detail even though it was sixty eight years ago.  Sad.


I got through high school by taking mostly music and art courses.  I don't know how I got through two years of Spanish--it was a memory course.  And I stayed away from courses that I realized would take much memory like chemistry.  Algebra was difficult for two reasons, left and right and my eyes were going bad.  At the end of algebra I got glasses which pretty much have not been off me since.  One thing I did in high school was to take courses in which memory was not crucial.  So I took typing I and II and machine equipment.  It was for girls wanting to become secretaries.  Because there was no rule I got registered in those classes.  Strange because those skills have become my most important muscular skills that i have.  Who would have know that keyboarding would be important.


Strangely enough I graduated near the top of my class but it was a large class.  Other kids made me look good.  Sometime during my junior year I remember "talking" to myself.  Taking stock so to speak.  I knew I was good but in what I didn't know.  I knew I could think but then again, why couldn't I do math?  I knew memory was a big fault of mine.  I could remember strange things in my past but I couldn't remember a phone number.  I could write down the first three numbers but then I would have go back and look at the final four before I could write them down.  I could memorize a complete musical phrase on my trumpet but I couldn't memorize the capitals of the states.  I could tell the story of Lewis and Clark, the problems and help they got but I couldn't remember the years they did it.  I was sure my brain was defective in some manner.


But I liked people and thought for a while about becoming an Episcopal priest.  But I was not sure about religion.  I then turned to becoming a music teacher.  I felt that I could have done just as well as the teachers that I had in high school.  My goal then was to become a high school music teacher.   


College had it's ups and downs.  I had a lot more required courses such as geology, biology, psychology, history, and.....math.    But I also had band, jazz band, marching band, choir, music composition, directing....and individual music lessons on different instruments.  My favorite courses were in education.  I was home!   I know now it was not the greatest education but it fitted me well.  Of those earlier courses I learned much on how to study.



In one Education course an assignment during the Thanksgiving break was to visit a school and write a report about it.  I visited a brand new school and took black and white pictures of all the new ideas the district and the architect had designed into the school building to improve learning.  Back at college I pasted the pictures on sheets of paper and then wrote about what each picture was about.  An intro and ending and I was done.  Lot less words then were required for the assignment but I took a chance.  It paid off.  The prof was delighted with my report and spent an entire class presentation talking about the importance of the building to learning.  I "A" that assignment and learned that I could report without words all the time.  I continued with that trend.


This was in 1951 to 1955.  Dyslexia was not know at that time and universities and colleges really didn't care if you were a handicapped person.  You were on your own.  So I learn to cope.  One of the things I did was to type all my papers.  Most everyone else at the time were hand writing their papers.  


Let's jump ahead here to the early 1960s.  I had gone to war  (Korean) and had returned.  The district was going to fire the music teacher who replace me but I negotiated with them to keep me as a fifth grade teacher as we would need two elementary music teachers in the near future.  They were happy with this arrangement and so I began my elementary classroom career.  


During the spring of that first year I elected to go to a workshop for several weeks in the late afternoons after school in the Renton School District.  In those days teachers had to acquire some many "credits" within five years to gain their fifth year certification.  I was trying to pick up a credit by going to a workshop on Dyslexia.  All I knew about this new word was that it had to do with a learning disability that some students had.  In the workshop we would learn to recognize the symptoms and develop some strategies  on helping students overcome their deficiencies.


I don't remember much of the workshop however, I do remember the speaker listing the characteristics of children with dyslexia:  poor readers, terrible spellers, bad in math, poor memory, appear to be lazy workers, talk a lot, do not write well.  Shoot, that speaker was almost talking about me.  Later on she passed out a test to identify dyslexics  which we all took.  Except I scored high on the test.


I went home that night quite upset.  Although what I had learned that day at the workshop confirmed that I did learn differently they made it sound like I had a major problem.  I wondered if they would allow me to continue to teach if I were a dyslexic?  As research reports slowly were published on dyslexia I read everything that came my way.  Most school districts really didn't know much about the learning problem so my job was safe.  And we really didn't do anything for those students who like had dyslexia.  It took several years to establish a policy of just recognizing the learning style and then scare the hell out of parents by telling them their child was dyslexic.


My personal feelings is that the elementary teachers tried different teaching/learning styles to see what they could do with a dyslexic child and passed that on their colleagues.  I'm not sure if the high school contingent of teachers make any changes in their teaching behavior.  If they did I didn't hear of those changes.


Part 2 will deal with my coming to terms with dyslexia, admitting that I had the learning style and being surprised at the result from others around me.

A Holiday Offering....

From Thanksgiving to the beginning of the new year teaching becomes more difficult.  Grade school kids are excited and teachers have to solve the age old question, "Is Santa Claus real?"  High school teachers deal with the problem of their students telling them that their family is going to visit relatives and they will not be in class for X-amount of days.  Yes, districts have policies about all of this but reality lives on. 


In recent years school policies also include what books one can read to your class.  Of course religious books are prohibited and it is a wise school administrator that has a parents advisory committee on what might be allowed and what needs referring.  I remember in one school, as the elementary music teacher I was not allowed to teach the song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas," which in my mind was not religious but about giving gifts but I was overruled.  However, I could teach "What shall we do with a drunken Sailor."  Some days I couldn't get my mind around these problems.


One of my problems was to find something to read to my fourth grade class that had a nice holiday theme to it.  At that time I really didn't find much on the library shelf.  Today there are more books available.  But from my time I started to write a children's story about a cat who liked Christmas Trees.  Over the past twenty some years I have been refining it, re-writing and fine tuning it to my satisfaction.  It's not quite ready but as an offering to you for this holiday season I submit now with the warmest wishes for a wonderful season.


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The Perrrfect Tree

He was curled up on some double braided lines that had been thrown carelessly on the deck, with his tail covering his nose, perhaps to keep it warm but more likely to keep as much of the smells of yesterday’s ancient fish, diesel fumes, and malodorous bilge water smells from penetrating the interior of his dark, cold and wet as well as sensitive  nose.  Wadsworth was a young gray cat with incredibly soft short fur who was not happy.  

The gill net fishing boat rocked back and forth at the dock, the sea gulls shrieked at him from above, it was misting and he was all wet, and his stomach was hungry....Wadsworth was definitely unhappy.  Reaching his front paws forward and leaning backwards he stretched and then with an easy leap reached the gunnels and then down to the dock. So on this early dank fall day, Wadsworth headed down the dock and up the ramp to terra firma.

Ralph, the wharfinger, was looking out his office window and watched the young cat move with an easy grace up the ramp.  Ralph had a cat, Stumpy, who at the moment was nowhere to be seen which was good for Wadsworth who was stoking up on Stumpy’s food dish.  

“Hey, Ralph!  Ya got a new cat?”

Responding to Dana, one of the boat owners going to check on his boat, Ralph yelled back.  “He just showed up on my doorstep.  Came somewhere off a boat.  Is he yours?”

Wadsworth wasn’t about to linger.  Living with the wharfinger would only be slightly better then on a fishing boat.  He would still be too near the smells, the sounds of the working docks, those annoying seagulls and the damp salty air.  Then there was the constant pounding of halyards against the aluminum masts.  There must be a better place for me in this world thought the cat.

Wadsworth walked across the large parking lot skirting the empty spaces but going close to the parked cars and trucks.  Every once in a while, he would stop under a big wheeled truck, staying out of the rain, and just looked around through the gray mist.  With a shake of his fur coat, Wadsworth continued on until he had crossed a road and a dirty railroad yard.  There was a large warehouse building, not much used, but it did have a place for railroad workers to sit and have some coffee between times when they would cobble up freight trains going either north or south.

Without looking back the young cat walked up a small hill toward the town.  There were buildings, more parking lots, cars going to and fro and noisy smelly buses.  And bicycles!  They would come silently from behind almost running him down....on the streets and on the sidewalks.  Bicycles and fishing boats began to compete in his mind as things he could do without.  As he passed a Deli, a buxom lady saw him and came to the entry door with a small bowl of fish stew.

Wadsworth sauntered over to the offering, sniffed, then turned his back to it, sat down and began to wash his face.  First the left paw which he licked and then rubbed his face--then the right paw was licked and that side of his face was washed.  Although hungry, he had had all the fish he would ever consume, thank you.  And then he continued on his way.  

It took several days before Wadsworth wandered through the neighborhood of homes.  The further he went the less he smelled the salt air and he exchanged seagulls for crows and Jays.  Wadsworth walked for several days, eating at stray cat dishes on back porches, lightly sleeping in car ports and children’s play houses--but mostly on the move to find a place for himself where he could be happy.

One day as Wadsworth prowled a back yard looking for food he came upon a large board on board cedar six foot fence that lined the back yard.  From a convenient low branch to the top of the fence the gray cat made his way and looking from the vantage point of the fence, Wadsworth saw the most beautiful sight that he had encountered in his entire journey.  He was looking at the display yard of Bakerview Nursery.

What a sight!  As he sat on the fence he could see piles of bark to roll in, all different sizes of pots to jump in and out of, a whole sawdust pile to scratch, there were many bushes and small trees to hide under, display tables in the sun and in the center of it all was a display of a waterfall gurgling down over rocks that drained into a lazy pool full of gold fish.  To the right were raised beds of flowers with many walkways throughout the display.  It was the perfect place.  

The next morning when the display store was opened, Wadsworth walked in with his tail held high.  Here were gardening displays, tools, seeds and in one corner a pile of new burlap  to be used in wrapping roots of plants.  Wadsworth tried the burlap for comfort, turned around twice and curled up with his tail over his nose--for warmth.  When he awoke some time later someone had put down a plate of food--turkey and gravy.  Not a fish bone to be seen.  Now this was what he had been looking for--he had found a home away from the port.

For the next few weeks Wadsworth played and enjoyed Bakerview Nursery.  He played in the pots, jumped and made of mess of the bark dust and hid under bushes to jump out to surprise customers.  When customers wanted gardening tools, the exquisite  gray cat walked ahead of them with his tail up to show them the way.  If the customers needed holiday wreaths Wadsworth went and scratched on the display post to show them where they were.  And when staff went home at night, Wadsworth would sit and rest by the pool and watch the goldfish before jumping in the bark dust and making another mess.  It was the good life.

One day a large truck backed into the parking lot by the front door of the nursery and began to unload Christmas Trees.  All sorts of trees, Douglas Fir,  Norway Spruce, Virginia Pine and some Fraser Fir.  Wadsworth was on top of the trees, he was in the truck, he even rode a tree as the two delivery guys unloaded it to the display stands.  There were four foot trees, five foot, six feet and even several that were eighteen feet tall.  It was an impressive array of Christmas trees and Wadsworth was quite pleased with himself and his new play area--he would have fun showing customers the right tree for them.  It would be a busy holiday season.

It was several weeks before Christmas and all through the nursery holiday stock was flying off the shelves.  Outdoor lights were almost sold out and there was precious few Poinsettia plants left on the display rack.  The selection of Christmas trees was dwindling rapidly--already the condo/apartment crowd had snapped up all the four foot trees.  Not a one left.

Wadsworth was checking out the tree stock when an old, somewhat rusted pickup diesel truck drove up to the front parking lot.  Wadsworth slunk down and watch it drive up and a low unexplained growl came from his throat.   His fur stood out and his whiskers were all at attention.  With his belly to the ground Wadsworth oozed to under a bush where he could watch with slitted eyes.  Another growl, low and deep inside.

Wadsworth could smell the salt air and all those long ago boat smells from the port coming from the truck and in the back, a large fish net from a bow picker with more hated smells.  Wadsworth growled again.

A young couple with a daughter emerged from the pickup.  “Mom, can I look for a Christmas Tree?” said the little girl.   But it was Dad that answered.  From under a bush, Wadsworth saw the man get down on his knees and he reached out for his daughter in a hug, “Honey, I told you before we left to come here that we can’t have a Christmas tree on our sailboat--it’s only a thirty-four foot Beneteau and even if we could get a small tree if we put it in the salon you wouldn’t be able to go forward to your Vee berth.”  “Do you understand, Nora?”  

There was a nod of the small head, a shake of some dark curls over her eye and a small tear but she understood.  It is so hard to be young and not be able to participate in all the delights of the season.  There would be presents to be sure but no tree for Christmas morning.  That is how it was when you lived with your parents on a sailboat.

WELL NOW!  Wadsworth had heard all of this from his vantage of being under the bush near the front door.  And he was a professional nursery cat now.  As Lori and Mark went inside to find a wreath to put on the bow of their boat for the season, Wadsworth galvanized himself into action.  Bad smells and memories were behind him.  He would find Nora a tree.  

But the four footers were all gone.  You could cut the top of a six footer but it wouldn’t look very good.  And then Wadsworth thought of the solution.  He immediately went into the store, found the man and rubbed up against his leg.  Hard.  But Mark was looking at a string of lights that would work on 12 volt, just right for the boat electrical system.  Perhaps he could make an outline of a tree using the mast and shrouds.  It wouldn’t be like a real tree but it might do.....

“CAT, get off my feet!”  Wadsworth was doing all he could to get his attention.  He had the real answer.  The cat even threw in some purring as he rubbed against the pant legs.  Still, Mark did not respond to the cat.  This was going to be a difficult sell thought Wadsworth.  

“I think this wreath and string of lights will be all,”  he said to Lesley and Lynn, the sale clerks who proceeded to ring up the sale.  

Wadsworth was beside himself.  He even tried scratching on Mark’s pant leg, very unethical behavior for a professional sales cat.  “Very interesting cat you have here.”  “Enough small talk and politeness,” conjured Wadsworth and with an easy grace jumped on the sales counter and almost without stopping jumped on Mark’s shoulder.  “Daddy, that cat really loves you,” giggled Nora.

Both Lynn and Lesley were aghast.   “That cat has never done that before--here, let me get him down,” said Lesley, as she reached for the cat.  “No, no, no, don’t worry.  I like cats,” responded Mark as he rubbed his cheek against the soft fur of Wadsworth side.  “This is cool, let him stay and I’ll look around the store a bit more.”  “YEEEESSSS,” thought Wadsworth.  “Okay, now go this way.  Keep going!”  

As cat and man moved about the display area, they moved toward double glass doors leading to a cooler area for specialized plants.  Wadsworth was leaning, purring, kneading of Mark’s shoulders and practically pushing his face into Mark’s to aim him in the right direction.  In this cooler display were the bonsai plants, small Japanese styled trees that were exceptionally small.  All were in small and not very deep pots common to this ancient hobby. And all needed special daily care.  And there on the entry display table for the bonsai plants was a perfectly formed Douglas fir only eighteen inches high.  It was a miniature Christmas Tree that Mole and Rat would have appreciated.  And the pot was broad and heavy in just the right balance for the little tree.  It wouldn’t slide no matter how rough the water might get in the marina.

Wadsworth jumped down onto the table right next to the little bonsai tree and proceeded to wash his face.  Maybe the tail could use a little cleaning as well.  But he kept purring.

“Hey, Lori, come over here.  Maybe this would work.  Look at this little Christmas tree.”  Lynn had followed the man with the cat on his shoulder concerned as to what might happen and was quite relieved when she saw Wadsworth jump to the table.  “That is a bonsai plant and it has been in training for three years--it’s very young.  But I suspect it might do for a short time on your boat.  Both Lynn and Lesley had been sailors at one time.  “After Christmas you might want to sell it to a collector or plant it somewhere.“   

“Lori, what do you think?  We could plant it after New Years on the other side of the wharfinger  office--that place needs some sprucing up.  And we could decorate the tree each Christmas to come.”  “Nora, would you like a little Christmas tree for the salon table, Honey.”  Nora’s smile was the answer and at the same time she picked up Wadsworth in her arms and rubbed her nose in his side, such soft gray fur.  She hugged him and softly said in his fur, “Thank you, Kitten, Thank you.”   “Oh for heaven’s sake,” thought Wadsworth, and he wiggled free from Nora’s arms and jumped to the floor.  “It’s time for me to check on the goldfish.”

As Wadsworth looked around he saw he still had several eight foot trees to sell and those big eighteen footers.  They wouldn’t be a problem--a church or hotel would take them.  Yes, it had been a busy season but it was good one.  As the pickup truck from the marina pulled away, Wadsworth could see Nora sitting between her parents holding on to her new perrrrfect Christmas tree.  Then Wadsworth washed his face one more time.

Merry Christmas to all and to a Happy New Year

Les Blackwell

cc: The Perrrrect Three

2011 Christmas Holiday

Bellingham, WA 98225

'Tis a Puzzlement!

I really have a dilemma on my hands.  In recent postings I have endeavored to create a vision of a hypothetical graduate of a make believe school system.  What would this person look like if they were taught OR were allowed to learn from a curriculum that this blog was creating.  I had started this development with Leslie Briggs' (Handbook of procedures for the design of Instruction) first area of curriculum concern, that of communications.  Reading, writing, art, drama, speaking, dance, music and a few other subjects that my age I have forgotten already.  We need to teach these subjects and skills, as John Dewey would say, to keep our society alive and moving forward in knowledge.


I was doing well with my thinking and fantasying of that curriculum until two things happened.  First i was introduced to the latest iPhone by Apple with its deceptively intriguing "Siri," a personal digital assistant that you can ask to do things. You can ask it "where am I?" or "Call home,"  or "what is the square root of 23 times 1.25?"  This latter question is how I figure out the theoretical speed of my sailboat when under sail.  Can I do that in my head?  Not really.  But the iPhone 4S can which raises that age old question, "Which knowledge is of most worth?"


I can hear the comments already about what if the battery dies, or what if you drop your phone and it breaks.  Those are logical questions but how many of you keep wood chopped in case your furnace breaks down.  Or do you keep a horse to back up your car?  I'm being silly here but the true question is what knowledge is so important that I need to teach it to my child.  Much of what knowledge we use is incidental in nature.  


And that is my dilemma.  What is most important to teach our children?  I'm struggling with this question.  And the incredible smart phones are beginning to overwhelm me.  Reviewing the last ten years (2002 to 2012) there is so much information or skills that I know that are now obsolete.  Useless.  Worthless.  And much more of my known knowledge is also becoming less valuable.  


I was standing in the grocery check out line the other day and I realized that I was the only one in line that wrote a check for my groceries.  Everyone else in line was paying by a plastic card except for one other--that person paid by smart phone.  I don't know how it works but it was much faster and easier.  I suspect it is the future here today.  I still have to go home, balance my check book, compare it to my checking account (I can do that on-line) to keep tabs on my finance.  I suspect that that gentleman looks at his smart phone and knows exactly what his finances are at any time.  Fascinating.


So to my mathematics colleagues who follow this blog, please chime in as to what arithmetic or numbers or concepts or......  do we need to teach our children.  This is very troublesome.


The second thing that has really bothered me, i.e., kept me up at night thinking is the book, The Dyslexic Advantage:  Unlocking the Hidden Potential of the Dyslexic Brain by Brock Eide and Fernette Eide.  This book is making me cry, laugh, wonder, yell, and berate the world of education in general.  It is a textbook with research and stories about those that have dyslexia, a form of learning that is different from the rest.  


I have Dyslexia.  In a world that does not recognize this style of learning it puts that person in a difficult position.  In most cases, we cannot take written tests and do well. In mathematics we can't always "show" our work for we don't know how we got the right answer.  But we are creative and we think outside the box.  There was one test in my background that I scored well on--a test given by the US Air Force during my days of ROTC at my undergraduate university.  I scored well, actually I scored so high that i had to take the test over again.  I still scored well.  It was a test of space and connectivity that the Air Force had found to be a good predictor for pilot training.  But I wore glasses and that kept me out of the cockpit.  Still, my point being that much of our educational process does not work with dyslexic children and young adults.


I highly recommend to any teachers who are still teaching read this book on Dyslexia.  It is the best one so far that I have encountered.  And if a fourth of our school population might have dyslexia then we have a problem--a major problem.  


I wonder if "Teach for America" personnel (I hate calling them teachers until they've had some experience in the classroom) are given any instructions on learning disabilities.  Would they recognize the characteristics anyway or are they getting next day's lessons ready.  Just a thought.


As you can see, setting up a school system is difficult.  How should we go about teaching our children what is important?  I read this morning a short article about a Waldorf school (I have appreciated the philosophy of the Waldorf methods) that is prohibiting computers and iPads.  I'm not sure I can go along with this policy.  But like me, they are struggling with how to teach our children.


As I struggle with this "puzzlement" I wish to thank the teachers who are doing their best to give our children and young adults some guidelines to the future.  It is a tough task.

A Pondering of Thoughts

Please accept my apologies for the long period of nothingness.  I have been reading articles and books galore and thinking.  The latter is the hardest thing to do at times.  I'm fascinated with myself as I can take the easy way out in my thinking--"keep going as we have in the past."  Then I remind myself of that philosophical sentence...."How many people keep doing the same thing but expect different results."  I tend to fall into that trap.  


In reading the articles and editorials about teachers these past few months I've notice a decrease in those attacking teachers in the public schools.  It appears that everyone in the negative side want to get rid of poor teachers but it also appears that most of those wanting this objective have different criteria as to what a poor teacher looks like.  As I've said, I've seen quite a down turn in negative articles about teachers.


On the other hand, I have seen a number of articles, not quite a trend but certainly interesting, on what makes a good teacher.  I hope this continues.  While a few of these articles focus on the young teachers bringing new ideas to this classroom I hope we don't over look some of the older teachers who have been successful for twenty or twenty-five years.  


Another trend that I have noticed are both articles and television clips on countries that have excellent schools, what they do, and how do the students perform.  I was interested in noting that many of the European schools have a much shorter school day--hard to measure as they include a hot meal and then go into leisure time activities, art, music and in Norway's case, skiing.  However in the asian schools time in the classroom reaches nine hours a day.  I haven't found if the arts are included in the asian schools.  Shanghai (China) has a school that on one test scored higher then any other schools worldwide in mathematics and science but a caution, it is only one school and there appears to be a very large waiting list to get into this school.  Cream of the crop so to speak.  Measuring schools, teachers and students is a very difficult thing as there are many variables to ponder.


I relate all this as I have been pondering as well.  What is a good education?  Is it just things or "stuff" we learn?  What of our society does we want to pass on to our kids?  


I admit with somewhat of a smile on my face of the following things that I have learned in school that is useless, obsolete, and of little or no value.  For instance, I can develop negatives and then black and white prints (far better and quicker with a digital camera and a computer).  I can uncoil hemp rope for sailing ships (they don't make it anymore).  I can use special drawing pens for making of overhead transparencies--well, for that matter I can make all sorts of transparencies which we don't use anymore....We now use PowerPoint Presentations.  So many things I have learned that are obsolete.  I still remember reading in a Boston museum of a parent's letter to a school board complaining of their children using metal nibs for writing--those kids needed to know how to sharpen a turkey quill for writing.  Those metal nibs are in my memory bank as I had to use those same nibs in writing.  I also had a small bottle in the upper right hand corner of my school desk for ink which the teacher had to go around the room filling said ink "wells".  Hence my nick name and the results of some fights on the playground, "Inkwell."


So what should we be teaching our kids?  I also have a passion for what is around the corner, what does the future hold for us in this society?  Reading the book that I have mentioned earlier, "The Dyslexic Advantage," a characteristic of many Dyslexic people is thinking or seeing outside the box.  Many with dyslexia see the world through different eye sight.  I guess I'm one of them.  Not only what should we be teaching our kids but how should we be teaching them.  Or maybe, just maybe we shouldn't be teaching them but guiding them as they teach themselves.  My, what a thought.


I raise this point as I discover that today's recruits in the US Army are given iPhones with learning material already loaded on them.  A recruit has to study the material and then teach the rest of his squad.  


I spend a couple of more days recently in my local hospital for checkups and as is my wont, questioned the nurses, assistant nurses, nurses in training and techies of all sorts as to their training, a form of entertainment for me.  Where did they learn what they do, how could it have been better, what are they going to learn next. One young techie when I asked what would be the side effects of a drug I had just taken, flip out her iPhone and using an app told me the scientific name of the drug, that there were no side effects and it would last some many hours.  


And this is the major point I am pondering--how much "stuff" do my students have to know and how much can they retrieve from the smart phone?  Maybe much of what we are teaching is already old stuff?  


I was reading a sailing magazine lately--I like to sail. At one time I raced my sail boat extensively in the pacific northwest.  One of my crew (besides me) had  to be a navigator, one who could read charts, plot courses magnetically, figure out tides and currents and a hosts of other navigational duties.  In Sail magazine recently someone wrote of a major race on one of the Great Lakes in which the navigator did just what I previously told you--plotted the course, kept track of where the boat was in the body of water, figured out how fast they were sailing--stuff like that.  When he came on deck and announced his finding in a loud voice, much of the rest of the crew reached in to their clothing, pull out their iPhones  and said, "Yeah, you're right."  All the latest smart phones have GPS tracking software and charts.  It tells the owner just where they are, either on land or sea.  I wonder if we need navigators anymore.


So I am going to leave you with an assignment.  It is a complex assignment really.  How should we use technology in our schools?  If all my fifth grade kids had iPads with the web as a source of information, what should I teach?  I have some idea but I want you to think about it first before I write about this problem "...seeking a solution or a discussion."


The following little example is exciting.  When I first taught high school band for a short time, I always had the band tune up, get in tune.  Play an "A"  and see if we all could get the same "A".  Part of my task was to get the kids to train their ear to listen and also to play in tune.  Today's music teachers now have an app on an iPhone or iPad that allows each student playing to tune their instrument to an "A note" and they can see in a graph how close or far off they are.  I suspect the more a music student uses this device the more they themselves will train their ear.  What a thought!


Okay, you have your assignment.  How should we use the technologies in our teaching and what subjects do we need to teach.  Got it?  You can either write me direct:  leslieblackwell@comcast.net or leave comments after this blog.


And then go thank a teacher who helped you learn to think.