Growing Versions

 The summer is often a time of release.  All pent up after months of rain, fog and obligations, we are ushered into a season of non-stop action and fun. There are amusement parks and fair grounds to visit. There are road trips to embark on and late night parties on the long ambitious list of things to do. The fun is fun. Don't get me wrong.  The din of bbqs and social gatherings and the trips to the beach with friends are what I crave all winter long, and finally it is here and it is great. However, the part that I seem to persistently overlook is that I still need to rest. My kids still need time gather their thoughts and figure out what they think about things.  After a string of busy activities, my kids often get to a point of frustration and if we go past that point, downright fury. Summer is a great time for thrill rides and adventures and socializing. It is also a time to grow and learn and be quiet and amble and sit and think and dream and b...

I used to think cursive was another language. Now, I'm beginning to realize that in a way it is.  Handwriting opens up different pathways in the brain than printing does, just like acquiring another vocabulary does. I heard on the radio yesterday that kids aren't learning how to do it anymore. Some kids grow up not knowing the word "signature". Hear the story here:  Students are not learning to write in cursive. My daughter has been practising on her own for a while now. Until I heard this story, I had underestimated her efforts. I figured she 'd eventually get it formally taught to her. Now I'm not so sure. Kids who have learning disabilities benefit from learning cursive because it is a tactile skill that assists with listening. Not only that, but a thank you text is just not as nice as a handwritten thank you note. What do you think?

I found myself distractedly fingering the place where the bra and bra strap meet the other day. As I waited for the light to change, I realized that I was subconsciously expecting to feel the bump of the breastfeeding clasp under my shirt, anticipating the release of the clasp.  But, alas, that bra is either packed away or was so full of holes it required more drastic action and its requirement is, for the time being at least, unnecessary. Someone I know who grew up smoking, and finally quit after 20 years, told me once that for a good 15 years after quitting he still reached for his phantom pack in his breast pocket each and every time he got into his car. I have found myself going to call a friend and stop myself from using a phone number that has been out of service for years.  I always marvel at how my fingers remember passwords that other parts of my brain cannot.  If I am forced to write down a password without a keyboard, I inevitably get it wrong. The oth...

When anyone becomes an authority, that is the end of him as far as development is concerned. (1948) Frank Lloyd Wright Do you consider yourself an expert in something? Have you been called one before? Recently, I was.  Instead of feeling full of pride, I felt deflated and stuck. I had to ask myself why. Well, for one thing, the term expert is so loosely used that we all get to be one, one way or another.  Lately, I've been noticing the term "expert" increasingly being bandied about in my work but also at dinner parties, thrown around in a half joking/ half serious way of describing a person's knowledge.   Secondly, experts are not necessarily that accurate or reliable.  I myself flat out refuse to learn some things because I reason an expert is already doing all the heavy lifting in that area and they can think it through for me.  As it turns out, when I watched the Doc Zone's documentary,  The Trouble with Experts  , I am not the only one....