Morning Thanks

Garrison Keillor once said we'd all be better off if we all started the day by giving thanks for just one thing. I'll try.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Promiscuous pedagogy

A TK photobomb

So our grandson is in Pre-K, which for whatever reason is called TK at school he attends. He's proud as a peacock for being there, largely because he can shoulder his bag in the morning and traipse off with his big brother and sister like the hot shot grade schooler he almost is. 

Anyway, he's off to school now and loving it. What content is getting into his head isn't always clear--I'm sure there is some. One afternoon, his grandma picked him up and quizzed him in the ordinary way:  "Well, Ian what did you learn in school today?" He pulled himself up into his back seat throne. "Science," he said.  Apparently, all of it. 

What's evident, and what makes me laugh just thinking about it, is the way he repeats pedagogy.  I don't know if his teacher has any idea how deeply she's affecting him, but it comes out in his rather extraordinary, ordinary conversation.  

[Please understand that I'm fully capable of being a braying grandparent, but I'm not doing that here. This reflection comes from a teacher who happens also to be a grandpa. Leave a note if you'd like me begin to extol our grandkids' virtues.] 

So just before Christmas, sitting with his best buddy, his grandma, he grabbed a nutcracker (think THE Nutcracker) off the coffee table, pointed at yet another nutcracker up on the mantel above the fireplace, then summoned his grandma's attention.  "So, let's compare nutcrackers," he said.

He's smart, but he didn't dream up that rhetoric. Comparison/contrast is something he lugged home from TK.

Or this. 

My wife was interrupted from their play last Sunday by the casserole of Mexican food she was baking in the oven. They'd been drawing together with crayons, and her distraction was obviously becoming a distraction for him because he took hold of her lovingly and said, "It's time to get back to work." 

By way of her student, his sweet teacher has a presence way out here on the banks of the Floyd River.

And yet another. His grandma has considerable issues with technology and is, he knows, in need of remedial help with Angry Birds. The kid rather loves the omniscience of a being a teacher. Her mind a tangle, Ian looked up at her last week after dinner, then back at the iPad, then pointed.  "Now listen carefully," he said, "because this is very important." 

He's five years old! 

I'm not arguing the kid is a genius. All I'm saying is what comes home with him from TK is more than content he's picking up. He's repeating her blessed pedagogy. Forty years in the classroom, and I never realized I had that much power.  But then I didn't teach TK.

It's so cute, his grandma says. And I laugh too, Grandpa the Teacher.

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