Reading Lessons
The principal told me today that he spent some time with Big Son, and asked him to read from his latest lesson. He can read it all right, but he told the principal he didn`t know what some of the words meant.
"He didn`t know what a beaver or a dam or a birch tree were," said the principal.
"I see," I said, wondering why he found this so surprising.
When we applied to this school when we were still in Tokyo, I sent a long letter explaining our situation, and explaining that my kids were fluent in spoken English but their reading and vocabulary were far below grade level. Big Son is actually more than fluent -- he is quite articulate, when he is talking about something he understands. But when he doesn`t know the words, he doesn`t know the words. Beavers, dams and birch trees do not figure prominently in our household conversations.
I faced a similar problem in Tokyo. I could read earnings reports, and Japanese government statistics reports, and I used to even read a foreign exchange-related blog in Japanese everyday, set up by a trader at a Tokyo bank with too much free time on his hands. But when Big Son was in second grade, I found I could no longer help him with his homework all the time -- I didn`t know enough of the kanji characters for the animals, or the colorful action verbs.
I used to give it my best try.
"The little, ah.... the little something...." I would stammer.
"The little fox," said Big Son. "See, the picture of the fox?"
"Right. The little fox did, ah.... did something... in the woods, and his friends got angry." I tried to discern from the picture what he did in the woods to anger his friends. Shat in the woods, maybe? No -- I knew that word, and that wasn`t it.
I thought it was tough then, but it`s so much worse now. I really hate to see my kid struggling so much. It would be very easy to blame the new school, but the truth is, there are many people at this school trying to help him. I truly believe he would be having similar problems at any school -- any school, that is, except for his old school in Japan, with his old friends.
"I hate San Francisco," Big Son keeps saying.
"Why?" I ask, because he has different reasons all the time.
"Because there are nuns here," he says.
"Would you like it if there weren`t any nuns?" I ask.
"No," he says.
Huggy Nun told me after school today that Big Son`s bad attitude is "our cross to bear," and that she would pray for us. Whenever she says stuff like that, she makes me feel as if I`m in a Monty Python nun skit or something. I know she means well, though. At least with the principal more involved now, she is less likely to make Big Son cry.
"I don`t understand why he has so many problems. Some kids can move to another country and be just fine," said Huggy Nun.
"I know, like this kid right here," I said, and pointed at Daughter, who was running around the playground with her new friends, a giant smile across her face.
Sometimes I can`t help but wonder, is she really my Daughter, or some mutant cheerful alien implanted in my womb? How did I spawn something so cheerful?
Okay, I`d better go. It`s time to help Big Son with his reading. What kind of red wine goes with beavers and birch trees? I think I`ll open some cheapo Ravenswood Zinfandel I bought on sale at Safeway. Anything to help get us over the dam.
"He didn`t know what a beaver or a dam or a birch tree were," said the principal.
"I see," I said, wondering why he found this so surprising.
When we applied to this school when we were still in Tokyo, I sent a long letter explaining our situation, and explaining that my kids were fluent in spoken English but their reading and vocabulary were far below grade level. Big Son is actually more than fluent -- he is quite articulate, when he is talking about something he understands. But when he doesn`t know the words, he doesn`t know the words. Beavers, dams and birch trees do not figure prominently in our household conversations.
I faced a similar problem in Tokyo. I could read earnings reports, and Japanese government statistics reports, and I used to even read a foreign exchange-related blog in Japanese everyday, set up by a trader at a Tokyo bank with too much free time on his hands. But when Big Son was in second grade, I found I could no longer help him with his homework all the time -- I didn`t know enough of the kanji characters for the animals, or the colorful action verbs.
I used to give it my best try.
"The little, ah.... the little something...." I would stammer.
"The little fox," said Big Son. "See, the picture of the fox?"
"Right. The little fox did, ah.... did something... in the woods, and his friends got angry." I tried to discern from the picture what he did in the woods to anger his friends. Shat in the woods, maybe? No -- I knew that word, and that wasn`t it.
I thought it was tough then, but it`s so much worse now. I really hate to see my kid struggling so much. It would be very easy to blame the new school, but the truth is, there are many people at this school trying to help him. I truly believe he would be having similar problems at any school -- any school, that is, except for his old school in Japan, with his old friends.
"I hate San Francisco," Big Son keeps saying.
"Why?" I ask, because he has different reasons all the time.
"Because there are nuns here," he says.
"Would you like it if there weren`t any nuns?" I ask.
"No," he says.
Huggy Nun told me after school today that Big Son`s bad attitude is "our cross to bear," and that she would pray for us. Whenever she says stuff like that, she makes me feel as if I`m in a Monty Python nun skit or something. I know she means well, though. At least with the principal more involved now, she is less likely to make Big Son cry.
"I don`t understand why he has so many problems. Some kids can move to another country and be just fine," said Huggy Nun.
"I know, like this kid right here," I said, and pointed at Daughter, who was running around the playground with her new friends, a giant smile across her face.
Sometimes I can`t help but wonder, is she really my Daughter, or some mutant cheerful alien implanted in my womb? How did I spawn something so cheerful?
Okay, I`d better go. It`s time to help Big Son with his reading. What kind of red wine goes with beavers and birch trees? I think I`ll open some cheapo Ravenswood Zinfandel I bought on sale at Safeway. Anything to help get us over the dam.
posted by L. at 5:19 PM
4 Comments:
Dont forget, girls mature VERY differently from boys.
Your son is also that little bit older and things are just that little bit different when you are just a few years older.
My father was an immigrant to Canada at the age of 12. He came with almost no english and had some very tough first years. He got by in his reading and writing by becoming very involved with books. His book series of choice was 'Horocio Hornblower' or something like that. Does your son like to read non school related books? That could help him a lot with vocab and understanding.
Do you remember the big fuss over testing a few years ago? The inner city kids were being tested in a vocabulary that might as well have been Sanskrit. They had no frame of reference to life in the country or even the suburbs. They had never traveled. Many had never seen a cow, let alone a farm. The tests were slanted toward suburbia and rural life.
It must be much harder for a child coming to a new country.
I spend a lot of time with the girls and google. Books are fine but google is faster. We stop, we look it up, we go back.
Rebecca and Rochelle are day and night. I have no idea why - 10 months apart and total opposites.
This is a huge problem across the board, and especially in education -- when you get someone trying to give standardized tests to non-standard kids. See http://www.sinasohn.net/notebooks/200410061800.html for a discussion...
But pleasure reading (fiction and such) is really the best way to expand vocabulary. I have a fairly huge vocabulary because I read constantly when I was younger. My wife, who is much smarter than I, does not have such an expansive vocabulary, only because she did not read for pleasure much. Figure out what he'd be interested in and get it for him, be it Harry Potter, Science Fiction, or mysteries.
"I hate San Francisco," Big Son keeps saying.
"Why?" I ask, because he has different reasons all the time.
"Because there are nuns here," he says.
-----
Oh man, he'd really hate the Vatican.
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