Is this a blog? What is this?

Of course this is a blog!  And I'm pretty sure most of you guys know that, too, which is why I don't often ask you, "Is this a blog?"

Then, why do so many people feel the need to ask kids questions like this, where the answer is already known?  What is a question, anyway?  According to one of the google dictionary (authority on all matters, of course), a question is:

"A sentence worded or expressed so as to elicit information"

 When we ask a child, "What colour is my shirt?" what kind of information are we eliciting?  We probably aren't really wondering what colour our own shirt is, unless we're colourblind.  No, instead we're wondering if the child knows what colour the shirt is.  Of course we'd like our child to learn colours, but using these types of questions doesn't teach anything; it tests.  And parents don't need to test their children.

In my work, I see lots of parents interacting with their children, and one of the main conversation strategies that parents use is questions.  Parents seem to love to ask their kids questions.  And, why not?  It seems like this would be a way to get children to talk, right?  It's difficult to have a conversation with someone who has little or no words, like a kiddo or baby, so often we resort to interrogatives to help us along.

Here's the thing: what questions really do is shut down a conversation by limiting what the child can talk about.  Take these examples:

• Child: [playing with a train]
• Mom: "What colour is this car?"
• Child: "Green" [pushes train up the ramp]
• Mom: "Good job!  It's green.  Where is the train going?"
• Child: "To work."
• Mom: "Where does the train work?"
• Child: "Rail yard."

• Child: [pushing a train up the ramp]
• Mom: "The green train's going up, up, up!  My train is going to the store." [moves her train along the track]
• Child: "Mine going to work in the rail yard."
• Mom: "I bet that's hard work."
• Child: "Yep.  But he strong."

When we add language in the form of comments to a child's play, they learn sentence structure as well as concepts such as colours, direction (up/down, etc), numbers, and much more.  We are, without even trying, teaching our children just by talking!  Children also often feel comfortable expanding and adding their own comments to the play when they aren't being "tested" with too many questions.

The other benefit to decreasing questions is that it gives us a chance to sit back and see where the child wants to direct the play, instead of pulling the child's language to our ideas.  Then, we can follow their interest, which will keep them talking more and longer.  Asking a child to play based on our ideas is the equivalent of asking you guys to discuss my favourite TV show...whether you like it or not.

Some ideas to use instead of questions:

• Comment on what your child is doing.  (ie: "Your train went down the mountain!  Weeee!")
• Comment on what you are doing in play (ie: "I'm going to make this train really long!!")
• Use phrases like "I wonder..." or "Hmm...what if..."  (this is a nice way to ask a question without really asking one! :) )
• Join in your child's play physically, rather than verbally.  Let your child initiate the conversation. For example, grab a train and run it on a track with your child, rather than talking at first.

And, remember not to stress too much about not asking questions.  Sometimes we have to!  But making sure the questions aren't the norm will allow your child to explore his creativity without too many boundaries.

For more ideas and discussion about this topic, you can check out Heather Shumaker's post.

Organic Learning

Recently (okay, today), I read this post about the use of calendars in preschools...and how maybe enforcing this kind of rote learning of time concepts might not be as great as we thought.  The post is on Heather Shumaker's blog -- she's also the author of "It's Okay Not To Share," a book I believe I've mentioned in a previous post.  Shumaker writes about what she calls the "Renegade Rules" of childrearing; things like, well, allowing kids not to share. :)  Most of the renegade rules are counterculture (our culture anyway), but not at all counter-intuitive.  Her point, I believe, is that kids will learn.  Period, full stop.  So, we don't need to shove learning down their throats.  All we need to do is provide proper environments to allow (what I would call) organic learning, an opportunity for the child to stumble upon the concept in their own time and in their own way.

Reading some of her ideas has caused me, not only to think about my future as a parent, but also to reevaluate what I do as a professional.  As a speech pathologist, I work with children who have a variety of special needs beyond their speech or language difficulties.  I've worked with many children on the Autism spectrum, children who have Attention Deficits, and children with unlabelled learning difficulties but who struggle in school.  Through all of this, I thought I have strived to allow my clients to learn in the most natural way possible, but looking back I know this probably isn't the case.  Sitting at a table with a single, sometimes unfamiliar adult, is not the normal way children learn.  I should have been tipped off by the fact that with some of my kids, our first goal was learning how to sit quietly and respond to commands like "Give me," and "come here."

Now, for those of you in this or a related field, I have to specify that I am no behaviour consultant.  Behaviour consultants are the professionals that works exclusively with children on the Autism spectrum.  They tend to have a more behaviourist view, and use a lot of discreet trials for learning.  This works well for children on the Autism spectrum, so there is no judgement here about the use of those kinds of structured situations, but I wanted to specify that that is not what I do.

However, I am often at that end of the spectrum of therapeutic techniques.  It's just easier to feel like you're isolating a certain skill if you've got a structured activity.  And it's easier to feel like you're measuring it if you're sitting at a table where you can easily tic off wrong and right answers.

But, if as Heather Shumaker says (and everyone already knows), children learn best in natural situations with minimal adult control, why should children with "labels" be any different?

I'm sort of veering off track here (baby brain!), but let me give an example to try and get back on track.  :)  One of my first things I do when I come to a new preschool, or even sometimes a home, is to ask if they've got a schedule or calendar posted.  "This will help your child know what to expect and when to expect it," I would state expertly.  And, to some extent this is true, especially for children with Autism.  But, really, children's knowledge of time as we understand it is fairly slow in developing.  I mean, kids don't even start to use past tense usually until around 3 years of age.  And even then it's often, "Last year," instead of yesterday, or "100 million hours ago" instead of a few minutes.  "Monday" is the same as "Saturday," unless an adult reminds them that "no, on Saturday there's no daycare, remember?"

So, really, why do we teach kids the days of the week and the numbers on a calendar if they have enough trouble remembering that after nap we have snack, and after snack we go home?  They can, as Shumaker pointed out, still learn time and number concepts organically by playing natural counting games on the playground, being told what activity comes next, or talking about what they did that morning when mum comes to pick them up.  (these are, by the way, all things I also do in my therapy.  Like I said, I'm not totally a sit-at-the-desk kind of therapist. :) )

To play devil's advocate, I'd like to answer my above question about why we teach kids calendar concepts.  While I agree with Shumaker that the whole task of sitting down at circle and going through the days of the week might be a bit inappropriate, I do think that using calendars to show big events coming up can be very useful.  For example, if there is going to be a big change in schedule, like a field trip or grandparents' visit coming up soon, it can be helpful to cross days off of a calendar to visually show the passage of time.  Granted, you aren't going to say, "On the Tuesday the seventh of October, grandma is coming."  You can, instead, say "Look, in eight more sleeps, grandma is coming!"  Then, after every 'sleep' you can cross off another day and count how many are left.  You can even show things in relation to each other.  For example, "In 8 more sleeps, grandma comes.  She's coming right after we go to the museum."  In this way you are teaching number concepts, as well as time, by giving it meaning, but you aren't explicitly and rote-ly (yes I did just make up that word!) teaching it.

What do you guys think about teaching time to little ones?

On the Topic of Babble Neglect

So, I know I began this blog with the intention of making it cover two subjects: motherhood and speech pathology topics.  This is still my intent.  However, as some of you may have noticed, there have been many posts about motherhood and not so many (okay, none) on the Speech Pathology side of things.  I'm sure most of you can surmise why this might be (hello, I have a 3 week old. :) ), but I thought I should explain myself anyway.  And for those wondering, there probably won't be any speech pathology entries for awhile. :)  Here's why:

Recently I read an article from Brain Child magazine about the "Mother Brain" (written by Leanna James) that grows alongside a mum's normal brain as the baby grows inside the mum.  This brain, says the author, "lives in a different time zone, at once much slower and much faster than the 'regular' one."

My mother brain doesn't process speech pathology right now, or anything other than mothering.  Before becoming a mother, I thought I would dread this, and truth be told, occasionally I do.  In the article, James describes the clash like this:

"And then someone asks me a question, and I must summon my powers of language and logic.  My other brain revels in this sort of thing.  It loves to classify, to analyze, to approve or disapprove, and to describe the entire process in streams of words.  [...]  I open my mouth to hold forth, but mother-brain answers instead of me, and what comes out is ... very little.  Sometimes nothing."

For the past few weeks, this type of situation has plagued me.  Not that I have a bazillion colleagues or friends asking me difficult, non motherly questions, but I just find I can't think properly anymore.  Every time I try to think,  I think Ebba Ebba Ebba, like this little hum inside my head instead of real thoughts.

But, reading James' article, I realized that giving in to mother-brain is much less than traumatic and much more that magical.  Another favourite quote:

"I try to explain [motherhood], but it doesn't come out right, somehow.  It's incredible, I tell my friends, anxious to share the news.  My daughter cried, my daughter pooped, my daughter looked at me and laughed.  I hear my own words and think, is that all you have to say?

"But wait, the mother-brain protests.  Worlds within worlds unfolded in front of your eyes, universes the size of a pea appeared in your palm!  Tell them about that.  Tell them about [my daughter's] gaze, how there's nothing to compare with that."

I could keep quoting the whole blog long.  The article was amazing, really, and reminded me to be proud and happy to be a mom of such an amazing little princess.  But, that would just be boring.  Instead I'll let my mother brain take over and I'll go snuggle my little bundle right now.  Because, after all, what is more important than that?

-AMC