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Mass update.
Voted on my way to work this morning. On a Diebold machine.
Now I am fretting. If Democrats can't pull this election off, they can't win anything. And I actually worry that it might be the case.
I am mortified that the Maryland Senate race is so close.
Fret fret fret.
LJ:
I just haven't felt much like updating, lately. I've half-written a bunch of posts in my head, but nothing makes it on to the screen. Instead I've been taking up much more worthwhile, productive online pursuits, like being the last person in the Western Hemisphere to discover Sudoku.
But posting takes my mind off fretting momentarily, so here's a mega-update of several disjointed areas. Bear with me.
Work:
An interesting opportunity has arisen. It looks as though we're going to start working with the university's massive Center for Vaccine Development. They run a series of studies in which research participants are admitted to an locked inpatient facility and kept in isolation for a few weeks - either because they've been given a live-virus vaccine, or because they're participating in a vaccine test which requires them to be exposed to an infectious agent. They're looking for a psychologist to evaluate potential volunteers for their ability to tolerate study conditions, and possibly to deal with emergency psych issues that arise on the ward, and Lydia has volunteered me.
In the short run, it will help pay a small portion of my salary. In the longer run, there's the potential of some very interesting research opportunities. Previous studies have found that psychological factors (especially stress) affect the way the immune system responds to vaccination. For example, they've looked at the timing of medical students' Hepatitis B vaccinations, and found that students vaccinated at the beginning of the year developed immunity earlier in the vaccine series than students who were immunized just before final exams. But this line of research is still in its infancy - we know that the general effect exists, but not a great deal about its clinical implications, the subtleties of how it applies, which psychological factors matter most, etc. If we get involved with the Center for Vaccine Development, we'll be beautifully positioned to do some studies of our own, in an area where there is so much still to learn. How cool would that be?
One of the things Lydia and I are discussing is how this concept might apply to bioterrorism attacks. The primary response to something like a smallpox attack will be a massive vaccination campaign. How will the effectiveness of those vaccinations be affected by the (presumed) prevailing atmosphere of panic? Would we actually need to plan to distribute higher doses of vaccine to ensure immunity in the face of an immune system compromised by extreme acute stress? Okay, so it would be hard to construct a study to test that question... but right now, I don't think anyone is even asking the questions. This might be a chance to really do something important.
Music:
Little-known benefits of organized religion: a member of my church works for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, and periodically he offers free concert tickets through the church e-mail list. Saturday night, I got tickets for a concert featuring works Mozart composed in his last year of life. I was blown away by the Clarinet Concerto in A Major - I didn't know a clarinet could even sound like that - but the pinnacle of the evening, the music that sent me away thoroughly drunk, was the Requiem.
I used to sing classical music. I never had a solo-quality voice, but I was an accomplished choral singer. In high school I sang with my Dad in a community group called the Cantata Singers; I was one of three high school members, and most of the rest had been singing the great sacred music repertoire for thirty years or more. I learned so much, and loved singing with them so much.
A mixed community and college choir in a nearby town had plans to perform the Mozart Requiem. My Dad and I drove over there every week to rehearse, but at the last moment he decided that he didn't think the director was up to snuff. The dress rehearsal for the Requiem conflicted with an ordinary Cantata Singers rehearsal, so Dad decided that we wouldn't go... or, obviously, sing in the concert. Over the next few years I had several other near-miss experiences with the Requiem - I arrived at Reed College a year after the college chorus performed it, had an unbreakable regular commitment on the nights when a Portland community chorus was going to be rehearsing it, and so on. I've never sung it with an orchestra, never performed it...
...but I know every note of the music, and I felt it, lived it, along with the BSO. It was an amazing concert, and it's made me miss singing classical music so acutely. My voice has really gone to crap after all these years without singing, though.
Alex's weight/diet/doctor's visit:
She gained a pound since her last visit. That might not sound like much, but it represents nearly 5% of her body weight, and it's enough to start her moving back up the growth chart. She's at the 17th percentile for all girls, and the 5th percentile for girls of her height. Which is fine; there's nothing wrong with being a skinny kid. What was scary was her drop from the 70th percentile to the 60th, to the 50th, to the 12th.
I wound up continuing to keep the food diary (after my initial frustration), and spent an hour or so entering everything into FitDay. It was useful. I learned that some things I think of as good foods for her to eat - Cheerios, for example - don't really amount to much nutrition in the small portions she actually consumes. Interestingly enough, it turned out that her calorie intake didn't vary all that much between what I mentally categorized as a "good eating day" and a "bad eating day." She took in 850-950 calories per day on all three diary days. Which turns out to be substantially less than the 1300 calories recommended for a toddler of her height, but I am refusing to worry about that right now. She's growing - ergo, she's eating enough.
We did have blood drawn to test for anemia, because of my concerns that she's seemed tired/low energy. He ordered our second lead test at the same time, which was nice - one less needlestick. Although the phlebotomist was excellent; Alex's crying peaked with the tourniquet, and she didn't seem to notice the needle going in at all.
In other doctor's appointment news: he still hears the heart murmur, but it's very soft. Everything else looks fine. We refused the Hepatitis A and flu vaccines, and our pediatrician seemed more pleased than concerned. He said he finds it embarrassing that last year he was supposed to convince parents of 3-year-olds that their kids didn't need a flu shot, and this year he's supposed to convince the very same parents that now their kids do need one.
Conversations with my daughter, Part IV:
Alex: lifts forkful of corn to Michael's mouth and painstakingly guides it in.
Michael: innocently eats corn.
Alex: No, no, Papa - Alex's corn!
Me: Alex, it's time to teach you a new word: "entrapment."
Alex: Thanks.
(We give Alex a mini Nestle Crunch bar (no flames, please), part of her Halloween loot.)
Me: There are letters on the other side, see? (C-R-U-N-C-H)
Alex: C, R...
Me: What other letters are there?
Alex: (brief pause) Two C's!
I know it's awfully early to extrapolate, but conversations like that second one make me worry about how we'll meet her educational needs.
Now I am fretting. If Democrats can't pull this election off, they can't win anything. And I actually worry that it might be the case.
I am mortified that the Maryland Senate race is so close.
Fret fret fret.
LJ:
I just haven't felt much like updating, lately. I've half-written a bunch of posts in my head, but nothing makes it on to the screen. Instead I've been taking up much more worthwhile, productive online pursuits, like being the last person in the Western Hemisphere to discover Sudoku.
But posting takes my mind off fretting momentarily, so here's a mega-update of several disjointed areas. Bear with me.
Work:
An interesting opportunity has arisen. It looks as though we're going to start working with the university's massive Center for Vaccine Development. They run a series of studies in which research participants are admitted to an locked inpatient facility and kept in isolation for a few weeks - either because they've been given a live-virus vaccine, or because they're participating in a vaccine test which requires them to be exposed to an infectious agent. They're looking for a psychologist to evaluate potential volunteers for their ability to tolerate study conditions, and possibly to deal with emergency psych issues that arise on the ward, and Lydia has volunteered me.
In the short run, it will help pay a small portion of my salary. In the longer run, there's the potential of some very interesting research opportunities. Previous studies have found that psychological factors (especially stress) affect the way the immune system responds to vaccination. For example, they've looked at the timing of medical students' Hepatitis B vaccinations, and found that students vaccinated at the beginning of the year developed immunity earlier in the vaccine series than students who were immunized just before final exams. But this line of research is still in its infancy - we know that the general effect exists, but not a great deal about its clinical implications, the subtleties of how it applies, which psychological factors matter most, etc. If we get involved with the Center for Vaccine Development, we'll be beautifully positioned to do some studies of our own, in an area where there is so much still to learn. How cool would that be?
One of the things Lydia and I are discussing is how this concept might apply to bioterrorism attacks. The primary response to something like a smallpox attack will be a massive vaccination campaign. How will the effectiveness of those vaccinations be affected by the (presumed) prevailing atmosphere of panic? Would we actually need to plan to distribute higher doses of vaccine to ensure immunity in the face of an immune system compromised by extreme acute stress? Okay, so it would be hard to construct a study to test that question... but right now, I don't think anyone is even asking the questions. This might be a chance to really do something important.
Music:
Little-known benefits of organized religion: a member of my church works for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, and periodically he offers free concert tickets through the church e-mail list. Saturday night, I got tickets for a concert featuring works Mozart composed in his last year of life. I was blown away by the Clarinet Concerto in A Major - I didn't know a clarinet could even sound like that - but the pinnacle of the evening, the music that sent me away thoroughly drunk, was the Requiem.
I used to sing classical music. I never had a solo-quality voice, but I was an accomplished choral singer. In high school I sang with my Dad in a community group called the Cantata Singers; I was one of three high school members, and most of the rest had been singing the great sacred music repertoire for thirty years or more. I learned so much, and loved singing with them so much.
A mixed community and college choir in a nearby town had plans to perform the Mozart Requiem. My Dad and I drove over there every week to rehearse, but at the last moment he decided that he didn't think the director was up to snuff. The dress rehearsal for the Requiem conflicted with an ordinary Cantata Singers rehearsal, so Dad decided that we wouldn't go... or, obviously, sing in the concert. Over the next few years I had several other near-miss experiences with the Requiem - I arrived at Reed College a year after the college chorus performed it, had an unbreakable regular commitment on the nights when a Portland community chorus was going to be rehearsing it, and so on. I've never sung it with an orchestra, never performed it...
...but I know every note of the music, and I felt it, lived it, along with the BSO. It was an amazing concert, and it's made me miss singing classical music so acutely. My voice has really gone to crap after all these years without singing, though.
Alex's weight/diet/doctor's visit:
She gained a pound since her last visit. That might not sound like much, but it represents nearly 5% of her body weight, and it's enough to start her moving back up the growth chart. She's at the 17th percentile for all girls, and the 5th percentile for girls of her height. Which is fine; there's nothing wrong with being a skinny kid. What was scary was her drop from the 70th percentile to the 60th, to the 50th, to the 12th.
I wound up continuing to keep the food diary (after my initial frustration), and spent an hour or so entering everything into FitDay. It was useful. I learned that some things I think of as good foods for her to eat - Cheerios, for example - don't really amount to much nutrition in the small portions she actually consumes. Interestingly enough, it turned out that her calorie intake didn't vary all that much between what I mentally categorized as a "good eating day" and a "bad eating day." She took in 850-950 calories per day on all three diary days. Which turns out to be substantially less than the 1300 calories recommended for a toddler of her height, but I am refusing to worry about that right now. She's growing - ergo, she's eating enough.
We did have blood drawn to test for anemia, because of my concerns that she's seemed tired/low energy. He ordered our second lead test at the same time, which was nice - one less needlestick. Although the phlebotomist was excellent; Alex's crying peaked with the tourniquet, and she didn't seem to notice the needle going in at all.
In other doctor's appointment news: he still hears the heart murmur, but it's very soft. Everything else looks fine. We refused the Hepatitis A and flu vaccines, and our pediatrician seemed more pleased than concerned. He said he finds it embarrassing that last year he was supposed to convince parents of 3-year-olds that their kids didn't need a flu shot, and this year he's supposed to convince the very same parents that now their kids do need one.
Conversations with my daughter, Part IV:
Alex: lifts forkful of corn to Michael's mouth and painstakingly guides it in.
Michael: innocently eats corn.
Alex: No, no, Papa - Alex's corn!
Me: Alex, it's time to teach you a new word: "entrapment."
Alex: Thanks.
(We give Alex a mini Nestle Crunch bar (no flames, please), part of her Halloween loot.)
Me: There are letters on the other side, see? (C-R-U-N-C-H)
Alex: C, R...
Me: What other letters are there?
Alex: (brief pause) Two C's!
I know it's awfully early to extrapolate, but conversations like that second one make me worry about how we'll meet her educational needs.
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The soloist for this performance was a 17-year-old boy, but you'd never be able to tell it with your eyes closed.
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Could you expand on this, if you feel like it? I think I know what you mean, but I also think I could be interpreting wrong.
Me: Alex, it's time to teach you a new word: "entrapment."
Alex: Thanks.
Janet says: Aww!
Dale says: Be careful when you sharpen your child's intellect. It will come back to cut you. *evil grin* "See, Mama, I knew there had to be a word for it, I just needed you to tell me what it is."
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It's not common for an 18-month-old to be able to identify letters out of context at all. Scanning a group of letters, spontaneously noticing that two of them are the same, identifying them, and counting them? Is downright unusual.
It goes along with some other signs of sophisticated pattern recognition we've seen - like pointing at a quarter of an apple lying on the table and announcing that the cut surface is an oval. (Well, she didn't say "the cut surface is an oval," she pointed and said "oval!" - but her meaning was clear.)
If she continues along these lines, I am concerned about how she'll fit in with an educational system increasingly focused on kill-and-drill and standardized test preparation, in which the goal of education has pretty much been defined as getting as many kids as possible to pass a minimum standard.
Baltimore City has eliminated gifted education entirely, and they're not alone. More and more school districts are redefining "gifted enrichment" as something that ordinary classroom teachers are supposed to put together in their spare time. And yet private schools have their own considerable problems.
Now, I have heard that kids look most discrepant from each other in the toddler years, when there's a huge gap between the ones who are (for example) just speaking a few words and the ones who are speaking in paragraphs. She might look a lot more similar to her peers in a couple of years. But if she doesn't, I worry that we won't be able to find an educational program that meets her needs out-of-the-box.
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growing is good. to quote my rd, we'll take it.
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Alex: Thanks.
HEEEE!
Okay, I'm telling you a mommy story. Mine's 13.
Halloween. Son is sitting on couch, dressed as pirate, complete with eyepatch.
Me: "You are my very favorite pirate."
Son: "I miss depth perception."
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Good about Alex and the pound gain too. I'm sure you're relieved.
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(And re: meeting her needs: since you take responsibility for it yourselves, you'll do it. It's when you try to make it someone else's responsibility that there's a real problem, and I can't see you doing that).
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As for fretting about the election, I'm right there with you, chewing my nails.
good news
(Anonymous) 2006-11-07 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)That's good that Alex is gaining weight, and you relaxing a bit about what she's eating will probably mean you all have much more enjoyable mealtimes. I'm sure you've thought of getting her to help you cook? My kids always eat more if they've cooked it (as well as what they taste along the way). Even tinies can help assemble home made pizzas or stir and measure things.
And the Requiem? I've sung it three times in the last year, in 2 different choirs, and it never loses its lustre. Singing it with the Sydney Philharmonia's Big Sing -- 1200 voices in the Concert Hall at the Sydney Opera House after a whole weekend of rehearsal with a really inspiring conductor -- still gives me the shivers thinking about it. Sounds like it's time you found yourself a choir!
Emma
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T wasn't just his first letter, but one of his first reliable consonant sounds. My mother had probably never been called "Trannie" before.
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Ah, but you know, it does come back. Quickly even.
As for knowing some letters - and meeting her educational needs - my child can barely speak, and yet appears to know her *numbers*. (A post will be forthcoming.)
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She's actually been able to identify her letters for a while now. What freaked me out was the bit where she accurately counted up the C's.
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This is such cool work to be involved in! The affect of stress on the body in general is a fascinating field, I think.
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Dieting
(Anonymous) 2006-11-08 02:55 am (UTC)(link)His theory is that you gain weight when your weight is below your set point and that one of the ways to raise your set point is to eat ditto foods. If I understand it correctly, the sameness of the food tells the body that this is a time of abundance so eat up before winter comes.
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I know why you wrote that, and it made me sad that you felt it was necessary. You're a great mother. (But then, a disclaimer is better than getting annoyed at a thoughtless or tactless friend.)
I'm looking forward to having to re-learn the immune system, or shut my eyes and hum "Not my cup of tea". :-)
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I tried to post on this theme last night, but LJ ate it. (Does anyone else find livejournal turning up more and more database errors?)
What you most need in a school is one that does not squash her love of learning. I think how much (or how little) she learns is almost secondary (well, as long as she gets to a certain standard), what's much more important is that she'll continue to see books and learning as this wonderfully cool thing that she *wants* to do.
There's a lot you can contribute (and you're doing a lot of it already), so I'm generalising bad habits I've seen in others:
- treat her as if she understands you and encourage you to ask for clarification when she doesn't. Much of what she encounters - books, television programmes, museum exhibits - *will* go over her head, but let her soak it up in her own sweet time. She'll probably learn more than 'people' expect 'a child' to learn. Don't limit her to 'age-related' resources if she is interested to learn more.
- allow her to develop her own opinions by *listening* to her and taking her seriously.
- expose her to the fullness of life - music, museums, books, anything. Yes, very little of it will stick for an awful long time, but stimulation encourages the brain, and this way she will have lots of interesting things to process.
- encourage good intellectual habits: introduce scientific principles and how you always need to read more than one book because nobody knows the whole truth, how to make up your mind when you get contrasting opinions, how to do research, how to question your sources... All of these principles can be introduced to a 7-10yo, although it might have the side-effect that she won't automatically believe what her teacher says 'just because they're the teacher' which some teachers find difficult to cope with.
- provide a good environment for learning - her own bookshelves, her down desk-and-chair, and when you judge it appropriate, her own computer.
I guess I should add 'thank you, Mum' to the end of this post, for obvious reasons.
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