Monday, May 5, 2008: That's So Meta! Learning How to Learn

It's not much of a surprise that Mike and I would have a boy who is a serious thinker. Several people, both familiars and strangers, have remarked that Michael is the kind of kid the wheels in whose head one can always see turning. It's true that Michael is quicker to observe situations from a distance than to jump right into them. At his little friend's birthday party this weekend, as you can see from the picture at left, he sat in one place on the floor (playing with a car) while the activity whirled around him. He liked watching the kids, smiling and waving at partygoers, looking around at what was going on, and eating the cake, but he didn't do what most of the kids did: flit from one toy to the next every five seconds and yank them out from under each other. I hope this means that he is still normal, though in our family, "normal" falls within a rather broad range. (He's also had a week where he's been extremely clingy to Mommy only -- even Daddy won't suffice -- so that may have affected his behavior that afternoon.)

There's no doubt that the wheels never stop turning, however. As a teacher by nature as well as by profession, I am constantly aware of not only what Michael is learning but also how he learns. Like most people, he seems to have been born with a built-in drive to find things out, but I am impressed with how methodically he pursues this goal. Michael has entered a phase where he will sit with one of us and point to a series of items, saying "Ga!" at each one, and listening as we name them. What caught my attention about this typical behavior, though, was how he goes about the activity just as I would teach a class of students about objects in a foreign language. I point at the object, state the word, hear the students repeat the word, and move on to the next item. If students' replies indicate that few people understood a word, we go back to that object again until the word is learned. Michael listens to me say the word, then moves on if he understands it (without repeating, of course, except for another "Ga!" sometimes), but if he hears words that sound unusual or two very similar to each other, he goes back and forth between those items over and over until he gets the concepts. At bathtime, he'll spend several minutes comparing "light" and "life preserver" (one of his toys), "faucet" and "washcloth," whose vowel sounds are close enough that the words aren't as distinctive as "boat" and "turtle," for example. (I mentioned in an earlier post that he used to do the same thing with "car" and "colors.") He is so intent upon the pointing-and-listening process that sometimes I feel like he is the teacher and I am the student.

Maybe we've got a budding scientist on our hands; maybe we've got a little teacher. It is exciting to think of the possibilities awaiting Michael as he grows, but even more so we are glad that we have a boy who likes to learn. I can't wait until he is old enough to splash around in creeks trying to catch salamanders, build simple robots with his dad, or see the dinosaurs at the Museum of Natural History (and maybe if we leave now, by that time we can get through the line and get inside). There's also a whole world of fascinating books out there waiting for him to read them. No matter what environment we choose to have Michael educated in, I feel lucky that Mike and I get to be his primary teachers and explore the world all over again with him.

I Just Crack Myself Up: "They should call it 'The National Autobahn Society Field Guide to North American Cars.'" -- me, in response to Granddad's joke that, where some people form bird-watching clubs, Michael could form a club for car-watching, which could then publish a guide to the different "species."

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