One of the best pieces of advice I received during my
education courses at the university came from a sweet, brilliant methods
instructor. Her recommendation to us was that when we introduce any kind of
hands-on manipulative, we should allow the children time to simply play with
them before beginning any instruction.
Her thinking was that they are going to play and be distracted anyway,
so give them the green light and make them think you are the nicest/grooviest/most
benevolent teacher in the whole wide world!! (“Mrs. Dahl, you are so, so, so,
so, so niiiiiiiiiiiice!!” In the
world of a six-year-old, this is the equivalent of a Nobel Peace Prize). When
they have satiated that need to play/stack/build with said math items, then you
might possibly have their attention enough to actually get some instruction in.
How right she was.
Today I had a chance to use my brand spankin’ new geoboards. What in the name of Sam is a GEOBOARD?? (…you
might be asking). A geoboard, my
naïve friend, is a flat, plastic square with pegs spaced at even
intervals. Rubber bands are then
stretched over the pegs to help teach geometry and positional concepts. They were invented by an Egyptian
mathematician in the 50’s. I was
excited to dig them out because it was the first time I have had opportunity to
use my very own set. For my first
two classes of first graders, I had to borrow from either kindergarten or
second grade on the mornings my math lesson plans called for them. I usually forgot to ask to borrow until
the morning was in full swing, and if you have ever stepped into a kindergarten
classroom when things are really humming, it’s a bit like standing in the
middle of an electrical power substation.
The kilowatts being produced have the very air humming. Enter at your own risk….
I tore off the plastic wrap and opened the small plastic
bags of “geobands” aka garden-variety-office-supply rubber bands (were the
rubber trees these came from a hybrid especially produced for this
purpose? “… of the species,
Geobordus Stretchythingyus…”), then proudly handed a brightly colored geoboard
to each student, along with a “geoband” (wink, wink).
This is when the trouble started… a disturbance in the Magic
Tree House Force, if you will. Six-year-olds
with budding fine motor skills + elastic bands capable of launching across a
room and/or snapping tender skin = you do the math. I had just glowingly given them the OK to “play” with their
geoboards (“Mrs. Dahl, you are so, so, so, so, niiiiiiice”) when rubber bands
started whizzing past my face like spuds out of a potato gun. This, accompanied with, “oops,” and
“Hey! My rubber band!” Suddenly,
little bodies were scrounging around on the floor for their escapees, like
prison guards searching for inmates from Alcatraz.
That part was comical.
Mrs. Dahl was having a pretty good laugh. But then the mayhem turned bloody (or at least painful). As tiny fingers tried to manipulate
stretchy rubber, the sounds of snapping now filled the air. “Ow!” was becoming a chorus echoed
around the kidney-shaped table. (Snap)
“OW!” (Snap) “Ow! OW!!!” Now there was something else happening in the Magic Tree
House.
Fear.
Holy cow, I could see panic building in my Darlings. They were afraid of the darn
things. Well, this would never
do. When I was a kid I hated math
for all the right reasons. It was
hard and it was proof-positive I was stupid. You remember the good old days, right? (Vonda, what do you MEAN you don’t know
the answer??! Haven’t you been
listening?? Don’t you know how to
solve this problem YET?? Stop
daydreaming!!) Ah yes, education
at its finest hour…
I could not only see my math lesson being flushed down the cold
porcelain of lessons out-the-window, I suddenly also had images of my first
graders growing up with geoboard trauma that would scar them for life. The symptoms would include cold sweats
when near the elastic aisle at the fabric store and an avoidance of tarp straps. Group therapy to help overcome
this American Psychological Association-sanctioned diagnosis would require
being forced to hold rubber bands (…”see Clarence? It’s just a rubber band. Rubber bands don’t snap people. People snap people…”).
The sessions would begin with the characteristic check-in… “Hi. My name is Blanche and I am afraid of
geoboards… (in unison now), “hiiii, Blanche…”
After a particularly brutal 3-snap torture, Miss
Sweet-As-Pie Blondie announced, “I think this is dangerous!”
Good grief.
When all bands had been retrieved, bodies returned to
chairs, and welts were beginning to form nicely, we started over. “Boys and girls, watch Mrs. Dahl. No dear, like THIS…” Thankfully, the Attack
of the Evil Bands ended without too many casualties. No tears were shed and no one refused to keep trying. I guess I won’t know the full extent of
the mental anguish until the next time I reach for the Tools of Torture, or I
am handed cease-and-desist papers from attorneys.
Until then, I think we will stick with something safe, like
flashcards. No, wait… paper cuts…
arrrrgh! I give up.
“Hi, my name is Mrs. Dahl and I am afraid of teaching with
math manipulatives.” (hiiiii, Mrs.
Dahl…).
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