Ask: The Tool Your Child May Not Know is Missing
Just the other day, as I was working with a student whom I’ll call Carl, I could almost ‘see’ how his mind was trying to formulate a question that would get him unstuck. Tried as he might, he could not find the words to string his question together and get it out of his head and into the open space. After what must be an eternity, he looked up at me, and just as expected, said quietly, “I’m confused.” Thus, leaving all the work prior to the ‘I’m confused’ to dust.
“I know you are,” I calmly reaffirmed him. “What’s more, Carl, is that I can see the question you almost found the words to ask. Can we try to put those words into a sentence again?”
Not surprisingly, he was not willing. The trauma of gathering words and then been forced to aborting the delivery of his sentence was too much. Sensing the amount of frustration lurking underneath, I switched gears. Pulling out a stack of paper, I asked Carl to split a piece of 8×11 into two identical triangles. Though not quite sure what I was up to, he complied.
This was what Carl did for the next 45 minutes: fold the paper along diagonally, starting with one end, ripping it until the tear is jagging; turn to the other end, start ripping there until the paper was hopelessly uneven; getting another one and start again. At one point, he got so close completing the task that he sit up straight in his chair, took a deep breath, just to watch his hands torn the paper into uneven pieces. Other students in the past had moistened the folded line (gross! But it did the trick), but no Carl. As I sat there watching him going paper after paper, I wondered what happen to his voice – the voice that allows him to ask for the proper tools to complete the task. A scissors to cut? A ruler to draw a diagonal line? Somewhere in the middle of this exercise, Carl did ask ‘do you have a scissors?’ upon hearing my answer of ‘no, I don’t have one here’, he abandoned all attempts of ever questioning me again.
Now watch carefully how I worded my answer. Of course, I have scissors! I don’t have one on the desk where I was working with him. I had one sitting on my other desk not even 5 feet away! What I’ve noticed from experience is that our kids are programmed to hear ‘no’ that they forgot to keep on asking until they get it. Remember how your 5-year-old would ask, ask, and ask until you took him to Wal-Mart and get him that pair of
Sneakers with shining lights?! Or how your daughter talked you into buying her yet another pack of ‘cute hair clips’? Whatever happened to our children’s innate ‘I’m worth it’ belief??
Back to Carl. When we finally pointed out that the point to the exercise was not ‘how to tear a piece of paper without scissors’, rather ‘ask for the proper tools’, Carl’s eyes lit up: ‘Oh, so when you said ‘I don’t have one here’, you weren’t telling me you don’t want to help?’
‘That’s right, Carl. I merely said that I don’t have a pair of scissors on this desk. Do you see one over there on the other table?’ Being a kid, he is, he quickly learned the next time when he found out my scissors was not a lefty one. ‘Could you help me cut this?’ he politely asked.
‘Of course, Carl,’ was my answer.
And that was the tuning point of Carl’s math program - as he asked more an more questions, the quality of his questions went up from ‘I’m confused, what do I do’ to ‘okay, I see I need to find this variable before solving for that. What else have I not tried?’ The Chinese have a saying ‘how you do anything is how you do everything.’ So maybe Carl won’t grow up to be ‘I’m not lost’ type while driving his family to visit his in-laws?
Happy Zen Math!
(c) Feenix Pan, 2007. All Rights Reserved.
