Motivating for Grades - Opinions Wanted!

Okay, I haven’t written anything in a while. Sometimes, I think of things that might make interesting subjects; but I hold back, thinking, “No, that’s stupid. Who would care about the minutia of my boring life?” Then, IT HITS ME! Writing about the minutia of my boring life is the very reason I started a blog to begin with!

And then, I’m all like, “BAM! THAT EPIHANY ALMOST JUST HIT ME IN THE HEAD!”

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So, here’s an important topic! If you read this, I would love your opinion – be it in the comments below the blog post, or on the Facebook post that brought you here.

Pax’s first year in middle school brought its typical challenges. He’s a smart kid (if I may say so myself); but he’s not so terribly organized. Consequently, he’d miss assignments, and struggle with the timing of studying adequately for tests. As the year went on, we experimented with different ways to incentivize him, so that he would take ownership of his grades. By the last quarter of 7^th grade, we had found a system that seemed to work. More than anything in life, Pax loves his electronics (hereafter referred to as his “stuff”) – his Nintendo Wii, Nintendo DS, iPhone, etc. Using his “stuff” as the carrot, we set up a sliding scale for his grades. As long as he had an A-Minus or higher in all of his classes, he could have his “stuff” as much as he wanted – after, of course, he did his chores and homework. At B-Minus and higher, he could have his “stuff” for one hour on weeknights, and up to three hours on each weekend day. If even one class got below B-Minus, our house became a “stuff-free zone.”

Each day, the first thing Pax does when he gets home from school is to traipse up the stairs to my office. Together, he and I log onto the school’s website, and check his grades. For each quarter after we implemented this program, his grades climbed higher. Finally, for the first quarter of this year – 8^th grade, for Pax – the quarter ended with one A-Minus (Science), and six A’s. Susan and I were thrilled! This could be a system we use until he graduated from high school!

Pax - 8th Grade - One Handsome Dawg!

 So, Parent-Teacher conferences roll around for the first quarter, and we proudly go from teacher to teacher – excited to hear the glowing things they have to say about our clever son. And most of it was glowing! The common thread among all of the teachers was that Pax was a student who was actively engaged. Literally every teacher, independent of the others, mentioned how a day never passed without Pax waiting at the teacher’s desk, wanting to discuss a test result, an assignment score, an opportunity for extra credit, etc.

I almost got the feeling that Pax’s aggressive, proactive approach to his grades was an irritant for one or two of his teachers. They didn’t say anything directly, mind you – it was just my perception. Overall, Pax’s teachers seemed to sincerely enjoy him. I felt so proud of him that evening. It wasn’t just that he had achieved good grades – of course, learning how to be a good student will be one of the most valuable lessons he can learn in life. No, what pleased me even more was his persistence. I probably didn’t have the wherewithal in 8^th grade to be that gritty with my teachers – to be that direct with any adults, for that matter. And I know that in the real world, that quality of dogged determination will be incredibly vital to Pax’s success – probably even more important than his ability to memorize facts for a test.

So, while still basking in the afterglow of an extraordinarily-positive parent-teacher conference, I was surprised when Pax came home the next week and told us about something that had happened to him at school that day. Apparently, one of Pax’s teacher’s assistants had pulled him aside, and said, “Mr. XYZ asked me to tell you to stop obsessing over your grade in his class. You’re doing yourself no favors by bugging him about it every day.”

At first, I was defensive – ready to have an angry discussion with the teacher, and the principal. But ultimately, I held back. Maybe the conversation had been exaggerated. Maybe it was taken out of context. Maybe there was just something I was missing. I had, after all, gotten the sense at parent-teacher conferences that a couple of his teachers had felt this way. So, I decided to investigate the situation a little deeper.  I sent an email to each of his teachers, explaining the incentive plan we had in place – and I asked them for additional feedback on Pax.

The response I received was almost entirely positive. Indeed, most of Pax’s teachers really did seem to genuinely enjoy him. Some said that they got a kick out of how on top of his grades he was – they found it refreshing. One said that she had originally worried that we might be “Nazi parents” – but that she felt a lot more comfortable after meeting us, and getting a little insight into why Pax was so “grade-motivated.”

There were two exceptions to this positive feedback. The first was the teacher that had allegedly been the source for the “stop bugging me about your grades” comment. He didn’t even bother responding to my email. Now THAT really DID raise my ire – let’s just say that I’m probably not this teacher’s biggest fan, at this point. The second exception was what has really gotten me perplexed – something into which I have really put a lot of thought, over the past several weeks. The comment was, “I wish Paxton would spend more time obsessing about learning the subject matter than he does about getting an ‘A’ in the class.”

I want to have an open mind about this.  I sincerely approached this whole thing with a desire to be a better parent for my student. In other words, I am not just looking for validation regarding my opinion. I want to understand!

Why would those two things (“getting an ‘A’ in the class” versus “learning the subject matter”) be mutually exclusive items? Wouldn’t you suppose that “getting an ‘A’ in the class” would automatically entail “learning the subject matter?” Outside of cheating, how could you possibly get an A in a class and NOT have learned?

Are there any teachers reading this who would be willing to speculate – to offer some insight into this? Maybe I’m over-analyzing it? I would truly value your input – both on the comment itself; and on anything you might have done as a parent to motivate your child to take ownership of his or her academic performance. I hate the thought of trying to motivate my kids by simply hounding them until they accomplish something. What’s worked for you?

An Important Life Lesson: When Faith Isn't Enough!

When I was about ten, during a Sunday night church service at the First Baptist Church of Englewood, Colorado, I asked a simple question that started me down a road to spiritual discovery.

We had missionaries from Africa as guests that night. For my many Mormon friends, being an LDS missionary is different than being a missionary in just about any other church. In other churches, missionaries are adults – oftentimes, completely established with families. For them, serving a mission is a lifetime task. But they have to have funding. So, every so often, they fly back home and do a tour of churches. Usually during a Sunday Night service, they relate experiences from their mission, show pictures, and ask for donations.

It was on one such night that I had my question. While showing pictures of some of the people they had come across in Africa, these missionaries mentioned that many of the people there had never even heard of Jesus Christ. I don’t think I heard much else of what was said that night. My mind was troubled. It was a warm summer night, and our church was less than a mile from our house – so we had walked. On the walk home, I posed my question:

“Dad, how is it that those people in Africa haven’t heard about Jesus?”

“It’s just different there,” he responded. “They don’t have churches like we do. That’s why it’s important that we support missionaries.”

That led to a new question: “But what about the people who never hear about Jesus – what happens to them?”

My dad was quiet for a moment. “Well, they go to hell.”

The Lady Pooper

Lucy comes into my office this morning: "Daddy, Mom needs you to get some Tylenol. It's on the Lady Pooper in the bathroom!'

I give her a blank look. "The what, Goose?"

"The Lady Pooper!" She gives me an exasperated sigh. "Come on! I'll show you!"

I follow her down into the bathroom. She opens the bathroom cabinet door, and points to the round double-shelf that turns on a swivel. "It's on there!"

"Lucy, tell me what that is, again?" I ask.

She giggles a little, in response: "I don't want to!"

"Come on, Goosey," I say, smiling, "Tell me what it's called!"

"Um, I think it's the 'Lady Pooper?'" She mumbles the second half of the sentence, as her face turns bright red.

I can't contain my laughter. "Oh sweet Lucy! That's called a 'Lazy Susan!'"

"Whatever, Dad! Mom wants the Tylenol!"

A few minutes later, she comes back into my office, gives me a big, unsolicited hug, and says sweetly: "Daddy, you won't tell anyone about what I called that, will you?"

"Of course not, sweetie."

Chalk one up for the Anderson family lore!

Lucy and the Family's Butts

So, the other day, I needed to edit a video on my iPad. This isn’t a task I perform regularly, so I had to get some instruction from an Apple-obsessed nephew (thanks, Alex) on the process. When I start importing my video, I notice that my Camera Roll – the folder the iPad uses to store pictures and videos – is full of pictures. This is strange. I don’t remember having ever used my iPad to snap pictures.

So, I start going through the pictures, and I see a trend. They seem to have been taken from a perspective of about three-and-a-half feet off the ground. There are pictures of the dogs. There are pictures of Barbies, going about their daily Barbie business (eating, lounging, looking fabulous, etc). There are pictures of various household items. There are lots of pictures of my lovely Lucy, like this one.

Some of these have been edited, like this one (I have no idea where she learned to do this – my then four-year-old little girl said she just figured it out herself).

And then, there are pictures of butts: Paxton’s butt; Sue’s butt; my butt; the dogs’ butts (including one particularly-nauseating close-up of Boris the angry Bulldog’s butt) – just butts! The only person whose butt is missing from the collage is Lucy’s.

Drugged-Up Dinosaurs – Road Trip to Colorado!

So, we just got back from our annual New Year’s trip to Colorado. Since we’ve been married, I think we’ve only missed this trip one year. The drive is a little over 500 miles – about 8 ½ hours, if you stay reasonably close to the speed limit. I estimated this to be my 75^th round trip, Salt Lake City to Denver. I love the drive! Susan and Lucy usually drive one way, and then fly back. I would much rather drive – even at 11,000 feet, in the middle of winter. We’ll typically stay in a hotel on the way out – it breaks the monotony; and the kids love staying in hotels. Then, Pax and I will drive straight through on the way back.

This year’s highlights:

·       Arriving at the hotel, and watching Pax and Lucy act punch-drunk with the energy they’d accumulated, being in the car for four hours. One minute, they loved each other. The next, they – um – didn’t. At one point, Lucy said they were running around like “drugged-up dinosaurs.” (No idea where she got that!)

·       Listening to the cacophony of Lucy singing along loudly with fairly horrible pop tunes (e.g. Party in the USA), while Pax loudly expresses his dissatisfaction with Lucy’s choice of music. (“AND THE JAY-Z SONG WAS ON!” “This song SUCKS! Dad, tell her to turn it off!” “AND THE BRITNEY SONG WAS ON!” “OH MY GOSH! THIS SONG SOUNDS LIKE IT WAS WRITTEN ON THE SHORT BUS!” “MOVIN’ MY HIPS LIKE ‘YEAH!’” “DAD! I hope you know that this is making us all DUMBER!”)

Good times! Not bad times!

Christmas, Part One!

I could hardly have one of these newfound blogs, and not blog about Christmas. Am I right?

So, Christmas! Christmas was a dark holiday in the Bubka home growing up. I wish there was a bright side to that, but it really is what it is. As we approached my seventh Christmas – not surprisingly, one of the first Christmases that I can really remember – my mother died in a car accident. We had a little, red Volkswagen Bug at the time – honestly, it was probably a horrible car for the harsh winters in Denver, where I grew up. One Saturday evening, a couple weeks before Christmas, my mom had to drive up into the mountains west of Denver on an errand. On the icy roads on the way home, she drove off the road, into a fairly deep ravine, and died from her injuries.

There was a bit of a pall over Christmas in our home from that time forward. We still celebrated, of course. But as the Christmas tree went up each year, I always remembered the Christmas that Mom died. I never articulated it, but I kind of thought of Christmas as a yearly memorial to my mother. And my Dad, God bless him, wouldn’t have been great at Christmas, under the best of circumstances.

My Dad was a lot of things – most of them very positive. He was a great provider. He was as honest as the day is long. He was a hard worker. He was a good, Bible-believing, God-fearing, Christian man! One of the things that really shaped his character was living in Manhattan during the Great Depression. He learned to conserve, and to live a frugal life. Frugality is not a bad philosophy to have, in a lot of ways; but Christmastime as the son of a frugal father left a little something to be desired.

Goose's Dance Recital - WITH INSULTS!

Ah, there is truly nothing like a dance recital - sincerely! I so look forward to Lucy's dance recitals. Most of this is because I am obviously quite fond of Lucy. But even beyond that, I think it's cute how proud, nervous, and excited these girls get. And up until about Lucy's age, they don't have experience with buffering their thoughts and emotions. You get what they are - in all of its raw, unfiltered glory.

We still laugh about the tiny three-year-old girls who got into a shoving match last year when they both felt their personal space was being breached by the other girl. For them, the dance was over, just seconds after it started. While their peers were going about their performances on the stage all around them, these two little balls of fury traded shoves - neither was willing to give in. Even when the music ended and they walked off the stage, they were staring daggers into each other.

This year, a little girl walked onto the stage, just as excited and happy as she could be - at least until she turned and saw the big, scary crowd. Then she froze, stuck out her bottom lip, and started to wail. The other girls awkwardly tried to ignore her - to dance around her; but she was front and center - literally and figuratively. Finally, one of her instructors mercifully came out and carried her off.