Not my first rodeo
I do not like to correct math exercises, and am always eager to off load the responsibility of correcting math exercises to the child as soon as possible. Inevitably, though, with each child, there is the moment when they try to use the answer key to do their actual work. It always makes me wonder a bit exactly how inept my children actually think I am.
This morning, another child, whose name I will not use to protect the guilty, decided to try the answer key ruse. My first clue that something was off was that the child in question did the usually abhorrent math work without any fuss. My second clue was that when I asked how that child did on today's assignment, the child happily answered that the answers were all correct. Hmmm... how... unusual. I asked to see the notebook. Yes, indeed, there were all the correct answers, neatly written. For one brief moment, the happy thought flitted through my head that perhaps this child had suddenly had the urge to memorize the times tables and did so while I was gone. This happy thought flitted away extremely quickly, though, and in it's place, the misuse of the answer key appeared.
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I asked the child to do a couple more similar problems while I watched. These problems seemed to be significantly more difficult than the ones already completed, lending great weight to my theory. Well, that or a sudden brain injury which rendered the child in question suddenly unable to similar math work. That seemed unlikely.
I pointed out to the child in question that I had taught a lot of people math, and had a lot of people try to misuse the answer key. This was hardly an original gambit. I proceeded to assign a new set of problems to be actually worked at, adding that showing me the work to be corrected before using the answer key would now be required. Much grunting and slamming ensued. It would seem that having to actually think about math is a terribly painful process.
Now, I admit, since I was right there at the table while math was being done, I should have noticed the answer key misuse when it happened. My defense is that during that time, I was teaching another child not only long division, but the finer points of word problems as well. I was a little bit occupied.
The reassigned math work was completed. I sat with the child and went over the errors, and we chatted about how they had gone wrong. We then had a nice long chat about how much better making mistakes and fixing them was, and how one learned more that way. We also talked about the need for math skills and how sad it would be to want to do something as an adult only to find you couldn't because you never learned math. The child in questions seemed to be a little surprised to discover that math wasn't just something I chose to torture my children with. It was a morning of good life lessons all the way around.
Oh, and I'm happy to report that the medicine seemed to work for R. She slept through the night, but was pretty out of it most of the morning. At the moment, this seems like a livable trade off.
This morning, another child, whose name I will not use to protect the guilty, decided to try the answer key ruse. My first clue that something was off was that the child in question did the usually abhorrent math work without any fuss. My second clue was that when I asked how that child did on today's assignment, the child happily answered that the answers were all correct. Hmmm... how... unusual. I asked to see the notebook. Yes, indeed, there were all the correct answers, neatly written. For one brief moment, the happy thought flitted through my head that perhaps this child had suddenly had the urge to memorize the times tables and did so while I was gone. This happy thought flitted away extremely quickly, though, and in it's place, the misuse of the answer key appeared.
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I asked the child to do a couple more similar problems while I watched. These problems seemed to be significantly more difficult than the ones already completed, lending great weight to my theory. Well, that or a sudden brain injury which rendered the child in question suddenly unable to similar math work. That seemed unlikely.
I pointed out to the child in question that I had taught a lot of people math, and had a lot of people try to misuse the answer key. This was hardly an original gambit. I proceeded to assign a new set of problems to be actually worked at, adding that showing me the work to be corrected before using the answer key would now be required. Much grunting and slamming ensued. It would seem that having to actually think about math is a terribly painful process.
Now, I admit, since I was right there at the table while math was being done, I should have noticed the answer key misuse when it happened. My defense is that during that time, I was teaching another child not only long division, but the finer points of word problems as well. I was a little bit occupied.
The reassigned math work was completed. I sat with the child and went over the errors, and we chatted about how they had gone wrong. We then had a nice long chat about how much better making mistakes and fixing them was, and how one learned more that way. We also talked about the need for math skills and how sad it would be to want to do something as an adult only to find you couldn't because you never learned math. The child in questions seemed to be a little surprised to discover that math wasn't just something I chose to torture my children with. It was a morning of good life lessons all the way around.
Oh, and I'm happy to report that the medicine seemed to work for R. She slept through the night, but was pretty out of it most of the morning. At the moment, this seems like a livable trade off.
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