Mollie T. Cox, Author at 100 Words

Memories Impart Value

April 3rd, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

Along the way, I learned that memories impart value.

My uncle bequeathed me the contents of his home. As I packed china and depression glass and debated shipping furniture, my brother held out an item.

Is this the M&Ms dish?

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. I remembered its place by my grandfather’s recliner and the forbiddeness of snitching a chocolate morsel.

My brother remembered the too-loud clank of the glass lid when he was naughtier or perhaps braver than me.

I carefully packed the M&Ms dish, and later cried when another tried to claim it.

Look what I found.

This time my brother held out Rook cards, the same vintage as my parents’ cards.

The colored numbers brought back images of my parents playing Rook with their friends. Once, I got in trouble for peeking over shoulders and announcing a player’s hand. I felt like an adult when I was old enough to play Rook with my siblings.

My brother happily packed the Rook cards.

What made two objects—costing less than $20 each—priceless? The memories.

I wonder which objects my boys will eventually claim. (See Their Memories, Not Yours Here.)

Do any objects invoke your childhood memories??

Homeschooling, Parenting

A Teachable Moments Perspective*

March 27th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

I ended my last blog with the question How do you decide whether to ignore or seize a teachable moment? (See here.)

Kathleen, one of my favorite moms, responded with her answer. Seize when your children are interested.

I never had a problem with my mom’s teachable moments, but I’ve never cared for my dad’s. I think the difference in their cases is that my mom taught when WE were interested; my dad taught when HE was interested.

Kathleen, a second-generation homeschooler, with her boys.

This perceptive mom pinpointed the overload of teachable moments in my household—and other households with curious parents. Not only did I want my children to learn from any educational opportunities, but also, I wanted to learn. Loaded with new knowledge and understanding due to homeschooling, how could I not pass along new connections as soon as I discovered them?

What could be better than delving deeper into past or current lessons? My sons’ answers: Legos, Playmobils, baseball, and Redwall books—eventually replaced by music, running, and computers.

Kathleen ended with this advice: Keep teachable moments short, responding to cool things as a parent and not as a teacher.

*Used with permission.

Homeschooling

Teachable Moments

March 20th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

While homeschooling, I seized opportunities to make connections between academic learning and everyday life. I referred to these chances as “teachable moments.”

After graduating, one son participated in a panel discussion with other homeschool graduates. I did not attend so my son could speak freely. The next day, a mom said every student complained about school never ending.

Why did movies, news accounts, neighborhood events—almost anything—that related to a former or current school topic have to be discussed from a learning point of view?

A few weeks later, I reviewed the portfolio of a frustrated homeschool mom. After teaching her daughters about the fall of communism, Gorbachev was mentioned on the national news. “Wouldn’t any teacher want to connect current news to a history lesson?” she asked. “Why did the discussion make my daughters angry?”

Along the way, I learned that homeschooled students disliked and dreaded the “teachable moments” we parents loved and seized. I wish I had known to be more discerning about applying academic lessons.

How do you decide whether to ignore or seize a teachable moment?

Art, Book Recommendations, Homeschooling

Art Responders

March 13th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

“No, Benjamin can’t be in my art class,” I said.

The six-year-old was known for his extremely bad behavior. Not only was the class already crowded, but also he was younger than the average student. Most importantly, I had volunteered to teach, not wrangle with a difficult child.

The next time I saw his mother, she was cool. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You didn’t give my son a chance. You wrote him off.”

I was convicted. “You’re right. He can come.”

And he did. He behaved. He responded. He was transformed. I was amazed.

Another year, in another art class, another child had a bad reputation. His mother—who was in charge—assigned him to my class because she had “Nowhere else to stick him.”

He participated well. At the end of the semester, I took my students to the National Gallery of Art to see the works we had studied. He begged to go. His mother said, “No.” My class was “Just a place to keep him out of trouble.” It had. Marvelously.

Two examples are not scientific research, but other art teachers confirmed my experiences.

Have you witnessed a child responding to art?

Homeschooling, Parenting

Parenting After Mile 20

March 6th, 2022
Mollie T. Cox

Although marathons are 26.2 miles, experienced marathoners know that the real race begins at mile 20. Until then, runners are surviving to reach the true start line. Early success does not predict winners because marathons are won or lost in the last 6.2 miles.

Too late, I learned that the parenting marathon is the same. The early years are surviving until the real race begins—adolescence.

Why? Research shows there is less memory retention before age ten. Our children are not sustained by the relationship memories parents made during the early years.

Second, our children’s brains change at puberty. What they need from us changes radically. Previous parenting methods are ineffective for the years our children will vividly remember.

Unfortunately, both parents and marathoners are exhausted—and sometimes injured—during the crucial miles. Runners know they have another grueling 6.2 miles. We parents may falsely assume the outcome is determined by the time we reach mile 20. We call victory or defeat too early. (See Here)

Experienced marathoners have a strategy for the hardest, ending miles. I wish I had known to prepare mine.

May you have wisdom as you run your parenting marathon.