Children – Page 12 – Achilles & Aristotle

April Showers

Rain rain go away
Me and the boy set out to play
Driven back by hoods a dripping
When we should have been a skipping
Two straight weeks of being soaked
Is now getting beyond a joke.

Me and the boy set out for a day trip today. We got as far as the bus stop in a downpour and then couldn’t get on one. The Number 12 was all steamed up and no seats to go.

On the way back up the hill for a consolatory hot chocolate he suggested a step forward – ‘We could make an umbrella out of Lego!’ Necessity is the mother of all invention.

Children, Life, Odysseus, Poetry

Keeping the home campfires burning

April fools under canvas
Sunlit striking
Followed by lightning
Humans huddle
Around a smoky campfire
Back to basics
Hot and cold comforts
Austerity Britain
Keeping afloat with the Joneses
Unseasonal camping confirms
Keeping warm
With friends and family
Is all.

Despite my diffidence, we were early out of the traps for camping this year. Forecasts (realised) of thunder storms and temperatures of 2 degrees C were enough to deter six out of seven families on our first night – but not us.

Joined at midnight by family number two and then plucky three and four on the second day, it was initially very wet, then cold, then bright and breezy. In a man-made return to pre-history, a fire makes it bearable.

And once the kids are off to bed, with a glass of something warming in hand, there’s a camaraderie about camping which brings out the best in people. Everyone’s struggling a bit in this recession, but we’re keeping the home and camp fires burning.

Children, Life, Odysseus, Poetry

Competitive Dad

Competitive Dad
Get your fleece off honey!
Competitive Dad
Get your hands in the air!
Competitive Mum
Get in tighter!
Competitive Mum
Get your hands in there!
Bemused Daughter
Alright, alright!
Bemused Daughter
Would you both stand over there.

Our standard position is “We’re not really competitive people in our house”. But the missus and my behaviour yesterday put a dent in that theory. I found myself the only adult shouting at my daughter’s end of term school netball completion, except for… my other half.

It’s the first time in my life I’ve attended a competitive team sporting fixture in which my daughter was playing. And what an extraordinary experience that is. I was rooting for her, so much I couldn’t stand still and certainly couldn’t help trying to catch her eye and shouting advice at her.

I need to learn from my own Dad: arrive without fanfare, be present, then quietly disappear.

Art, Children, Life

Relevant Complexity 3) Classical Music

For the second time in as many weeks, my testy mood has been dramatically improved by the prompt application of ‘relevant complexity’. Taken to the point of some irritation by relentlessly noisy and restless kids, a dose of classical music in the ear lifted my humour immensely.

Above the fracas, I found solace – iPod on – listening to a collection of classical greats on ‘shuffle’ mode. One came on I ‘kind of’ recognised, but suddenly found myself very much liking. So I googled it – it is Saint-Saens Symphony No 3; aka his ‘Organ’ symphony.

Pursuing my quarry, I googled Saint-Saens. Poor man. Recognised as a prodigy and polymath, he is damned with the faint praise of ‘not having up with anything genuinely new’. Just a synthesiser of the best of others and somewhat ‘derivative’. Oh dear.

I was briefly tempted to back off him. But I enjoyed his ‘Carnival of the Animals’ – at the wobbly performance in which my daughter was a ‘balletic bird’ last year. So I stiffened my resolve: ‘So what if he wasn’t original’, he’s improved my Sunday mood, so let’s stick with him.

Next stop a classical music website to see which of the myriad versions of Symphony No 3 on iTunes might be worth a few quid. Who? Er who else but Charles Munch, of course, composing the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1957. Fat chance of finding that, I thought. But sure enough – and not too pricey – the original RCA recording is in the iTunes store. So I bought it.

First major shock – it crackles throughout. Clearly recorded on vinyl, it’s a thumping rendition, but it crackles and pops like our old wooden Marconi record player once did. Bit of a shock to the ‘Digitally remastered’ system, but I warmed to it. RCA really should buy a new record deck though.

Next I googled the ‘story’ behind the composition and instead stumbled across a full length video of a US college orchestra playing it. So I had a watch…

By now an aficionado of Symphony No 3, I know: it should not be shorter than 35 minutes, nor exceed 40. The best bit, from whence the organ magisterially enters the stage, is about 7 1/2 to 8 minutes from the end.

And watching it on my iPhone I discovered an innovative thing Saint-Saens does get some credit for – some cutting-edge ‘four handed’ piano playing. The beautiful tinkly piano which follows the organ is achieved by two people playing the same ‘old Joanna’ at once. Stunning.

Not since my son’s favourite – Tom and Jerry playing Edvard Grieg – have so many fingers simultaneously tinkled the ivories in our house. He made me chuckle by recognising Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor the other week, announcing – ‘That’s Tom and Jerry!’

So there you have it. From irritation through initiation to ‘relevant complexity’ in less than a day, with some of Csikszentmihalyi’s ‘flow’ en route and even some ‘concerted cultivation’ via Tom and Jerry. The ‘adjacent possible’ is now a trip to the Royal Albert Hall to enjoy Saint-Saens live – or even better Tom and Jerry.

Perhaps for the first time I ‘get’ classical music. Myriad, sounds, stories, instruments, conductors, orchestras, halls, versions, performances and emotions – never mind composers – all brought to life in truly ‘relevant complexity’. No wonder it took my mind off things.

Children, Life, Psychology

Concerted Cultivation

It transpires – from considerable research in the USA – that middle class parents’ relentless intervention in their children’s lives: through music lessons, cultural experiences, ferrying them hither and yon and pandering to their every whim, creates a strong ‘sense of entitlement’.

This much we know. But what is less obvious, when you’re getting some lip, is this fits them better for success in institutional settings – from school to the workplace.

So called ‘Concerted Cultivation‘ – aka the pandering, worrying, nurturing and relentless attempts to nurture ‘talent’, ‘gift’, ‘achievement’ and ‘aptitude’ in middle class children – makes them more than just a pain in their parents’ ass. It makes them a pain in everyone’s ass. And this is vital for success in school, university and work. Suitable stamping of feet gets you noticed.

Working class families use a different approach – equally well adapted and just as caring – but different in impact and outcome. Working families apparently favour the so called ‘natural growth‘ route. This encourages independent development, standing on your own two feet, fledging from the nest – and doing what you’re told.

This works well in getting kids into life and into work, but does less well in ensuring that institutions – schools notably, but also workplaces and other institutions – pay attention to them as individuals. This can increase the sense of alienation of working class kids from such institutions, which further exacerbates the effect and further favours the ‘Concertedly Cultivated’.

One very telling example of the difference is making – or not – strong eye contact. ‘Concerted Cultivation’ promotes it, ‘natural growth’ discourages it. If you’re wanting to get your way in public and private institutions, strong eye contact is a mark of confidence. If you’re walking the street in less affluent parts of town it looks dangerously like disrespect. And to a foreman or staff sergeant being looked squarely in the eye suggests confrontation or insubordination

‘Concerted Cultivation’ is much more resource intensive, and less ‘natural’. But, according to the American research, it does fits kids with the tools to be taken seriously by adults and institutions.

I would say my childhood was 50% ‘Concerted Cultivation’ and 50% ‘natural growth’. That would fit with my half and half social class as a child. It worked for me. But we’re ‘Concerted Cultivators’ now in our middle class milieu.

A whiff of science helps me keep up my enthusiasm for ferrying them to activities, downloading maths apps, humouring hissy fits and constantly keeping them busy. I have a pang of guilt at the advantage I’m giving them, but it’s concerted cultivation for my little flowers.