So here are the famous whiskey cups from a few days ago, they are in the kiln now, cooling off. getting ready for glazing. Today I make more, and some mugs. My reward for all this hard work will be Teapots. Production is slow, for some reason pots don't dry well in this rain, sigh.
On the Highschool Math Night Terror Front ......
For many long years now I have had a particular recurring dream. I am in highschool, I am in math class and I am working at a particularly difficult math sheet. The numbers are swimming on the page and I can't for the life of me remember the magic formula. I am pannicking and frantically looking about at the kids who are seemingly breezing through. I can hear the clock ticking, class is going to end, I haven't even put my name on the sheet. I should point out that in these dreams I am an adult, I am aware that I am no longer a highschool student. I have graduated, been to University, and used math daily in both my work and personal life. But the terror at not being able to finish the worksheet is real.
I do not panic while constructing complex three dimensional forms, I hardly bat an eye when figuring out the area of a kiln, and how many pots of which size will fit. I can do the math to figure out yardage, and shrinkage and loom ease while weaving. I can draft patterns and make clothes to fit actual human beings. But that damned math sheet dream brings me to my knees everytime.
That brings me to a new stage in my math terror. Choosing Highschool Math with my kid.
I must say my trip to the Guidance office was particularly useless, and I have come away with the question, just what service is it they are supposed to be providing? I am told by the very informative (not) Academic Calender, that they are there to help choose courses, and that learning is their first priority. My experience has been that they are there to judge, and to force square pegs into round holes and quash creativity in education.
I think they all need to read some books by Sir Ken Robinson. In the meantime, it's homeschooling for this particular kid, in this particular subject. The school is not a fan of this idea. Ask me if I care. I will leave you all with a tapestry of the wee lad and his mum, that I wove in my former life as a textile chick.