MISSION: San Diego
On Saturday a general perusal of Harrison's folder revealed that the fourth grade mission project was upon us. For those out-of-staters, California was originally settled by Native Americans, followed by Mexicans, prospectors, prostitutes, Levi Strauss, and Catholic Missionaries, I think in that order. The missions are a huge part of California History, which is what every able-bodied fourth grader is forced to study. As part of the project, you pick a mission, bone up on its architecture, and build a model out of household goods.
My ten-year old is generally mum about anything schoolwork related, vascillating between being such an acute smarty as to finish all his homework on the bus before it leaves the school parking lot; or leaving projects so painfully to the last minute that we scramble to finish them in the car, on the way to the busstop in the morning. Rarely are we so fortunate as to have an in-between.
With this assignment, we actually had time to cut, glue, paint, paste, mold, curse, recut, dry, and form the project sometime not the day before.
A rarity in our house.
That afternoon we raided Michael's, along with 30 other students and studious looking parents.
It was charming listening to kids work with their folks. "Dad, we need glue," says an intent young man. "Mom, let's build it out of clay," another is heard to say.
And then there is me. "Please put that down. Let's look at the--honey, no, we're not getting that... seriously, no--, you do not need feathers for this thing." To shorten the dialogue, nor did we need knitting needles, a giant plastic sunflower, the $7 set of silver bells, nor the package of edible modeling clay.
Harry did have some interesting ideas. Yes, I suppose we *could* have built the piece out of styrofoam cut into small blocks and used chopsticks to paint the exterior of the mission. I went the more traditional route of foamboard and tempura paint.
The truth is I am a sucker for this kind of project-- or really, anything that allows for the use of an exacto knife. I am so overboard, in fact, that I think my children actually fear parent/student projects, because all of my fascist stage-design class tendencies burst out.
But in my defense, when in the life of Web design do you get to build anything, you know, tactile? Crikey, when do I ever get to use a freakin' pencil??
The worst part, I guess, is that I am one of those people who likes to *think* I am creative; admittedly I have many brilliant ideas; sadly, I execute them flawfully. Which is to say, I can't cut straight, I can't measure at all, I'm a sloppy gluer and I wear my frustration on my sleeve.
Lucky, lucky Harry.
My ten-year old is generally mum about anything schoolwork related, vascillating between being such an acute smarty as to finish all his homework on the bus before it leaves the school parking lot; or leaving projects so painfully to the last minute that we scramble to finish them in the car, on the way to the busstop in the morning. Rarely are we so fortunate as to have an in-between.
With this assignment, we actually had time to cut, glue, paint, paste, mold, curse, recut, dry, and form the project sometime not the day before.
A rarity in our house.
That afternoon we raided Michael's, along with 30 other students and studious looking parents.
It was charming listening to kids work with their folks. "Dad, we need glue," says an intent young man. "Mom, let's build it out of clay," another is heard to say.
And then there is me. "Please put that down. Let's look at the--honey, no, we're not getting that... seriously, no--, you do not need feathers for this thing." To shorten the dialogue, nor did we need knitting needles, a giant plastic sunflower, the $7 set of silver bells, nor the package of edible modeling clay.
Harry did have some interesting ideas. Yes, I suppose we *could* have built the piece out of styrofoam cut into small blocks and used chopsticks to paint the exterior of the mission. I went the more traditional route of foamboard and tempura paint.
The truth is I am a sucker for this kind of project-- or really, anything that allows for the use of an exacto knife. I am so overboard, in fact, that I think my children actually fear parent/student projects, because all of my fascist stage-design class tendencies burst out.
But in my defense, when in the life of Web design do you get to build anything, you know, tactile? Crikey, when do I ever get to use a freakin' pencil??
The worst part, I guess, is that I am one of those people who likes to *think* I am creative; admittedly I have many brilliant ideas; sadly, I execute them flawfully. Which is to say, I can't cut straight, I can't measure at all, I'm a sloppy gluer and I wear my frustration on my sleeve.
Lucky, lucky Harry.
posted by @traciAWESOME
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