20SomethingMom chronicles of a young mom

Reflecting on Two YearsPosted by admin on January 12th, 2010

In the rush to put together a birthday party for my big 2-year-old, I didn’t have much time to be in disbelief about the quick passage of time. Since then, though, I’ve been amazed every day by his verbal prowess, the rate at which his feet are growing, and the fact that before I know it, I will have a “kid,” not a “toddler.”

There have been many turning points since January 2, 2008, when he was born. My emotional growth in these two years has mirrored my son’s physical growth. A lot has changed: my educational attainment, my relationship status, my locale, and my waistline.

I have learned that:

• motherhood gives you instincts you never knew you had.
• I can never get enough of newborns.
• Murphy’s Law applies to family outings: the one time you forget the diaper bag, there will be an accident.
• sleep is a commodity, for which I must bargain with myself and my child.
• a person can live in sweatpants for approximately 3 days before getting the urge to clean up and dress up.
• breastfeeding gives you the lifelong gift of a child who never gets sick.
• there are many breeds of mothers, and I’m glad to be in the “young mom” category.
• little ones absorb the emotional state of the adults around them, and can sometimes provide the most comfort in hard times.
• I hate parenting in front of other people. I do best with everything from story time to tantrums when it’s just the two of us.
• Elmo’s got soul.
• one can expect to lose a significant percentage of one’s friends when a child arrives.
• pregnancy is thrilling; giving birth in a hospital is not.
• so many pieces of a personality are hard-wired from birth.
• I can maintain an interest and participation in the things that are important to me AND be a loving, present mother.
• car seats are the most annoying apparatuses ever invented.
• I am not a worrisome parent, but I am an easily frustrated one.
• my world can expand laterally.

I keep a journal in which I write little notes to my son. Maybe someday he’ll enjoy reading my thoughts throughout the years. I frequently have the urge to talk to the adult version of this person I’m guiding through life, and I wonder what I’ll say to him in ten, twenty, forty years. I am already proud of who he is, and aching for more clues as to who he’ll become.

Technorati Tags: birthday, breastfeeding, children, Elmo, motherhood, Murphy's Law, parenting, toddler, two-year-old, young mom

Every Parent Is an IslandPosted by admin on December 26th, 2009

Sometimes, parenting just sucks up every ounce of kindness, patience, and love I have. It’s like I start each day with a cup full of these qualities, and by the end of the day, they’re gone and I can’t imagine where I’ll get more for tomorrow.

The thing that’s most frustrating is that it seems as though no one around me understands why I get so frustrated. While some of them are parents too, they are past the point of having to devote 50% or more of their energy and thoughts to someone else. Parenting is a lonely business more often than not. Even when I am surrounded by people, I always have one eye on what I’m doing and one eye on my son. I am, of course, the only one who’s completely distracted 24/7. When I need to use the bathroom, he follows me or cries for me from the other room. If I walk outside to check the mail or take the dog out, I have to hurry because who knows what he’s doing inside?

I can’t wait for the day when I can take a leisurely shower — and remember to shave both legs — without calling to my child every few minutes just to be sure he’s alive and well.

Yes, this is likely every mom’s life. But this is my experience, and my experience is often frustrating. It’s just plain difficult, and it’s nothing to sneer at. The reproducers of this world can pretend to have it all together, but little ones (especially little ones who are about to turn 2) get the best of any caregiver by the end of a long day, sometimes even just a long hour. When you’re doing it alone, the good and the bad is multiplied. It’s hard to keep them balanced and avoid consistently swinging from one extreme to another.

We had a wonderful Christmas, but as most parents know, holidays are no-napping, sugar-eating, staying-up-late, screaming-for-toys days. There is no lounging on the couch in a turkey-induced stupor for those of us named Mom.

It is ironic that the past few weeks (my blog-neglecting weeks) have been so difficult, yet so fun. My little boy has a mind of his own now, and is learning to put his opinions into words. I get countless hugs and kisses every day, and am pleasantly surprised by his independence and caring gestures.

There are nights, though, like tonight, when I grit my teeth as I hold my crying child and think “if only he were a crying newborn again.” I miss the baby phase so much. But there are things about being around an insanely tall, intriguingly bilingual 23-month-old that cannot be matched by the company of a helpless baby.

I suppose finding the humor and joy in every moment becomes more difficult when you’re experiencing the low points by yourself. The important thing is that I am sticking it out, waking up every day intending to stretch out my allocation of kindness, patience, and love for as long as I can. Being a mom is the only job in which you lose your mind over and over, but continue to come back for more. It has to be that way, and I’m very glad it is.

Technorati Tags: Family Life, holidays, love, motherhood, parenting, single parent, toddler

Mommy BodyPosted by admin on December 1st, 2009

I do not remember a period of time in elementary, middle, or high school when I didn’t worry about what I was wearing or how my hair looked. I was the tallest of all my friends, and often the widest. I wanted to wear the tiny clothes from Limited Too and 5-7-9, but my hips never wanted anything to do with juniors’ clothes. Worst of all, I started breaking out at age 10 and haven’t stopped.

Everyone has their body woes, and there’s no doubt that we exaggerate our own flaws. Still, the formative influence of the preteen years on girls’ lifelong body delusions is profound.

Size is relative, and competition is fierce. Depending upon who we are around, we might feel thin or fat, tall or short, trendy or outdated. This is particularly damaging when we reach the stages of pregnancy and nursing.

Pregnancy is the only legitimate excuse a woman ever has to eat what she wants and gain weight on purpose. It is equally liberating and terrifying. After years of trying to have control over your size and shape, you have to relax into whatever mold the baby and your body decide to put you in. Postpartum, you still have much of the weight/skin, yet feel that you have none of the excuses. We all hear about the Heidi Klums of the world losing all their baby weight in a month, and suddenly feel pressured to be runway-ready with a newborn in our arms. In reality, it is incredibly unhealthy to rapidly lose weight while breastfeeding, and even if you are not. There is a reason for those fat stores, and getting rid of them intentionally means depriving your exhausted self of what little energy nature gives you to get through new motherhood.

The younger you are, the quicker you bounce back, but your body is still permanently changed from the pregnancy and birthing experience. It seems to me that it’s even more difficult to face the physical alterations of motherhood when you’re a young mom, because the world doesn’t yet expect you to be going through them. If I were in my 30s or 40s, complaining about stretch marks and shopping for “mom jeans” would be acceptable. At 23, I still want to look my age (i.e. shop at American Eagle), but according to the modern timeline of life experiences, I’m a good decade ahead. A young mom can’t say a thing about the way a baby has changed her body without an older mom looking down her nose and shooting her a “just-you-wait” scowl.

In some ways, I appreciate my body more now because I can look into the eyes of the little person it created. But it’s difficult to ignore the temptation to compare myself to women my age who haven’t had their breasts stretched and butts widened. At the same time that I miss the feeling of a creature fluttering in my belly, I am critical of my new hint of a muffin top and smaller bra size.

Just like many other things in life, the mommy body is a paradox. Skinny-girl worship in the media hits us with the same force as messages about loving The Shape of a Mother. It is impossible to maintain the pre-baby figure, even with the help of cocoa butter and surgical intervention.

All I know is: I can’t wait until my friends have an opportunity to grow in all the right places. Then, while I may not always love my body, I’ll at least be able to talk about it in an appreciative way, rather than an “ohmygod, i am so fat this week” way. Body talk changes when baby talk begins. Let’s start talking.

Technorati Tags: body image, girls, Heidi Klum, motherhood, postpartum, pregnancy, preteen, the shape of a mother, womens' issues, young mom

You’ll Never Catch Me CleaningPosted by admin on November 3rd, 2009

Amen.

I can cook, clean, iron, and wash things just as well as the next person. But, I don’t. I don’t like doing any of these things, and I take shortcuts whenever possible. 

I’ve always been anti-domestic activities, but I’m even more so now that the majority of my time is spent with a toddler. Why would I use the precious naptime hour to wash dishes? Perhaps if I had an office job, hence a reason to have pressed clothes, I’d care a little more. But I’m very practical about these things: I don’t care any more about walking around the house in wrinkled shirts than I do about putting on makeup to go to the grocery store. 

When things are simply purposeful, not all-consuming, they have the potential to be more enjoyable. I can use folding clothes as a reason to take a breather, and I can enjoy cooking an elaborate meal once a month because most of the time, I grab cereal or make myself a wrap. 

It’s like anything else in life; balance is key. When I start tripping over toys, I go on a ten-minute organizing spree. When I feel like a slob after days in the house, I curl my hair and find an excuse to leave. I could certainly live in pajamas 24/7, but I avoid the routines that run so many people’s lives. 

A healthy work ethic is important, and I was certainly raised in a busy household. I think I am the only one of my immediate family members who can sit down for more than twenty minutes at a time without jumping up to start the next task. Perhaps it is a kind of rebellion, a decision to get away from things I don’t value but always had to do. I feel about housework like I do about the few “regular” jobs I’ve had: what is the point of doing this exceptionally well? 

The long and short of it is: I’d rather be reading. Or writing. Or running. Always have, always will.

So, as the mom who must instill that same work ethic in my son as he grows, how do I get across the importance of duties without clouding the lesson with my own distaste for all things mundane? I definitely don’t want to be stuck with doing his laundry while he waxes poetic about the uselessness of such a thing. Yet, I want him to pick up on the idea that the drudgery is but a means to an end.

Maybe there will come a day when I have more kids, more work, and more living space, and suddenly have to stick to a shower-scrubbing schedule. But for now, I refuse to spend buckets of time doing things I hate. 

Technorati Tags: balance, cleaning, cooking, domestic tasks, housework, parenting, work ethic

Life, InterruptedPosted by admin on October 30th, 2009

When you get pregnant at a “young age,” the world stops turning. At least, that’s what everyone expects it to do. As I watch my baby approach his second birthday, I’ve been reflecting upon my pregnancy and how my life might have played out had I not been blessed with the very best of interruptions. Here’s what I imagine it would look like:

• I would still think parents are not human. I think we all hold our parents to impossible standards, and only when we are forced to make the day-to-day decisions that form a person do we understand what they went through for us.
• I would not have slowed down after graduating from college. I would likely have jumped into a 9-to-5, something I’m not cut out for. Now, I have the luxury of setting my own schedule and spending quality time with the most important person in my life. When I take the next step on a career path, I’ll be ready for it.
• I would never have found the gray area in everything. When you’re dealing with a developing person, you realize that growth, interaction, and love are not linear. There is always a different way to do things, and no one way is correct.
• I wouldn’t have as great an appreciation for my Spanish language skills. There’s a huge difference between speaking a second language in a professional or academic capacity and using it every day with a baby. I have learned so much about my abilities, and become fascinated by the process of language acquisition. 
• I would not smile as often as I do with a child around. Babies, and especially toddlers, have a knack for making frustrating moments funny. It is literally impossible to not smile when your little one says “mama” or puckers up for a wet kiss.
• I would still be wondering when I would have a baby, and feeling like I hadn’t fulfilled my purpose. For some people, having kids is something they imagine doing in another lifetime, once they grow out of the young adult phase. For me, it was a goal in itself from the time when I used to line my dolls up on the couch and read to them. Nothing feels more natural to me than being a mother.

Having a baby is just part of life — an event that holds down the fast-forward button rather than pressing pause. No matter if you are 20 or 40, a newborn’s arrival could be seen as a disturbance, but so could a job loss, a move, a death, or any number of significant moments. If we think about a baby as an interference in our well-laid plans, we won’t be open to the surprises it brings. 

And I don’t just mean surprises of the dirty-diaper variety. For me, the greatest surprise has been how watching my son grow has inspired me to go back to school and pursue things beyond motherhood, to question who I thought I was. He has pulled me out of my comfortable place in the mud, without saying a word. Everyone should be lucky enough to experience this: being blindsided by a change so human, we could never have created it with mere ambition.

Technorati Tags: baby, life lessons, milestones, motherhood, parenting, pregnancy, Spanish, young mom

Applying to Grad School the Mommy WayPosted by admin on September 16th, 2009

Last May, when I graduated from Rollins, I swore I was done with school.  Done for good.  I was so relieved to be finished with two decades of learning on someone else’s terms, and was ready to teach myself a few things.  

A huge part of my academic exhaustion was generated by the then-4-month-old in my arms.  School mattered to me enough to finish my degree, but he mattered more.  

Now, after a little over a year of working from home as a tutor and mom, I feel ready to revisit the things I love most: reading, writing, researching, teaching, and traveling.  I’m in the process of applying to Ph.D. programs in Political Science so that I can ultimately become a professor and enjoy doing all of these things for a long time.  

Given that the most computer time I can manage in a toddler-filled day is a few minutes for an email/facebook check, this process is not going to be particularly quick.  I am anxious and excited about the potential for an exciting grad school experience in an exciting city, but the applications (due in December) are intense.  My biggest frustration with mommyhood used to be that I didn’t have time to finish a book.  Now, it’s that I can’t write more than a sentence at a time, much less a coherent statement of purpose (or a blog post).  And I have four of them to write.  It is practically a grad student hopeful’s sin to put all my eggs in only four baskets, but I simply don’t have time to expand my list and devote myself to each and every application in the way I feel is necessary.

I’m considering this balancing act practice for my days in school, when I’ll have far more work than just a few essays in a few months.  I’ll also have more support.  Contrasted with other careers, academia is relatively family-friendly.  The most appealing thing about it to me is the schedule, or lack thereof.  I would much rather attend or teach a few classes per week and do the rest of my work at whatever hour, and in whatever place, I choose than clock in and slave away on someone else’s terms.  Add in conferences, research abroad, and built-in vacation time, and it’s truly the dream job that I never recognized as such.  There are certainly less-than-fun professorial obligations (think faculty meetings and advising), but the potential rewards far outweigh the annoyances.  

Grad students and professors alike get pretty spectacular benefits and options for childcare, which is one expense I struggle with now.  Subsidized high-quality preschool programs are the norm.  If I were to enroll next fall, my son would be 2 1/2, and more than ready to be introduced to baby academic life.   

Should I fall into that slim group of accepted students, I will dive into the 5-to-7-year commitment with vigor, and have no doubt that I’ll emerge with an even greater understanding of the things I want out of life.  I used to laugh at perpetual students — those who just can’t seem to earn enough degrees to be satisfied.  I understand it, though; school is work that inspires and facilitates lifelong achievement and connections.  People working in universities make the world move, and then they get to stand back and observe it.  What could be better than engaging in intellectual experimentation and sharing it with fellow inquisitives?  

When I submit my applications in a few months to UC-Berkeley, Columbia, Cornell, and NYU, my fate will be in the hands of the graduate school directors and political scientists who happen to work for the respective departments this academic year.  It could be just the right handful of people to relate to my research interests and positively evaluate my GPA and GRE scores…or not.  Admission into top graduate programs often seems random, and is most certainly a more difficult game than undergraduate admissions.  Both the best and worst part is that I am now so invested in the idea of earning a doctorate in political theory that I cannot see any other alternative.  This drive is an asset, unless I am forced by mere chance or deliberate decision to find an alternative.  

So, all that’s left to do is read, read, read, write, write, write, and hope, hope, hope.

As difficult as it is to stay focused on any of those tasks and keep a child out of the dog bowl or the pantry all day, being a mom makes the aspirations just as important as the outcome.  Nonetheless, wish me luck.

Technorati Tags: academia, Columbia, Cornell, grad school, graduate admissions, motherhood, NYU, PhD, political science, political theory, professor, Rollins, time management, UC-Berkeley

What No One Ever Tells You About WeaningPosted by admin on August 31st, 2009

I will get around to writing about my grad school plans and pet peeves, but since most of you were interested in reading about weaning, here goes.

DISCLAIMER: If you are a man, or a woman who’s uncomfortable with nonsexual breast talk, proceed with caution.

There are plenty of things that no one bothers to mention when you’re expecting a baby, but the surprises don’t end in the first few months postpartum.  Breastfeeding is a hot topic these days, but weaning?  Not many people want to talk about that, and I’m finding out why.  

First of all, milk production is not like an addiction: it can’t be stopped cold turkey.  That is, unless you want a plugged duct or, worse, the terrible infection that is mastitis.  The only way to signal to your body that your baby is ready to slow down his consumption is to decrease the frequency of nursings gradually.  VERY gradually.  Dropping roughly one feeding a week until you’re completely done has worked for me…and I’m still not done.

In addition to dealing with a (frighteningly verbose) child begging for the kind of milk that doesn’t come from the fridge, mama must live through the ups and downs of breast engorgement and pain, extreme lopsidedness, and leaking.  It’s like the day your milk came in, for three months straight.

Here’s where I border upon revealing too much information: about five times a day, I have to milk myself just a little bit.  It has become an art form: hand expressing just enough to take the pressure off, but not enough to signal to my body that it should amp up production again.  That’s the amazing thing about the breastfeeding process — each mother’s milk is constantly adjusting in content and quantity to perfectly meet her baby’s needs.  Myths exist that discourage mothers from nursing past a certain age, like the claim that breast milk loses its nutritional value after a baby is [place arbitrary number here] months old.  The exact opposite is true, which is why it’s sad that so many new mothers buy into prevalent misunderstandings.  Breastfeeding is a personal journey full of personal decisions, but women have a right to medically correct information prior to making those decisions.

I must clarify that my weaning experience is wholly different from that of a mom who may have supplemented with formula or started her baby on solid foods earlier than 7 months (when I did).  My son took breast milk from a bottle when I had to leave him with family while I was still in school, but now he only occasionally uses a sippy cup.  No pacifiers for him; he throws them across the room.  I have been his pacifier for almost 20 months, and that is more than okay with me.  It is a personal preference, and a unique relationship dynamic: Mommy as teddy bear.  He is just now demonstrating signs of independence, and the associated manipulation skills.  Weaning is one part of the transition out of baby stage, like moving to his toddler bed and picking up his toys.

After over three months of nighttime waking to the sound of my son screaming “daychay!” (leche), I am feeling ready to let the breastfeeding relationship go.  I think there is more than just a physiological reason that my body has not fully ceased production.  My heart hasn’t been up for it.  The hormonal shifts of lessened production (and the hormonal hell that is just around the corner after I fully wean) are enough to make a woman weepy, but it is more convoluted than that.  

As a mother, I can’t explain my need to mother.  It just is.  Breastfeeding is an element of the instinct to protect, nourish, and encourage your baby, and stopping it is like going through a slow grieving process.  Knowing something is about to die doesn’t make the death less painful.  

As far as the mechanics of weaning are concerned, I wonder how my slippage down the slope from exclusive breastfeeding to practically none at all would have been affected had I known more about the needs of body and baby from the start.  I think I may have been less inclined to go with my gut.  Luckily, I learned about slowing the flow the hard way.  While that has often meant walking around feeling like I have rocks in my bra, I’m okay with things being hard for awhile when I see the happy, healthy boy my body helped to create.

Technorati Tags: baby, breast milk, breastfeeding, motherhood, nursing, parenting, toddler, weaning

And Now I’m 23Posted by admin on August 24th, 2009

This weekend, I turned 23.  Milestone?  Not necessarily, but it offered more than a moment’s reflection on my life and all the things I thought I knew.

One of my favorite books is Comfortable with Uncertainty by Pema Chodron.  No matter how many times I read through its wise snippets of compassionate teachings, though, I have trouble reminding myself that uncertainty is eternal.

Though it may be a byproduct of my environment, I feel there is part of me that is simply hard-wired to expect and long for consistency.  My gut makes me freeze like a proverbial deer in headlights when a surprise presents itself.  (Surprises I can plan for — like Christmas — are thrilling, however.)  I have to condition myself (the stick) out of this muddy place, which is a beautiful, oxymoronic idea.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to move if I focus on moving.

I’m slowly questioning the little dichotomies that piece together my world, and there are a lot of them.  A trusted friend recently put it like this: I need to stop focusing so much on WHO I am and become more comfortable with WHAT I am.  There is a human essence within us all, a sort of package that comes with mere existence.  Along with many others who are trapped in the confines of definition, I tend to first consider the best way to mold my self into the self I think it should be.  The self that I’ve been told I have, or some supposed ideal that I don’t even want.  Instead of constructing a WHO and charting a path via conscientious decisions to that end, we should all be relaxing into the WHAT that is there when we peel back layers.  

It’s the peeling process that I’m undergoing right now.  Rather than adding another year of gunk as I add a year to my chronology, I am stripping away the unnecessary details that I once thought were so vital to getting along in the world.  Birthdays become less of a partying occasion and more of an opportunity for contemplation as we get older, and older.  On this birthday, I contemplated the ways in which I can just let go and allow some of my soul’s varnish to strip itself.  With no encouragement of a forward flow, the tide can take me in circles if it so chooses.  I have to let it carry me, or risk achieving a dangerous level of narrowness.  I’ve tested the limits of my WHO, the me that likes things to be in place, and now I want to readily accept all of my WHAT.

Who’s with me?

Technorati Tags: birthday, comfortable with uncertainty, identity, Pema Chodron, twentysomething

Nurturing UrgencyPosted by admin on August 15th, 2009

I wonder if I was born impatient.  When I get an idea, I have to make it happen immediately.  I can’t wait around for other people to help me, or for something to occur naturally.  It’s a control issue, no doubt, and can be quite dangerous.  I’ve been known to make decisions that appear rash, though I have clearly considered every angle — for a good day or so.  

The intersection of urgency and motherhood is a most interesting place.

Not only does a baby never cooperate with the desire to rush…out the door, through a meal, or down the street, but he understands the exact method that will test your plans the most.  There will be no lazily traipsing down the sidewalk to the park hand in hand; he will refuse to be touched and head for the middle of the street, where he’ll proceed to sit quietly until you attempt to move him.  Here, and in the bathtub, the store, the car seat, he’ll then engage the one move we all know as urgency’s worst enemy: the I-have-no-muscles move.  He’ll become a blob of back-breaking weight, and you’ll never get to that urgent thing.

Toddlers are also especially good at playing independently until you have to work, or until you make an important phone call.  Then, all bets are off.  

Impatience can be about more than just the daily grind, though.  It can drive our short-term and long-term direction, and babies are along for that ride.  We’re all familiar with the first tenet of parenting that people like to tout when one is with child: a baby changes everything.  By that, they mean you’ll never so much as decide to walk out the door without considering this fresh creation’s needs and feelings.  True, but somewhat exaggerated in its novelty, I think. 

Shouldn’t we treat ourselves as gently as we do our children?  Or is there some greater value in painstaking rumination when children are involved?

This is that inherent danger in wanting to indulge in urgency.  Great things can come of spontaneity and a purposeful lack of foresight, but we often ignore our own need for emotional gentleness.  Like anything else done in haste, there is a risk of leaving something behind.  Too often, children forge ahead, while we look back at the piece of us that we left along the path to…where?

Technorati Tags: baby, decisionmaking, impatience, motherhood, parenthood, toddlers, urgency

Study Skills = Life SkillsPosted by admin on August 7th, 2009

Call me the anti-tutor.

I simply don’t believe in: doing someone’s homework for him/her, teaching to the test, sticking to one subject in every session, and making students feel like subordinates.

Whether or not my clients and their parents can always see the goal I have in sight, I rarely veer from my determined course, which is not to have a course.  I have been a tutor for almost ten years, and I have discovered that the greatest thing about tutoring is that you have access to the parts of a person’s brain, and heart, to which a classroom teacher does not.  Because I only work with one person at a time, I have the luxury of paying attention to their signals.  Even if we’re meeting online, I can tell if my clients are tired, distracted, or having an off day.  I react immediately and shift what we are doing or the way we are doing it.  This is why I never have more than rough lesson plans.

We all know that there is nothing worse than sitting through a lecture or meeting when all we can think about is the argument we had with a friend or spouse earlier in the day, or how much we need coffee.  So, why not respond to those personal problems, and teach people how to navigate pleasant and unpleasant days alike?

This doesn’t mean dismissing school when we notice kids are falling asleep in first period.  It might mean starting school at a later hour so they can actually think.  Biorhythms are the first things I ask my young clients to pay attention to.  If they do not think well right after school, I do not want to work with them at that time because, although they may sit quietly and obey, they will not absorb or engage in the lesson.  I ask them to complete their assignments in an environment that makes sense.  If their parents insist upon them sitting at a desk in silence for a few hours until all their homework is done, but they are obviously auditory learners who do better with a beat in the background, I encourage them to change it up.  If School, and its sidekick Busywork, is all about preparation for Life, we should make sure our kids are experimenting enough with study habits, organizational skills, and environmental factors to create lifelong patterns that work.

I see too many kids copying down notes word-for-word from a PowerPoint, and not understanding them when they read them a second time.  I see too many adults scribbling illegible minutes in an unorganized fashion.

I see too many kids wasting hours making flashcards and never really learning the vocabulary words.  I see too many adults writing lists for themselves that they never look at.

I see too many kids who cannot write a coherent paragraph.  I see too many adults who cannot write a coherent e-mail.

Those kids become those adults.  Many adults, though, don’t see any other way than the way they were told to do things: write your appointments in a planner, read concepts over and over to memorize them.  The truth is: there are a million ways to be more efficient with time management, and a million ways to memorize things.  Once you figure out the tricks that are required for the way your brain is wired, you just use muscle memory forever.

For me, saying something out loud or teaching it to another person is as good as stamping it in my brain for life (or at least for a good long while).  I learned in high school that I was not a note-taker.  If I wrote, I didn’t listen, which meant I didn’t learn.  So, my notebooks were sparse and teachers probably thought I was daydreaming.  I kept the same habits, though, through college, and I still use them every day in non-school-related ways.  A phone number, a grocery list, a date: say it aloud.

In order to take full advantage of your academic attributes, you must recognize and tread lightly upon your weaknesses.  My most glaring one is my complete incapacity for spacial reasoning.  I cannot imagine distinct shapes, faces, or places in my head.  I can’t judge distance, which means I can’t estimate.  I hate visuals, especially in the form of cute little drawings in math books.  I want things to be concrete and logical, so when they aren’t, I feel myself getting antsy.  I have learned to work around this by translating things into terms that work for me, and moving a little slower with geometry than I do with algebra.

It is unlikely that you have the exact combination of strengths and weaknesses that I do, but it is a fact that you can use both to your advantage.  Granted, I employ my skills every day because it’s my job.  Still, I think we could all benefit from a heightened awareness of what works for us, and forget what the boss or the teacher is telling us to do.  In the end, all that usually matters is that we arrive at some endpoint, and nothing is left out.  The mode of transportation is an individual choice.

Technorati Tags: children, learning, learning style, life skills, multiple intelligences, students, study, study habits, teaching, tutoring