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Show Learning Math In The Sandbox t r n hen I was a young 111 lj mother, it seemed I 11 h spent most of my time 1 I trying to find ways to I I keep my two children m J happy and meaningfully occupied. I am an adoptive parent, and I used to reflect often on those early years of motherhood, wondering if 1 was trying to make sure my children had every benefit, every experience that I could provide or if I was just trying to prove that 1 was worthy of that long-coveted title Mother. Especially concerned thai they be exposed during their first few years to all the things that would prepare them for the time when they would go off to school, I started early to lay the foundation for learning. Countless hours were spent during the next few years spraw led on the soft, warm rug in front of the TV, watching "Mister Rogers" and "Captain Kangaroo" with my preschoolers, with me feeling very good about the learning experiences taking place. We ran through the basic color concepts, the alphabet, and we sat on the couch every evening before bedtime looking at picture books and reading all the classics: "Mother Goose," "Dr. Seuss," "The Little Engine That Could." But there were times when I absolutely had to mop the kitchen floor, clean the bathrooms, and tend the laundry that was an endless chore, despite the convenience of a washer and dryer. During those times when I couldn't be with them every minute, the children had the old-fashioned standby: the sandbox. They never tired of playing there and 1 could relax as 1 worked because it was so strategically located outside the back door. Our yard was completely fenced, and from my vantage point at the kitchen window, 1 could do almost all of my chores and still hear the children's laughter or run to their aid if one of them decided to throw the sand instead of just create with it. Even loading and unloading the dishwasher could be done in conjunction with sandbox time, and I almost always found a plastic dish or two, a margarine tub, or something that could be thrown out the tack door to add to the sand toys. It got to be a pattern that nothing fillable or pourable would go into the trash because all those "surprises" would extend the sand time by valuable minutes so 1 could accomplish one more task. The children would giggle with delight when the back door opened and out flew an empty milk carton, a cereal box, or maybe a tin can, a bleach or detergent bottle (all rinsed well, of course!). An assortment of scoops, shovels, spoons, a gravy laddie and a set of plastic measuring cups (the latter generously donated one day when the wax was still wet on the linoleum floor and needed an extra 10 minutes to dry) were constantly in motion as the children filled the strange conglomeration of containers with the wonderful magic granules. It was quite by accident that 1 discovered that this innocent, old-fashioned old-fashioned playtime was probably the most valuable and comprehensive learning experience my children ever had. Playing in the sandbox was probably the most valuable and comprehensive learning experience my children had. It was a beautiful, warm afternoon in June. Cory was 4 and Laura was 2. I was folding laundry at the kitchen table and watching through the window as the children played in the sand. Suddenly, I saw a huge blue jay fly across the yard and land on the grapestake fence in back of the sandbox. I dropped the towel 1 was folding and ran to get the children's new picture book on birds to take out to them to see if we could match the real bird to the one in the book. I walked out the back door and smiled at the serious expressions on the children's faces. Cory was so intent on filling a three-pound coffee can that he didn't hear me come out. He was talking to his little sister, telling her he had to fill it "to the top." Using a tablespoon for a scoop, he was counting each spoonful of sand he put into the big can, "One, two, three, four, five... 10, 16, 12, 19, 11." 1 put my hand over my mouth to stifle the impulse to laugh at his arithmetic, and quietly watched as he continued to fill the coffee can to the top. He looked over at his sister, who had been almost as intent as he continued on back pg. |