Thanksgiving Live: Table Manners for Thanksgiving

Have little ones with impeccable social graces?

Okay, then, read right here at Cindy Post Senning's website (yes, that Post family), The Gift of Good Manners, to make it better (thanks to Motherlode for the link).

My Body, My Son

Bud is amazingly flexible.  "Gumby," we call him.  He was always floppy and now he can do full splits or a full back bend with little effort.  Plus a one-handed cartwheel and the beginnings of a headstand.

I know where he gets it, though I never could do those things.  Neither of us crawled on our own well and we were both late walkers, signs of low muscle tone and hyperflexibility, both resulting in weak cores.  So my problems started before I could crawl, because I didn't really crawl--Gommie tells stories of taking me out of my walker (it was the 1970s, after all) and trying to force me to crawl, about which I was apparently most displeased.  I don't think it ever really took.  Fast forward a few decades, with early interventions, and we had specialists teaching Bud to learn to crawl and walk.    He will always be floppy; the key is to try to get and keep him strong, something I never managed, giving up on my body for books.

My new PT is as enlightening as my previous one.  I'm learning more about the effects of a weak core--basically, it affects everything.  My challenge is strengthening a core that has been damaged, not just weakened, with surgeries, scar tissue, and tears.  Hopefully, what I learn about my body will help my son with his.

He also got my family's nervous stomach.  Poor boy.

How to Choose an Art Program for Children

As summer approaches, several parents are considering options for classes and programs (both single and multiple sessins) for their children this summer. Some suggestions:

• Choose a program that will allow your child to attend a free session or will provide a refund after the first class if the program just isn't a good fit. What might sound great on paper might not be in person.
• Ideally, art programs should foster creativity and not merely churn out reproductions of the example.  
• While programs for younger children should focus on exploration of various media, programs for older children can focus on particular skills, such as drawing or sculpting.  Cartooning and animation are very popular.  
• Classes with multiple projects instead of a single sustained project might be better for younger children, while older children might benefit from a final project.
• Programs that combine looking at works of art with art-making, such as those in art museums, can be very inspirational for young artists.   

Other things to consider:

• Are there hidden fees for materials or is the tuition all-inclusive?
• What is the student-teacher ratio? 
• What training do the instructors have?   Are they artists or art teachers with experience teaching children?
• Is there a final exhibition of artworks made during class?

Final things to note:

• Pick a class that works for your child's schedule.  It might be a great program but if it's at a time of day that your child isn't active or receptive, it won't work.
• Don't force your child to participate or perform right away.  Likewise, don't assume they aren't learning if they aren't participating.
• If it's a multi-generational program that includes parents or grandparents, be ready to get messy!  And avoid saying, "I can't do this.  I'm not an artist."  Your child will internalize this low self-esteem and negative attitude.
• Talk to your child about the works made in class.  
• Proudly display works made in class by either hanging them at home or creating digital reproductions to send to family and friends (via the internet or digitally-created calendars and notecards).
• Have art supplies on hand at home to continue the creative process outside of class.
• Go to museums often for inspiration.

Visiting an Art Museum with Children: Scavenger Hunt

Who doesn't like a scavenger hunt?  A list of things to find, a sense of surprise and excitement, learning something perhaps you didn't know before.  Scavenger hunts are a great way to explore a museum without getting bogged down in seeing everything.  Many museums offer scavenger hunts in their children's materials or as special programs, just check their online listings (for example, The Cloisters is hosting a self-guided art hunt May 23-24, 2009).  Similarly, many companies offer scavenger hunts, such as Watson Adventures, while Wikipedia Loves Art has teamed up with the Metropolitan Museum of Art for their own thematic photograph scavenger hunt.

But you can also design your own, even if you have never visited that particular museum before.  And, by designing it yourself, you can tailor it to your own child's interests.  Start with the museum's website and map.  Clues need not only be about the art on the walls and pedestals, but can incorporate architectural features and amenities (such as shops or cafes), especially because these elements are unlikely to change, unlike works on view.  Pick a theme--from introduction to animals, portraits to history--and choose your questions based on it.  Decide on the goal of your hunt. Is it a fact-finding scavenger hunt, i.e. "find an artist who liked to paint water-lilies," or an exploratory, open-ended hunt with almost no wrong answers, i.e. "find a painting with food in it"?   Your child's interests and your knowledge of the museum will help determine your choice.  Is it a cooperative effort, with the whole family working together on one hunt, or a competitive effort with different individuals (except the hunt designer, of course) racing against one another (oh, but please don't run!!)?  Knowing your family will help you decide.  A few other things to consider:  does the hunt have to be done in the order it's written?  will you give hints (like playing "hotter-colder")?  is there a time-limit?  a prize?  For some good ideas and examples, see TimeOut New York's animal scavenger hunt at the Met, complete with parent's cheat sheet, a variety of age-appropriate hunts specific to the National Gallery of Art.

Happy hunting!

Taking a Walk Through a Picture Book

Educators have long recognized not only the importance of picture books in the development of pre-reading skills and literacy, but also the importance of picture books for the development of visual literacy. Picture books are often a child's first experience of art. But as H. Nichols B. Clark, founding director of the first museum dedicated to picture book arts, the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, noted, "Illustration has long been relegated to stepchild status in the arts in America." While the Caldecott Medal was established by the American Library Association in 1937 to recognize the illustrator of the most distinguished picture book of the year, it was only in 2002 that Eric Carle, noted illustrator and author of more than 70 picture books, helped found a museum dedicated to the art form.

Picture books are ideal for introducing art to children: their intimate, personal scale; their dedication to narrative storytelling that encourages children to "read" the picture; familiar or accessible subject matter; easy, affordable format. Parents who might be unfamiliar with art museums are frequently comfortable with bedtime story rituals. But how do you talk about the art of a picture book? Educators utilize a technique called the "picture walk" or "story walk" to discuss illustrations in books even before addressing the written word. To do this, teachers begin with the cover and ask the class to help them describe the illustration. As they progress through the book, children and teacher examine the illustration to discern the narrative and then make hypotheses and predictions about the story based on the illustrations. The Carle Museum advocates what they term the Whole Book Approach, in which children are encouraged to listen and speak to engage the visual and verbal aspects of the book simultaneously, instead of listening silently to the adult read aloud. This approach embraces Visual Thinking Strategies (VTS), a learner-centered open-questioning system that encourages the exploration of visual art through personal response and expression. Developed by psychologist Abigail Housen and museum educator Philip Yenawine, VTS has long been utilized by museum educators to discuss paintings and sculpture but can be adapted to any visual form. Begin with "what do you think is going on in this picture?" and proceed from the child's answer.

A great place to start are stories without words. The narrative is embedded in the pictures, allowing children to interpret the story for themselves without asking for the words to be read (or reading the words themselves). One of our favorites is You Can't Take a Balloon into the Metropolitan Museum written by Jacqueline Preiss Weitzman and illustrated by Robin Preiss Glasser. Black-and-white illustrations of New York City parallel a little girl's exploration of the Met and the colorful works of art she finds there (depicted in photographs) with the adventure of her yellow balloon throughout Manhattan as a Met guard tries to retrieve it. Each time my children read the pictures, they discover new details and alter their version of the story, all the while remembering their own experiences of the Met and the city. In this way, picture books bring art home while reinforcing visual literacy skills that children can then take to the art museum and to the world at large.

Look to Learn, Learn to Look: Tips for Talking with Children about Art

You're in a museum, standing in front of a work of art, a painting, maybe a sculpture. You've done everything you can to assure a positive visit to the museum--eaten beforehand, planned a short visit, talked about the rules, gotten excited about what you're going to see--now what?

For me, the key to talking with children about art is the "with" in "talking with children," instead of "talking to chidren about art." The goal is a discussion, not a lecture. And little or no knowledge of art history is necessary. Like many museum educators, I utilize an adaptation of Visual Thinking Strategies (VTS) when discussing art with children (for numerous articles and videos on the strategy and the research behind it, check out the website; I attended one of their weeklong training workshops). Briefly, the strategy, designed by museum educator Philip Yenawine and psychologist Abigail Housen, encourages the discussion and exploration of visual art through a learner-centered series of open-ended questions: what's going on in this picture? what do you see that makes you say that? and what more can we find? By responding openly and without judgment to children's answers, adults facilitate close and rewarding looking at a work of art.

Of course, this technique often drives art historians to distraction because it does not prioritize information such as artist biography, art style/movement/"-ism", social history/context, and the like. Similarly, adult museum visitors often find "pure VTS" frustrating because they don't feel like they "learn" anything about a work of art, and, as museums are seen primarily as educational institutions, visitors value discussions with facts. Of course, in all fairness, the technique was originally designed for elementary school classrooms not art museum tours. This is why I mentioned an "adapted" form of VTS. Many educators begin with a VTS-like introduction to a work of art, encouraging close looking, but then branch out into art-historical lecturing when the discussion touches upon something interesting or unique in a work of art (it's also how I've taught my college art history surveys. But children are not yet burdened with these expectations and can often play the VTS question game ad infinitem, spotting numerous details and drawing intriguing conclusions. So, next time you are standing in front of a work of art, or even a picture book, start with "what do you think is going on in this picture?" and see what marvelous places it takes you.

How to Talk to Kids about Nudity in Art

My daughter saw the nudes in the painting first, but it was my son who asked in his loudest voice possible, "Mommy, why are the boys touching each other's penises?" Not only did my children look to me expectantly, curious of the answer, but about 20 other adults in the gallery turned to hear it, too. I should have expected as much when I decided to take my 3 1/2 year-old twins to The Metropolitan Museum of Art's exhibition "Art and Love in Renaissance Italy." If there is art, chances are there is nudity. And children are the fastest and most adept museum visitors at finding the single nude figure in an entire gallery of art. Even if you are in a room of fruit and vegetable still-life paintings! You'll probably first hear the whispers and then the giggles. There are almost always giggles. You'll know immediately what they've spotted.

What do you do then?

First, you might have to wait for those giggle to die down. And they will. Children are often curious about what an adult is going to say, even if slightly uncomfortable. Nudity in art allows you the opportunity to talk about many things from the universality of the human body to the history of its representation in art, including its use as a symbol and various definitons of beauty. Artists from different times and culture have long depicted the human body, often with no clothes, because it is something we all have in common, even if sexes, shapes, sizes, colors, modifications, and abilities vary. This, in part, explains nudity's omnipresence in art and museums. Oftentimes, simply explaining this, especially to the younger kids, is enough. Signaling your comfort with nudity in art encourages their own comfort with art but also with their own bodies. Older children and teenagers will be able to discuss idealism vs realism, sexuality, beauty, symbolism, and the like.

Much has been written and debated about the difference between naked and nude. In the end, when discussing art with kids, I tend to use "naked" to indicate a figure that would otherwise be dressed (i.e. if there are clothes nearby signaling their become undressed) and to use "nude" to indicate a metaphorical or symbolic figure whose lack of clothes seems "natural." For instance, the goddess Venus in ancient Roman statuary is nude but the women in Manet's Dejuener Sur L'Herbes are naked. This is a slippery slope at best and not necessary for an introductory discussion.

In the end, however, sometimes you have to improvise. Before I explained the universality and commonality of the human body in preschooler terms, I simply and directly answered my son's question about the nudity, "They are touching their penises because that is what little boys do."

Other tips:

• If possible, prepare children in advance for the fact that they will see nudity in the museum so that they aren't as surprised when they see that first nude sculpture or painting.


• If possible, address nudity in art before the giggles start, i.e. intentionally choose a nude--they're going to be looking at it anyway!


• Allow space and time for giggles and discomfort--and then follow it up with observation and discussion--instead of denying, rushing, or glossing over nudity.


• If you stop and talk about a female nude, play it fair and stop to look at a male nude somewhere else. Also vary body types, cultures, time periods, styles, if possible.


• Use the accurate terms for body parts and encourage others to do the same.


• If you are a teacher, be very aware of cultural and religious sensitivities regarding nudes (a teacher was fired in Frisco, TX, after a student saw a nude sculpture at a museum on a field trip in 2006). Plan appropriately for age, physical and social development, familiarity with art, etc.

Books: Ella's Trip to the Museum

Elaine Clayton's illustrated children's book, Ella's Trip to the Museum (New York: Crown Publishers, Inc, 1996), playfully follows Ella's imaginative journey through an art museum. On a field trip with her class, Ella enters paintings and dances with statues while her increasingly stern teacher gives a dry lecture to the class.

"Stay with us, Ella! I want you to experience the art."
"But I am!"

While the book unfairly sets up adults such as teachers and guards as immune to the powers of art, it does introduce children to the imaginative possibilities of art and museums. The illustrations are light and cheery, with the depicted works of art alluding to the ballerinas of Degas, Baroque cherubs, and ancient Roman statues. This is a great prelude to a real visit to a museum, even if children might want to dance in the galleries!

"My Kid Could Paint That"

In 2005, a young art star made headlines around the world for her abstract canvases, which had their first showing at a gallery in Binghampton, NY and were soon mentioned in The New York Times.

A very young art star. Marla Olmstead was then four years old.

A 2007 documentary entitled My Kid Could Paint That by director Amir Bar-Lev follows Marla's early success and the fallout from a devastating investigation by 60 Minutes into whether she really painted the works all by herself. Besides being an exploration of the definitions and meanings of modern art, with several good segments with the Times's art critic Michael Kimmelman, the documentary problematizes child celebrity, parental ambition, and journalistic motivation, including the director's. In the end, the question that remains is not really whether Marla completed the works alone (and the documentary suggests that she didn't), or even if modern art is meaningless because a child could do it, but whether adults should ever draw children into an otherwise grown-up world.

How to Talk to Children About Their Art

Given time, opportunity, and supplies, children will draw, write, paint, glue, or otherwise create art, both impressing and overwhelming parents, who then hang the works in frames on the walls, on the refrigerator, and on various other household surfaces, or send them off to the houses or offices of family and friends. While there are numerous solutions for honoring, cherishing, and storing these creative gifts, I want to talk about the moment of creation and its immediate aftermath: what do you say to a child engaged in the artistic process?

We've all done it. A child shows you a work of art and you say, "I love the dog you drew" only to find out it was a space monster or something else far removed from the canine world. Then, both you and the child are disappointed by your interaction. The biggest rule of thumb for talking about their own artwork with children is not to ask or try to guess what it is. Sometimes "it" isn't anything in particular, but an exploration of color, line, texture, composition, moods, feelings, or some other unidentifiable, unexplainable intangible. When asked, children are either hurt that you don't understand their work of art or confused that they can't quite explain it to you.

What to say, then?

• I really like the [line, color, shape] you used here.


• How did you feel when you made this?


• Would you tell me about your picture?


• How did you make this?

The point is to avoid trying to identify specific objects in the work and instead talk about the creative process.

For more ideas for discussing and encouraging a child's creative process, see Susan Striker's Young at Art, especially her great introduction.

Visiting an Art Museum with Children: I Spy

Going to an art museum with children? Try playing "I Spy." This game allows kids to adapt a familiar game to an often unfamiliar setting. It also gives them a way to look at art by helping them locate ordinary objects. Finally, it encourages close looking at a single work of art. You can play this game with almost any genre, style, or period of art. Seventeenth-century still lifes feature wonderful foods and objects. American nineteenth-century landscapes allow discussion of weather, buildings, and land features. Portraits from any period contain interesting clothing, settings, and objects.

Start the game by reminding kids that this is a game for eyes only, not pointing fingers. Then pick a painting (though this also works with most sculptures) and have someone start the "I Spy" game by locating an object and waiting for others to spot it. The "spotter" can then spy the next object. You can also start with a question such as "What do you see?" and then follow that up with "What else do you see?" For many children (even young ones), identifying the objects can be a jumping off point for deeper discussion of what is happening in the painting. Later, with some children, you can ask questions about time and place, as in "Do you think this peron lives here now?" or "Do you think this is a picture of our hometown?" Follow it up with "what makes you say that?" which encourages supporting evidence for an answer.

If you are familiar with the museum or have a quick eye, you can enter an entire gallery asking children to find a particular kind of work of art, stating something like, "I spy a moutain," and letting the kids search the whole room. This works best in small galleries with few other visitors. An offshoot of this would be a treasure hunt, a very standard museum field trip activity.

But that will have to be another post.

How to Visit an Art Museum with Children

Thinking of taking your kids to an art museum? Want to make it as successful and happy a visit as possible? Whether you are a seasoned museum-goer or a novice visitor, the tips below will make taking children to the art museum a joy:

Before You Visit

• Plan a short visit--a few galleries, one exhibition. An hour is usually more than enough and about all a preschooler can happily handle.
• Visit the museum's website to see if they have any children's materials (most do--and I have written many) to help you prepare or to complete there. Call to ask if you can take pencils (never crayons or pens) and paper into the galleries. Most museums I've worked at get edgy about children with art supplies unless in a program accompanied by staff members.
• Eat beforehand. Because you can't snack in the galleries. Even cheerios or sippy cups.
• Discuss the rules. Try to phrase them positively, such as "look with your eyes not with your hands" and "use your inside voice." Museum behavior is not the modus operandi for most children but knowing what to expect--and keeping it short--helps.

During Your Visit

• When you arrive, find a map and locate the bathrooms, cafe, and shop.
• Depending on how your kids do in shops, go there first to look at the postcard display. Let the children choose a few postcards they like and use those to guide your visit. Some museum maps have pictures and you can use those instead.
• Review the rules.
• Introduce your child to a guard. I always explain to my school tours that guards are there to protect you and the art. And if you get lost, they are in almost every room and can help you out. Most guards are glad to say hello.
• Let the children lead the way.
• Talk. It's okay to talk in a gallery. Comment on what you see, ask open-ended questions (what do you see? what do you think is going on?).
• Embrace the family (or one-on-one) time. Avoid programs the first time, until the kids are comfortable in the space, unless your child really thrives on group activities. Tours especially often require quiet, still, attentive behavior which can be difficult for little ones. And programs for kids in the galleries can be overwhelming to a newcomer (or difficult for a family depending on the age span of your children).
• Take a break midway--outdoor sculpture gardens are ideal for getting the wiggles and giggles out.

After Your Visit

• Don't forget what educators call the "follow-up activity." Do something based on your visit: draw a picture inspired by those you saw; make a collage with your map, tickets, and postcards; look at other, similar works of art in books or on the internet.
• Discuss, discuss, discuss: What did you like? What didn't you like? Tell family and friends.
• Plan your next visit!

For more ideas (and there are several lists of tips on the web), see this interview with Jean L. Sousa, head of Family Programs at The Art Institute of Chicago.

The Wonder Years

Generation To Generation

In a house which becomes a home,
one hands down and another takes up
the heritage of mind and heart,
laughter and tears, musings and deeds.
Love, like a carefully loaded ship,
crosses the gulf between the generations.
Therefore, we do not neglect the ceremonies
of our passage: when we wed, when we die,
and when we are blessed with a child;
When we depart and when we return;
When we plant and when we harvest.
Let us bring up our children. It is not
the place of some official to hand to them
their heritage.
If others impart to our children our knowledge
and ideals, they will lose all of us that is
wordless and full of wonder.
Let us build memories in our children,
lest they drag out joyless lives,
lest they allow treasures to be lost because
they have not been given the keys.
We live, not by things, but by the meanings of things.
It is needful to transmit the passwordsf rom generation to generation.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery


Having read the first few sections of Parents as Spiritual Guides, by Roberta and Christopher Nelso, a UU book about whole-family spirituality, I've been thinking about some of the questions posed to parents. The first few exercises involve the definition of spirituality, why it's important to the parent, and the role of wonder in spirituality. And so, as I mentioned earlier, I'm going to journal about them here.

The book utilizes Dr. James Fowler's theories about spiritual development, from the undifferentiated faith of infants, through the mythic-literal faith of symbols and storytelling, to the Individuative-Reflective faith with its personally-constructed meanings, and, where I think I am now, the Paradoxical-Consolidative faith of recognizing the complexities of life and living with them (there are other stages and I don't know any of them well; this is just a quick mention of them). Apparently, for Fowler, the family is at the center of faith development, being the place where humans experience shared meanings and rituals, among other essential needs.

What is spirituality to me and why do I want to bring it to my kids? Spirituality, for me, is the valuing of things of the spirit, i.e. not consumer goods, not products, not posessions, but emotions such as love, wonder, gratitude, appreciation, responsibility, compassion, a feeling of connection to all living things, the questioning of the nature of the universe, a sense of a picture bigger than the here and now, my place in it all, as well as my contribution to it. What is that saying on coffee mugs? The most important things in life aren't things. In UU terms, it would be Principle 7, I think, the interconnectedness of all living things, plus Principle 1, the inherent worth and dignity of all people.

Such things haven't always interested me. For a long time, I confused and conflated religion and spirituality, rejecting both as I rejected Christianity, but they are not necessarily the same thing. I can be an atheist but still engaged in a spiritual quest. And so, several years ago, I began to consider such ideas. It has taken me away from a pessimistic and aggressive atheism, through a personal Wiccan interest in natural cycles and pagan traditions, to Unitarian Universalism, where I'm still an atheist with Wiccan leanings.

I should've noticed earlier, but my father, who never readily enters a church or finds much value in organized religion, is one of the most spiritually-alive people I know. He is a modern-day Thoreau, finding his communion with the universe in nature, respecting the world around him and taking care of it. He is particularly interested in ideas, reads a great deal, and engages in the issues of the day (he is one of the most well-informed people, as far as current events and political issues go). I remember as a child that he would exhort us to look out the window in the car at the world around us--look, there's the beaver dam on the way between Houston and Dallas--but I often didn't, of course, because children don't always. But of course, I want my children to look, too (see Dad, I was listening and learning, after all. Just a little late).

Do you know the joke about UUs? They are atheists with children! And that's exactly how it started. DP and I knew we wanted to have children and knew we wanted a spiritual community for them. She had been raised in a Buddhist household but sent to Catholic school for 12 years, not fitting in well either place; I was left to discover my own spiritual path and followed my mom's, but later in life, this atheism left me yearning for something else (for clarity: I don't regret not being raised with religion--I sampled lots of churches with friends--I just wished I'd found my spiritual home sooner. And thanks to art history and Cecil B. DeMille, I can identify many Bible stories). And so we checked out the local UU church, even before we were pregnant. And it's one of the best decisions we made--our specific community of friends who care for and encourage one another, our minister who has supported us with wisdom and kindness through many stressful times, the larger movement itself with its focus on liberal religious teachings and social justice. We go to church almost every week, leaving the children in the nursery for service and then spending fellowship hour together talking to friends. We had them dedicated there and are happy that they feel comfortable, happy, and loved there. And so now, as they get older, we're thinking of how to encourage their own innate spirituality. And for children, much of this centers around the concept of wonder--being able to recognize and appreciate the specialness and uniqueness of the world around them.

Nature is our path to wonder right now. The actual, physical world holds so many marvels for them, which in turns makes it marvelous for me: the tiny snow drop flowers pushing up out of the dried leaves; the tulip shoots starting to peek through next to our mailbox; the way the water rushes down the "waterfall" in the stream by our house; the half-moon visible during the day; the red tail hawk soaring overhead; birds' nests now visible in bare trees; squirrels chasing each other up and down our trees; a full rainbow in a rain-drenched sky; the way the wind dances in the trees; how gently-falling snow tastes on your tongue. We try to point out the world around them.

And last night it was the gorgeous full moon in a mostly clear and windy sky. It rose over the house next to us as we were getting the kids into bed. And so we watched it glow next to a tall pine, sometimes blocked by clouds, other times illuminating the sky. We checked back on its progress during storytime (we read Grandfather Twilight, about the man who carries a small pearl that grows larger and brighter as he spreads twilight around, until he puts the pearl into the night sky and goes to bed), and sang all our moon songs to it before we went to bed--"I See the Moon," "Sister Moon, Sister Moon," and "Moon, Moon, Moon."

The first thing we heard this morning? "Mommy, we don't see the moon. It's too sunny."

It's wonder-ful.