Tuesday Morning — Freeschooling, Mastermind and Perfectionism
One thing I really love about this “freeschooling” gig is that the further we get from having a road map, the more unexpected turns we make.
When Sarah was 5, and in Kindergarten, her teachers tried to be careful to give her just the “right amount” of challenge. I’ll never forget the day she came home, full of righteous indignation, and told me she’d been forbidden to choose the library book she wanted. All the kids in her class had been taken to the school library. After storytime, each child had been invited to choose a book.
“I walked over to the shelves and picked a book I wanted — it was a cool book on mice. But the librarian took it away from me. She said “That’s too hard for you” — and she pointed to a table covered with easy picture books — “those are the books for Kindergartners.”
I am loosely paraphrasing — but that is the gist of it. Sarah has a handful of stories like this from her elementary school years. She often had to sit through books and movies she found disturbing, because she was more sensitive than most of her peers, yet she was led away from books and games that were deemed “too hard” or “for big kids.”
Of course I’d never dream of taking an “advanced” book away from one of my kids, but I’m sure my preconceived expectations shape — and limit — the things I choose to strew in their paths. I suppose this will happen less and less often as I continue to gradually “deschool” myself.
I guess it helps that my present Kindergartner-in-Residence, Trishy, has two older siblings; she’s grown up with all this crap strewn around all these stimulating activities for older children. She often enjoys games, books, movies, and activities that are not scaled down to her age level.
Today, I spent the morning alone with Trishy. We ended up spending the whole morning playing Mastermind, which I thought was too hard for her.
It’s that old classic where one player, the “code-maker,” arranges colored pegs, in any order, in four holes. She has six colors to choose from. The “code-breaker” makes an arrangement of four colored pegs on her side of the board. If she puts the right color in the right place, the “code-maker” puts a tiny red peg on the board. If it is the right color but in the wrong hole, she uses a tiny white peg. So for example, if you’re the “code-breaker” and your opponent puts one red peg and two white pegs on the board, you know you put one peg of the right color in the right place and two pegs of the right color in the wrong places. You just don’t know which colors are right. You keep going until you solve the puzzle or until you’ve used up ten turns.
It’s a very cool game, without a lot of fussy rules and strategies (I don’t seem to do well with that), that’s loaded with math and logic. There are various other versions of the same concept, and it’s easy to make a DIY version for free.
When Trishy asked me to play it, I was reluctant. I thought the teeny pegs would be a challenge for her fine motor skills (they weren’t). I figured she’d have trouble “getting” the deductive logic in the game. I thought she’d get frustrated and want to quit. But with some coaching, she did quite well, picking up on most of the logical nuances of the game. And she wanted to play again and again and again.
Linda Silverman, in Upside-Down Brilliance: The Visual-Spatial Learner wrote about “right-brained” learners, who tend to be perfectionistic and hard on themselves. She recommended a game called Pico Fermi Bagels (like Mastermind, but using numbers instead of colors) to highlight how useful mistakes can be.
This is my version of her approach –
Trishy puts in a combination of pink, white and yellow pegs. Usually she gets excited when I indicate that some of the colors she chose are “right” and disappointed when they’re “wrong.”
Me: Nothing — none of these are right. YAY! That is GREAT! You did a really good thing. Now you know that there are NO pinks, whites, or yellows in the answer! So what’s left? (It’s true — ruling out half the colors in the game gets you a LOT closer to the solution)
This reminds me a bit of Thomas Edison who famously said, after struggling through a thousand “failed” experiments, “”I have discovered a thousand things that don’t work.” Maybe if I strew some of these ideas, along the way, for Trishy, she won’t struggle so much with the painful perfectionism that has always hounded the older kids. I can hope.
Does anyone else have perfectionistic kids, who take it deeply to heart when they make mistakes? What are your favorite strategies for helping them?















