Lesson Plans
Teaching.
Struck yesterday while cleaning orange-tinged tub scum off of aqua colored tub and tiles that I need to think about what I am teaching my daughter. Cole, asleep in the next room, didn't hear the conversation that Aidan and I were having.
"Mommy. Can I help you clean the tub?"
"Why of course sweetie. I'm going to put on these rubber gloves because it's what my mom used to wear to clean everything and it says on the side of the Oxy-Clean container that I should use them. I'm going to dump some of this cleaning stuff into this plastic bowl over here and then add some hot water."
"Oh. The water makes it so you can clean?"
"Yes. It helps to make a kind of paste. And then I'm going to scrub with this sponge, though I'd rather use the blue scrubby brush, have you seen it?"
"No Mommy. I'll look for it." She searches bathroom closet, worried that our tub scrubbing adventure might go terribly wrong if we don't find the proper scrubbing appartus. We can't find it.
"It's o.k. honey. I'll use this sponge."
"Mommy. I see that you scrub like this. And like that. And then like this."
"Yes A. This is how I scrub a tub. We'll let it sit for a while and come back later to rinse."
"Why?"
"Because then I won't have to scrub as much. And that's how I clean a tub."
"Oh."
My daughter now knows how to scrub a bathtub. Should I be proud? It might serve her well some day. But in the greater world of what I consider important knowledge, scrubbing a tub is not something I thought I'd be teaching my daughter how to do. Instead, I want to be teaching her how to speak her mind (don't think this is going to be a problem), that some people/men are rats, that some are in-between, some very good and that she needs to be able to tell the difference. And I want to teach her what to do if some man/person is behaving in a particularly rat-like way. I also want to teach her that I am not a man-hating feminist; I am a feminist who questions patriarchal systems and how they affect women. And being a feminist is NOT a bad thing, except when people don't understand the definition. I want to teach her that some women go to work AND run a household and that it can be done, especially if she carefully selects her partner--in the event that she decides to find a partner. Because living on one's own does not have to be as lonely as some say. I want to teach her that some women choose to stay home and clean tubs and write about it into a computer, and that she can have a life outside of cleaning tubs and that it's o.k. to want to do something more than clean tubs. I want to teach her about choices--the choices that she has and the choices that she doesn't have. Why she has more choices than some and fewer choices than others. That there is beauty in the world. And love.
Wondering how to go about doing all of this. Wondering how--as Aidan and I peer into tub noticing build up of white residue across the tub bottom and along the sides.
Struck yesterday while cleaning orange-tinged tub scum off of aqua colored tub and tiles that I need to think about what I am teaching my daughter. Cole, asleep in the next room, didn't hear the conversation that Aidan and I were having.
"Mommy. Can I help you clean the tub?"
"Why of course sweetie. I'm going to put on these rubber gloves because it's what my mom used to wear to clean everything and it says on the side of the Oxy-Clean container that I should use them. I'm going to dump some of this cleaning stuff into this plastic bowl over here and then add some hot water."
"Oh. The water makes it so you can clean?"
"Yes. It helps to make a kind of paste. And then I'm going to scrub with this sponge, though I'd rather use the blue scrubby brush, have you seen it?"
"No Mommy. I'll look for it." She searches bathroom closet, worried that our tub scrubbing adventure might go terribly wrong if we don't find the proper scrubbing appartus. We can't find it.
"It's o.k. honey. I'll use this sponge."
"Mommy. I see that you scrub like this. And like that. And then like this."
"Yes A. This is how I scrub a tub. We'll let it sit for a while and come back later to rinse."
"Why?"
"Because then I won't have to scrub as much. And that's how I clean a tub."
"Oh."
My daughter now knows how to scrub a bathtub. Should I be proud? It might serve her well some day. But in the greater world of what I consider important knowledge, scrubbing a tub is not something I thought I'd be teaching my daughter how to do. Instead, I want to be teaching her how to speak her mind (don't think this is going to be a problem), that some people/men are rats, that some are in-between, some very good and that she needs to be able to tell the difference. And I want to teach her what to do if some man/person is behaving in a particularly rat-like way. I also want to teach her that I am not a man-hating feminist; I am a feminist who questions patriarchal systems and how they affect women. And being a feminist is NOT a bad thing, except when people don't understand the definition. I want to teach her that some women go to work AND run a household and that it can be done, especially if she carefully selects her partner--in the event that she decides to find a partner. Because living on one's own does not have to be as lonely as some say. I want to teach her that some women choose to stay home and clean tubs and write about it into a computer, and that she can have a life outside of cleaning tubs and that it's o.k. to want to do something more than clean tubs. I want to teach her about choices--the choices that she has and the choices that she doesn't have. Why she has more choices than some and fewer choices than others. That there is beauty in the world. And love.
Wondering how to go about doing all of this. Wondering how--as Aidan and I peer into tub noticing build up of white residue across the tub bottom and along the sides.
posted by Jane | 12:57 PM
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