Tegu Blocks - A Review

The following review is entirely my own, uninfluenced in anyway by the makers of the product described and reviewed. I received no payment in any form to write said review, I just REALLY like this product!

Here we are, at the edge of a New Year, Christmas just behind us. It's been a truly wonderful week at home, to the point where I don't know how I'm going to feel next Monday when I'm back to work. We've spent much of it relaxing, watching movies, playing in the snow, and, of course, testing out brand new toys (and Mama purging a lot of the old ones). It's been long enough at this point to say there are some favorites amongst the kids and me, as well.

While we certainly don't discriminate much when it comes to toys in our house (we have our fair share of plastic and T.V./movie character driven toys in our home, which the kids adore), I personally have a preference for open-ended toys that essentially demand the kids to be creative and imaginative. This year, my parents gave Michael a set of magnetic blocks from a company called Tegu. They have been an absolute hit. Michael will sit happily for several minutes at a time (almost unheard of for this 2-year-old boy) creating all sorts of different configurations, creatures, and experimenting with the magnets and figuring how what parts of the blocks will stick, what will repel, and what will do nothing at all. Sometimes the magnets can make things challenging and frustrating for him, but in a healthy way. Being two, he doesn't want any help, so he has to do some problem solving. 

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I have enjoyed playing with these blocks, too! I'm not the kind of parent who likes to sit and play with her kids (one, because I just don't want to, but also I don't think it's good for parents to influence or be too involved in their children's play), but I've had fun playing, too. Even our too-cool-for-you seven year old has been caught playing with them. Despite the simplicity of the shapes and relatively few number of blocks (M. received a set of 14), we haven't yet run out of ways to use the blocks. I'm tempted to purchase one of the smallest sets (a packet of 8) just to keep in my purse for when we're out at restaurants or have to sit somewhere and wait for a long period of time. 

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I don't really have any complaints to make regarding these blocks. They price is a bit intimidating (about $35 for the set of 14), however, in a world inundated with cheap plastic toys that barely make it from one Christmas or birthday to the next, these are the kind of well-crafted toys that will last for years and I can imagine they will be played with by grandchildren or passed on to a local library for their children's room. They are also made sustainably in Honduras, with charity and service in mind. With a minimal amount of searching (i.e. please correct me if you know I'm wrong) their claims toward sustainably harvesting their materials and working with communities in Honduras check out. With the quality of the product and also the quality of their service to their factory's community in mind, the cost doesn't bother me much at all. That said, if you're interested in a lower price, Amazon does sell them for a pretty significant price cut, though if/when we buy another set (and I'd like to, for M.'s birthday in February), we'll probably go back to the same small toy store my parents got the first set from. 

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If you have children between the ages 2-5, these are an ideal toy. The set of 14 is the perfect amount for my little guy, but as he gets older I imagine he might benefit from having a few more blocks, so if you have a little one who's closer to 4 or 5, I would consider investing in a larger set so they have more blocks to get creative with. If you're looking for something to spend money or a gift card on for your kiddo or are in desperate search for something different for a birthday gift this coming year, I heartily recommend Tegu Blocks. 

A Review: How to Raise a Wild Child

I've been reading a few books at the same time, so this one took me a bit longer than it would have normally, but it was so well worth it. A few days ago I gave a little glimpse into some of the thoughts How to Raise a Wild Child by Scott D. Sampson had me mulling over and now I am happy to share a few more insights with you.

This book was pretty much perfect. It was part parenting manifesto, part environmentalist love letter to childhood and nature, part practical. It was just the right amount of story, idealism and action plan, and I can't quite get over it. I was really worried that it would be a something that wasn't tangible, just a series of nice ideas with no real implementation possible or a lot of preachy-ness on things I already new about. But it wasn't that at all - instead, through personal stories, solid research, real life examples, and just pure passion, Dr. Scott relayed a series of concrete ideas and solutions that parents and educators can use to instill a love for nature in their children while simultaneously saving our education system, curing the obesity epidemic, and saving our planet. (Yes, he's left me THAT hopeful. The man should be our secretary of education and interior combined.)

Wonderful ideas aside, one of the best things about this book was the structure. Dr. Scott walks the reader through the issues our nation (our world, really) is facing in regards to a vanishing appreciation for and knowledge of nature and then does a wonderful job of linking it to the massive changes that have occurred in the last few decades in childhood and education (none of them that good). He then explores the role of the "nature mentor", a trusted adult who may or may not have a vast experience in the outdoors, who guides children, their own and possibly others, through nature exploration. Dr. Scott address each major developmental stage and looks at how parents and teachers can expand their children and students' natural horizons. And, in the last section of the book, he looks at a couple of other barriers and potential partnerships between children and nature, such as technology and the rewilding movement. He ends with an incredibly moving picture of a potential future, should we, parents and educators follow through with the many ideas and tips delivered in the book.

This is one of those books where I'm going to need to just purchase my own copy. Given some time to let everything sink in, I'll need to go back to consult or to revisit ideas (there are great summaries at the end of each chapter along with specific and concrete tips for raising a wild child), which is similar to how I felt after reading Kim John Payne's book, Simplicity Parenting (another recommended read). I also feel like this needs to be required reading for all educators. Dr. Scott is deft at picking up on the issues plaguing public education and offers real solutions that I know would move us in a tremendously different and better direction. I sincerely feel that working from the direction of the classroom, as well as the home, would be incredibly effective in making a change in how our nation views our environment.

I cannot say enough good things about this book, so I'm going to end with a list of things I truly just loved about the book:

• It was hopeful, encouraging, and non-preachy.
• There was a solid mix of story, example, and practicality - it was easy to get through and a joy to read.
• My heart sung during the sections discussing children's need to play to learn and I am determined to put together an outdoor playscape - I'd love to see this done at our local schools, as well!
• He mentioned Waldorf schools a bunch of times. 
• It was well organized and thoughtful; the concepts felt accessible. 
• I was left with so many ideas and plans it was almost overwhelming, but in a good way!

 Please, please, please pick up this book and read it. It is a must for parents who desire to be worthy living in this beautiful world and to make it worthy of our children. Whether it's something that just puts a fire under your bum to do more or inspires you with ideas you hadn't had before, it's totally worth the read!

Memories from a Once Wild Child

I'm currently reading How to Raise a Wild Child by Scott Sampson (of Dinosaur Train fame, if you've watched the show). I'm hoping to review it on here when I'm done, so I won't say much, but I wanted to write something now, because reading this book has prompted me to think about some things. At the moment, I'm in a chapter discussing middle childhood (from about 6 to 11) and how important nature experiences are at this particular set of ages. It makes sense - most of my profound childhood nature experiences happened during this time of my life, usually with groups of roving neighborhood kids when I lived in Massachusetts.

I wanted to put down some of these memories. They're all, for the most part, quite strong, but I love thinking about them and putting them down. I'm very much the kind of person who likes to go over old, happy memories like someone might a photo album (love those, too), or look fondly over a collection of things.

My grandparents' "yard":
I spent all of my early childhood and most of my middle childhood in a town called Groveland, Massachusetts. I don't know what it's like to be a child growing up there now, but my memories are fairly close to idyllic. It was reasonably rural, at least by suburban Massachusetts standards, what with farms and open land and a fair amount of woods (much of this is developed now). My dad's parents lived probably three or so miles from my house, so we spent a lot of time there. Both of my grandparents grew up on farms and keeping one was just natural to them.

Years and years before, my grandfather had run a chicken farm at the end of their road, providing eggs for the local grocery stores. By the time I came along he had given up chicken farming and kept beef cattle. Big, beautiful brown and white cows idled away in his fields, wandering down to the cow pond where I would one day (unsuccessfully) attempt ice skating. Their huge brown eyes and docile ways had me in love about as soon as I knew them.

My grandmother had little to do with the upkeep of the animals; that was all on my grandfather, and me, his helper, of course (I loved giving the cows "dessert" - oats in big rubber bowls). She, instead, tended massive, meticulous, and beautiful flower gardens. She could grow anything and took great pleasure in it. I could spend hours wandering from section to section of their massive yard, taking in the wide variety of color and shape. In the way, way back of their yard, up beyond a line of shady pine trees, there was a large veggie garden where I would freely harvest snacks during the summer.

I often think of my grandparents' yard (well, small farm, really) as my first connection to nature. Even though they moved from that house and all that land in 2000, I can picture that place in my mind almost more clearly than my own home's yard. Time with my grandparents, when I was small, meant time outside, getting dirty and also with the expectation that I would entertain myself, and there was no shortage of entertainment.

When my grandfather became wheelchair bound in the late nineties and the cows were sold off, the land and house soon to follow, I started taking time to wander up into the cow pasture, a place I had never been previously allowed to go. I was in awe of just how much land there was. I felt a huge pain in my heart that this place wouldn't be my family's any more and that it would likely be developed by whomever purchased it, paved over and built up as so much of the land in that area is now. I remember taking the time, even at only 11 or so, to relish the silence and the feeling of the land around me. 

The Broderick's Yard: 

The Broderick's were the family next door, and are honestly the best family. The three kids in that family were some of my favorite playmates growing up, particularly Kate, who's adventurous and competitive spirit pulled me out of my naturally stagnant shell. If I hadn't had the Broderick kids (and later, the Beatons, another group of adorable and active kids) as neighbors, I probably would have spent a majority of my childhood reading books and playing Sonic.

My strongest outdoor memories from my Massachusetts neighborhood occur in the Broderick's yard. They had a huge yard with all the typical childhood amenities, along with a killer sledding hill in the winter, and a mom who would make tuna melts accompanied by Cape Cod potato chips and juice mixed with seltzer water (of course I remember the food!).

There really weren't any limits to where we could go, and as we got older, we would wander farther and farther afield. I remember one particularly warm winter day when a group of us found ourselves in the woods. Rather than snow, there was ice, because that area tended to get really wet, so I suppose there must have been some melting earlier in the season, then things got cold again and froze over. But with the warmth of that particular day, we found ourselves hoping from sheet of thick ice to sheet of thick ice, hanging on to trees and their little patches of dry ground, playing some sort of game, the exact parameters of which I'm not sure of, having the times of our lives. I don't think those particular circumstances cropped up again, at least not while I lived there, and it was, for me, a once in a lifetime event that now seems so simple, but felt amazing at the time.

Maudslay State Park

My last memories from Massachusetts come from an unlikely place, at least in terms of the great outdoors. Newburyport is a large-ish town on the North Shore, sort of akin to the Old Port in Portland (for my Maine friends - Massachusetts friends are free to decry this comparison). In Newburyport there is Maudslay State Park. I haven't been there in years, like, probably close to twenty years, at this point, so my memories of the park itself are extremely foggy, but I include in these rememberances for a reason - it still gives me such a strong feeling when I think about it. I only have fleeting images in my mind of this place, but the sense of loveliness and stillness and mystery sit solidly over me. It's an interesting to me, that a place where I don't have a real distinct memory of could still leave me with such a strong impression. I love how natural places can do that to you.


I know a lot of folks like to think of Millenials as the first generation shut up in the house, transfixed to their computers and TVs, but I would argue that my friends growing up, both in Massachusetts and in Maine, spent a majority of our time playing outside. We were frequently kicked out by our parents and would run from yard to yard, following some kind of adventure or figuring out which place would be best suited for whatever sport we were going to play. Even as a teenager, here in Maine, I can think of many times I spent with friends outside rather than in, never with our noses buried in something else.

This is the kind of childhood I hope for my kids, one where their best childhood memories take place outside, with a friend or group of friends, lost in their play.

School

When I was about eleven years old I watched a documentary on PBS with my parents. It was about asteroids and the possibility of one hitting the earth, causing unparalleled destruction and death. I didn't sleep for days and was totally unable to verbalize my fears. I am sure my parents had no idea the effect the show had on me, otherwise I'm pretty sure they would have removed all screens from our house in order to prevent it from happening again. But they didn't know, and so what has turned into a life long love/hate relationship with indulging in anxiety inducing information has continued with me into adulthood. Except now it's not asteroids (or super volcanoes (thanks for that one, Mr. Wells, 10th grade geography teacher) or black holes or nuclear winters or disease pandemics). Instead, it's school.

If you're friends with me on Facebook, then no doubt you've seen one of the countless early childhood related articles I've posted, most likely about the push for earlier and earlier reading. I've become a bit obsessed with this for a variety of reasons - one, I have two young children, and two, I work with adults who hate reading, and I often feel that there is a pretty compelling reason why adults hate to read, and it usually stems from their own early education. I'm also very much keyed into the subject specifically because of my daughter, E. I'm sure I've mentioned before that she is very open about her dislike of school. This year, by far, has been much, much easier than last year. Last year, all year, nearly every day, there were tears and begging to stay home. This year is a huge improvement, but nary a day goes by where I don't hear, "Do I have to go?" and when she hears, "Yes, you do," I then get, "But I hate school."

Now, let's make a few things clear: E. has a fabulous teacher. She's fun, engaging, and seriously gives a damn. I love her, and, more importantly, E. loves her. Second, E. is good at school, both socially and academically. There are academic subjects she loves (like reading and writing) and she does well in all, and she has a tight little group of friends who she adores playing with. She doesn't get in trouble and sort of just fits the mold of the kind of kid who does well in the typical school environment.

So, all these things listed above are not things I'm worried about. She has a good teacher, is doing well socially and academically, and isn't a more "spirited" child than usual. What worries me is that, despite having all this going for her, she still hates school. Her reasoning is, she says, is that she's bored. And no, not academically bored (and she's not - she is, all things considered, an average student, falling right where she's supposed to), at least not in the traditional sense, but bored because she wants to play, because she wants more time with her friends, because she wants to engage in what she likes.

As I consider this, part of me says, "Well, she can't play and be with her friends all the time, because, you know, life." But then another (angry and loud) part of me says, "What the hell, she's seven, of course she can play and be with her friends all the time!" And then the third part of me says, "Well, perhaps there's a little ground?" And maybe there is? But what?

I don't feel like the school situation is going to improve. Many I've spoken to about this has half-heartedly shrugged and said, "Maybe it will be better next year?" but they already know the truth -  school doesn't get better as we get older. I mean, there are exceptions, but did you ever say to yourself, "Oh, man, seventh grade is waaaaay better than third!" Um, no. I thought not.

All this brings on a wave of anxiety and I feel paralyzed by our lack of choices. I feel sad and angry because I'm unsure of what to do that will help. And I feel guilty because I feel like I'm being too hard on our education system and the good teachers involved. And I can't seem to escape the information. All while under the guise of being "well informed" I indulge in those anxiety inducing articles about children's needs for more time outside, less standardized testing, and fewer outside pressures. It's as though I'm back in front of that PBS documentary and I can't look away or leave the room, even though I'm horribly disturbed. I can't look away now, either, though I fully realize that the damage I imagine that's being incurred is not nearly as catastrophic.

So, what's a mom to do? For now, I tell myself I'll make life at home a sanctuary, pleasant, peaceful, and unstructured. I'll continue to talk positively at school, but not pass judgement when she says she hates it. I'll try to stay tuned in to what's happening at school, acknowledging that she does do well when she's there, that there are no signs of this dislike that she expresses to me. I'll do all this and hope that over time she does feel better about school...or that we find some other way.