Mighty Math Powers

My three-year-old daughter and I have discovered Team Umizoomi, a Nickelodeon program that explores math for young children.  Princess likes watching Milli change patterns with her magic dress or Geo create things with shapes.  But she does not like being told that she also has "mighty math powers."  In fact, she argues back with the television that she doesn't have such powers.

I am admittedly at a loss as to how to deal with this.  Sure, we could just switch the station, or I could ignore her, but I'm worried.  She recently told her older brother that she didn't like watching "boy shows."  Is she already thinking of math as a discipline for boys?  How do I combat that message? 

As you can imagine, I believe in science accessibility for all.  But maybe I haven't been as vocal about math.  My husband is more gifted in math than I am -- Itinerant Cryptographer is internationally known for his abilities.  Have I simply shoved all of the math parenting duties over to him without realizing it?   Have I (unintentionally) projected the message that math is for boys?

My little girl loves to dance, so I pointed out to her that dance steps involve counting and rhythm.  But I'd love to hear your ideas.  If your daughter thinks of math as a "boy" subject, how have you addressed that stereotype?  How do you engage your daughter in math? 

Photo credit: D Sharon Pruitt, via flickr // CC BY 2.0

Gender discrimination starts early

Last week, I took one of my sons to the doctor. Fortunately, this office has a lot of nice, fun things to play with while you are waiting. Princess ignored the doll house, the books, and the coloring books. When she spied the blocks, she picked up a couple of them and began to run around the room.

I was absently watching her play when a little boy came up to me. He was about four years old. Pointing at Princess, he said, "She needs to give me those."

I looked at my toddler daughter, happily running around with two blocks in one hand and one in the other. For once, she wasn't tearing off down the hall hoping that I would chase her. She wasn't taking toys away from this child or anyone else. She was behaving as well as should be expected for her age.

So I looked down at him with a slightly bemused expression and said, "No, she doesn't."

His mom piped up. "[Child], you need to share the toys with the little girl. Why don't you bring her something else to play with?"

I found my mouth saying, "Oh, yeah, that would be great," while my mind was thinking, "This isn't right."

The little boy ran over with a doll. A small plastic doll in a pink dress. He thrust it at Princess.

"Here!" he said.

She ignored him. Is it wrong to admit that I smiled inside when she ran the other way, banging the blocks together with a happy grin?

I found myself explaining Princess' behavior to the little boy, who seemed puzzled and angry. "She doesn't like dolls yet. She likes blocks and cars." I should have added, "just like you." Instead, I found myself saying, "She has brothers ..."

How sad is that? Why did I feel the need to explain away her behavior? She's a girl. She likes trucks and blocks. So what?

At the age of four, this little boy has already learned that it is okay to take blocks and cars -- what he sees as "boy toys" -- away from the girls. He has learned that girls play with dolls and, apparently, only dolls. And I, without stopping to think about it, contributed to his biases.

Fortunately, my daughter did not.


Photo credit: Holger Zscheyge, via flickr // CC BY 2.0