The Crushing Weight of Lofty Expectations

Maybe if I start a blog post at 9:50 at night, I'll stop eating peanut M&M's....

On Monday, I had been listening to two moms with new babies talk about their stresses - regular homeschooling moms in the thick of raising kids and providing an education for them on top of it. As so many point out, we homeschoolers are an "ambitious" bunch. Well, we are. These moms were no exception, with grand visions of pulling it all off. A few hours of school, one on one time with each child, enriching activities and field trips and extras for everyone depending on their talents and interests, AND healthy food (preferably home grown and canned), AND a clean house, and nursing babies with eco-friendly cloth diapers too. (Okay, they didn't talk about cloth diapers. That's mine for dramatic effect.)

As I listened to the stress they were feeling, I sensed they felt they were failing, and those feelings reflect a host of worries. After all, we often set such lofty expectations for ourselves because we're worried "What if we don't." What if we don't keep up with the pacing of standardized classes? What if we don't teach discipline and structure? While we're worried about that, we may simultaneously worry that our structure is killing the joy and discovery of the learning process. What if one focus might misplace or delay another? And perhaps more than anything, seeing the fabulous potential of a child, what if our actions or lack there of, permanently harm that potential/curiosity/inner drive?

The result of such stress was two maxed out mothers who didn't seem to be having much fun. I wanted to hold the two baby boys for them and tell them to let go, shake all the worries and doubts from their shoulders, figuratively and physically, tell them that they are doing great and important things and that it WILL be hard to do it all AND change diapers, AND NURSE, AND not sleep through the night, but that they don't have to do it all RIGHT NOW.

Such wisdom, right? Well the very next day I was struggling through my own teaching experience, in dance class.

I had a rough class this past week. NOT the fault of my little dancers. They are adorable, good kids, and there is actually great potential in the class too. But that's what got me.

I was thinking about how great they were, how they could do great things if they wanted it and worked hard, and IF they had good help along the way. That would be my part. So I started to stress. Was I helping them enough? Was I helping them so much we lost the fun? Was I emphasizing the right stuff? I feared I was going too slow. I'm pretty sure in the standard classes for dancers their age, the students are learning more steps. I feared I was bogging everyone down in trying to make sure the steps, and all that goes into them is done correctly WITH a correct knowledge of the how and not just dumb luck. I felt torn between teaching more steps and teaching good technique.

Sadly, I think this inner battle was felt by my sweet little dancers. Probably not in any way they could put their fingers on. But our last class was off, and I knew it, and I think they knew it too. I don't remember how the light bulb went on, but I thought of those stressed homeschooling moms and saw them in my ballet teacher self.

I set about taking my own unspoken advice and began to mentally tear down and shake off my crushing expectations. Instead of expecting my students to be as good as or better than their peers, I can expect that I will instruct them to the best of my ability every time we are together and work on exactly what each dancer needs to know to progress. Perhaps most importantly I can detach my ego and identity as a ballet instructor from their dancing. Making the mental shift actually isn't all that difficult. Who cares that what we are working on is different than what might be covered if they were in a standard class? Who cares that they might know fewer steps than their peers? (In fact, the steps DO hardly matter. If you dance well, you can learn steps quickly and prestigious schools and companies will be happy to teach you. If you dance poorly, lots of steps don't make it better.)

Now my challenge will be to remember this shifted focus....

Isn't that a challenge for all of us? How often to our lofty expectations kill relationships? How often are our expectations born from fears of judgement or a desire to feel better about ourselves, our teaching, or our experiences?

Thankfully I had already begun the practice of shedding such burdens. I have learned to expect of my children that we will learn to clean. I don't expect to have a clean home for more than a few minutes at a time. I expect to continue to instruct them many times on good manners and getting along with family members - I don't expect to say, "No fighting with your sister" once and have that be the end of it. And when it comes to school, I expect that I will help my children learn, and more importantly, learn to learn on a regular basis. But I don't expect that each day we will have fabulously planned lessons, or that they will be ahead of their peers at each benchmark.

After shaking off the crushing ballet expectations, I'm excited to get back to my ballet class this week. An expectation that the magic will be back and that we will all have a great time? Yes, I suppose it is. Seems I can't help setting expectations. And I don't think all expectations are wrong or bad. But I'm recommitting to examine which expectations serve me, or help me serve others, and which are just heavy burdens that kill the joy, and rid myself of those. As I tell myself from time to time while wildly waving my arms, injured-ballerina-swan style, "Flap it off, Steff." Join me in the flapping.

Thinking Big, Obvious Thoughts

The Homeschool Potluck Social was yesterday. I had a great time, so there is one measure of success. :) I've always said, if it's not fun, it's not worth it. More important than my own enjoyment, however, I hope everyone who came went home with what they were looking for, whether that was just a fully belly, or new friends or an idea of new directions they want to head in over the coming school year.

I came home thinking the sorts of things I always think after spending time with homeschoolers. "Wow! Everyone was so great!" "Their kids are doing great things." "That family is so lucky." And, as usual, these thoughts led to reflection on MY family and what we are doing. Sometimes I feel we just don't measure up.

That feeling has led to great inspiration on things we can do, on changes I can make as a mother to serve my children better. But sometimes these comparisons don't serve me at all. Just because the Jones's are doing XYZ, the Caspersons don't need to do it too. Even if the Jones's are homeschoolers like us. Even if the Jones's kids are the sort of smart, going-places kinds of kids the Caspersons hope to have.

My deep, obvious thought is this: Just because we like and admire people, we don't need to do what they do. That we are friends and have similar values doesn't mean we need to make the same choices.

Duh.

So as I lay awake thinking of all the cool things everyone else was doing, I released the hope that I would do the same things, just because we could, or because they were cool things to do.

Releasing this desire and comparison is HUGE for me. I can feel a bit overwhelmed with all I want to accomplish. How on earth can I balance all that AND nurturing and providing for my family the experiences THEY need? I have wondered.

Last night I realized what it is I REALLY want to do, at least in the short term. My desires: Pay off the house and travel the world with my family, and while pursing those, be fully engaged as a mother and in the educations of my children. Those goals are unlikely to result in me being famous or having my own business or being a great influence or making lots of money. (They TAKE money. This morning as I excitedly announced that I had figured out my life, my husband restated, "So what you are really saying is that you want to make a lot of money." "No honey," I clarified, "I want YOU to make a lot of money.")

Sometimes it feels as useful to know what it is you AREN'T going for as it is to identify what you DO want. True for trying to homeschool kids. True for life.

PS: GO Honey! :)

Fun with Mom Camp

So, as you may have gathered from an older post, this has been a summer of field trips! We have LOVED it!

My oldest loved the training he got over a 5 week span of time. We ALL loved the taste of "big city" life. My seven year old remarked that she felt "like a regular person" in Salt Lake. She was trying to describe that small feeling you have surrounded by a lot of people. I chuckled to think how she would feel in Asia, or any of America's larger cities!

Anyway, we love getting around on public transportation. We loved the city's museums, activities, and cultural offerings. Interestingly, it seems summer is the time to do just that - get out and get a broader exposure - but I'm surprised how many kids we saw involved in camps or day-care activities of one sort or another (identifiable mostly by the matching t-shirts, but that failing, by the large same-age child to adult ratio).

This surprised me because enjoying these adventures WITH my kids has felt just like what I'm supposed to do as a mother. I'm sure families have good and significant reasons for enrolling their kids in summer camps. As we saw these camps hit many of the destinations on our list, there is no doubt the camps have fabulous learning as part of their programs. But I wondered how the mothers felt about missing out. Regardless of their feelings, I felt a bit of sadness for them - that they weren't there to take it all in, to process it all, and to relive the happy memories WITH their kids.

I half-jokingly think it would be wonderful to print up a bunch of t-shirts and have my kids and their peers, AND THEIR MOMS hit all of these same destinations. 'Cause hey! Everybody loves a good day camp. Ours would be "Fun with Mom" Camp. This idea has NO copy right, so steal it, if you feel so inspired. :) (Ooh, and send me the t-shirt design!)

Reason #728: Soul-Satisfying Success

As I've mentioned elsewhere on my blog, I was a ballerina in my life BC (before children). When you spend 20 years doing one thing, it's no wonder it works it's way deeply into your subconscious. I have learned a lot from my ballet dreams. I've learned how much I value being a mother. I've learned how our bodies facilitate and streamline learning. And I've learned about soul-satisfying success.

A few weeks back I dreamed I was performing a lead in some ballet. The performance had gone well and I was in my dressing room preparing to leave the theater as I listened to the last strains of the music. Suddenly it occurred to me that I'd forgotten to perform the coda - the last piece after a pas de deaux and solo. Though I rushed to the stage, I'd already removed my costume and make-up and there was no way I was making it back to finish what I'd left undone.

It's not unlikely that I dreamed this because I did, in fact, forget to appear for a finale in one performance. Thankfully, I was NOT dancing a leading role at that time. But the panic as I realized my mistake was real, and apparently lives on in my subconscious.

What happened next in my dream was instructive. The ballet was over. My bosses came on to the stage and I was officially in big trouble. Though I realized they had forgotten to teach me the ending to the ballet, I was the no-show performer who had let the audience down, and they were taking the part from me. I might have fought with them, or blamed them for their oversight. I might have lashed out at other dancers, who were standing gloating in the wings, for not reminding me and letting me prepare to leave. Instead, as the theater cleared, I labored to learn and perfect what I had never learned and what I would now never perform. Though my dream performance was done, though my dream role had been taken from me, I still wanted to finish it all, as well as I could. For my own sake. For my own inner peace. I realized when I woke up and processed the dream, that the determination I felt at the end was all about soul-satisfying success.

Soul-satisfying success is self-defined. It may not be to great heights. It isn't about a crowd or approval. It's about not giving up 'til we've done something as well as we care to do it, just for the satisfaction of knowing we can. We can pursue soul-satisfying success in all sorts of endeavors. More recently than ballet, I struck out at every at-bat I had filling in for a better player at a local soft-ball game. My team won anyway, but my satisfaction didn't come 'til I'd gone home after the game and drilled hitting til I could hit the ball. Winning didn't do it for me. Connecting with the ball, even after the moment to do any good for the team had passed, did.

I love homeschooling because our kids have the freedom to pursue soul-satisfying success. If we let it, homeschooling engenders a whole new attitude about accomplishment.  In school, kids' learning is timed, measured, graded. Even in team sports and dance classes, parents pull kids out or discourage them from participation when they don't make the cut or get the part they want. Homeschooling, we may discover our children want to be great at something no one cares about and no one will see. Mostly, there aren't other adults or kid peer groups to impress OR disappoint. There isn't a timer or schedule that dictates we move on before we want to. We can opt out of agendas that dictate how much and what our kids know by when. We can let them listen to their own hearts and find those things they wish to be great at, and be at peace with other things that don't speak to their souls. In my experience, doing so brings great satisfaction in parenting. That feeling becomes what measures accomplishment, instead of what I can list about my kifs or hold up and show off. And it's a good-for-the-soul feeling too!

Reason # 37: Creating Perfect Moments

The thoughts below illustrate how wonderful homeschooling can be. While the perfect moments are not mine, they could be! Hope you enjoy this post from a homeschooling mom in my area... AND a few perfect homeschooling moments of your own!

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     I’ve been repeating in my head a phrase I heard a month or so ago:  “There are no perfect days, just perfect moments.” 

     Yesterday I was blessed to have some perfect moments—the kind that make me so happy I homeschool.  It’s THESE kind of moments that are, to me, the epitome of why homeschooling is so wonderful.

     My 4 boys were all occupied with chosen activities elsewhere yesterday afternoon, so it was just me and my 9-year-old daughter at home.  She is intensely musical.  I pulled out a new song I found for her to learn to sing and accompanied her on the piano while she sight-read it.  We then worked on her piano lesson.  And then, even better, my favorite moments came.  As you know, yesterday was beautiful outside.  She put on her rollerblades, and I put on my running shoes, and we took off into the sunshine.  As we sped-walked/skated our way down the street, we held hands and sang the times table (I got it for her to music because she’d learn it best that way).  Then I quizzed her randomly on multiplication facts.  All this while we’re cruising along, stopping now and then to notice signs of spring or the neighbors’ animals.  She became very interested in the clouds overhead, trying to identify them (we recently learned about cloud types and what they forecast).  I saw a robin and pointed it out and she said, “He looks like Ben Weatherstaff’s robin!” (We’ve recently read The Secret Garden.) Then we talked about where and how we might build our own secret garden at home.  Amazingly, in a one-hour walk we covered every “school subject” (including P.E. and health), personalized and assimilated them, laughed ourselves silly at times, and strengthened our relationship with each other.

     I hope everyone finds a few perfect moments today!

     Sasha

Travel Report: The BEST Souvenirs

We've been back from Florida for around 2 weeks now. I'm past telling everyone the trip was a bust - a view likely fueled post-trip exhaustion. But the highlights have also had time to settle out. And the ever-present critic inside has a list of the things she'd do differently for next time. So it's time to write and get a bit of all of it off my chest.

First, the background. While my hubby and I were regular world travelers in our BC lives (BC being Before Children) the most we'd done with 3 kids was a road trip. This was a 12 day trip with 4 kids in tow ON AN AIRPLANE. Whoa!

A few weeks before we left, the magnitude of the disaster we could be in for hit me. It hit as my not-yet-two-year-old was throwing the food he wasn't interested in anymore on the floor. Another wave of it crashed as my 4 year old whined for hours about a host of minor issues. And still another wave came on as I watched she and her older sister bicker about ridiculous things, and observed how I, with my small portion of patience, dealt with it all.

Fearing the worst, I enlisted my best parenting practices and constructed a count-down chain. On each link I'd written the behavior we would be practicing for the day - all behaviors attempting to lead up to children who would not bring shock and horrific awe to the lovely folks in the east who feel 4 children is a lot. I didn't want to confirm their biases with MY kids.

Anyway, among other things, we practiced:
Living on a schedule: The schedule was geared to keeping a routine for the trip. "School work" WAS required. It was brief (as always), anticipating that on the trip, I would have them do SOMETHING, like record what they did for the day and why they liked it. We also scheduled and practiced quiet time. That was to not only to give hubby and me down time, but so that they could grow in self-entertaining abilities in a confined space. (They self-entertain GREAT at home, but it isn't necessarily quiet or in one spot.)

This payed off. I did not, as I had anticipated, hold to any specific schedule OR require anything resembling school work of them. (Though I did suggest from time to time that they could write in their travel journals.) Anyway, this practice DID make the trip smoother, but, the added bonus was that it made the time leading up to the trip smoother too. When I get deep in projects (like prepping 6 people for a 12 day voyage across the country) I can tend to let our daily routines go to pot. That usually leads to the kids' needs being neglected (school needs, but eating, sleeping, and cleaning needs too) and the result is chaos. The chain and our decision to adhere as closely to a schedule as we could (after all, we have very little practice) payed off in pre-trip peace.

We also practiced increasing our gratitude expressed AND our complaints minimized, and taking no for an answer. (This too payed off as the sincere thanks the kids expressed DID make a lot of headache worth it, and we bypassed much of the energy-depleting pleading and griping.)

Finally, (and closely related to what I've just mentioned) we reviewed the concept of letting go - being at peace with what is. I explained that sometimes our trip would be fun, sometimes boring. Some things would live up to our expectations, and other times they would't. I told them we can be happy anyway.

I tried to practice this attitude before we left with my mantra: the adventure starts NOW. I found myself feeling a lot of stress as preparations intensified. (I imagine even seasoned travelers have situations arise where they aren't completely familiar with the rules/how to navigate the literal or figurative lay of the land.) Being absent from Orlando for 20 years, having never gone with kids, I worried. Would I find all the right hotels? Would my efforts to save money pay-off or wind up costing us MORE? Would I pick the right days to hit the right places? Would the weather cooperate? Would our fellow travelers look with admiration at the ear-piercing volume my baby can hit, or would there be daggers in their eyes? These worries dominated my conscious mind. They took energy to juggle and stress over.

Then it hit me: I WON'T maneuver every obstacle, challenge, and decision point perfectly. Period. There will be less than ideal moments. Some I will create. Some will be out of my control. And they are ALL part of the journey. ALL the ups and ALL the downs will be a part of our adventure together, and I can embrace it all IN the spirit of adventure, even before we leave the comforts of our home....

So?

I am pleased to report that the kids were amazing!!! My whiney one rolled smoothly with puking on the final leg of the trip out! All the kids were total troopers in their plastic ponchos in the rain for every Disney day. They even pleasantly suffered with the stomach flu, conveniently hitting only at night when we were on our cruise.

I, however, for all my mantra-ing, didn't fair so well. I just shifted from worry to disappointment. "Seriously? We ALL have to get sick on the cruise?!" "Seriously, it has to rain every stinking day we spend at Disney?" "Seriously? There are STILL lines MID-WEEK IN FEBRUARY IN THE RAIN!!!!?" "Seriously? I'm getting the pat down because there may be a chance this white, middle-aged woman traveling with 4 kids poses a terrorist threat!?"

Okay. So maybe it was less disappointment and more disgust. But I learned from that too!

Related to Disney, I learned, despite all the hype, IT IS AN AMUSEMENT PARK - ergo there is a bunch of over-priced merchandise and food around every corner AND yes! there are lines! Disney is not a life experience - unless theme parks are your life. No judgement if that's you. MY most magical place on earth so far is probably having a whole jungle island to myself and hubby off the coast of Taiwan.

I realized it was foolish, theme parks NOT being my life, to plan a vacation with one primary destination being a theme park. In the future, our family trips might seem more magical to me if we are somewhat remote, surrounded by nature and/or immersed in another culture. And there needs to be plenty of unscheduled down time to explore. This trip's highlight for hubby was a walk we went on to find food on Sunday. Along the way we saw a bunch of cool trees, relaxed with the kids, and saw a bird stalking and having for dinner an unfortunate lizard. So unscripted and in nature seem to be key for him too.

In the end, despite my late Disney revelation, AND despite our various misfortunes, the trip was a smashing success! Why? We benefited from our travel in the best possible ways. Though I thought we were vacationing to get away from the Cache Valley winter, or the post-holiday slump, or to take a break from our routine, or to do something fun, I learned by my experiences what travel really means, and why we need to keep traveling.

First, now I've got a trip behind me, I'm all practiced up and I think I can worry a lot less going into it. But there are more significant reasons than that.

Travel, when we take on it's challenges just right, means we grow in grace as individuals. As we see and know more of the world, we understand better what it means to be American, Mormon, human. We saw so many different people. We heard so many different accents and languages. We ate new food. We tried new things, experienced different climates.

When I was a missionary preparing to go to Taiwan, from time to time I would run into negative reports about the country. It was stinky. It rained a lot. It was so humid. When I arrived, I reported home that it smelled like New York, it rained like Seattle, and was as humid as Florida. Because I had been to all these other places for other adventures, I didn't need Taiwan to be like Utah. My acceptance of Taiwan for how it was didn't miss a beat, nor did my personal confidence to maneuver the uncertain. (Though it was certainly tested.)

I think of grace, among other things, as a confident approach to the unfamiliar, whether it be people, circumstances, or places. Growing up studying ballet, I was blessed to be so repeatedly thrown out of my comfort zone that being out became it's own comfort. The trip was a success, first, because I remembered this aspect of grace. And my children had the opportunity to grow in grace too, making the trip SO worth it because THEY DID.

PS: Other practical points:
Two year olds are too young for cruises. Unless perhaps yours is an only, or the only one traveling with you. Otherwise, cruises are AMAZING with kids. And be sure to order one of all the adult entres on the dinner menus to increase your dining prowess and skip the kid food they will kindly try to provide for your kiddos.

Tourist traps ARE great places to get little tastes of the whole world.

When everyone says "Stay IN Disney World - it's worth it," what they really mean is, "It is so miserable getting in and out of Disney World that even though your hotel has a free and convenient shuttle, it is crowded, not a brief ride, and your young kids, ripe with exhaustion will have their best melt downs there. In reality, what IS 'worth it' is to END the suffering of standing, waiting, and moving in a crowd." Could Disney have come up with such compelling reason? I wouldn't put it past them.

Homeschooling for the Holidays

I love homeschooling, if that isn't already apparent. And at no time does it get better than during the holidays. To have your children around while you cuddle, watching the falling snow. Staying OUT of the hustle and bustle by shopping (yes, with kids in tow) when everyone else is in school. Being the first to break in the sledding hill because everyone else is in class. Being present for every magical moment, and even creating a few on purpose. Snuggling on dark, cold mornings. Sleeping under the Christmas tree on a "school night."

I love the stories told around the holidays. Historical. Personal. Cultural. After researching for my post on the benefits of stories, I can't wait to fill this season with more than ever.

Happy Holidays to you and yours! May the season delight you and your family as you create treasured memories together. Do share in the comments what you love about homeschooling for the holidays, favorite stories and traditions, or ways that you make this time meaningful for yourself or your kids, or both!

Much love, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more reasons to homeschool!
Steffanie

Child-led Learning - WHY

One of THE BEST reasons to homeschool:
Why would you outsource one of the most fun and rewarding parts of life: learning?

Now, if you haven't ever thought of learning as fun, chances are you went to public school. And not all public school is boring. In fact, my guess is many kids going like it a lot. But some like the social aspects, and some like recess, and some like seeing their friends, and some like field trips, and some like the praise that comes with good grades, and some like all of that AND learning. But is it any wonder in a room of 20 same-age peers and a teacher, that learning may not be the most fun thing.

Much of the FUN in learning comes with discovery. Whether it's something we've wondered about, or something we never considered, the world is FULL (so full I'll say it again) FULL of wonders, and what could be more delightful than discovering some of them? Some wonders are just fun to know. They might strike us as funny. They might be some factoids that no one else knows, including grandpa, who likes to do the pop-quizzes. Some knowledge gives context and enriches other knowledge - makes the knowing more meaningful. And some enhances our person.

THAT is the other fun part of learning: growing as a person. We grow by increasing understanding of the world - how it works, what makes people tick - and increasing our skill to live in it.

Both the knowledge and skill that are the most FUN to master are unique to the individual. My mom "grooved on" sewing as a child. She is now making my sister's wedding dress. She almost demanded the job - insisting though it might be stressful, that it is what she prepared her whole life to do. My dad, in his youth, spent hours practicing baseball. Now, a month away from 60 years old, he's joined a baseball league and reported pitching for a recent game was the most fun he'd had in years. Not surprisingly, I liked spending time by myself, writing poetry and short stories. Is it any wonder that I feel completely content at the moment, blogging about life and learning?

So every school teacher has two great challenges when it comes to teaching and making learning all the fun it can be. First, it's hard to work a spirit of discovery into a set curriculum. Of course, very skilled teachers are able to get the students to wonder about the subject or material to be covered. So the learning process might feel a bit more like discovery and less like being told something on a schedule. However, the illusion might not last very long. All it takes is one good question from any student who, while fully engaged, might not direct his curiosity down the line of the lesson development. And then the teacher's challenge is getting him to let go of his curiosity, OR spending time on what WON'T be on the test. What a choice to make!

And it's quite probable that our individual curiosities are driven by an inner sense of what will bring us joy. Which gets back to how does one teach the same material to students who may become all sorts of different things when they grow up? Some might become number crunchers, some may work with their hands, some work with people - all of these talents driving the individual's sense of what skills he'd like to master. Creating an education to meet these incredibly varied needs is the second great challenge. But mostly our schools simply pick some skills to encourage, discourage others, and IF any student gets to a point of mastery in the time allowed, it may be nothing short of a miracle!

For these reasons - for keeping learning a process of discovery that serves the needs of individuals - I think it's very foolish for homeschooling parents to try and duplicate school at home. How sad for any student of a home education to never have experienced that learning IS fun! Child-led learning is the best way to keep learning the fulfilling adventure it should be.

Click here to read my post about how to begin Child-led Learning.

Calvin and Hobbes - Early Seeds of Homeschooling

"Muthah," my 3 year old announced in her best English accent, "We're Princess SPIES."

PERFECT! I was hoping to be a mother to princess spies. Not specifically, but generally I had the wish, when I thought of kids (which was not especially often) that they would have amazing imaginations and take me on the ride from time to time. (I've written a bit about that here. I feel one reason we homeschool is so we can honor imagination.)

Seeds for this sort of hoping were sewn early - in high school - as I read the Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. How could I have neglected them from my Influential Books list!?! I'm adding them now.

When we talk of privileged times, I was blessed to grow up in a day and age when Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson was still in the weekly funnies. (No, the funnies were not especially funny then either, but Calvin and Hobbes was a noteworthy exception.) One of the first personal splurges I ever made with money I earned myself was a book of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. Since then, I have bought or been given everything (I think) that has ever been widely published.

I dog-eared in my books those cartoons that I found especially amusing, and those which expressed truths I wanted to reference. Reviewing those folded pages now, I can't help but wonder if the conversations between Calvin and his stuffed tiger, Hobbes, led me, subconsciously, to homeschool.

Here are three (of many) examples:
As Calvin looks out a window he remarks to Hobbes, "In the SHORT term, it would make me happy to go play outside." Then looking at his schoolwork he sighs, "In the LONG term, it would make me happier to do well at school and become successful." In the final frame, he and Hobbes are on a sled zipping through the woods as Calvin notes: "But in the VERY long term, I know which will make better memories."

Homeschooling IS about education. But for our family, it's also so very much about great long-term memories.

In another cartoon, Calvin is neck deep in the ground, wearing a safari hat and carrying a shovel. "Why are you digging a hole?" Hobbes asks.
"I'm looking for buried treasure!" Calvin enthuses.
"What have you found?"
Calvin displays the haul: "A few dirty rocks, a weird root, and some disgusting grubs."
Delighted, Hobbes asks, "On your first try??"
You can almost feel Calvin's glee as he tells Hobbes, "There's treasure everywhere!"

We LOVE discovering buried treasure, even in every subject! Homeschooling allows us the time to delight in the academic weird roots and disgusting grubs. :)

Finally, Calvin himself is in a classroom with his show and tell. (I couldn't find this one quickly, so I'm paraphrasing.) He brought a snowflake to show. Of course, it has melted and he is explaining that to the class - how a singularly unique marvel of nature, his snowflake, has become in the classroom a mere drop of water, like any other drop. He then says, "I'm leaving you drips and going outside."

Our children are singularly unique marvels, aren't they? I love homeschooling because we can learn in an environment that preserves their uniqueness. If you are homeschooling, make today the day you leave the drips behind as you find buried treasure and create the BEST memories! And share them with me in the comments below!

Reason #1,749: Gentle Learning

I love, LOVE learning with my kids. I've already marveled that a child can begin to pick up on the logic of math, and enjoy it, all on her own. (That post is here.)

I've mentioned this same child being frustrated by the nonsense that is the English spelling of words (here). Lest anyone report to his friend that "these homeschoolers would let their kids go through life gut checking the spelling of words and spelling them however 'feels' right," I wanted to share with you the events of yesterday.

This daughter brought me a notebook and said, "Mom, let's do the reading where you write down a word and I try to read it." All her idea. The timing, the notebook, everything. So I wrote the word "to." She knew that one. Then I flipped it, "ot," and asked her what THAT said. She is still in the phase of flipping letters in her mind, so it took her a minute before she said ot. Then I wrote a bunch of words that ended with "ot." Lot, got, spot, etc.. She read them fine. Then I wrote "ought." Of course, she didn't guess it.

I explained that I knew it was going to sound crazy, but "ought" said "ot," like I "ought to give my kids some candy." She agreed that it WAS crazy. Then I wrote a few words that ended with "ought": bought, fought, sought, thought. She read each of those. Then she wanted to go back and read all the words we'd written together. We did.

Then she suggested I write some words she could use in a story. I thought that was a great idea and asked her which words to write. They were standard for her stories. ;) Butterfly, old woman, glow, flowers, sunshine, etc.. As I wrote each, I sounded out the letters as I put them on the page. After this, she "read" through these. She wasn't really sounding out the trickier or longer ones, but just seeing what they began with and remembering the word she'd wanted.

Then we had to go pick up dad from work so she didn't have time to write them into a story. Perhaps she'll never come back to them. That's fine.

I share this because taking this time with her was so peaceful. So lovely. It not only fed her mind, but felt nurturing to both our souls. This small 15 minute chunk will not make her a genius, or ahead of her age group. But she will be a perfect reader one day, with a learning process of love and happiness behind her. Perhaps the process, in the end, is more important than the speed anyway.

Of Gardens and Children

I wrote this last summer. Me and the kids are back in the yard working this year, so I thought I'd share it here.

I find when meditating, it's best to start where you are at. 

This morning, I was feeling all the anxiousness of getting out into my yard to make something of it. It's a process I've enjoyed for years now. We began with rocks and weeds, literally. And it was difficult at times to say which we had more of. For the whole first year - well, at least before the rocks were buried by weeds - we just walked back and forth across the land, finding rocks in the dirt, digging them out, putting them in the wagon, and hauling them to one of our many rock piles. It was back-breaking and exhausting. And after a year, it seemed like we had little but the piles of rocks to show - still an expanse of weeds and dirt too rocky to till. I remember feeling like we'd never even be able to plant grass!

Four years later we do have grass... and trees, and flowers, and herbs, and a garden. And still a lot of rocks and dirt and weeds. But what we've done is beautiful and it entices me to do more. So I spent some time this morning feeling that desire. And then some time feeling gratitude for the beauty that is there. And then I thought I might spend a moment feeling gratitude for all the rocks. All those rocks which we pulled by hand out of the very hard earth now line our flower beds and walkways and ditch bank. The rocks have taught me more than the flowers. For one, I've learned  it's best not to attempt some things myself. In our second year we hired a guy to come run a pre-seeder, which pressed the remaining rocks into the ground and made eveything look flat and weed-free. In a few minutes it accomplished what we had not been able to do in more than a summer of labor. 

But there was one other significant benefit, aside from unearthing an endless supply of rock, that I gained from that first year of digging. I spent, in that year, a lot of time outside in my yard. I noted how the land rolled, where the shadows of the trees fell, which areas got the most sun, what was seen best by the windows of the house. And as I worked I imagined what the yard would someday be. That year fleshed out a vision of the yard we hope to have in 20 years. There is a fire pit, a root cellar, a tree house, a sledding hill, an orchard, a bowery, 3 different gardens, grapes, chickens, bees, and a green house. 

It quite literally will take 20 years to make the yard equal to the vision and this morning I marveled that I seemed to be up for that kind of work and commitment. But I come back to what I tell my kids as we work together: "This is our piece of land. On all the planet, this is ours. There is nothing between us and heaven. So no matter how insignificant our .35 acre is, it is the speck that adds to the beauty of earth you can see from space."

I don't actually believe the land can ever really be ours. How can you own something that has been here for hundreds of millions of years, and has millions more to go? I guess I figure this .35 acre is my charge now, my stewardship, and I feel moved to make the most of it for all of the time it's in my care.

That's where the meditation began. I went next in my thoughts to my family. (Yes, the yard came first, but as misplaced as it might seem, I really do like to start where I'm at. Maybe after getting all those thoughts out, I could move on to what was really important.) So I thought of my kids. I began with the oldest and felt gratitude for his strengths. And then, because I'd spent time feeling gratitude for the rocks, I paused to feel gratitude for my son's rocks too. He isn't perfect. He has weaknesses, and in all honesty, sometimes the weaknesses drive me more than a little crazy. And when you add those to the weaknesses of my other children, I can find myself somewhere between deep frustration and outrage depending on the day and moment.

Well, it's time to be a gardener of my children. Of course, I don't own them. How can I own the souls that have existed before the world was and will go on existing after the earth is gone? But I feel to make the most of all the time they are in my care. It's a 20 year project, give or take. I began with each at the most basic phase - meeting their minimal needs. I have one with basic needs now. And I'm exhausting my body holding, feeding, changing all day. But as I do, I will unearth who he is. I will find his sunny spots and nice views. And I'll find some rocks too. 

As I took the time to feel gratitude for the rocks of the older 3, I unearthed 3 blessings of rocks - in yards and in kids. There is the blessing of the labor itself, what it does for the one laboring over the extraction. My kids grow as they work on their weaknesses. I grow as I give them the time and patience they need to do so. There is also the blessing of what the rock can make when placed with direction and purpose. In my own self I've found there is a place, a small place for my own rocks. When they've been flung about in abundance they are an obstacle. When I use with care those traits that might normally be regarded as weakness, they can do great things, be just what I need to create something beautiful. It's been hard to see that in myself. It's much easier to see how the things that my kids do that drive me nuts can very easily become the traits that take them the furthest in life if they learn to use them and not to fling them. Lastly there is the blessing of time, specifically the time spent on the labor and the rocks. All this time will enhance the vision of who my children really are and who and what they can become. My vision AND their own visions.

In these 20 year projects, there will be times when I'm relieved to outsource! Mostly, that we're growing together in "do-it-yourself" fashion is more satisfying to my soul than getting it done fast. I close my eyes and imagine a time 20 years from now when I'm sitting in my beautiful yard with my grown children. We'll know the rocks, we've placed them ourselves. They are a part of  the end purpose which we've enjoyed from the beginning. And I bask now in gratitude for 20 years of memories.

Glimpses

How could I forget!? I'v added the book Glimpses Into the Life and Heart of Marjorie Pay Hinckley to my most influential book list.

Marjorie Hinckley was wife to Gordon B. Hickley, President of the LDS church from 1995 to 2008. His biography was okay. But "Glimpses" changed my life and mothering.

I wanted to share a story and a quote from the chapter about mothering that I still reference and try to emulate with my own kids.

In the first, Marjorie's oldest son went missing. She thought all day about the speech she was going to give him when he showed up at mealtime after a day of shirking all the work there was to do. He had been "down in the hollow." When his mother asked him what he was doing there, he answered, "Nothing."

Well she didn't give him the speech, and shared why she was glad of it. Years later he was home and under a lot of pressure - university, tests, struggles with his girlfriend. He was feeling the pressures of adult life, but he reflected to his mother how his childhood had been wonderful. "Those long summer days, when you could lie on your back in the hollow and listen to the birds sing and watch the ants build their castles."

Marjorie taught, "The memory of the peace of a summer day - 'God's in his heaven, and all's right with the world' - sustained him when the pressures of adult life began to crowd in."

I wonder what will sustain our children if we don't allow them time to find peace and contentment in childhood? I love homeschooling because, as Emerson put it, we can give our children "leave to be what [they] inly [are]."

Finally, the quote. Said Marjorie Hickley, "My mother taught me some basic philosophies of rearing children. One is that you have to trust children. I tried hard never to say 'no' if I could possible say 'yes.' I think that worked well because it gave my children the feeling that I trusted them and they were responsible to do the best they could."

I love this, first because in my home growing up, we were given a knee-jerk 'no' to almost everything. It's a practice I've tried to reverse with my own children. But trusting children is a powerful idea. In our homeschooling journey I am learning I can! They are amazing learners and part of my role is to not interfere with that process which they were born knowing so well. I confess, I am still practicing this.... It's good to have a place to share the good that I'm discovering comes with trusting children.

Reason #384: Prolonged Pretending

I remember pretending as a child. Do you? For me, that is huge because without these memories of what I was imagining, I'd hardly remember childhood at all. I remember things like the contents of my own dress-up box. There were chiffon curtains, dresses my mom had made for herself in high school, a bassinet skirt. I loved being a pioneer and a princess best. Interestingly, I was always a troubled princess. I was orphaned, or I was running away from beastly parents and my bike was my horse. Or I was being made to clean like Cinderella. In fact, I probably WAS being made to clean. But when I pretended I was being MADE to clean, the task didn't seem so bad.

In fact, I had games like that for boring tests at school. I lived in some future world where everything life-like was artificial and, though I was a child, it was my job to sit at a desk and do dull paperwork, just as I imagined adults do. Come to think of it, that isn't too far off reality either.

I remember lamenting to my mother that my friends weren't fun anymore because they had grown out of pretending. (I guess they weren't up for fastening a bassinet skirt around their waists, loading up a plastic toboggan with other dress-ups, snacks, and maybe a little brother, and trekking "west" across the soccer field to the promised land anymore.) Then my mother did something that makes the top 5 list of kind things she did for me (that I noticed and can remember) as a child: she surprised me by inviting a good friend over that had moved across town who hadn't yet forgotten how to pretend.

Somehow I've grown up into an adult whose pretender is mostly broken. Yes, I wear a princess dress to the Renaissance Faire, yes, I volunteered at a historical re-enactment site just to get the pioneer dress and house to hang out in, but it's not the same as it was when I was a child. I think I know, am too aware, that everyone else's pretender is broken too.

My girls have not yet grown into that awareness. (Maybe it's dawning on my oldest boy.... Sad.) Anyway, my older daughter, around Christmas time, was listening to The Nutcraker and swirling and whirling and so very gracefully performing for me. And I was an enchanted audience, I must say. Then she suddenly paused the performance to ask, "Mom, are you imagining what I'm imagining?" (I wasn't, but was happy to hear what it was she was imagining - that she was surrounded by a swirling corps de ballet - and add her vision to my enjoyment.)

Her question, however, reveals that her imaginings are almost so real that anyone could see them. Such power! Perhaps because I remember those days, perhaps because I lament, and even remember lamenting their loss, this power of imagination is something we reverence (as much as we can, but perhaps not as much as we should) around here. I can't help but feel, when I see my girls deep into worlds and scenarios of their own creation, that some very important work is going on. Work not to be interrupted.

Emerson, in his essay titled "The American Scholar," wrote, "Genius looks forward; the eyes of man are set in his forehead, not his hind head; man hopes; genius creates."

And, "Whatever talent may be, if the man create not, the pure efflux of the Deity is not his; cinders and smoke there may be, but not yet flame."

Finally, "The soul active sees absolute truth; and utters truth, or creates. In it's essence it is progression."

Though I don't fully understand the work of imagination, I get that it is real creation. Do I worry from time to time that in this subject or that, my kids may be "behind" their peers? Yes. But I'm in no hurry to fill their minds too soon with "facts" that I separate them from the genius that they already posses. That would be merely trading in a higher progression for a baser one. And though I can't say that I am giving my kids the most rigorous academic education going, I will say that I am giving them their childhood. And that feels like important work too.

Beginning the list of 2000

This is just the beginning....

I am a mother of 4. My oldest is 10 and has been homeschooled since preschoool, so one might say I've been homeschooling for approximately 6 years. But does that count? I don't know. I remember when all the other moms were sending their kids off to preschool and I thought, "Well, as I want to homeschool, probably a good start would be to NOT send him away." And that is how we officially "began" homeschooling.

Of course, anyone who has been homeschooling for more than a few months quickly realizes all parents homeschool until they don't. Until they outsource their kids to learning institutions, public or private.

But how did I come to opt to NOT outsource? The first part was, I just LOVED my little guy! I became a mom at 26 and was THRILLED about it. I had my share of the new-mom struggles, namely balancing my old semblance of a fulfilling life with the realities of my new life. A successful day went from a long list of check marks on a to-do list and feeling like I improved my personal performance to getting enough rest when the baby slept, AND getting a shower, AND getting anything else done. And that was a successful day, the stars for which might not align more than once a month.

But my boy was my buddy. We did everything together, went everywhere together. And after 3 years, I couldn't picture life without him. So when he is 3, and I'm thinking, "I'm going to send my baby off in less time than he has been alive to be away from me for 4 hours in a row!" I just couldn't bear the idea and decided to call the concept off.

Sort of. Actually it wasn't such an abrupt choice, and not all tied to the apron strings. I think they played a part. But my husband and I had discussed the education of our kids practically since we'd begun dating. It likely came up because I pursued my own unique path when it came to higher education and employment - I was a professional ballerina for 4 years, was dancing when I met my husband, and had never attended college. So even from date one ("So, where do you work?" "At Ballet West") we were talking about the life experiences that had served us, and what was gained and lost by getting a piece of paper stating you had finished with the programs of a particular institution.

After having kids, the discussions became more detailed. We shared what we remembered of school (we both attended public school), what we liked, what shaped us. We came to realize we wasted a lot of time there. We were both naturally academic students, but neither of us felt we learned most of what we used on a regular basis in school. (Which isn't to say those things weren't taught, but we learned them from our parents, or by experience, or on our own. The classroom "instruction" had very little to do with it.) We wanted our kids to enjoy a richer, deeper, fuller education than we had. And to waste less of their lives too!

We talked private schools. We wondered when the time came if we would be able to afford them. My husband once suggested, "We could homeschool?"

"No," came my quick reply. "I want a life. And I want to have more than one kid. You can't have either and homeschool."

So a year or so passes and I'm feeling, "I don't want to send my kid away!" and homeschool feels a little more plausible. But still SO DAUNTING.

Hubby and I read books together. I'm sure in one of his health kicks, we picked up a book about living off the land and read about homesteaders in California who homeschooled their kids who wound up running the family's livelihood and getting into Ivy league schools. Incidentally, both parents had been college professors. WE didn't have those qualifications. But then, we weren't so set on Ivy league either. And what we read of these kids' life experiences - the deep, the rich, the full - REALLY sounded like what we had in mind.

So at this point I started where everyone wondering, "Am I really going to try this? Am I nuts?" starts. I found other homeschoolers and started asking questions. My aunt, who I'm not especially close with, homeschooled. I asked her what her draw was. She said, "To be an influence in my children's lives for a little longer." I liked that answer. Especially the part of me hyperventilating about sending my oldest to kindergarten in two years.

I wend to some informal homeschool mom meetings. (I didn't know then homeschoolers and formal meetings seldom cross paths.) Anyway, I was so impressed with these moms. They were intelligent, engaged, dynamic. I thought they seemed up to their elbows with the meaty things of life. I'd never been in such a group of women where there was such an absence of fluff in the discussion. I loved it.

And they had great wisdom. Influential quotes that encouraged me:
"Homeschooling rarely fails. If it doesn't work, people just send their kids back to school."
"You can always try."
"Homeschooling doesn't have to take the same time school does. You can teach everything in school in much less time, and then go about your life."

Well, I was sold. And so I began the homeschooling journey. I WAS able to keep my boy with me a little longer, but that one decision, made years ago, more significantly has deepened and enriched not only the education of my kids, but of myself. It's blessed me in my role as a mother. And fulfilled my dreams of a happy family.

My list of what began as a small handful of largely trivial reasons to homeschool has grown. I've loved the process and adventure growing the list has brought. I'm excited to share it with you!