A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

Phew! What a day.

In an attempt to make my life easier, Jon (tech savvy husband) set up a new registration platform for our dear Brave Writer family. And, well, like the U2 concert-Ticketmaster debacle in 2005 where thousands of attempts to purchase tickets caused the system to crash, our modest numbers of eager clients logging in at the same moment caused this little system to crash as well (more than half got through, but enough didn’t that it was dramatic all day).

We’ve survived, however, and I’m thrilled to announce that everyone who registered either with the online system or via email got into their desired classes! That is the first time in about four years that we don’t have a waiting list at the end of a registration cycle. Due to the new teachers and more sessions of your favorite classes, we are now able to accommodate everyone who wants a class. Confirmation emails will be sent over the weekend so look for yours then, if you enrolled.

If you missed today’s registration date or your registration didn’t go through or you’re suddenly wishing you had signed up for a class, we have the following spaces still available for the spring session:

• KWB 1: Closed
• KWB 2: Closed
• KWB 3: Closed
• Just So Stories: 13 slots
• KWI 1: 3 slots
• KWI 2: 15 slots
• SAT/ACT: 5 slots

Check out this page for your registration information. If you are unable to successfully use our registration form, you may send a registration request via email. Be sure to include all the information in your email for speedy attention.

Thanks to all who registered and weathered an unusually hectic, difficult day. I have a crack team working on making Brave Writer more efficient and we are definitely going through growing pains (hey, I do laundry, not sophisticated html script code!). Lots of good plans in the works though, so please hang with us. Thanks for being such gracious people. I felt such support today in the midst of chaos.

And tell your friends that it’s not too late to register! A first!

In the past, I’ve asked you to enroll for Brave Writer classes via email. No longer. Do not send your registrations via email. Thanks to my tech-savvy husband, we now have a registration page that has a special enrollment form for Brave Writer classes. It’s simplified the registration process tremendously.

On Thursday, March 1, 2007 at noon eastern, I will post the link to a registration page with a special enrollment form:

The link to the registration page will be posted on the Brave Writer Classes Page at noon on Thursday.

I will not post it sooner. The moment you see the link, you may click on it and enter your registration. I believe this procedure will make the enrollment process easier for you (you won’t forget any important data) and it will make it more fair since everyone will have the chance to register at the same time.

You will be asked for the following information:

• Your first and last name
• Your email address (and a second one, please)
• Student’s name
• Student’s age
• Additional student in the same or different class
• Additional student’s age
• Phone number
• Classes (you may select as many as apply)
• Method of payment you prefer (check or credit card)
• Special Instructions: to tell me which student goes with which class or which session you prefer as your second choice or if there is some other circumstance I need to know about.

Having these ready ahead of time will help you fill out your form quickly. If for some reason the form fails to load or you aren’t successful in submitting your form, you may send an email. Please explain what went wrong.

We’ve added teachers and classes this spring. Additionally, I’m teaching an encore SAT/ACT essay writing class. Hope you get in all the classes you want!

Julie

I sat between two moms, friends of mine, on the ski lift yesterday. Our destination: The Far Side, the ski slope that took awhile to meander down, not too steep, but enough of a challenge. We found ourselves cycling through our children’s past years since the three of us had not been together in a long time.

As our feet dangled over freshly made snow, we chatted about which kids were going off to college and which might not go so quickly, how we felt about homeschool after having done it for a decade and a half, what we loved and missed about small children… The chair lift carried us up the mountain slowly, creaking occasionally, traveling between the trees, taking us up the hill where we couldn’t see the top even while we were traveling inevitably toward it. At one point the sun popped over the horizon, blinding us as it pierced our view of the mountain.

One mom felt ambivalent about some of her choices. Her oldest had finished high school early yet wasn’t emotionally ready for college at 16 and now at 17, he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. She wondered if she had pushed too hard too early and now he’d lost steam. The other mom talked about her 18 year old who is now elligible for football scholarships and we all praised her for that job well done… and then she mentioned that he has fallen head-over-heels in love. Not what she’d planned. Good girl, but still, scary with an 18 year old boy, at least for this mom.

I shared about my oldest and the fact that he took a year off before college, and now in college, is discovering that he has some learning issues that he is now, finally, addressing. The adjustment has been challenging for him and I worry.

Our oldest children… so often they take the lion’s share of our concern. It’s uncharted territory, every step they take. I was struck by how much we second-guess ourselves as we make decisions with the best intentions, best heart, full-hope forward. It also occurred to me that we are inevitably stuck in the chair, lifted by their choices and energy, worries and mistakes, not seeing the top, yet unable to get off the ride. We wait for that moment of sunlight that suddenly comes into view.

And just like that, the sun broke over the horizon. Gorgeous. However, we still had to ski down the slope.

I love our kids. I love moms. It takes courage to parent, to make decisions when you can’t see where they’ll lead, when you hope you’re doing the right thing, when the forest and the trees crowd your vision. Eventually we all get to the far side, though. And thankfully, it’s downhill from there.