Archive for the ‘Family Notes’ Category

The doldrums, crisis, and other reasons homeschool is tedious right now

Combating the doldrums

Yes, I feel it too. The bleak gray skies, the perennial low temps (unless you live in southern California where I hear it’s 75 degrees and balmy – shame on you!), the slow burn that comes from having gotten past new books and ideas but not yet in the home stretch where you can coast into summer… It’s winter and we’re mad as h-e-double-toothpicks and we wish we didn’t have to take it any more!

In my world, homeschool has had to persist in the middle of personal crisis. I’ve had emails this winter that report similar weariness: sick child, husband who lost a job, divorce, ailing parents. These common enough experiences impact homeschooling enormously. It’s not like you can keep up the imagination and energy for art, nature walks, creative writing assignments and math homework when your mind is racing through health insurance payment options or you’re sending out resumes for a new job!

For the rest of you who aren’t in the middle of crisis, you might be in the middle of the March muddle. Spring isn’t here yet and homeschool has lost it’s spark. When energy is low for whatever reason, try a crock pot approach to homeschooling. Here’s how to do it.

1) Strip your homeschool to bare essentials.

Now is not the time to beat yourself up about your lack of creativity. Rely on the routines that you can maintain with the least amount of preparation. In our house, that means we continue with math, reading and poetry teatimes. We also keep up with our writing. I tend to rely on interest-driven writing, I skip big projects that require revision and focus instead of personal writing (journaling, freewriting, silly writing prompts from one of my many word books laying around the house). We always keep teatimes going because they feel special, include yummy food and make the day seem nicer than it actually is.

2) Get help.

You can join a co-op, hire tutors, swap subjects with a friend (I did that one year – I taught English to the my friend’s daughter while she taught math to my son).

3) Be good to you.

This may not be your best season for home education. Accept that. Instead, take time each day to do something nice for yourself. You might enforce a quiet half hour (light a candle and tell your kids they can talk when you blow it out). Read a book during that half hour. Unplug computer and phone. Or give yourself permission to bone up on a subject to be taught later. Perhaps you have always wanted to do crafts with your kids, but it’s too much to prepare, plan and execute right now. Use this down time to read a little, clip a few ideas and file them. Don’t tackle the whole thing. Just tuck away a little bit of input for the future. It will help you remember that a more energetic time is on its way.

4) Television and movies aren’t the enemy.

You have my permission (in case you need it) to use the TV to help you cope. I swear, your children will turn out just fine. Choose some programs that make you feel like a better mother. Watch Discovery channel, the cooking channel, the Project Runways for fashion production. Watch people realize their dreams and ambitions or learn about history or science or run through as many Broadway musicals as you can. Watch Shakespeare movies or all the Disney films in chronological order. Turn the TV into a secret ally. Pop corn. Trust that immersion into the world of film or television for this season will yield great rewards. (I’ll write a post on that soon to help alleviate your anxiety, because television and film can be valuable to your kids.)

5) Take the long view.

You’re a good mom. How do I know? You homeschool. Only devoted parents (usually moms) take on this awesome task. Trust that what you’ve poured in will sustain your kids through this period of chaos, the depression, the pressure, or the distraction. Remember that anything missed now can be easily caught up in a more alive, less blues-y time.

I’m in a season just like this. It takes a lot of nurturing self-talk to not beat myself up for being less than on top of my game. One way I’ve coped is I stopped folding clothes. I just throw them in a pile and sort through them as needed. Sometimes giving up even one routine creates a little breathing room and for some reason, clothes folding is just too much right now.

I’ve also realized that this is a season to be close to my kids (in that more “along side them” way). So I sit on the couch and watch their sit-coms, I lay on their beds talking into the night, I page through clothing catalogs hearing about the spring fashion line, I make vegan food recipes with the new vegans in my family, or I joke around through Facebook chat with them (even while we’re sitting in the same room!). I have less energy for the prepared kind of learning, so I’m giving my time and heart and availability instead. I still do math each day with them. And I supervise writing. But I’m allowing their interests to dictate right now. They check out good stuff from the library, they have stuff they want to learn. So we’re going where they lead. I’m following along with money, time and heart (just not as much intention).

I hope you all are finding ways to get through this season.

Peace.

The Homeschool Alliance

Posted in Brave Writer Philosophy, Family Notes, Homeschool Advice, Wednesday Movies | 2 Comments »

When time stands still

This morning, Jacob (our middle child) turned 17 years old. I teased him on his Facebook wall: “I remember what I was doing 17 years ago today. Do you?”

I really remember. I looked it up in my journal from that year (1991) and discovered that I hadn’t forgotten a thing. My babies were all born at home. Jacob was an especially happy birth as we had just returned from living abroad in Morocco a few months earlier and it felt like a new beginning in so many ways. My mother made it up the 405 in time to see little Jacob Philip emerge into the world. The day was blustery but sunny and I had a view through my bedroom window of trees in fall foliage (a sight not so common in southern California).

We spent this morning (in 2008) as a family reminiscing over tea and cake, Jake opening his gifts and each of us reminding each other of stories we’d forgotten. Jon and I were told some stories we had not known! (Seems Jacob ran through the neighborhood banging a drum we’d given him for his 8th birthday even after I had asked him to “wait a minute” while I signed the UPS slip… Apparently Jacob didn’t wait, slipped out the back door with the drum, and banged it with all his eight-year-old might, streaking through the alleys between our condos until exhausted! I completely missed it!) Even as Jacob retold that story, the memory brought such happiness to him. “It was so worth it,” he said.

Today Jacob is passionate about music in all its forms. He loves musicals, is immersed in music theory, plays saxophone and piano, enjoys writing arrangements for his favorite songs on the computer. I had no idea his early interesting in little drums and maracas would lead to a deep knowledge of and love for all things musical. It felt really good to remember together the origins of this passion.

Jacob turned on his iTunes and we listened to “Into the Heights” and “Little Women” (the musicals) as we enjoyed our birthday breakfast.

After the gift opening, Johannah and Jacob hosted a little cookie decorating party. Johannah made vegan sugar cookies (I was impressed!) and Jacob laid the table with colored sugar, frosting tubes and tin foil place settings. Caitrin and Liam joined in as well as a couple of Johannah’s girlfriends. All together they made Harry Potter cookies, each one representing a different character or some well known Hogwarts icon (like Nagini, the snake). They laughed, discussed the various themes of the books, argued about which actor best matched the character as Rowling created him or her. The table became a happy mess of colored icing, aluminum foil, sugar and glowing gel.

In a strange way, it felt as though nothing had changed in 17 years. The messes we used to make under my supervision had only become more sophisticated versions of the same, with music of their own choice supporting and enhancing the atmosphere. Discussions about literature (more like passionate debates!) went on without my leadership or Jon’s modeling. In fact, Jon and I cleaned the house while they held their cookie party.

Today, despite how swiftly my life seems to be racing by, time stood still. I caught a glimpse of who our children used to be and who they are…. and the long silken thread that holds them together. What a privilege it is to homeschool, to watch this beautiful unfolding happen in our own homes.

I feel thankful.

Posted in Family Notes | 1 Comment »

Itchy feet, adrenaline, firing nerve-endings

That’s the end of May all over for me.

I wake up in the morning and if it’s sunny, I’m flinging clothes off my body, sliding my feet into cool flip-flops with the green trim on the black background. I don’t care about my hair, I throw on lip gloss (no lipstick by June) and I wander around my backyard making up reasons to be outside rather than indoors: someone’s got to encourage the baby birds to get out of their nests and what tree will grow without a pep talk?

We bought a swing for our yard last year (one of those very midwestern ones with the two seats and little awning over the top to shade the sun). I drape myself over the canvas, ears plugged into my iPod, swinging with one leg thrown over the side, forgetting I own a business or homeschool children, soaking up the green of our lush yard.

Some days I round up the kids and we head to the zoo. Okay, that’s not quite accurate. MANY days we head to the zoo, like, every chance we get. The Cincinnati Zoo is a seductress with its riot of thousands of bulbs in bloom and the spring eruption of zoo babies (every shape and size from the 300 pound rhino to the very adorable ape baby clasping mama).

Most days I strike a big black X over the previous date on the calendar because each day that goes by means we’re nearer to the most fateful, important day of our academic calendar: Memorial Day! That’s the day our YMCA opens the outdoor pool with its dangerous red and yellow slides, groovy snack bar and luxurious lounge chairs. That date signals the end of routine, objectives, plans, duties, responsibility and hiding my white skin under turtlenecks and jeans.

There’s just something about May that makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything important. I’m like the battery in my MacBook Pro. I was able to sustain a charge for long stretches of time at the start of the fall. But now, with merely a week left before M. D. (you know, that auspicious date!), I can hold a charge for about fifteen minutes and then my mind and body are all like: “Are we there yet? Get me out of this house!!”

So that’s precisely what I’ll be doing today – walking with Liam around the neighborhood, heading out to the zoo, stopping for lunch somewhere outdoors and eating our first ice cream cones. I will go braless and shoeless. 🙂 Yay for the end of spring!

What are you up to? What’s May like in your corner of the world? (I know that Down Under, life is just getting into the swing of routine – quite the opposite to us Northern Types.) I’d love to hear from you!

Posted in Family Notes | 5 Comments »

They never change. Ever.

Boundaries: Understanding what works for each child

When Noah was not yet two, I found him hanging by one hand from the outside railing of a two story stairwell over a concrete patio below. He had swung his way to the top with casual ease, while I, like a game hunter, slowly, carefully, inched toward him from our upstairs apartment, until thwack, my hands clapped onto his shirt collar and my super-maternal strength hauled his dangling body to the safe side of the rails.

I’ve found Noah in trees; on top of brick walls; on the roof; outside the window of his bedroom, three stories up; two streets over; in the middle of the street; in a neighbor’s apartment; on top of a cliff (while my back was turned) and down in a ditch. To stop his risky inquisitiveness, I had to haul my usually pregnant, bulging body at lightening speed without pee dripping down my legs to get below, beyond, next to or on top of Noah before he broke bones, was kidnapped or cracked open his skull.

When I was pregnant with Johannah and Noah had just turned two, I lived in missionary housing. We all shared a quad with play equipment and spent every morning and afternoon with other families gossiping and supervising children. Our favorite topic: the poor parenting techniques of the mothers not currently present.

Being endowed with a brain at birth, it didn’t take me long to figure out what happened when I wasn’t there. I asked my friend Kris: “So it occurred to me that if I have opinions about everyone else’s right to spank or not, their scheduled breast feedings and swings, versus slings and the perennial baby-on-the-boob tactic of my preference, there must be a few opinions about how I’m wrecking my child forever. Would you mind telling me what it is I need to do to be a better mother?”

Kris, being classy, offered to think and pray about it for 24 hours. When we reconvened, she shared the following idea with me: “Julie,” she said, “I’ve noticed that your body is Noah’s boundary. You run in every direction to stop him from doing what he shouldn’t do. Look at you! You’ve lost weight, you’re sick. He needs to learn to respect your words. And he needs to learn that now.”

Clunk.

The words dropped into place and I felt so thankful for that guidance. Her vision launched me on a path to create a relationship with Noah dependent on words, not my physical acts of obstruction.

So the next time I said, “Stop!” (meaning: get down, don’t go there, turn back or What the Hell Do You think You’re Doing?), I made sure that I followed it up with some kind of discipline. We started with the venerable Time Out. I told Noah he had to stay in the bathroom until I told him he could come back to the family. As I walked through the door to leave him alone with the toilet, he followed me. I repeated: “No, you have to stay here, until I say you can come out. Understand?” He understood. I walked out. He followed me.

Hmmm. If I sit on him in the bathroom, or if I hold the door shut, isn’t that using my body to get him to do what I say? Yet he isn’t doing what I say. What if I give in and follow the “spank on command” strategies I oppose? But then isn’t that yet another way my body is stopping him and not my words? So I kept talking and Noah kept walking. I talked louder and he just walked faster. There was absolutely no way I could make Noah stay in the bathroom with words.

In fact, the more I tried to make my words stick, the less effective I felt. Worse, we went from the interdependence of my body being Noah’s non-judgmental boundary to Noah’s increased shame as I piled words on top of him (hurtful, resentful, nagging, cajoling, guilt-laden words).

For the next fifteen years, Jon and I used every word in the book to influence Noah’s decisions about his life: his friends, his music, what he read, where he went, his education, how he drives, his values and any other life area we could nag into matching our vision of what it ought to look like.

We’ve had many great conversations. We’ve also had many shameful ones when our words fell flat or scorched his tender heart. The end result: despair, hurt, painful memories; words that required apologies, even years later.

And for all that: what hasn’t changed? Noah. He’s not guided by our words. We can take away a car, we can limit the funds we give him, we can choose not to co-sign apartments (if we want to), but our words don’t stop him. Instead, now we ask ourselves: “What do we need to do to feel right about our relationship with Noah?” We don’t ask ourselves, “What should we tell Noah to do so he’ll make good decisions?” (Though inevitably, as a stupid moth to a bright flame, we often still blunder forward with our Valuable Opinions until we remember again.)

Noah is guided by an inner impulse
that we can limit only as far as we have physical control,
just as it’s always been.

As Jon used to say: “Age and Maturity will be Noah’s best friends.” Noah, from the time he was born, has had an incalculable confidence in his ability to manage his life. Lucky for us, he grew up so he finally can!

It struck me the other day as I thought back to Kris’ well-intended advice. She was right about one thing – I was running myself ragged setting the boundaries with my body, my whole self thrown extravagantly into the abyss that is “limiting Noah.” But in the end, it’s the only thing that ever worked without causing emotional damage. It turns out, this is just who he is and has always been. I have a hunch, it’s who he’ll continue to be as well. And on this side of it, I’m in awe of who Noah is and the sheer genius of his brave embrace of life.

Partnership Writing

Posted in Family Notes, Parenting | 3 Comments »

The Sea, the Self and Scones

I’ve had no time to write. Instead, I’ve been playing with my nephew and nieces, I’ve had tea with my mother, I’ve gone on walks with my sister and her dog and I’ve been to the beach all by myself where I sat and stared at that huge expanse of water, allowing the rhythm of the shhhhhh and roar to alternate and resonate inside me. The ocean has always been my spiritual home.

I grew up outside of Malibu. I remember hopping in my blue Mazda GLC in my teens, and swiveling my way through Topanga canyon listening to my eight-track tape player until the mountains dumped me out on Pacific Coast Highway. I’d park my car and walk to the unremarkable beach (which Malibu is) and sit on a rock watching the waves roll in and out. In college, when I attended UCLA and my world became cluttered with failed crushes on boys and parents going through a divorce and roommate conflicts, I’d hop in that same little car and zip up PCH back to Malibu. I’d park at the health food store across the highway, purchase a container of plain yogurt and some bulk granola. With a plastic spoon, I’d cross PCH to the same spot I visited in high school.

Stirring the yogurt became a ritual. I’d sit and stir to the rhythm of the waves. I’d allow the inner tension and turmoil to drain while I sucked the yogurt off the little spoon. I can’t remember what it tasted like. I only remember how slow-moving life felt on the rock on the beach. I could become transfixed by one glint of light on a wave, or by the way the surfers would stroke, stroke, stroke and then pop up and stand and glide and carve, until they plunged back into the water at the shore only to start again.

Yesterday, I borrowed my mom’s old stick shift. With the liberating power of a GPS, I punched in the address of the beach and drove there effortlessly to old 1970’s rock tunes. “Freebird” played and I laughed about that. I parked the car on the lot above the beach. We had cold, wet, grey weather yesterday which suited me fine. I worked my way down a slippery ramp to the beach itself. Sand piper babies and their vigilant mothers scattered across the sand in front of me. I walked until I found an old driftwood log.

I sat on it.

I watched the scene I remembered from high school, from college. Waves, surfers, gulls. This time, I sat on another part of the California coastline, this time with blooming iceplant behind me.

I rested.

It’s interesting what comes up when you sit still long enough. Old feelings, thoughts, wishes surfaced and I had time to paw through them. I took them out one at a time, shook the dust off, looked at them front and back. I sorted them according to type, size, feeling, urgency, sentiment. The ocean gave me a rhythm to follow and over the course of the next hour (between sitting and walking), I found myself less troubled by the set of ordinary issues that I “never can get to.” I felt renewed energy for some of the tasks ahead.

After an hour and a half of quiet bliss, it began to rain and I worked my way back to my car. I reset my GPS for my return trip, stopped at Starbucks to drink a vanilla latte and then returned to my mom’s home, ready to be with my family again. This afternoon, I’m conducting a teatime with my nieces and nephew. We’ll be making lemon scones.

I thought you might like the recipe (from Family Fun magazine) so I’m sharing it here.

Scones

2 cups flour
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 3/4 inch pieces
1 cup heavy whipping cream, plus a little for brushing
1 egg yolk, beaten slightly
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Lemon Glaze

1 cup confectioner’s sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon lemon extract
1 tablespoon melted butter
2 tablespoons heavy or whipping cream

1. Heat oven to 400. Grease large baking sheet (preferably not a dark one).

2. Sift flour, sugar, b.p., and salt into a mixing bowl. Add the lemon zest and toss mixture with your hands.

3. Using your fingertips, rub the butter into the dry ingredients until it resembles fine crumbs.

4. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Pour in the cream, the yolk, and the vanilla extract. Use a fork to blend the liquids within the well. Then use a wooden spoon to combine all ingredients, just until they hold together. Don’t over stir.

5. Scrape dough onto a flour-dusted surface and using floured hands, knead gently three or four times to form a ball. Flatten the ball into a disk about 3/4 inch thick, then cut it as you would a pie into 8 wedges. Transfer to baking sheet leaving 1/4 inch between them. Brush tops lightly with whipping cream.

6. Bake the scones in center of oven until golden brown for 16-18 minutes. Cool on cookie sheet then transfer to wire rack.

7. While scones continue to cool, make the glaze. Combine all ingredients in small whisking bowl and whisk until mixture is smooth. You can thin with a tiny bit of water if needed, 1/2 teaspoon at a time. When scones are colled, drizzle glaze on each one.

Posted in Family Notes, General | 4 Comments »