My post, “When the tears come, the writing is done,” is featured in this week’s Homeschool Carnival on Janice Campbell’s blog!
Other highlighted posts address education, the legacy of homeschooling, planning and organizing, family and fun.
Also, if you write a homeschool blog and would like to participate in future Carnivals go here.
Image by Ken Bosma
Let it come.
Let the growth, grow.
Let the joy, bubble up.
Let the healing, begin.
Don’t chase.
Don’t fight with taut muscles and tight lips.
Lean back.
Let the rope between you go slack.
Mind your own business.
Breathe your own breaths.
Believe in the power of lessons learned the hard way.
Let it come.
Look lovingly on your worries.
Gentle them with a long “Shhhhh.”
Let your eyes lose focus.
Let your cheeks soften.
Stop explaining, analyzing, fixing, solving.
Stop projecting, predicting, prophesying, prying.
Give up. Give in.
It’s not up to you to see around corners.
If you could, you would have.
It’s not up to you to solve the puzzle.
You can’t be both people in the relationship.
You can’t be the motivation, the change, the vision, or the kindness for anyone else.
You won’t find your answer hidden like a penny in the corners of your couch.
Let it come…
like the wave that curls,
like the moon that waxes,
like the snow that drifts,
like the bloom that opens.
Crescendo, diminuendo, the vibration of life.
Let it come.
Cross-posted on facebook.
My reflections on how homeschooling has made me a better human being.
I discovered that…
…it’s “on task” to read great books.
…it’s never too late to read Jane Austen.
…it’s perfectly okay to save quality literature for your 30’s.
…counting birds at a feeder contributes to the national research of backyard birds—hence ornithologist.
…I can finally divide fractions. And bake scones. And make quiche. And quilt. And count change.
…lying on the couch watching a DVD of a nun with an accent and buck teeth wander through caves and the Ufizzi makes me an art historian.
…Raffi is an incredible lyricist.
…I learned more history at home than in my major at UCLA.
…my children are brilliant.
…my children are completely different than me.
…my children are exasperating.
…my children will be okay without me.
…Ancient Egypt is astonishing, and so is Ancient Greece, and Rome—not so much, and the Dark Ages are called ‘Dark’ for a reason.
…I will always love Laura Ingalls Wilder, no matter how my kids feel about her.
…being home all day is a singular joy.
…making food for the people I love is deeply satisfying.
…studying tide pools is required education if you live on a coast.
…music is constructed in loops—a sequence that is repeated, and then another sequence that is repeated, and then the surprise! whether classical or popular.
…I can still ski, after 20 years!
…science experiments are hard to plan for, but when they happen, explosions and messes are awesome.
…Saturn, you know, the planet? It’s actually there. Not just in a book, but it can be seen through a telescope!
…a blanket and a night sky shared with your son is even better than the shooting stars we watch together.
…teatimes and poetry are my best memories.
…dress up clothes and face paints are not just for kids.
…being a kind person matters.
…schoolwork is painting, sculpting, daydreaming, sorting, Lego-building, poetry-writing, calculating for fun, saving money for a big purchase, helping a sister jot down a story, taking walks, talking, talking, talking, drawing illustrations, freewriting, Internet skulking, piano lessons, soccer practice, daytime TV, photography…
…support is not the same as cheating, help is helpful, understanding is more important than “getting it right,” and apologies cover a multitude of ill-advised coercions.
…learning never stops for any of us.
What I discovered as a home educator is that I thought my kids were the ones getting an education when in fact…
…it was MY re-education, all along.
I am a homeschool graduate.
Who can do anything well while crying?
Can you type while crying? Cook dinner? Play board games? Not well.
Tears are an indication that something is wrong. Really wrong. They signal pain: emotional or physical. In writing, emotional pain may be writer’s block or fear of making a mistake. Physical pain may be that the hand hurts from squeezing the pencil too tightly, or eye strain, or physical exhaustion from a poor night’s sleep.
Crying is not a sign of laziness or lack of character. Crying is the last release, the final “giving up” and admission of failure.
Crying signals: I need comfort.
When the tears come, the writing’s done.
Take a break.
Acknowledge your child’s feelings. “I see that you’re unhappy. Let’s talk about this project later.”
Offer a hug.
Later, when your child has regained equilibrium, come back to find out what went wrong.
Be an investigator and a comforter. A cup of tea and eye contact will go a long way toward soothing the hurting writer. Remember, writer’s block is the usual reason for writing paralysis (not strong wills).
Writer’s block means the child doesn’t have access to the words inside. The words are hidden behind anxiety, fear of failure, or a vague sense of the topic (not enough depth in the subject area to be able to write about it meaningfully).
Writer’s block is experienced by everyone (pros, professors, and prodigies) and at its most acute, produces tears.
Give oodles of empathy and hugs. Offer a snack (with protein in it). Talk about how to make writing less painful. Take some time to remind yourself of the goal – a free, brave writer who is at ease when writing, not gripped with anxiety and fear.
Take a look at Growing Brave Writers, if you need strategies for unblocking your chronically blocked writers.
Don’t take it to heart when your efforts are under appreciated. Your investment is long term. The results will come in spurts or show themselves after years go by.
Don’t take it to heart when your children are bored or tell you they hate homeschooling. It’s a feeling, in the moment, shared with you because you are the safe place and the one in charge. Hold space for the feeling. But also hold space for homeschool. Sometimes the expression of frustration will subside as they feel heard and supported. Don’t make big changes after single outbursts. Stick with your plan, but offer compassion, support, and breaks.
Don’t take it to heart when you try your best to apply principles that “work for everyone else” but aren’t working for you. It’s not you. Or rather, it is you—you matter. What works for you? Those principles and practices that ensure peace, progress, and passion. Check in with yourself and look for signs of life. Don’t expect cookie cutter results applying someone else’s practices and principles. Always find your own, or your version of the ones you admire.
Don’t take it to heart when you have a bad day or a bad week or a bad month. We all go through dips and swings into the muddy places. Be good to you. Slow down, take a breath, regroup, start again. If the dips and slides last longer than a month, pay attention. Discover the cause, but do so free of self-loathing or judgment. Solve the puzzle; not the crime. You aren’t bad or wrong, just depleted and banged up.
Don’t take it to heart when the email or forum post stings and zings, pops your bubble and misses the spirit of who you are. Online communication lacks emotional cues and gives too much permission to the expression of harsh feeling. Sip tea, read the comment, delete it or click out. Move on. You have too much to do and too many people to love to give that one invisible person power to disrupt your harmony.
Don’t take it to heart when the progress you counted on doesn’t emerge. You have time. There is always time—time for everything you’ve ever needed to do under the sun. You can’t live as though there is no time. That posture squeezes the joy from living and hurries little people who can’t be hurried and robs learning of its incubation and saturation stages. Be picky. Choose one thing at a time and trust it to teach everything.
Don’t take it to heart when things go wrong, when you feel inadequate, when you are misunderstood, when you can’t find your way. That’s just today, just a moment. It will pass.
The kind of person who takes all these things to heart? A really good person, with a big heart. That’s you.
Be good to you.
Cross-posted on facebook.
Image by Sean and Lauren
