A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

I read a story years ago about Steven Spielberg. He used to practice filming special effects in the desert in Southern California when he was in high school. His mother let him play hooky from school and served as his driver and enthusiastic fan. She told the interviewer: “Whatever Steven wanted, we did.” Steven told the interviewer: “She was more like a big sister than a mother.”

That was language I wanted!

Homeschooling is a collaborative project. It’s not education done to the child. It’s education co-created with a partner. You are that partner. You’re the partner with a driver’s license, some money, and the ability to do research.

You are the partner who can see a bigger view of the world. You know stuff your child doesn’t know yet. But the goal isn’t requiring the child to know that stuff for no good reason. Rather, you want to be the “big sister with access.”

Your goal isn’t “shoulding” the child into an education.

You get to be the person who plucks that kid out of school and into a powerful interest. You get to the be one who creatively problem-solves so that your child can go to space camp or attend a vintage dance ball.

When you show up as having the energy to fuel a child’s curiosity and interest, your child experiences you as a partner. If you wonder how you will get “math” into that mix, take that as your personal challenge.

How will you make math meaningful to this child?

Can you “big sister it into being”?

You can! That’s what we’re all about in Brave Writer and the Brave Learner Home.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebravewriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!

“Overthinking leads to negative thoughts.” Don’t think too hard about that quote either!

Let’s pace ourselves. Quality information matters, in periodic doses.

When my mind goes apocalyptic, prophesying doom, I know I’m overthinking.

• When I play out ten dire scenarios and tune out my sweetheart or friends (or my small children, in the old days), I’m overthinking.
• When I compare my limits to someone else’s strengths, I’m overthinking.
• When I obsess over someone else’s “irrational beliefs,” I’m overthinking.
• When I overthink, I over plan. When I over plan, I over-stuff my life.

When I overthink, I rarely overthink peaceful, happy thoughts. I rarely overthink ways to do less.

I don’t get stuck in a cycle of endless happy predictions, except when falling in love or holding a newborn.

It’s falling off a log to fret, to go apocalyptic, and to break down in tears over spilled rice (sidebar: why is rice so difficult to sweep?).

It takes effort to choose to turn away from the cycle of negative thinking.

What Helps Me

• Fresh air and walking every day.
• Watching birds at my feeder.
• French Press coffee.
• Photos of my kids from around the globe.
• Foods with flavor—like brioche buns and vanilla bean ice cream.
• Reading for pleasure—not to be a better human.
• Putting down my phone which is what I’m going to do now.

Some writing programs don’t address the key condition needed to take writing risks: emotional safety.

That’s why writing a diary or a journal has been popular for centuries. The tradition of daily writing away from readers allows people to:

• discover their own thoughts,
• externalize their feelings,
• process what happens to them.

In our “educator” hunger to create writers of our children, sometimes we skip the step that allows them to write without our prying eyes.

One way to grow brave writers, then, is to create a weekly writing routine where you and your children freely write, knowing no one will read the writing—a completely protected space that gives your kids a chance to risk externalizing their thoughts without fear of criticism—whether “silly poop jokes” or rebellious thoughts about homeschool or their sensitivity to a social issue.

When a child expects writing to be read by a parent, a child likely self-edits while writing. Access to an original thought, particularly one that carries risk, is shuttered. That’s why sometimes you’ll ask a child to write what they just said aloud to you, and suddenly the mind goes blank. Your child tells you: “I can’t think of anything to say.” Because now instead of freely expressing, the child knows the thought will be evaluated for spelling, handwriting, punctuation, and even meaning.

To overcome that challenge, make room for your kids to say, “I wrote but I would prefer to keep it private.” What a gift that is!

Honor the growing writer by valuing the privacy of that child’s mind life first. Allow writing to emerge that is not read, not evaluated, but that creates space for it to become the writer’s own possession.

For more information about freewriting, check this post on Brave Writer’s website.

When I was a senior in high school, most nights my mother and I would drink Celestial Seasonings tea and eat a warmed bran muffin with unsalted raw butter. And we’d talk. Sometimes for 15 minutes. Sometimes an hour.

When I lived in Morocco as a newlywed, newly pregnant, my midwife would check my baby bump and then offer me British tea with biscuits (cookies). The first time, I was alarmed: “Ann, I can’t have tea! The caffeine. I’m pregnant!” She replied: “Julie, do you really think English women give up tea just because they’re pregnant?” And so we sat in her sunny kitchen chatting and sipping, extending the prenatal visit each month by an hour.

My Moroccan neighbors rotated through our subdivision each afternoon at 4:00 pm taking turns pouring mint tea sky high out of silver teapots so we could visit with each other—babies in tow, toddlers and cats underfoot. We sank into plush cushions and visited while drinking yellow sweet mint tea from a glass.

When we moved to a new city and apartment, my British friend Stella hooked up the butane gas bottle to the stove, still displaced in the front hall, and put the kettle on. 9:00 pm. She said, “And now it’s time for tea.” So it was. We paused, feeling accomplished, resting and sipping.

The world over, tea and coffee signal a break and conversation. They create instant intimacy or easy companionship. Tea, for me, is a rite—it let’s me reset the stress dial. Others achieve this result with coffee (or some other beverage of choice).

Consider what might happen if you:

• added tea to the math lesson,
• poured a cup of tea and brought it to a disheartened teen,
• or set up a tea service for two little friends on your back deck.

What about addressing the difficult topic over tea and biscuits? If tea’s not your drink, do a little online search for alternatives. Lots of cultures have versions of hot beverages to try. Try them! Go on a tea/coffee break adventure and create space for sharing.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebravewriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!

Begin.

Now.

Before you know how.

• “But I don’t have the right programs!”
• “What’s my schedule?”
• “I’m not good at phonics.”
• “What if I push too hard?”
• “What if I’m too chaotic?”
• “How will I know I’m doing it right?”

Answers to every question come along the way. You can’t solve homeschooling in advance, or ever.

It is a way.

A way of life.

A way of being a family.

A way of learning and education.

Begin.

Reading to your children appeals to you? Open a book now. Read it to whoever is gathered.

Wondering how to teach math? Start: count spoons, door knobs, fingers and toes. Add measuring cups for a cake. Play with the calculator. Invite someone to play cards or a board game.

Recite a nursery rhyme, a limerick. Tell jokes. Sing songs.

Flip on the television and watch baking shows, wilderness challenges, anime’ .

Tie knots, knit, fly a kite, kayak, turn the wheel of a kaleidoscope.

Begin.

The education you want for your kids is not hiding between the covers of textbooks. It’s already here: an opened gift waiting to be enjoyed, known, explored.

Trust that you’ll know what to do as you find your joy and footing. Trust you’ll discover what to add along the way.

Books and curriculum are a part of the larger whole of this way of life to offer ballast, good ideas, handholds. They are not learning. They are guides.

You’ll never master homeschool. It’s a process, not an accomplishment.

You can live this way of life, each day, starting now, with optimism and chutzpah.

Begin.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebravewriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!