A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

“I need help.”

It’s a little thing. There’s a difference between telling your kids what to do and admitting your need. It’s the difference between exasperation that they haven’t been thoughtful (left shoes in the hall, didn’t clear the table, made too much noise, were careless with the math book) versus asking them to be considerate of your needs (to not trip on shoes, to have a place to put lunch, to not be disrupted, to know where the math book is).

Your kids DO want to help. Often we frame our need for help through a command. We may get the obedience but that’s not the same thing as generous service.

I learned with my kids: I could ask for what I need. I could be vulnerable and honest.

“Guys! I can’t think straight. I see thousands of shoes down the hallway. It stresses me out. Anyone want to help me get them cleared up?”

“I want to get lunch ready. I could get it done faster if the table were clear. I need help. Anyone?”

“I’m about to work for the next hour. I’m worried about breaking concentration when it gets noisy. I need your help. What activity would you like to do that will help me get my work done that isn’t super noisy. Ideas?”

“I could cry. We don’t know where the math book is AGAIN? What’s up with that? I need your help. Let’s find it together. What can we do differently so it doesn’t go missing? Ideas?”

It’s a small thing. They may ignore the request (“No” is a true answer to a request—your kids know a command in disguise—they may test you). If you build a habit of truth-telling, owning your needs (not pretending you’re building their character or doing it for their own good), and asking for help,

You’ll discover that most kids have a reservoir of love for you if you build a habit of truth-telling:

• owning your needs (not pretending you’re building their character or doing it for their own good),
• and asking for help.

Children want your peace of mind, happiness, and to be of value. Flip side: help them too—freely.

Over time, you may notice a shift from resistance to mutual care. Even better: you’ll realize your well-being isn’t dependent on your children’s obedience. It’s dependent on your self-awareness—and that’s a skill they need too. So thanks for living and modeling it.

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

The Ghost of Public School Past will make you think that writing is difficult. You will believe that structure and format are more important than the quirky, insightful, sometimes funny, sometimes obscure, writing voice of your child. You may think “I’ve used Brave Writer for years but now it’s time to get serious about writing.”

If you find yourself using the word “serious” with regard to any school subject, raise a red flag inside yourself.

You have just admitted that you’re preparing to make your child miserable. You will be in full justification mode, so you’ll eviscerate the character of your child as lazy or not dedicated or behind. You will look for a method that reassures you rather than a method that sparks your child’s natural motivation.

Learning to write is simple. It is the ability to transcribe your thoughts as you think them. It comes with practice the same way learning to speak comes with babbling. It allows for lots of wasted words on paper and on the screen that do not rise to the level of your expectations. Just like your 12 month old or your 2 year old or even your 5 year old who misuses words in abundance and becomes more fluent in speech every day.

Writing works the same way. Write together, freely, regularly (a few times a month, for 5-15 minutes). See what happens!

You use the essay format for about eight years of your life. You do not need to dedicate the first eight school years of childhood preparing for the essay. I can teach you how to write an essay on the back of a napkin. What I can’t teach you is the confidence to express your true thoughts on a page. That comes from practice—the kind of writing that allows free self-expression on a regular basis.

Please give your kids a chance to enjoy self-expression in writing. This is not the time to get serious. It’s the time to learn to write. Don’t ruin your chance to grow a writer by getting serious about writing.

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

“There are no educational emergencies.“

This one’s for you. Education is an opportunity. It’s a slow unfolding of understanding balanced against sudden insight. We offer instruction and we address limits and struggle with creativity and patience, and we seek help when we need it.

It’s tempting to treat everything as an emergency. Whether it’s conserving toilet paper, wondering how you’ll pay your bills, or protecting yourself against a virus. There’s an underlying alarm to these behaviors.

Education— learning—is not an emergency. It’s not even urgent. So if you feel yourself ramp up, or are worried that your child is behind, or wonder if your child is learning enough, ask yourself if that isn’t anxiety spilling into your home school. Because my hunch? It likely is.

And then, deliberately slow down. The best learning happens when we

• are patient,
• adapt the lessons to a child’s capability,
• and provide kind support.

If you’re finding it hard to get it all done, go back to baby steps. One ten minute session today—draw a subject from a hat. Then tomorrow, try ten minutes in the morning and ten in the afternoon. Do that for a few days. Rotate subjects, until you’ve covered them all.

Now’s a time to “go slow to go fast.”

When panic hits, remind yourself: There are no educational emergencies.

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