A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

Image by Donnie Nunley

line by line,
promise by promise,
heart beat by heart beat.

Sometimes the vision that dances in your head like sugar plums and happily ever afters and smart, successful, contributing citizens called your children, turns into a puzzle you can’t solve or a missing piece you can’t find under the cushions…

or that thud thud in your chest…

. . . a persistent “something’s not right, something’s not right” that clicks with your heels and follows you into the grocery store.

Sometimes the ideal shatters through no obvious fault of your own (though you wish it were, so you could fix it, naturally, like you fix everything else)—someone else’s implacable will thwarts/harms/crushes yours or finds happiness in someone else’s.

Sometimes your body succumbs to germs or cells that won’t stop growing and they take over your organs and ruin your chance to do all you had planned for forever and a day. Sometimes the out-of-control cells live in the body of your dearest friend and deepest love, or precious child.

Sometimes, no matter how diligently you protect them and worry on their behalf, your children stumble into tragedy or crime unimagined and never planned.

Sometimes one of your precious kids is violated horribly while you were pinning new kitchen photos to Pinterest and having devotions.

The disillusioned suffer twice and three times.

Not only do they face the excruciating pain of tragedy, at night, and in the middle of the afternoon. They also face the natural tendency of those we love most to assign blame for the failure.

Pain, loss, divorce, disease, violation—to the not-yet-suffering, these are as contagious as mumps or the common cold. All who are not afflicted look for the cause so they can stay safe and not make the horrible mistakes you’ve made.

You didn’t do it right.

You didn’t pray enough, go to therapy, read the right books, get the right doctors, eat the right foods, follow the right advice, use these steps, take this tone, follow this practice, behave in that way, honor this code, believe that set of precepts . . .

The list goes on endlessly and no protestations of how much you tried calms the advice-givers. They want to believe they have identified the one or ten key ingredients that you missed, that they can embrace, to avoid your fate.

They don’t try to figure out your failings to be cruel. Know that. It’s desperation. To avoid your tragedy.

But you can face this disillusionment—this failed bargain with God or life or nature—differently because these awful conditions are real for you. Not theory. Not avoidable. They’re here now, waiting for you to deal with them, not with what you “might have done” or “could have done differently.”

Disillusionment is the beginning of new chances—a chance to find a new way to live or love, for however long you have.

It’s the beginning of asking real questions rather than seeking iron-clad answers.

It’s your chance to take some risks, to explore some forbidden secret ideals you had overlooked before in your safety.

It’s your chance to have an authentic, self-created journey rather than the second-hand one the books and leaders tell you to have.

It’s a chance to pay attention to people as they actually are rather than as you wish them to be.

It’s often your first real chance to ask yourself: Who am I? And then another better chance to become that person in a whole new way.

I love talking with disillusioned homeschoolers because they are closer to being good at educating their kids than the ones who think they have a “system that works.” If homeschooling has failed you somehow, if your marriage is not working, if your children are reacting against you and you don’t know how to bring them near, you are much closer to having a life built on a foundation of truth and reality than you’ve ever been.

Hold on. Face life on its terms: the pain, the disillusionment. Don’t judge your life. Pay attention to it. Let it tell you what you need to know. And by all means, find others who’ve walked similar journeys. They will have wisdom to share.

You are not bad, wrong, or a failure.

You are not foolish, uncommitted, or selfish.

You are human. Everyone, by the time they get to 50 or 60, will have experienced the humbling realization of being time-bound and planet-dwelling among germs and people.

That you would attempt (for example) to be married (till death!), to have children (to home educate!), and to love your life (despite cancer!) is brave and optimistic.

Draw on those resources as you face your disillusionment squarely. Then see what happens. You might be amazed.

A follow-up to yesterday’s “Take Your Time” post.

“Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it can resurrect your homeschool!”

“I’ve got the powah.”

Everybody agrees—parents, children, media, government—parents have the power in the parent-child relationship. (We parents don’t always feel it, so we get a little crabby and pushy about it; but clearly, there’s not a child alive who doesn’t know that his or her parents have more power than they do.)

Power is a heady thing. We do stupid stuff every day just because we’ve got it.

We expect little people who’ve been on the planet a mere 3, 7, or 13 years to:

• make consistently good decisions,
• always listen to us,
• be “rational” the way we’d be rational,
• show interest in what our interests are,
• be happy to do what we expect them to do…

…All. The. Time.

One mom I spoke to on the phone, for instance, told me she had four strong-willed children.

I paused. “Is it possible your four children have a strong-willed mother?”

After all—how can all four be strong-willed? It seemed more likely that this was a case where mom was frustrated that her superior way of living was not fully embraced by her kids, you know…All. The. Time.

I remember another mother saying to me: “I don’t get it. If my kids would just do what I said, everyone would be happier. Life would be so easy if my six kids would just go with my program.”

Of course, right away, you can see the problem.

Life would be easier for these moms, but clearly the kids don’t feel that way—that’s why they aren’t following the program!

How do you fix this clash of emotions in a 24/7 home… school?

Curiosity

That’s right.

Being curious. About your kids.

You’re the big person, with the power. You’ve

• spent years in school,
• had your feelings hurt,
• failed a test or three,
• gotten cut from a team,
• worked a couple of jobs,
• pretended to eat your vegetables,
• not made your bed,
• been late with income taxes,
• complained about the line at the DMV,
• been blamed for something you didn’t do,
• been forgiven for something you did do…

You’re either navigating a marriage, or you’re a single parent who figured out what to do after a relationship,

You know about life.

Your kids don’t yet. They’re just starting to accumulate experiences that will teach them.

Most conflicts (I dare assert) could be—at minimum—relieved of the strain, and at maximum—resolved, if the person with the power (Dad, Mom, Grandma, teacher, adult in charge) directed a curious gaze at the offending child before launching into a tirade or asserting on behalf of the youngster, the nefarious meaning of the act, thoughtless word, or behavior.

Let me spell it out a little more clearly.

Curiosity is your deliberate choice to not assert your power.

You can be patient for a moment,
you can choose not to fly off the handle,
you can stop wringing your hands…
and instead, draw on the depth of your experience of life—

that things work out,
that you can fix problems,
that time is on your side,
that opinions and feelings change, and aren’t irreversible,
that moods swing,
that we’re all learning, all the time.

Parents must carry and exercise their power gracefully if they want to preserve a loving, mutually satisfying relationship with their kids which in turn fosters academic growth (amazingly!). How cool is that?

When a conflict arises such as

• resistance to the math page,
• reluctance to write,
• pinching baby sister,
• throwing away a perfectly good sandwich,
• spouting beliefs contrary to the family expectations,
• “forgetting” to clean the bathroom,
• arguing about time limits for media, etc.,

then the child already knows that the parent has the power to win the argument.

Starting with judgments

• “You’re lazy,”
• “You know better,”
• “You have to learn to spell or read or write,”
• “Your sister is not a punching bag…”

leads to longer arguments and unhappiness in the relationship.

Curiosity can defuse an explosive situation—it allows a child to express a point of view before a summary judgment is rendered. Not just the “What happened?” question, shouted with exasperation; but the “I’m curious to know what you were thinking,” question expressed with gentle directness.

Curiosity allows problem solving. If you’ve got a child who every day for a week tells you she hates copywork, it’s a good idea to find out what “hate” means rather than assuming she is lazy, resistant, or trying to “get out of” the work.

If you ask a question like, “What’s going on inside you when you try to handwrite?” you may discover the exact bit of information you need. Perhaps the chair is too low to the big table and her forearm is leaning too hard against the edge, which hurts. Maybe her baby brother keeps gurgling and it’s hard to concentrate. Or maybe it’s something so silly: She wishes she could use a purple pen.

Likewise, if your child is laughing at the disturbing part of a film, rather than shame him for not seeing the cruelty between characters, find out what triggered the hysterics. Could there be some antic happening in the corner of the screen you missed? Or it may be that he doesn’t yet grasp the horror of the moment because he lacks life experience and just thought the bombs were cool. You may need to teach him nothing. Just knowing he’s not mature enough to get it could be okay.

In homeschool, curiosity is the key ingredient
to educational growth.

Our kids are not supposed to be repositories for adult information. They are meant to be like plants unfurling their light green limbs toward the sun of illumination. Insight (that fabulous experience of lighting up within when you “get” it) comes when a person connects the dots in their own mind. It does not come secondhand (by lecture, or requirement).

What promotes insight is the opportunity to talk about all the fragments of information with an interested person.

When that person listens and mirrors without judgment, scripting, tricking, manipulating, or controlling the outcome of the conversation, the child has the chance to make connections for him or herself. The actual conclusions drawn by the child are less important than the process that helped form that tentative conclusion.

Allow your child room to grow in the sunlight of your curiosity and love!

Image © Vasiliy Koval | Dreamstime.com

A little parenting advice:

Take your time.

Take your time to find out what went wrong.

Take your time to determine the best response to what happened that

upset,
worried, or
disappointed you.

Take your time to listen to your child’s version.

Take your time to consider the child’s

motivations,
intentions, and
limitations.

Take your time to recover from the shock.

Take your time before making declarations or summary judgments.

Take your time to remember being

young,
inexperienced, and
impulsive.

Take your time to

imagine a solution,
a method of repair, or
a pathway to reconciliation.

Take your time to put the problem in the context of an entire childhood, not just today’s worries.

Mull things over.

Go away from the problem, and come back to it later.

Get some sleep.

Eat some protein.

No rushes to judgment.

No loud voices.

No dire predictions.

No over-reactions.

Meander,
consider,
ponder,
reflect,
appreciate,
let go,
gain strength.

Take your time to understand, guide, and support your

precious,
young,
new-to-the-planet

children.

Take your time.

Cross-posted on facebook.

Image by Kerem Tapani Gültekin

Image by Sveta Sunorina

The following message is for homeschooling moms—specifically those of you facing difficult decisions about your marriages and your kids, all while homeschooling.

I’ve had emails and messages asking me for advice in these delicate matters (divorce, separation, single parent homeschooling).

I want to say first that Brave Writer is a writing and language arts curriculum, as well as a philosophy of home education. I am not a therapist nor a lawyer by training, and I don’t want to confuse what Brave Writer is about by tackling legal and mental health issues that are beyond the scope of what I offer through our company.

That said, home education is directly impacted by the context of your family—its warmth, the sense of emotional and physical safety present in it, the shared caring of the parenting team, the security of the financial resources, and the intrinsic experience of happiness and well being of each and every member.

I find it troublesome that we ignore those factors and focus almost exclusively on curriculum choices and homeschool philosophy. If a family and/or marriage is in crisis, no amount of workbook switching will bridge the underlying anxiety that permeates the home. That anxiety/dysfunction must be addressed. Moreover, if you are suffering from chronic rejection in your marriage (in whatever form it takes), it is difficult to be the parent your children need.

I don’t want to articulate a theory about when divorce is justified or not. It’s an enormously personal decision, rarely made glibly (in idealistic families like those who choose to home educate, I’ve never yet met someone for whom divorce was an easy, glib decision—how could it be?). Usually it is the last last exit off a long highway, after every avenue (and both partners) have been exhausted, taken as a kind of defeat—a recognition that there are no more last steps.

The goal in every marriage ought to be: get as much help as you can to have the best marriage that you can for as long as you can. That’s true for everyone from year 1 to year 75.

The usual tools do actually help:

Therapy for you
Developing yourself (school, hobbies, exercise, work)
Reading about how to have healthy relationships

Sometimes just doing these things buys you time—time you can stay married longer than you thought you could, which is often good for kids.

When you come to the point where you know you can’t any more (whatever that means to you), lots of decisions must be made and a clear head (unencumbered by guilty ambivalence) is required.

In most homeschooling circles, a scarlet letter “D” attaches itself to divorce, which leads children and parents who are divorced or separated to feel like they are second-tier homeschoolers—that somehow, the children in a divorced homeschool family are unlikely to achieve the level of success and emotional balance that is available to the other “still-married” version.

It is possible to home educate successfully after a divorce, but it is much more difficult to do for several reasons:

1. Finances: Likely you are a SAHM, without an income. It is also likely you have not kept up with your field. It is much more difficult to home educate and work at the same time—for you, and for your kids. It can be difficult to find work, that fits your homeschool schedule, let alone supports your life.

2. Ex-spouse: Not all exes support home education. Homeschooling might be contested by your ex out of anger, or simply out of disagreement. You may “lose the right” to home educate your kids. It’s not a given that you will get to keep homeschooling, even if you want to.

3. Custody: Today, joint custody (50-50) is common. That means the kids are going between two houses every week. Talk about jumbling the continuity of schoolwork. It also means two sets of routines, two ideas about discipline, two levels of stress.

4. Moving: Not every divorced couple can support two complete households. It is common for families to sell their primary homes (where home education has been happening) and for the kids and mom to move into a much smaller space. The move is disruptive, as is the adjustment to a different standard of living. One study says that the change in standard of living is the most difficult part of divorce for children, even more than the parents living under separate roofs.

5. One adult: With two adults at home, you get a break each day (hopefully). It’s a challenge to be all things to all kids all day every day. It may feel like relief initially (and may in fact be relief), but it is also an enormous responsibility. The immediate relief that comes from not living under the same roof with your alienated spouse today is not necessarily what the long term requirement to live on your own for the rest of your children’s childhoods will feel like down the road.

Think carefully about how you will mitigate these factors. What are your finances? How dependent are you? Will you be able to continue to home educate? How important is that to you and your children? Will your ex support that choice? Will the ex live close enough to you to provide some relief (weekends off, driving to soccer practice)? Is it possible for you to keep the house (it provides enormous continuity for kids, if you can keep them where they are already living)? Is it possible for you to have primary custody?

How emotionally well are you? Are you depressed, checked out, overwhelmed? Can you home educate under these circumstances? What can you do to become a healthier, more stable you?

How are the kids? What emotional toll has the long-term unhealthiness of the family already taken on them? How can you support them in healing and becoming emotionally whole? Just because they seem fine doesn’t mean they are. Studies show that five years after divorce, kids often hit a wall (become depressed, act out), even if they have appeared to cope well before that.

For children, even if they agree that divorce is the right option for their family and experience relief once it is done, there isn’t a single child in the world who is happy to have a divorced family. No one says, “I’m glad that the best option for my family was divorce.” Everyone wishes they had a family where divorce was not necessary at all.

Not only that: problems within a marriage (where it’s clear that there are issues – parents fighting, parents not speaking, parents who take cheap shots, parents who neglect each other) are understood as bumps in the road between two people who love each other. The love is bigger than the problems. Divorce says, “The love is not bigger than the problems.” Kids are introduced to the idea that one parent (sometimes both!) are not as lovable now. That’s a serious idea to introduce to young people who share genes with both parents. We all want to believe that our parents are worth loving, in spite of their flaws.

That is not to say that divorce isn’t the right choice, can’t be survived, and that good can’t come of it. Recovering space for emotional well being is of enormous value for children. Learning to identify abuse or mistreatment, and seeing that cruelty has consequences is important too. Showing your children that they are strong and can stand up for themselves can be life-changing.

Ensuring that the place your children call home is safe, warm, and generous is an act of love and courage. If it can be done while preserving the marriage, so much the better. If it can’t, then consider carefully ways to create as peaceful a transition as possible.

In the end, the most important thing to know is that every life has challenges—married or divorced. Our job is to help our kids learn how to manage the messiness of life, while providing them with strong emotional support as they have their own (different) reactions to our choices than we have.

Homeschooling depends on parents being responsible, emotionally well, stable people who model what it is to have healthy (as healthy as possible) relationships with each other and with their children. It’s your job to become that person for them, however that happens according to your lights.

Cross-posted on facebook.