::: in the bleak midwinter :::

Usually, this time of the year, trying to get any schoolwork done at all is such a drag. I'm so affected by the weather, the brown dreariness of it, that I feel nothing like learning, accomplishing, teaching, and I feel only like burrowing, hibernating, lounging and lazing.

I'm not saying that I don't feel that way now, during this bleak midwinter, but I am saying that I'm learning to force myself into a discipline of sorts. Where I would normally awake and say, "Well, I slept in too long today. The whole day's shot. So much for that," I'm instead saying, "Okay. So I awoke late. We'll forgo the normal schedule and get some breakfast, and I'll read to the girls while they're eating."

Usually, forcing myself to start something creates a type of perpetual motion, and I find myself gaining some steam from each thing I make myself do. If I'm completely unmotivated, folding and putting away a load of laundry gets me somewhat motivated, and it continues on from there.

I'm not sure why things seem so overwhelming right now. Life is going very well, I'd say, for the most part. Sure, there are things that could be better, relationships that could use repairing, and money is always a strain, but, for the most part, life is good. But even one small thing, one extra stop for an errand, one more meeting or phone call or page of a schoolbook, and the thought makes me want to crumble. And yet, if I eliminate all of those things, if I find myself without commitments and activities, I sink into a boredom that serves pretty well as depression, and then I simply don't know what to do with myself.

A friend has recently offered to loan me a therapy light, and I'm looking forward to seeing how that works. I plan to use it during lesson times when I'm reading to the girls aloud. That should make for plenty of exposure to the light, given that the bulk of our day involves reading aloud.

I also really feel that I should get out and take walks, but just the thought of it almost sends me to tears. Isn't that pitiful?

So, for now, I'll keep forcing myself to do what needs doing and looking for light whereever I can find it. I'm so thankful for those around me who are patient and loving and kind and pitch in whereever they're able. Without you, I'd be completely lost.

::: seeking the waterfall :::

As part of our Ambleside curriculum, the girls and I have been studying the world's wonders through our geography book, Richard Halliburton's Book of Marvels, The Occident. Richard Halliburton is our absolute favorite geography teacher, though he's been gone from this world since 1939, shortly after The Occident was written. While reading The Occident and one of our other geography books. V.M. Hillyer's  A Child's Geography of the World, I got the itch to visit Niagara Falls. After doing a little research, I discovered that The Falls are only a five-hour drive from us and asked Bo if he'd be up for sitting behind the wheel for ten hours. It wasn't until after he'd agreed and I'd made the plans that I found out he'd never seen The Falls!

So, early Saturday morning, while 19-year-old Bard was on Fall break from University, Bo and I woke everyone (except 18-year-old Houdin, who is at Discipleship training for his trip to Africa) early in the morning and prodded them into the car for a road trip. "We'll be in the car for ten hours," we told them. "Bring a change of clothes. And comfortable shoes. And a raincoat. You might get wet!"

They were confused and thrilled as we passed first a sign for Pennsylvania, and then New York, and then, when they just couldn't take it anymore, we told them where we were going. Some were less-than-thrilled. The Baby thought we were going to a movie or an amusement park.

But once they got there, and they saw the rushing Niagara River and the absolutely breathtaking Falls, they were smitten. The winds were high as we rode the crashing waves of Horseshoe Falls on the Maid of the Mist, yanking shouts of joy and amazement from our bodies.

We got wet. Very wet. I was so thankful that we had and brought our waterproof camera. And that change of clothes!

When we all climbed back into the car for the ride home, we were exhilarated, inspired, ALIVE! A stop at Steak 'N Shake for dinner and a run to the Krispy Kreme next door (we can't get Krispy Kreme near us anymore!) made the day just about as perfect as it could get.

No car breakdowns! No major arguments! No unexpected expenses! And our randomized playlist even seemed to cooperate, throwing out songs like "Running with the Buffalo" by Peter Mayer, "Counting Road Signs" by Jonathan Reuel, "Coastline" by Brothers Creeggan, "Get On Your Boots" by U2, and "Suitcase" by Over the Rhine, and, just as we were rounding the last curves before our road at 10:45 PM, "Golden Slumbers" by The Beatles filled the van full of sleeping, sleepy and half-asleep travelers.

While the characters in Whittier's poem below didn't find the waterfall they sought, we did, and we were pleased in the seeking, as well.

Seeking of the Waterfall
~John Greenleaf Whittier

They left their home of summer ease
Beneath the lowland's sheltering trees,
To seek, by ways unknown to all,
The promise of the waterfall.

Some vague, faint rumor to the vale
Had crept--perchance a hunter's tale--
Of its wild mirth of waters lost
On the dark woods through which it tossed.

Somewhere it laughed and sang; somewhere
Whirled in mad dance its misty hair;
But who had raised its veil, or seen
The rainbow skirts of that Undine?

They sought it where the mountain brook
Its swift way to the valley took;
Along the rugged slope they clomb,
Their guide a thread of sound and foam.

Height after height they slowly won;
The fiery javelins of the sun
Smote the bare ledge; the tangled shade
With rock and vine their steps delayed.

But, through leaf-openings, now and then
They saw the cheerful homes of men,
And the great mountains with their wall
Of misty purple girdling all.

The leaves through which the glad winds blew
Shared. the wild dance the waters knew;
And where the shadows deepest fell
The wood-thrush rang his silver bell.

Fringing the stream, at every turn
Swung low the waving fronds of fern;
From stony cleft and mossy sod
Pale asters sprang, and golden-rod.

And still the water sang the sweet,
Glad song that stirred its gliding feet,
And found in rock and root the keys
Of its beguiling melodies.

Beyond, above, its signals flew
Of tossing foam the birch-trees through;
Now seen, now lost, but baffling still
The weary seekers' slackening will.

Each called to each: "Lo here! Lo there!
Its white scarf flutters in the air!"
They climbed anew; the vision fled,
To beckon higher overhead.

So toiled they up the mountain-slope
With faint and ever fainter hope;
With faint and fainter voice the brook
Still bade them listen, pause, and look.

Meanwhile below the day was done;
Above the tall peaks saw the sun
Sink, beam-shorn, to its misty set
Behind the hills of violet.

"Here ends our quest!" the seekers cried,
"The brook and rumor both have lied!
The phantom of a waterfall
Has led us at its beck and call."

But one, with years grown wiser, said
"So, always baffled, not misled,
We follow where before us runs
The vision of the shining ones.

"Not where they seem their signals fly,
Their voices while we listen die;
We cannot keep, however fleet,
The quick time of their winged feet.

"From youth to age unresting stray
These kindly mockers in our way;
Yet lead they not, the baffling elves,
To something better than themselves?

"Here, though unreached the goal we sought,
Its own reward our toil has brought:
The winding water's sounding rush,
The long note of the hermit thrush,

"The turquoise lakes, the glimpse of pond
And river track, and, vast, beyond
Broad meadows belted round with pines,
The grand uplift of mountain lines!

"What matter though we seek with pain
The garden of the gods in vain,
If lured thereby we climb to greet
Some wayside blossom Eden-sweet?

"To seek is better than to gain,
The fond hope dies as we attain;
Life's fairest things are those which seem,
The best is that of which we dream.

"Then let us trust our waterfall
Still flashes down its rocky wall,
With rainbow crescent curved across
Its sunlit spray from moss to moss.

"And we, forgetful of our pain,
In thought shall seek it oft again;
Shall see this aster-blossomed sod,
This sunshine of the golden-rod,

"And haply gain, through parting boughs,
Grand glimpses of great mountain brows
Cloud-turbaned, and the sharp steel sheen
Of lakes deep set in valleys green.

"So failure wins; the consequence
Of loss becomes its recompense;
And evermore the end shall tell
The unreached ideal guided well.

"Our sweet illusions only die
Fulfilling love's sure prophecy;
And every wish for better things
An undreamed beauty nearer brings.

"For fate is servitor of love;
Desire and hope and longing prove
The secret of immortal youth,
And Nature cheats us into truth.

"O kind allurers, wisely sent,
Beguiling with benign intent,
Still move us, through divine unrest,
To seek the loveliest and the best!

"Go with us when our souls go free,
And, in the clear, white light to be,
Add unto Heaven's beatitude
The old delight of seeking good!"

::: ideals :::

"Don't let your home become some terrible miniature copy of the school.  No lesson plans!  No quizzes!  No tests!  No report cards! Even leaving your child alone would be better:  at least they could figure out some things on their own." ~John Holt

I love reading John Holt, as I was reminded by this post by Tonia from Study in Brown. It sums up what I wish for in my idealistic educational fantasy-land. Why can't I make it work in my own life? Why does that kind of life tend to end up making me feel undisciplined and borderline negligent of my children's education?

And, is it just me, or does the word "ideals" connotate naive and impossible daydreams?

::: line 'em up, line 'em all up :::

I'm working on a way to be more organized with the girls' daily lessons, and, in an effort to do that, I came up with this form. As you can see, there's no times listed, because I can be a clock watcher if I'm not careful, so instead of being a slave to that, we just go through our lessons and complete what needs doing, regardless of how long or short it takes.


This page was created in Pages. If you'd like a copy, e-mail me at todayslessons AT gmail DOT com and I'll send you the file.

::: abraham lincoln's world :::

One of the books we're using for Sweetheart's Ambleside lessons this year is Abraham Lincoln's World by Genevieve Foster. I hadn't been familiar with it, and, let me tell you, so far I *love* this book. I love how the author puts so much humanity into the historical figures, and how she weaves their lives together so that we have a context of who was doing what during which time in history. And the illustrations, also created by Genevieve Foster, are alive with personality. The author's passion for all things historical is apparent, and can be attested by her philosophy of learning history:

History is drama, with men and nations as the actors. Why not present it with all the players who belong together on the stage at once, rather than only one character on the stage at a time?

Her philosophy works for this book. I look forward to delving further in and, along with my daughter, watching history come alive.

::: pros and cons of homeschooling :::

For those who have questions regarding the pros and cons of homeschooling, and don't we all, I would like to point you to a post by one of my favorite bloggers, Ann Voskamp of Holy Experience. In this post, Ann speaks so much of what I would say here were I as eloquent and articulate as she. My favorite part of the post, the one to which I say, "Amen!", is this:

Ultimately, for us, a quality education focuses on commitment, of both the learner and the teacher. A commitment by both parties to authenticity, joy, curiosity, and consistency. These elements of an education then translate into necessary, future life-skills.

For us that means living:

Authentically.
Live your life. Invite your children to join you! Read together. Pray together. Sing together. Work, bake, garden, chore, clean, sew, fix, build together. Don't fabricate artificial demarcation lines between schooling and living. Live a one-piece life. Live holistically.

Joyfully.
Explore! Be awed by His World! Restore Wonder! Be a creative, thinking, exuberant person who spills with the joy of learning. Your zest for learning and life will be contagious--the children will catch it!

Curiously.
Read, read, read. Fill the house with library books. Play classical music. Post the art of the masters about the house. Go for walks in the woods. Learn a new language, a new culture, a new poem. Everyday set out to discover again, and again, and again. The whole earth is full of His glory! Go seek His face...

Consistently.
Consistently pray. Consistently read. Consistently keep the routine. Consistently live an everyday liturgy.

Children thrive in routine. So do households. Have hardstops: times that you fully stop to pray, to read, to write. Regardless of what isn't done, what isn't finished. Make a full stop, do the needful thing, then return to meals, laundry, household management.
Consistently be consistent.

That's all. The curriculum doesn't really matter, so much. Use what works for you, how He leads you.

Just make it part of your real life, make it a joy, make it a discovery, and prayerfully make it consistent.

~Ann Voskamp

There are many more great words there on Ann's site, as well as some delicious photographs.

::: beautiful books :::

I spent a good portion of my time yesterday preparing for the upcoming school year for Sweetheart (10) and The Baby (6). Since I now have one adult child in college, one adult child leaving for voluntary service next month, and one teenage son attending a brick-and-mortar high school for the first time, I have only two daughters to do homelearning with. We'll be using Ambleside Online again, a free online curriculum that uses the philosophies of Charlotte Mason, an early 20th century educator who taught that education is an atmosphere, a discipline and a life, not just a means to getting a job or getting into college, but the formation of character. She produced a series of lectures to help parents understand how children best learn. Ambleside Online uses Mason's philosophies to guide the selection of materials.

Here's what I like about using Ambleside:

• The use of living history books as opposed to textbooks;
• The use of quality pieces of literature;
• The large amount of support and resources available;
• The focus on short lessons;
• The focus on nature study;
• The focus on art and music;
• The fact that the curriculum is free-of-charge, created by mothers who believe in the philosophies of Charlotte Mason;
• The gentle, flexible nature of Mason's approach;
  
• The belief that children are capable of understanding quality literature and beautiful language, that books don't have to be dumbed-down for children to be able to enjoy and learn from them;
• The focus on formation of character;
• The physical beauty of the books themselves.

Over the last few years since we started using Ambleside, I've been on a treasure hunt to find the books suggested in their curriculum, and I've been blessed to find so many of the books we needed for our learning journey. Fortunately for me, a book addict and lover of things vintage, many of the books in the Ambleside curriculum are physically beautiful. I've acquired them by scouring thrift stores, used-book stores, PaperBackSwap, and online booksellers. Many of them I've found for very reasonable prices, while others still elude me because of their limited availability or prohibitive prices.

This year will be the first year that we will have all of the physical books we need for the whole year. In the past, I used what I had found, borrowed some from the library, or used some of the many online books available. Because I've been collecting these books since Sweetheart was in Year One (she's in Year Five this year), and because my friend Kathy, who first introduced me to Ambleside and has always been a source of inspiration to me regarding both parenting specifically and life in general, sent me some essentials a few years ago (hers was the first package I received when we moved from the city to the thicket), and because my friend Marcella gave me the entire Charlotte Mason set, I'm fortunate to own the majority of what I need. Yesterday, I bit the bullet and used my Amazon card to purchase the last few books I didn't have, as well as Teaching Textbooks for Sweetheart. Considering that the registration fee for Monet's school year was more than the cost of all of the books PLUS the math curriculum, I feel pretty good about this year's preparations.

Because we have the majority of the books already, I made our twelve-week schedule (a customized version of one that can be found on one of the many Ambleside Yahoo groups) and we began our readings last night. The girls were attentive and excited. They both love to read, love good literature, and I know they'll be as excited as I'll be to see those books come pouring in through the mail. I'm especially excited for the arrival of Holy Experience blogger Ann Voskamp's A Child's Geography.

And I'll be excited to snuggle up on the bed, reading my old leather-bound copy of Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare and leafing through my olive-green hardbound Botsford's Handbook of Nature Studies, or seeing the girls curled up with the cat and copy of Aesop's Fables or A Child's Garden of Verses.

Here and here are the rest of the books we'll be using.

::: if i leave here tomorrow, will you still remember me? :::

Around this time last year, I was waking with a terrible realization and a pain in my gut like that of someone who has experienced loss. I was weepy, unmotivated and grief-stricken. My husband was understanding. My daughters were empathetic to the point of their own grief and tears. I wasn't sure I would survive. People around me seemed puzzled.

In Bard's Wonder Book, an interactive paper journal I started for her when she was seven, I wrote the following:

Under any other circumstance, a woman whose daughter has gone after eighteen years of living at home would likely be heaped with support. If you had died, say, or gotten married, or run away, or been abducted. Actually, had I lost anyone after eighteen years, or even eighteen months--a break up or divorce or other loss--people would call me, I'd be in some kind of a support group, women from church would bring me casseroles and jello salads. But in this circumstance--"Well, gee. She's just at college!" Never mind that the house is void of her music, her laughter, her guitar, her conversation. "What's the big deal? Get over it!"

I hadn't started out grief-stricken. As a matter of fact, I was kind of blasé about the whole thing, having indulged myself in the process of getting Bard into college by making transcripts, visiting colleges, sending paperwork, talking to financial advisors, and then celebrating not only her acceptance letters, but the steady stream of scholarship awards, which was sweet vindication for this mom who had been told that home learning would ruin my child's education.

While I was gloating, I hadn't really thought about the fact that the end result of this process would be that my daughter would be leaving home.

And even had I thought that she would be leaving, once she chose a school that was only an hour away, I hadn't thought about the fact that she wouldn't be living in our house. She'd be taking her loyalty, dependability, devious sense of humor, midnight music making, and, most of all, her delightful companionship along with her.

It wasn't until a church friend asked me, just the week before we would be moving Bard to school, how I was doing.

"I'm fine!" I answered chipperly. "It's great! I think we're ready!"

To which she offhandedly replied, "When we took Jonathan to Goshen the first day of his freshman year, that was the last time he lived at home. He went on service trips for Christmas and summers, and then he got married and moved to Virginia."

Wait...what?

You mean, I thought, next week could be the last time my child lives at home? EVER?!?

And that's when the waterworks started.

At one point, it got so bad that when she simply walked into my room, I was reduced to a blubbery mass of tears.

"Mom," she chided playfully, "I feel like I'm dead! I feel like you're planning my funeral!"

Houdin, who had just ventured down the hall, strolled in, passed Bard without acknowledging her presence, embraced me with mock seriousness and hushed, "When are the calling hours?"

After taking her to her dorm that first day, going through the orientation process, and saying my goodbyes, I climbed into the car with my two younger daughters. Since Bard had packed so much stuff, and all of the family wanted to see her off, we'd driven two vehicles. But my vision was so obscured by tears, I had to pull over in the closest parking lot and let myself bawl. The girls draped their little bodies around me and joined my mourning, and we all wailed together, albeit quietly since we were in a public place not two thousand feet from Bard's dorm.

Now, before you come down too hard on me, you have to realize a couple of things:

• I never put my child on the kindergarten bus;
• I never watched her drive away after getting her license (she still isn't a driver, at 19);
• I never saw her whisked away on her first date by some strange boy.

It's not that she was sheltered or prohibited from leaving home, unsocialized or awkward. It's just that the choices we made together, the choices she made alone, never necessitated those little bits of leaving. Sure, she boarded a plane to Italy, China, and Germany, in addition to her domestic travels. But this thing? This leaving-for-college thing? That was different.

Because unlike women I've overheard sighing disdainfully in the early August school-supplies line while their children finger every impulse item on the shelf, I have never uttered the words, "I can't wait until they're back in school."

And this is because you have to realize something else, too.

I like my kids. I like my daughter. She's my friend. And I miss her when she's gone.

I'm glad she's at school, having fun, making new friends and keeping the old. It's cool that she's a course assistant this year and that she'll be starting into some of the classes for her majors. It's nifty that she used her summer-job-at-the-greenhouse money to buy a new cherry sunburst Fender Strat and a Line 6 amp and hopes to play in a band with a group of friends.

It's great that moving day went extremely well, that Houdin and the girls helped extra much and Bard's friend Grape tagged along to lend a hand, since Monet was at school and husband Bo was at work (though we did stop by for a brief hug).

It's fabulous that we got to spend moving day shopping for a new pair of Chuck Taylors (can you believe she's been wearing the same pair since her freshman year in high school?!?), eating at ChicFila, and arranging her new dorm room, a suite she'll share with five other girls.

And it's cool that I'll put the finishing touches on cleaning her room today, and it will stay clean in between visits.

But it'll be awfully quiet around here without her midnight music, her insane sense of humor, and her great companionship.

When you like your own child enough to miss them when they're gone, I do believe that's a good thing.

Goals for a Homelearning Year

So, now that I have one daughter in college, things have changed quite a bit. One of the things I realized over the past two years that I promised I would change once she graduated was the amount of busy-ness we've been enslaved to. Running, running, running, and pretty soon, here's a stay-at-home mom who no longer stays at home. That means stress for everyone.

At the end of last school year, I made a commitment that I would say "no" more often, that I would stay at home more (a LOT more), that I would not take any jobs--part-time or otherwise, and that I would relax a bit so that we could have an even keel through the whole year, not a swan dive at the beginning and a nose dive toward the middle, leaving us all gasping for air by the end.

The extent of my planning for this school year included one sheet of legal paper, three mason jars and a new library card.

The legal paper looks something like this:


While I know it looks like scrawl to you, it's gold to me. Here. Let me see if I can translate for you:

Goals for This School Year:

*Read as often as possible
*Stay home as often as possible
*Do a lot of nature study/drawing
*Practice music often
*Art classes (talk to Fred D about this)
*Math curriculum--Teaching Textbooks, maybe?
*Keep journals
*Teach girls to read
*Sing together
*Take walks/ride bikes
*Have breakfast every morning (yes, sometimes we get so busy that we don't do this together)
*Take turns making Dad's lunch
*Keep regular bedtimes (not sure we can do this one with much success. I'm a sucker for learning opportunities, even if they pop up at midnight or 2 a.m.)
*Take vitamins
*Consumer math for Houdin
*Volunteer
*Lots of photos
*Houdin drives
*Dates with each child
*Write letters to people we love
*Cook together
*Five in a Row for The Baby
*Limit computer time
*Take day trips

And Most of All:

RELAX

Many of these things are continuations of what we do on a regular basis. Some of them, like getting walks or limiting computer time, are goals.

Because the computer, as you may know, is an issue--a distraction--for many of us. Including me.

So what I've done is fill a jar with a whole lot of little pieces of paper. Each piece of paper is a chore or activity for the person who owns the jar. Each item gives that person a number of points. Those points earn them clues. Those clues lead them to letters. Those letters make up a word. That word is the password for the day. That password gains the person access to the computer. Sometimes they just get the letters. Sometimes they have to go hunting for them. Sometimes the password is five letters long. Sometimes it's ten or twelve.

So what kinds of things do they have on their papers? Here's a smattering:

Wash a car (2)
Write or copy one poem (1)
Take a walk (1)
Dust your bedroom (1)
Do a nice thing for someone (1)
Play the drums (1)
Make rosemary bread (1)
Pull weeds (2)
Harvest cherry tomatoes (2)
Pick apples off the ground for 10 minutes (2)
Read a chapter of a book (1)
Take some outdoor photos (1)
Hug a sibling (1)
Take a shower (2)
Make sugar water for the hummingbirds (1)
Draw something (1)
Draw something from nature (1)
Do 5 situps (1)
Run around the house 1x (1 each time)
Burn the trash (1)
Dust one room (1)
Listen to a podcast that Mom gives you (1)
Clean the kitchen floor (2)
Clean 3 windows, inside and out (2)
Study 3 things in nature (1)
Do something nice for someone (2)
Hug a sibling (1)
Make someone smile (1)
Read one chapter of a nonfiction book (1)
Clean up a mess (2)
Cuddle with an animal (1)
Tell someone you love them (1)
Vacuum the bedrooms (2)
Scrub the sinks (2)
Organize shoes (1)
Clean the glass doors and windows (2)
Fill the birdfeeders (1)
Lay in the hammock for ten minutes (1)
Read your little sibling a story (1)
Write a letter (1)
Collect and identify five leaves (2)
Listen to a chapter of a story read by Mom (1)
Do a math project (1)
Find a location on the map given to you by Mom (1)

Each person has a list that's customized for them, so they already know how to do the things they're asked to do. Some things are easy. Some are a little harder. Some might take a second. Some might take all day. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

Read aloud books for this year:
Little House on the Prairie Series (no, shamefully, I have not read all of these aloud to my daughters yet. The eldest, who is in school, did read them all, and we quite lived on them for a while, but the youngers haven't had the pleasure of these in the fullest)
American Girl (these were Bard's soul history books when she was young Am. Girl used to have such a GREAT history focus when it first began, complete with a history club for girls. This all ended when they were bought out by Mattel).
Swallows and Amazons Series (we've just finished the first book and are moving on to the second)
Tales from Shakespeare or Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare
Charlotte's Web (we're halfway through this one)
There are many others that are part of Ambleside Online that we will also work through. Reading will be our biggest focus.

And that's it. That's our planning for this year. No more lesson books or elaborate lists or large bills for curriculum orders. No more expecting the same performance levels from everyone.

From now on, theme is RELAX.

A full weekend

Friday night was the Formal Night Out sponsored by our home ed. group. Bard and Houdin went together, brother and sister, and met their other friends there. While Bo and I had dinner and did some errands, the kids dined, enjoyed a speaker, and then headed over to a local gym for games. As if they hadn't had enough by the time the event was over with, they went to Houdin's girlfriend's church for a lock-in. Bright and early the next morning, they had to be at yet another church to make pizzas for a speech and debate fundraiser. They took Grandma's advice of "sleep later" very seriously. When it was all over, they crashed. It was a full weekend, indeed.

::: it CAN be done! :::

The call came today in the late afternoon. Sixteen-year-old Houdin answered it, passed the phone to his sister, Bard, who took the tone of someone talking to an important person. After hearing comments like, "You're kidding," and "Oh my gosh!" I knew that something good was coming.

And I was right. I hope I didn't harm the admissions counselor's ears too badly with my scream. A full four-year scholarship to one of Bard's top two choices for college, after all, is worth a bit of a squeal. Just three weeks ago today, she was sitting in a room writing essay, and then answering a series of questions by a panel of professors, and then chatting excitedly about how she thought it went and wondering whether or not the profs liked her.

Apparently they liked her.

It feels so good to know that I made the right educational choice when I decided to be a home-learning family.

She's still waiting on word from her other top college choice. She's still in the running for a full four-year scholarship there, too. She's in the top ten, and will only get an offer if one of the top two declines. But there's still a shot. In the meantime, she has a lot of thinking, reading and comparing to do to decide where she's going to go.

I'm so proud of her.

And, I have to admit, I'm a wee bit proud of me, too.

Women in History

We're nearing the end of another semester of Missionaries, Mothers, Martyrs and Others, a women's history class for homelearners. This is the second year I've taught the class and have really enjoyed it.

It all began with the realization that most of the girls of a homeschool overnighter could name most historical men, but didn't recognize the names of women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Jane Goodall and Mary Cassatt.

So I pulled together some resources and made the class available and was pleased when several young ladies signed up. We had great discussions and it was a year of discovery for all of us.

This year, I became more structured and organized, creating a syllabus and assigning weekly oral reports, monthly written reports, and a larger year-end project--an interview of and presentation about a woman they respect. Throughout the year, these girls have taught me about the issues that matter to them, the people who inspire them, and the goals that they dare to set for themselves.

Tonight is our Spring Arts and Science Fair and we're planning to host a Women's History table, which is cool since March is Women's History Month. The girls have a bunch of cool displays prepared, and I'm really looking forward to it.

And I know more about women in history now than I ever have. That's the beauty of learning with your kids...you pick up that stuff that was too boring to care about the first time around, because this time, it matters.

Snow Day

I hit the snooze button four times before the phone rang. I figured it would be Kim calling to see if we were going to hit the treadmill today, but it was the forensics coach, Carol, asking me if I'd registered for the next tournament. Unless I'd registered in my sleep somewhere between the first alarm and the last snooze-button-slap, the answer was no.

Wide awake with concern that I'd missed registering the kids for their events, I fumbled my way through booting up the computer and navigating to the tournament registration site. It was then that I looked out the window and saw the accumulation of snow. Not only was there a thick, gorgeous blanket of white all over the hillside, but the sky was scattered with snowflakes. I knew immediately that it would be a cozy-up-at-home kind of day.

Cancelled running. Cancelled piano lessons. Forfeited my trip to the grocery store. Sent Bo to the bank in the 4-wheel-drive.

Me? I stayed home. In my jammies. And my slippers. All. Day. Long. Registered the kiddoes successfully ($162 in tournament fees?!? I need to do a fundraiser and fast!), very distantly oversaw Houdin's making of lunch (taco dip. ayum), made a delicious comfort food, listened to piano practicing, watched the kids dress up for snow fun and then head back in again, drank a cup of Houdin's homemade hot cocoa, cuddled with the doggies and kids, and read, read, read.

With our schedule being what it's been--forensics, algebra, worldview, chemistry, drama, choir, piano, church, youth group, fundraisers, social events, life in general--some of our Ambleside subjects have fallen by the wayside. Not forgotten. Just put on hold. It's the read-alouds, really, and we do have a lot of them.

So a good portion of today was spent curled up with kids all around listening to Mama read. The Kon Tiki Expedition. Madame How and Lady Why. A Tree in the Trail. An Island Story. Fifty Famous Tales. This Country of Ours. And this evening, we will finish the most recent chapter of Gone-Away Lake. I'd liked to have read more, but for some reason I get incredibly tired when I read aloud and feel the very impending need for a nap. So I broke it up in bits and read in different spots.

It was definitely a sedentary day.

And now my dear children are waiting for me to watch the play they've prepared.

What do you do on snow days?

::: it's that ol' black magic :::

As part of my goal to do 101 specific things within 1,001 days, I investigated the possibility of my 13-year-old son, Houdin, performing magic tricks at one of the local care centers. For Houdin, magic tricks, illusions, sleight of hand, prestidigitation--these are things that give him a bit of an ego boost. They make his mind work. They get him the attention he loves so much. Because Houdin has very little fear of standing in front of a group of people he doesn't even know and asking them for money, or experimenting with a new trick, I felt that the challenge of performing for residents of a care center or nursing home would be a good thing for him. I asked him about it. He was up for it. I made the calls.

Within a week, we were preparing for Houdin's first performance at the care center. He'd been biking to the local bakery several times a week busking for bucks while showing tourists his tricks. Some days, he'd come home with over $20.00. He was no stranger to performance. This would just be a different setting.

I'll tell you this, in case you haven't been reading my blog for long. Houdin is a pseudonym taken from the name of a famous magician, Robert Houdin, the man from whom Houdini based his stage name. Houdin and I butt heads. He's stubborn. I'm stubborn. He wants to sit around all day and be a boy, burping and making fun of his siblings and farting. I want him to work hard at being a man. He doesn't know the value of a dollar. I want him to learn it. It's a bit of a battle. No. Let me rephrase that. It's a constant battle.

So you're probably wondering why I would get this child--this child who would very quickly be diagnosed with an attention deficit disorder and medicated if he were in public school--involved in a project that took preparation and forethought. If you're not wondering that, I can assure you that I am.

We have appointments every two weeks on Thursdays to put on a half-hour to forty-five minute show for the residents of the care center. About a week before each event, I tell Houdin to start preparing for his upcoming show. About four days before each event, I ask him if he's prepared yet. "No," he says. No promise to prepare. Mini-lecture from me. Exasperated okays from him.

About two days before the event, I ask him if he's prepared yet. "No," he says, defensively. A bit of a bigger lecture from me. More greatly exasperated okays from him.

But no action.

The day of the event, I remind him that he will be leaving at a specific time to go to the care center, and I remind him to get his things together, to put together a routine, to make sure he has clean clothes and to be sure that all of his tricks work.

Fifteen minutes before the event...do I even have to write it? It's so painfully obvious what we go through.

Once we're in the car, I have to send him back into the house to change his pants or to wear the shoes that actually have toes in them or to get his magic tricks. The whole way to the care center, we're frustrated with each other and I'm nervous about his performance.

Today was no exception.

We were in even more of a rush today because of piano practice, so I made sure to remind Houdin what day it was (he often asks what day it is and doesn't seem to care from one day to the next) and what our schedule would be like. Today, in a rush, we left for the care center, but not until I had sent Houdin back into the house twice--once for a change of pants and once for a change of shoes. He has nice new dress shoes. He just seemed to think that the ones the dog had chewed to pieces were a better choice. Or maybe--and this is more likely--he just didn't think.

I did NOT want to go. I knew Houdin was unprepared. I figured he didn't have most of his tricks, and I was sure he was going to do several tricks that these residents had seen before.

We arrived at the care center to find many of the residents already assembled in the dining hall where Houdin gives his show. As he began to pull his tricks from his black and silver magic bag, it was clear that I'd been right. Several of the tricks were broken. A couple were missing pieces.

He was totally and completely unprepared.

I don't know...maybe the Lord is trying to show me something. Maybe He's trying to teach me patience or teach me that I can't be in control all the time or something. But I'm not getting it. All I'm getting is that I very much wanted to have a son that could learn, could be a gentleman, could rival any boyscout in the whole being prepared category. Instead, I have a son who can't remember how to spell his middle name. I'm totally serious.

I really hesitate in writing about this. It's a source of constant struggle for me, this relationship with this son of mine. I keep waiting for the light to go on in his head, for the whole thing to click, for the motivation to kick in, but it just...it just doesn't. And it drives me mad.

So, here we are, standing in the dining room of the care center, these dozens of expectant faces staring back at us, and Houdin's asking me which trick he should do. There really aren't that many from which to choose. He has a deck of cards, but only one table at a time can see those. He has his cups and balls trick, but one of the cups, less than three weeks old, is already broken. And he forgot the balls. He could do his trick where he blows bubbles and then catches one in mid-air and passes it around the room--a solid ball. But he doesn't have any bubbles in the bottle. He could do the color cube, but he broke the cube. He could do the stiff rope trick, but he broke the rope. In the end, he has only about five tricks he can do. Five little tricks. Dozens of expectant faces. Thirty to forty-five minutes.

I watch him struggle through a few tricks, drop a few bombs, and I see a few blank faces. I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing my son fail, and I can't stand seeing the residents' confusion when a trick goes wrong.

I, being the magical mom, pull a few things out of my hat. We'll do "black magic," I decide, where I send Houdin out of the room and we, the people in the room, choose an object. When he returns, he uses his brilliant mind-reading ability to detect the object. I ask him about several objects in the room. "Is it this one?" I ask. No. "This one?" No. "This one?" Yep. The crowd oohs and aahs. They're impressed. We do it again. This time, with no words. The residents are awed. We're working together. We're making happen. It's working because we were prepared. I wish I could get this into my son's head. Just be prepared, Houdin. Then there will be no blank stares, no embarrassment. no disappointment. I tried to explain this to Houdin over lunch. He just rolled his eyes.

When my husband Bo came home, I told him the tired old story.

"It's simple," Bo said. "Don't take him anymore."

"Bo, I can't DO that."

"You can. See this?" He pointed to the dates on the white board calendar where I have the care center appointments written in dry-erase marker. With one finger, he erased the words "care center."

"Don't take him anymore," he said. "Don't talk to him about it. Don't remind him about it. Don't say a word. After a while, he'll say, 'Why don't we go to the care center anymore?' Tell him that if he wants to do it, he'll have to prepare, make the call and make the arrangements to get there. Tell him you'll drive him, but he has to make the plan."

"It won't happen," I told him. In my mind, I could see it all falling away. I could see Houdin spending his summer sitting around watching the Marx Brothers or playing with army soldiers.

But even more, I could see the residents. I see Bob, who has very little control over his arms and legs, and I see him reach out his hand to pick a card and smile when Houdin shows him that card at the end of the trick. I see Kyle, the young basketball player who was the cream of the crop, rendered quadrapalegic after a horrible car accident that caught the community's attention and propelled them into prayer. I can still see the look on Kyle's smiling face today while we played Black Magic, hear his broken, struggling words as he called my son's name and said, "You...you...did...a...seriously...good...job. I...I...I...like...this...game. I...like...this...game."

I can't let Kyle down. I can't let those residents--gathered in the dining room with ice cream dripping off of their chins, their childlike, expectant faces staring, waiting--I just can't let them down. They love to see Houdin walk through the door. Even with his broken tricks and missing pieces and slurred speech and ripped jeans and forgotten routine. They love him.

Maybe that's all that matters. Maybe that's all it takes. I don't know. Maybe he really doesn't need to be as prepared as I'd like. Maybe I should just let it go, let that willingness to show up and perform be enough. It seems to be enough for Houdin. It seems to be enough for Kyle.

Maybe it should be enough for me, too.

What do you think?

Academic Update

Each child works on their handwriting and spelling daily, and I can see a marked improvement in all of their handwriting. We have been using the Getty/Dubay Italic Handwriting course from the beginning but have never gone at it with such fervor. My inspiration was a book I saw at the library called Italic Handwriting for Young People by Fred Eager. He gave samples of student handwriting before and after the course. Most of the samples were within a two-month time period, and the results were very impressive. Since we've been doing the handwriting on a daily basis, and I've been insisting that ALL writing that they do be in Italic, their handwriting has improved dramatically--all of them. Even Sweetheart.

Yesterday, I assigned a paper to each of the older kids. We based the paper on this writing evaluation. The expository prompt that I gave was, "Do you like being homeschooled? Why or why not?" By definition, expository writing is:

• A setting forth of meaning or intent.
• A statement or rhetorical discourse intended to give information about or an explanation of difficult material.
• The art or technique of composing such discourses.

While I don't normally "grade" papers, I've found that the kids respond much better to receiving some kind of evaluation of their work rather than self-evaluation or simply being told that they "did well." For this expository writing, I will grade it on the same six-point scoring system that was used for the original project.

Bard went right to her paper, beginning with a proper outline.

Houdin balked, cried and gave many suggestions for alternatives.

Here's my problem:

We have come to terms that Houdin would be, in a public school setting, labeled with Attention Deficit Disorder. Since we homeschool, his learning can be tailored to his abilities. At the same time, I believe that, in a home learning setting, he can receive the amount of attention and assistance he needs to receive. Sometimes, however, it's just about impossible to deal with him.

I've been wondering if I could have him learn with another homeschooling family for a while, or if I could find a tutor for him. We just seem to clash so wildly.

Any suggestions?

Guilt-Free Homeschooling Homeschool Blog

Guilt-Free Homeschooling Homeschool Blog: "Guilt-Free Homeschooling is achieved by
1) Doing what God has asked you to do, not what all of your friends or relatives are doing or may expect you to do.
2) Spending some time reflecting on all your reasons for educating your children at home and writing those reasons down so you can look back over them whenever you need a reminder.
3) Looking after your own family's needs first and only extending your efforts to others as you have the time, energy, and resources to do so. (Your own family should not suffer because you are taking care of others' needs instead of theirs.)
4) Reserving time occasionally for your family to interact with other homeschooling families (Moms, Dads, and children) for educational activities, for fellowship, for support, or just for fun."

I just finished reading this portion of Guilt-Free Homeschooling, and it makes so much sense. I think I need some time to reflect on this...

Meeting Jane Goodall

Jane Goodall

Many times, I have heard famous or accomplished people relate stories that inspire me to be a better mother. On Monday, September 27th, we battled disorganization and a lack of vehicles to make a trip to a very special meeting to hear such a story--a visit from Jane Goodall.

Our Roots & Shoots coordinator had called me many months before to tell me that Jane would be visiting our Roots & Shoots group sometime in September, but we didn't have an exact date. When she called to give me the date and time, it happened to be on a Monday afternoon, which was choral practice day, and we also happened to be without a vehicle, since both our van and Jeep had broken down and were in the process of being repaired.

I sent an e-mail to my dear friend R. who has a passenger van and asked if he might be able to spare it for the day. Very kindly, he allowed us to use his van, and we were on our way!

Getting out of the house is always stressful for me. This day seemed to be so very high on the stress charts that I'm surprised we all survived. There were bad attitudes running through the family, disorganization was running rampant, and we were still in the process of trying to prepare for our family gathering. Shooing everyone to the van, I gathered all of our necessary things (diaper bags, choir supplies, and the parents' association snack I had signed up to take to choir. Oh, and the camera, the things the kids wanted to give to Jane Goodall, our friend's dog Stuart, who we'd been keeping for the week. And, of course, the kids). After a blowup with my dad over some stupid little issue that was just big enough to put us behind schedule, we left the driveway. About 3/4 of the way down the lane, Sweetheart yelled out that she'd forgotten her shoes! It wasn't until I had pulled out of the drive, turned around and pulled back into the drive that she realized she really did have them!

Feeling overwhelmed, we made our way quickly to the high school where Jane would be speaking. All the way, the kids were grumbling and complaining, feelings had been hurt in our attempt to get out of the house on time, and tensions were running high.

When we arrived at the school, none of us was speaking to the other. I found it impossible to hide my frustration when approached by my friend Sara* and her daughters. "I don't think I'll go anywhere again as long as I live," I sighed. "When I get home, I'm locking myself in my bedroom with a bottle of wine and I'm never leaving the house again." This is a pretty desperate statement for me.

I don't drink.

My friend Sara

Our group coordinator, Geo, has wanted to meet Jane for many years. She calls it a dream of hers to meet Jane Goodall. So even had I not wanted to be there, I would have gone just to see Geo meet Jane and take a few photos.

Geo and Jane

But, the thing is, I DID want to be there. I wanted my children to meet this woman who had pursued her interests, who had pressed on in the face of adversity, and who had found creative ways to meet her goals. To me, it seemed a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet with one of the great women of our time, and I didn't want my kids to miss it. For that matter, neither did I.

Monet, Sweetheart, Bard and Houdin listening to Jane speak

So I took photos, watched and listened as people talked about how Jane's life had inspired them, about what they've been doing to help their communities and their environments.

While she spoke, I thought about a story I'd heard Jane once tell and I thought I'd ask her to tell it again, but before I had a chance, she began the story, which is told on her website:

Jane recalls, "I have been interested in animals since before I can remember. When I was four years old, I stayed on a farm where I helped to collect hen's eggs. I became puzzled and asked those around me, 'Where is the hole big enough for the eggs to come out?' When no one answered to my satisfaction, I hid in a small, stuffy hen house for some four hours to find out. When my mother saw me rushing toward the house, she noticed my excitement. Instead of scolding me for disappearing for so long (the family had even called the police!), she sat down and listened to me tell the wonderful story of how a hen lays an egg."
Jane's favorite books as a child were about animals, including
The Story of Dr. Dolittle, The Jungle Book, and the Tarzan books. By the age of 10 or 11, Jane dreamed of going to Africa to live with animals. This was quite a radical aspiration in those days, as young girls did not think of embarking on such "wild" adventures. But Jane had encouragement from her mother who told her, "Jane, if you really want something, and if you work hard, take advantage of the opportunities, and never give up, you will somehow find a way."

This was so inspiring to me, I almost cried. In this bit of story, Jane summed up the very reason why I want my children to learn at home. She didn't say that she was given the freedom to learn these things in school. She didn't cite as her inspiration an incident with a teacher or other person. Where she learned one of her most valuable lessons was at home. The person who gave her such encouragement and inspiration was her own mother.

This both inspires and humbles me.

I learn this lesson very hard. So often, I get tired, cranky, distracted and selfish, and I find it very difficult to give five children the inspiration and encouragement that they need. Even on that day, after meeting Jane, I was frustrated and angry because of the constant bickering that my children do.

But, I have to look at the big picture. My children inspire me, too.

After all of the other adults and children lined up asking Jane for her autograph or asking her to have their photo taken with them, my children approached her.

First it was Houdin. He had adapted the classic paddle trick, personalizing it so that, when he had finished the trick, he produced a gift for Jane. The trick goes like this...you show a person both sides of stick which has nothing but rubber bands wrapped around it. After "waving your hand" over the stick, suddenly, five pennies appear under the bands! Show the audience both sides of the stick again, proving that the pennies and bands are on both sides of the stick, and then wave your hands to drop the pennies and bands in her hand. Show her both sides of the stick to show that they're blank and empty, wave your hand, and then...Presto! The stick has the word "Jane" written across it. :-) Jane was amazed and graciously accepted the gift Houdin gave her.

Jane and Houdin

The trick was even more touching since, during her talk, Jane had shared about a friend of hers who had given her a stuffed monkey (not a chimp...it had a tail) and that her friend had been blind for many years. He had wanted to become a magician, but everyone told him that he wouldn't be able to do that because of his lack of sight. Not only does he do magic, she says, but he snorkles, climbs and sky dives! This was another inspiring story of setting one's mind to something and not giving up, in spite of others' discouragement.

Monet had drawn a beautiful picture of a chimp and gave it to Jane. He showed her the postcard he had modeled it from, and she offered to sign the postcard for him. At first, she tried to give the drawing back, not realizing that it was a gift, but Monet told her that it was just for her. She asked him to sign his drawing while she signed the postcard, which had been a gift from Bard to Monet from her trip to St. Louis.

Jane, Monet and Sweetheart

Sweetheart had also made a drawing for Jane...suns, moons and stars plus an invitation to our Open House. :-) While waiting, Sweetheart had accidentally spilled pink punch all over the drawing, but this didn't stop her from handing it over, and it didn't stop Jane from taking it. "Oh, this is covered in a delightful pink goo!" Jane commented. :-)

In retrospect, I see that my children have been allowed to pursue their interests at home, and that they delight in sharing those interests with others.

I still have a long way to go. I lose my patience daily. I think that's why it's so very important to have people like Jane Goodall who share their inspiring stories and keep us motivated and sustained.

*Footnote: Sara so kindly remembered my desperate comment and brought me a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. Thank you, Sara. :-)

The rest of the photos of our meeting with Jane Goodall are

Our Schedule

We have come up with a daily schedule that works. While it needs a few tweaks and adjustments, and does not cover all of the bases, it's much better than the chaos of having no schedule at all, which is what I've felt like we've been doing since we've moved into the house.

I have always had schedules and/or lists for the kids, and there has always been an understanding that certain things get done before other things. Where I think I've failed in the past is in making a schedule based on time as opposed to activities. One of the reasons we homeschool is to set our own schedule! So if we find that we're enjoying a book, why stop because the schedule says it's time to go on to the next activity? If we're focusing on handwriting, why let the clock dictate when we're through? Instead, we do a task until it's done and then move on to the next. Some will not get done, some things may be added in order to be flexible, but at least we have daily goals.

And here they are:

• Get Dressed
  
• Brush hair, teeth and put lotion on (my kids have ichthyosis, which is a chronic dry skin condition and requires several daily applications of high-quality moisturizer)
  
• Straighten room
  
• Make bed
  
• Animal chores and training
  
• Breakfast
  
• Poetry reading/Bible Reading during breakfast (right now, we're reading The Song of Hiawatha again)
  
• Dishes and cleanup
  
• Daily work:

Monday--Mirrors, Microwave
Tuesday--Toilets, Tubs and Toys (sort)
Wednesday--Windows, wash clothes, water plants
Thursday--Things that didn't get done
Friday--Floors, Fridge
Saturday--Sinks,stoves

• Chapter book reading (right now, we're reading Little House in the Big Woods)
  
• Handwriting Practice
  
• Maths (right now, it's flashcards to help memorize facts)
  
• Independent Reading and Book or Chapter Report/Mom does reading lesson with Sweetheart
  
• Assignments/projects until lunch
  
• Lunch and cleanup
  
• Journaling (together)
  
• Quiet time
  
• Plans, projects or free time until dinner
  
• Dinner and cleanup
  
• Oral presentations or projects
  
• Free time until chapter book reading
  
• Ten-minute Tidy (everyone cleans while the clock is set for ten minutes)
  
• Pajamas,brush teeth
  
• Chapter book reading (Little House in the Big Woods)
  
• Songs--Bohemian plays guitar and we all sing
  
• Individual time and prayers from Mom or Dad
  
• Bedtime--may read until Lights Out (about a half hour)
  
• Lights Out

This Week's Lessons

Time to focus on the true meaning of this blog...to record what we've been learning.

We began a new schedule here after the Family Gathering was over. It's a simple schedule, but it seems to be working well. Each day, every area of our goals is covered as time allows. I'll post the schedule in another post.

This week, we've been reading Little House in the Big Woods. Wonderful conversations have come from the reading of this classic. Sweetheart wondered why Pa didn't drive the car to town. There was discussion about the difference between their Christmas and modern Christmas. We discussed butchering after the chapter where Ma, Pa and the girls helped with the butchering of the pig.

Each evening, after reading, we have been spending time in song. Bohemian plays the guitar and we choose songs from the songbook, songs that speak to our heart. It has been a wonderful time of family closeness, and everyone has looked forward to it each day.

In the evenings, just before bedtime prayers, I have been reading to Monet out of What Every Fourth Grader Needs to Know. The first reading was from Gulliver's Travels, but as we've read that book and its adaptations before, it wasn't really new to Monet.

All of the children have been spending time each day working on their handwriting, maths and reading. Sweetheart's reading is coming along well. :-) We had a wonderful time with her reading lesson on Wednesday! I couldn't find her reading book, Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, so I wrote out short sentences made of the words that she can read and illustrated them with simple drawings. Every time she finished a sentence, we would dance around the room. :-) She enjoyed that time and is looking forward to more reading lessons. Now, where is that book??? ;-)

Yesterday, Monet, Sweetheart and Houdin had art class where we had a guest teacher. Rob taught the children how to draw faces and how our faces are proportionate to the width of our eyes. We discussed Leonardo DaVinci and his scientific way of drawing. This was helpful, as we began a nature journal recently and discussed how the drawing we do in our nature journals is about observation and not really about art. That was the day (Tuesday) that Sweetheart hit The Baby in the head with the swing. :-/ Bard says that The Baby will look like Harry Potter when we're done with her. :-)

We spent yesterday afternoon at a wonderful park near Bohemian's work. The park had a little building with a stage, so the children put on a play about the underground railroad.

In the evening, we worked on our Christmas knitting and read and then Bohemian played some David Wilcox songs for us on his guitar.

Today, I hope to make a couple of quiches and, since it is Friday, clean the floors.

::: notification :::

As I wrote before, I sent in my notification letter. I finished it, took it to the post office and mailed it by certified mail. This weekend, I received the receipt that it had been received by the educational center. Now, I will wait for my excusal letter! Yeah! I'm unusually excited about this. :-)