Poetry Friday: Our *Last* First Day of School

Although Ramona started French class as an early-enrollment student at the college a couple of weeks ago, I have always waited to "officially" start our homeschool after Labor Day and this year is no different.

Well, one thing is different.

Today is the last first-day-of-school for Ramona and me. My last first-day-of-homeschooling forever. She's a senior this year. (Whaaaat?) We have thoughts and plans and aspirations for this year, of course. And we'll tackle them fiercely, knowing all the while that we have no idea what this year actually holds.

Have we ever known what a year holds, before that year takes hold of us? Not really. Life has an annoying funhouse quality, with unexpected twists and surprises around heretofore unseen and unconsidered corners. I love the way this poem by Henrietta Cordelia Ray captures the breathless, naive, but utterly lovable optimism of being human while acknowledging the as-yet unknown shadows and gloom that will inevitably color and shape every life. And yet we soldier on and continue to "climb the slopes of life with throbbing heart."

Here's to a school year propelled by an eager pulse, rich song, and eyes wide-stretched. We cannot repine, Henrietta. No, we cannot repine.

Aspiration
Henrietta Cordelia Ray

We climb the slopes of life with throbbing heart,
And eager pulse, like children toward a star.
Sweet siren music cometh from afar,
To lure us on meanwhile. Responsive start
The nightingales to richer song than Art
Can ever teach. No passing shadows mar
Awhile the dewy skies; no inner jar
Of conflict bids us with our quest to part.
We see adown the distance, rainbow-arched,
What melting aisles of liquid light and bloom!
We hasten, tremulous, with lips all parched,
And eyes wide-stretched, nor dream of coming gloom.
Enough that something held almost divine
Within us ever stirs. Can we repine?

~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvia Vardell has the round-up this week at Poetry for Children.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Photo courtesy of Barbara A. Lane at Pixabay.) 

Nine Worries About Unschoolish Ways That I Needn't Have Worried About

I wrote this five years ago, when Anne-with-an-e was in college, and Betsy was on the brink of graduating high school. Now? Anne-with-an-e adores her job as a librarian, Betsy is student teaching (and interviewing for elementary school jobs), and I have one year of homeschooling left (really?!) with Ramona.

I've revisited these questions, worries, and concerns over the last year or two, and I can still say this:

Stop worrying. Keep loving your kids and giving them the best of you. All that love, concern, work, and effort you pour out for them will not be for naught.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now that I have a daughter in college and a high school senior who has taken early enrollment/college credit classes (both girls did), I've seen some of the fruits of our relaxed homeschooling. I look back and recall the worries I had over the years, the ways in which I questioned myself, and wondered if what I was doing would work out.

So, here are some of the questions I used to panic wonder about, and the answers I've observed:

1. Will they ever learn how to adhere to an outside schedule if I don't impose a rigid schedule on them while they're growing up? 

Yes, they will. They learn this: you do what you need to do when you need to do it. Doing it sooner than you have to doesn't teach you to do it any more efficiently. Having a rigid schedule as a child doesn't necessarily translate into efficiency in adulthood, and sometimes it translates into burnout.

2. Will they ever learn how to get up early and get out the door to a class/a job, if I let them sleep in through all their school years? 

Yes, they will. They learn that it is not "years of getting up early" that teaches you how to get up early. It is "an alarm clock" that teaches you how to get up early. Whenever you have to get up early, all you need do is set an alarm clock. No training necessary.

3. Will they ever learn how to read/learn from textbooks if I use real and living books for their home education? 

Yes. They will sometimes find them boring (and I have sometimes used textbooks in our homeschool, so — Hey! Good for them? — they've already been exposed to the boredom) but they will know how to read, comprehend, and use these schoolish tools. They may not like them as much as the vibrant books they mainly grew up with, but they will be fully capable of using them.

On the other hand, they will sometimes love their textbooks. Anne-with-an-e loved her World Geography and Microbiology classes/textbooks and was thrilled to be hired as a tutor in both subjects.

4. If I allow them to pursue their own interests in their formative years, will they ever learn the self-discipline necessary to succeed in college classes? Will they know how to meet deadlines and finish assignments? 

Yes, because they have been taught and they understand basic concepts such as time management, goal setting, and doing what is necessary to achieve the desired result. These concepts can be taught in myriad ways as our children grow up and such concepts are easily applied to college classes. Trust your kids to use their brains.

5. Will they learn how to take a test? 

Yes. (See #1 ... i.e., "they will do what they need to do when they need to do it.") Also? It doesn't take that much practice to learn how to take a test. And you will learn that ACT scores and college grades show exactly what you always suspected: they excel precisely where you thought they'd excel, and they are weak precisely where you thought they were weak. Your suspicions (that you know your children very well) will prove to be true.

6. Will they know how to act in a classroom? 

Yes. They will understand the difference between sprawling on the couch at home and sitting at a desk in school. My daughters have never confused the two locations.

(I also taught them how to eat in public, sneeze in public, and find public restrooms. Problems solved.)

7. Will they learn how to tackle unpleasant assignments? 

Oh, yes. Family life is excellent preparation for general ed classes.

8. Will they resent me for hiding the truth from them -- that learning can sometimes be dull? 

No. They are thankful for years of a lively education, for all those days that we ate popcorn for lunch, read Little Women and Little House, Harry Potter, and The Secret Garden together, discussed The Hunger Games at two in the morning, learned about history, science, and literature from life and marvelous books and experiments in the kitchen and discussions over dinner and museums and walks at the lake. They will look up from a history paper they are writing, and sigh, and say, "I'm so grateful to Samantha. I learned a lot about the progressive era from her."

Also? Without even trying — believe me — you will give your kids lots of opportunities to be bored by things they have to learn. (Math, cleaning the house, scooping up the dog poop in the backyard.) You've got this.

9. Will I ruin them? 

We all run that risk, whether our kids are in school, out of school, homeschooled with curriculum, or homeschooled without it.

But my guess — if you love your kids more than your own life, which I'm betting you do —  is that the answer to that question is, "No. A thousand times no."

Poetry Friday: Nature Walk, by Gillian Wegener

Ah, this is a lovely poem. Gillian Wegener's "Nature Walk" conjures memories of nature walks with my girls -- part of our homeschool, part of our history, bits of our family lore. Some walks were laden with wonder, some were a push-me-pull-you of competing mindsets.

Nature Walk
by Gillian Wegener

The fern fronds glow with a clean, green light,
and I lift one and point out the spores, curled
like sleep on the back, the rows so straight,
so even, that I might be convinced of Providence
at this moment. My daughter is seven.

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

Daughters do keep moving toward "whatever's beyond" but sometimes you still get to sneak in a nature walk with them. This is from ours, yesterday:

So many painted ladies! So much delight in watching them with my daughters. Laden with wonder. They flitted, they fluttered, they drank sweet nectar. And then they were gone. 

~~~~~

Matt Forrest Esenwine has the round up at Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme.

What Our Writing Group Is Doing These Days

Way back when Anne-with-an-e was a sophomore in high school and Betsy was in 8th grade, we started a weekly writing group with two of the girls' friends.

The rules we established and stuck to for our no-pressure group:

1. The girls could bring anything they wanted: a story, a novel in progress, an essay written for a school assignment, a book review...anything. It could be a first draft or something they'd polished.

2. After each reading, the first reaction from listeners must be positive and encouraging: what they liked about the piece, a description, an intriguing character or plot development they admired. Then we could move on to other constructive criticism, ask questions, or share ideas.

3. When we finished the discussion, the girls headed off for lunch while I re-read the papers and offered ideas via my trusty red pen.

4. The last rule: Don't Be Afraid of the Red Pen. I assured the girls the red pen was their friend.

The most important thing for young writers to understand is that rough drafts are called rough for a reason. I don't want my suggestions and corrections to discourage them, so I stressed that edits don't mean, "Wow, you're a bad writer! Look at all the marks I had to make!" I wanted them to understand that the better the writing, the more they would see my red pen (because as their writing improved they were giving me more to work with.) If I taught them only one thing about writing, I wanted it to be that the real work of writing is in the revision. I told them I became a real writer the day I realized a great editor was my friend and biggest asset.

Our writing group became the highlight of our week. The girls shared silly stories, serious stuff, novels (completed and abandoned), essays, history reports, and stories composed entirely of inside jokes. Some weeks we dug around for a writing prompt and the girls all wrote stories for the following week based on that prompt. Sometimes we went out for hot chocolate, because all writers need to hit the coffee house now and then.

These days, our little writing group is made up of Ramona, another 14 year old, and a twelve year old. The basic rules are the same, and hopefully the kindliness of the red pen is still understood. We've also added a couple of things to our weekly itinerary.

After the girls share the stories they've brought, we do a freewrite. I usually use Julie Bogart's prompts from her Friday Freewrite.

When I first introduced freewriting to Ramona's group, they wrote for only two minutes. Completely unintimidating, and they were excited to do it. I told them that the only rule about what they wrote was that they had to keep writing until the timer went off. (Julie thoroughly explains the process of a freewrite here.) Kids love having permission to write stuff like, "I can't think of anything to write...I am blank...Ramona is laughing while she's writing...I am hungry." After a few freewrites, we extended the time to 6-10 minutes, depending on the prompt.

Last week, I pulled a random prompt from a different site instead of using one of Julie's. The prompt was, "The happiest moment of my life." I always do the freewrite along with the girls, and when we finished, I told them, "I don't know about you, but this was the most boring freewrite I've ever done. The last thing I wrote before the timer went off was, 'This is so stupid.'" The girls thought that was hilarious and it prompted good discussion about writing in general, zeroing in on concrete details, and trying to write about broad, bland topics.

The girls' favorite freewrite from last semester was this one from Brave Writer:

I slowly opened my eyes.  Moonlight streaked across my blanket. I turned over and hoped to drift back to sleep. But…what was that sound? Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Was it coming from under my bed?! I…

We came up with such fun stories. Mine was about finding a trap door under the bed, and descending the stairs to ... I don't know where yet, but now I want to write that story.

The other new thing we added this year was at the girls' suggestion. One of Ramona's friends suggested the girls write and bring a haiku every week. I thought rather than having one more thing to bring to the group, it might be fun to write the haiku while we were together. So now we each write a haiku that pulls together details from each of the stories the girls brought that week.

~~~~~

Final writing group note:

Last week, one of the girls brought a story about zebras. Then we all wondered what a herd of zebras is called, so, we looked it up.

A dazzle of zebras.

Made my day.

But then, writing group always makes my day.

Why I Don't Read Much About Homeschooling Anymore

Ramona, when she was three. 

(I originally posted this three years ago):

I have a confession: I don't read much about homeschooling anymore.

Not because there aren't a million inspirational, wise, funny, interesting homeschoolers out there (there are, and you should definitely read them.) And not because there aren't terrific books, and stories, and ideas. They're all over the place.

And it's not because I've got everything figured out. I don't. I have my own blind spots, failures, regrets, worries, selfishness, and pride.

It's just that, well, I've got it figured out.

Not IT. Not "Life in all of its glorious meaning and the perfect way to live, breathe, and homeschool, parent, and exist on a day to day basis without stress or strife, pride, or judgement."

No, no, no. No one has that figured out, people.

The "it" I have figured out is my style. My strengths and weaknesses. My husband's style. My daughters -- their styles, strengths, and weaknesses. We took that stuff and ran with it, knowing the years would go quickly, there would be gaps, standards may have to be lowered, a la Dave Barry, that it will not be perfect, and there would be times I'd think I couldn't do it.

The "it" I know is this: one of the reasons we started homeschooling was to treat our kids as individuals, and individuals don't fit neatly into pre-cut boxes labeled "homeschooler." They will not uniformly love math, grow up to be astronauts, priests, or nuns, get certain scores on ACT tests, or live their faith and their lives so perfectly that they will be mistaken for the Blessed Mother. Not all homeschoolers will love reading, play sports, or even enjoy the company of other homeschoolers (because that depends on what kind of individual that other homeschooler is, right?)

My kids are just individuals. They're just people. Sometimes they're as weird and different and out of the mainstream as their dad and I are; sometimes they flow with the mainstream quite nicely. Sometimes they are helpful and giving beyond belief, sometimes they are selfish. Some days they're blissful and feel blessed, some days they are sad and feel put-upon.

Hey...they're just like me. They fit neatly into the box called "Fallen Human."

And homeschooling is just one way to educate fallen humans. It's a way we love, to be sure. It's a way that I think can work beautifully, despite its challenges, for a lot of people. But I also know it's not for everyone.

It is, however, a way of life that has allowed Atticus and me to stay focused on our main goal in life: relationship.

Our relationship with each other.
Relationship with our kids.
Relationship with God.

To sum it up, I guess the only thing I have figured out is that I love this busy, weird, individual life we're living, and I know that there's not a singly perfect way to live it. I long ago let go of caring what our homeschool looks like to the world. We know it's working out (in that fallen, messy way), and that's what counts the most to us.

Thanks, Atticus, Anne-with-an-e, Betsy Ray, and Ramona, for caring as much about our relationships as I do.

And now? I'm tired, so I'm going to have another cup of coffee. Because I have a huge blind spot when it comes to whether or not I've had too much caffeine.

Shopping My Bookshelves

Time to start thinking about what my year with Ramona will look like. Time to start shopping my own bookshelves. Hmmm...where to begin? Some initial thoughts....

There will definitely be art. 

Claire Walker Leslie's Keeping a Nature Journal is full of sketching inspiration. Pulling that one off the shelf for sure. I think I'd like to pull Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain out, too. 

~~~~~

This is one of my favorite shelves in the house. Ramona has read most of these, but I think Jane of Lantern Hill is going on the reading list for her. A read-aloud, I think. We haven't yet read the second Calpurnia Tate book! Must remedy! 

~~~~~

Some Shakespeare this year, of course. Romeo and Juliet?

~~~~~

Is there any Louisa May that Ramona hasn't read yet? Maybe Rose in Bloom. Thinking I'll wait on Cather's My Antonia for a year or two, for fuller appreciation. 

~~~~~

She's reading Emma with her big sister, so I'm leaving the Austen to them. I think we'll read Dickens this year, though - A Tale of Two Cities. 

~~~~~

I see some Ray Bradbury here, but where is my copy of Dandelion Wine? I guess I need to check another shelf. That's definitely another read-aloud. Also adding Fruitless Fall to her list, and some of Silent Spring. 

~~~~~

I see some good stuff here by Mike Aquilina and Peter Kreeft. (Is there any other kind of stuff from those two?) 

~~~~~

Alan Schreck's Catholic and Christian is like a mini-catechism, and I love it. Will choose some selections for Ramona to read. 

~~~~~

Oooh, I need to look more closely at some of the goodness on these shelves. 

~~~~~

Clive Staples! This is Ramona's year for The Screwtape Letters. 

~~~~~

Here's a small section of our poetry collection. Poetry Friday, anyone? Maybe I'll have Ramona do some of the picks this year. 

~~~~~

Ah, homeschooling books. 

This shelf is for me, when I need a boost.  

~~~~~

Zoom Out: It's the Big Picture That Matters

The other day in a Facebook group, a friend linked to this great, old post from Sarah McKenzie, and a few of us then talked about how important it is to keep the big picture in mind (and that applies not only to homeschooling but to parenting in general, and to life.)

I'm a big fan of the big picture. Bad days have a way of tricking us into thinking the picture is minute, localized, and doomed. Sarah's post reminded me of an old post of mine, so I shared it with my friends, and am sharing it here today.

~~~~~

Does Happy Homeschooling = No Worries?

(I originally posted this October 18, 2010 -- my girls were 16, 14, and 8.)  

The short answer is no. The long answer is a blog post.

I am a happy homeschooler. But "happy" is not equivalent to slaphappy or to sporting a perpetual smile.  I was thinking about this today as I batted a few worries around in my happy head. I wasn't feeling particularly chipper as I thought about:

• math
• ACT scores
• teaching cursive to an eight-year-old
• balancing my unschoolish approach with my husband's English teacher ways
• a daughter taking online classes at the community college
• a daughter who suddenly cares about a grade
• a daughter who rightly and admirably cares about her grade
• a daughter who isn't 8 years old anymore
• needing bifocals (me, not the daughter)
• trying to be everything to everyone every day
• feeling that there's never enough time for all my roles and that I want to hire a stunt double

Let's be clear: homeschooling is not perfect. It can inspire cloudbursts of anxiety, worry, doubt, insecurity and fear about the future. (I suppose parents who send their kids to school could say the same thing? That any parent could say the same thing of parenting?) Homeschooling sometimes feels overwhelming, and then I begin to  wonder if I'm up to it, if I can give my kids all that they need.

Then, I remember that we are to pray, "Protect us from all anxiety." And so that's what I pray:

"Protect me, Jesus, from the fear that I can't do it all. Because I can't. That's why I need You."

As Scripture tells me:

Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
-- Philippians 4:6-7

It also helps to have a husband who listens, friends who listen, a confessor who listens. St. Francis de Sales knew that:

The heart finds relief in telling its troubles to another, just as the body when suffering from persistent fever finds relief from bleeding. It is the best of remedies, and therefore it was that S. Louis counselled his son, "If thou hast any uneasiness lying heavy on thy heart, tell it forthwith to thy confessor, or to some other pious person, and the comfort he will give will enable thee to bear it easily."

                            -- Introduction to the Devout Life

St. Thomas Aquinas also apparently knew a few homeschooling mothers:

Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.

Being a happy homeschooler does not mean I'll never feel sorrow, anxiety, worry or dread. I have. I do. I will.

It does mean knowing where to turn when those spectors try to haunt. Jesus gives -- and He is -- the best of advice.

Happy homeschooling for me is not a mood or a mindless game or a steady, even course. It is a way of living, though -- of trusting, and of getting up each day and starting again, knowing that I'm not in charge.

What Am I Using?

Sometimes in conversations with stay-at-home, homeschooling moms the topic of education comes up. Not our children's, but our educations. And not suspicious, raised-eyebrow inquiries of the, "Are you qualified to teach your children?" variety, but rather those of the "What are you doing with your life?" stripe.

Someone once said to a friend of mine, "You have all this education and you're not using it. It's going to waste."

Ahem.

I have a couple of things to say about that.

Nothing gets under my skin more than the assumption that a mother who is at home with her children is wasting her education. (Well, okay, there are more irksome skin-burrowing issues in the world, I'll grant you that, but this ranks right up there.)

There are a few situations where the assumption may be true. If Mom is lying comatose on the couch in the living room then, yes, we can safely say she isn't putting that Brit Lit class to use, at least not at the moment, but we can't really blame her, eh? Or, if she leaves her little urchins home alone every day so that she can play keno at the local sports bar, then, yeah -- probably not taking full advantage of the many hours she spent in lecture halls. But if Educated Mom gets up every day and after pouring a cup of coffee pours herself into mothering and homeschooling -- jobs which can be plenty thankless some days, thank you very much -- I think we must assume she is using everything she's got. That should include the assumption that her education is valuable in a home where small, barbaric human beings must be tamed, civilized, and taught cursive writing. And don't even get me started on the psychological nuance and skill that must be employed when puberty hits. (That alone is worth a couple of PhDs.) Homeschooling high school? Not for the faint of heart.

Of course, the first thing that springs to mind is what G.K. Chesterton said in What's Wrong With the World: 

How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness. 

There are actually a couple of different things going on with the, "wasting" comments, so we should separate them. First, there's the assumption that being with children all day long is objectively a waste of time and brainpower. Second, there's the idea that throwing a wide net and reaching people outside of our families is far more important than a deliberate gathering-in of those within the walls of our home.

With the first assumption, I have little patience. I can't think of an assumption that devalues children more. Being with babies (then small children, then older children, then teenagers, and...you get the picture) all day can be a great many things, but it has never been a waste of my time or brainpower. Mothering has forced me to become a stronger, more creative, more persevering woman than I have ever been in my life. Thank you, motherhood. You have done what you were created to do.

With the second idea -- that reaching outside the scope of one's home is more important than focusing on what's under my own roof -- I again have little patience and will simply refer you back to Gilbert Keith. Thank you, Mr. Chesterton. I always liked you.

So we return to the question: Has it been a waste? Have I used my education over these many years? Has Atticus used his? I would argue that yes, we have both put our educations to good use, albeit in very different ways. Nothing that led me to the moment when I held my first daughter and realized, with giddiness and horror that Atticus and I were totally responsible for her, was wasted. Not my God-free childhood, nor my college years as a theater major-turned English major-turned dabbler-in-philosophy, nor my conversion, nor my short stint at a particularly challenging time in my life as a Merry Maid. None of it. It all combined and conspired to make me the mother I became, the mother I am still evolving into.

The world will pull us in a thousand directions, and so we must discern shrewdly. There are seasons and years when using one's education predominantly outside the home is right, good, or even best for our families. But putting an education to use in the wider world is not ipso facto the superior choice, it's just more visible. Just as important are the lively interactions and the child-rearing and the education that happens every day in so many homes, hidden though those worlds may be.

Blood is hidden, too. So is a powerful, beating heart. But without them? We would wither and die.

What am I using?

Every hidden thing that I am.

~~~~~

(Photo credit: FreeImages.com)

Bits and Pieces of Our Days: The Facebook Edition

Because I know that not everyone is on Facebook:

June 11 at 7:47pm ·
I'm late to every party but I'm glad the Hamilton party's still going on 'cause I just arrived. Hey, Betsy, I'm holding your cd ransom. Are you young, scrappy, and hungry enough to fight me for it?


P.S. This wasn't on the FB post, but Betsy, who got me hooked, directed me to 21 Steps to Becoming Obsessed With Hamilton.  I don't think I'm obsessed, though. It's just a little addiction.

Updated to note: My family corrects me: I am obsessed.

~~~~~

June 3 at 9:18pm ·
People often say things like, "Just you wait," regarding the teen years. Tonight, my 13 yr. old took the dog out, and came in saying, "Mom! You have to come see the sunset! I couldn't stop taking pictures!" Yes...just wait. You, too, will have lovely moments with some of the most wonderful people in your life...your teens.

~~~~~

May 31 at 10:34am ·
Anne-with-an-e: "What are you reading?"
Me: "A blog post about planners, and about how your temperament fits into what kind of planner you are."
Anne-with-an-e (pauses, then laughs): "That's really dorky." **
Me: "I know. That's why I love it."
Anne-with-an-e: "Where'd you find it?"
Me: "Jen sent the link. It's a homeschooling blog."
Anne-with-an-e: "Of course."
Attention, fellow dorky planners: the post is at Wildflowers and Marbles.

** This is a compliment, by the way. :) :)

~~~~~

May 27 at 12:19am ·
We're finally watching Poldark, which Atticus teases should be called, "Poldark and Handsome."

~~~~~

May 20 at 8:39am ·
Watched Ramin Karimloo's Phantom last night w/ my girls. We were a sloppy bunch at the end.

~~~~~

May 15 ·
Intriguing article about Christopher Hitchens, and a mention of my Deathbed Conversions book in this New York Times piece:

Christopher Hitchens Was Shaky in his Atheism, New Book Suggests

A new book says the impious author of “God Is Not Great” might have been exploring faith before he died in 2011. Mr. Hitchens’s secular friends disagree.   NYTimes.com/By Mark Oppenheimer

Bits and Pieces of Our -- No, My -- Days

Where have I been? 

What an insightful question.

I used to blog, right? And then, my children suddenly grew up, my youngest became a teenager, and I mostly clammed up about my girls because they were no longer kid-quote-fodder for my blog (other than sharing the occasional witticism.) There's plenty to ponder about raising teenagers and living with young college women, but not plenty to blog about. It's their life, not mine.

~~~~~

I haven't blogged much about homeschooling, other than books Ramona and I read together, because I keep thinking, "Do I have anything left to say about homeschooling? Haven't I already told everyone it's about Reading Aloud and Talking!? Isn't it all there in the archives?" Maybe, maybe not. I toy with the idea of a book about homeschooling. Not sure.

~~~~~

Then there's what I call Facebook-Creep. What I used to always, always post on the blog feels more like a quick FB post, so I throw it over there. Then I think, "What about the people who aren't on Facebook? Who don't want to deal with its ridiculous, wonky algorithm? Who don't want a social media platform deciding for them what's a 'top story'?" And I think, "Hmmm. I should blog more."

~~~~~

Then I think, "There are so many blogs, and so many who do it so well: homeschool blogging, read-aloud blogging, parenting blogging, bookish blogging. Am I just tired of blogging? Do I even remember how to blog about anything other than Poetry Friday? Not that there's anything wrong with that...."

~~~~~

Then I take a nap.

~~~~~

I will never stop writing. One of the reasons my blogging has decreased is that other writing--and the necessary promotion of that writing, i.e., my books, by way of radio interviews, etc.--has increased. I guess I'm just in one of those regular, "What am I doing?" phases that I go through.

~~~~~

Have been doing lots of radio interviews lately, to talk about You Can Share the Faith. Lots of good, thought provoking conversations about what it does and doesn't mean to evangelize, and about how what flows out of us is rooted in our own, ongoing conversion. It's always fascinating to me to hear people's reactions to this book. I think the cover, the font, the cups of tea, indicate something a little lighter, but I've been told that once people dig in to the book, they find the content to be much more serious than they'd anticipated. If you've read it and we haven't talked, I'd love to hear your take on that.

~~~~~

Coming up: I recorded a Fountains of Carrots podcast with Christy Isinger and Haley Stewart and, as always, enjoyed it immensely. They told me I'm their first return guest. Huzzah! An honor. And of course, it was a lot of fun to talk to them. I'll pass on the link when the podcast is released.

~~~~~

Hey, I think this is a blog post! I'll try to come up with another one. Before the next Poetry Friday.

Why I'm Adding Little Men to My List of Favorite Homeschooling Books

Although I've loved Little Women for as long as I can remember, I somehow (scandalous!) never got around to reading Little Men and Jo's Boys. I just finished Little Men today and now I have to add all of the following to my quote book:

Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.

In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.

The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.

~~~

Boys at other schools probably learned more from books, but less of that better wisdom which makes good men. Latin, Greek, and mathematics were all very well, but in Professor Bhaer's opinion, self knowledge, self-help, and self-control were more important, and he tried to teach them carefully. People shook their heads sometimes at his ideas, even while they owned that the boys improved wonderfully in manners and morals. But then, as Mrs. Jo said to Nat, "it was an odd school."

~~~

The class stopped in the middle of 7 times 9, and everyone looked up to see what was going on.
Thinking that a lesson in learning to help one another was better than arithmetic just then, Mr. Bhaer told them about Nat, making such an interesting and touching little story out of it that the good-hearted lads all promised to lend him a hand, and felt quite honored to be called upon to impart their stores of wisdom to the chap who fiddled so capitally. This appeal established the right feeling among them, and Nat had few hindrances to struggle against, for every one was glad to give him a "boost" up the ladder of learning.

~~~

Till he was stronger, much study was not good for him, however, and Mrs. Jo found various amusements in the house for him while others were at their books. But his garden was his best medicine, and he worked away like a beaver, preparing his little farm, sowing his beans, watching eagerly to see them grow, and rejoicing over each green leaf and slender stock that shot up and flourished in the warm spring weather. Never was a garden more faithfully hoed. 

~~~

"Let him be a mechanic if he likes," said Mr. Bhaer. "Give a boy a trade, and he is independent. Work is wholesome, and whatever talent these lads possess, be it for poetry or ploughing, it shall be cultivated and made useful to them if possible."

~~~

"How much the lad knows of these things [the natural world]! How absorbed he is in them! And what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it would be hard to amuse him while he is laid up; but the boys can supply him with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out this taste of his. It is a good one, and may perhaps prove the making of him. If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician, I should have cause to be proud of this year's work," and Mrs. Jo sat smiling over her book as she built castles in the air. 

~~~

"Now, boys, I have arranged it so that you can all go," said Mrs. Bhaer, running back again, much relieved, for she loved to make them happy, and always felt miserable when she had disturbed the serenity of her little sons; for she believed that the small hopes and plans and pleasures of children should be tenderly respected by grown-up people, and never rudely thwarted or ridiculed.

~~~

After the last excitement, peace descended upon Plumfield and reigned unbroken for several weeks....

"It is too good to last," said Mrs. Jo; for years of boy-culture had taught her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of some sort, and when less wise women would have thought that the boys had become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a sudden eruption of the domestic volcano.

~~~

...the boys were charmed with Dan's pleasure, and crowded round him to shake hands and expatiate on the beauties of their gift. In the midst of this pleasant chatter, Dan's eye went to Mrs. Jo, who stood outside the group enjoying the scene with all her heart.

"No, I had nothing to do with it. The boys got it up all themselves," she said, answering the grateful look that seemed to thank her for that happy moment. Dan smiled, and said, in a tone that only she could understand, "It's you all the same."

...He thanked them both with the silent, hearty squeeze he gave the kind hands that had held him up, and led him into the safe refuge of a happy home.

~~~

P.S. Discussing the book on my Facebook page. There are spoilers in the comments, as we're talking about the good, the bad, and the ugly in this book. There were a couple of weird, random things that I didn't like. 

In Which I Confuse Homeschooling and Wine

The delightful, lovely, and very kind Ana Hahn, from Time Flies When You're Having Babies, is doing a blog series -- "How Do They Do It?" -- about homeschooling. When Ana asked if I'd like to participate, I jumped at the chance to talk about one of my favorite things: wine.

No, wait.

I meant to say homeschooling. (Although I do mention wine in Answer #5.)

You can find my Q & A with Ana here.

Thanks, Ana, for running this series, and for such great questions!

And be sure to check out some of her other installments here, here, and here.

FLOURISHing During a Busy Week

It's been a crazy week. I've been out of town a couple of times because we're working on helping my parents find a place to live that is much closer to our family than they've been, well, ever. We're hoping that by next spring or summer, they will settle on a place and be within a two hour drive of us,rather than a two-day road trip. Hurray!

So, it's been a good week, a productive week, but a slow week on the blogging front. So I thought I'd share some alternative reading with you:

Here's the latest issue of Sarah MacKenzie's Flourish.

It's an online magazine/newsletter, and if you're not reading it, you're missing out on some robust encouragement, companionship, ideas, and fun. And this month, I had the fun of contributing an answer to the monthly question: "What does teaching from rest look like in your homeschool?"

Enjoy!

First Week of School

Photo thanks to FreeImages

Yes, we're back at it.

Many moons ago, we decided that the two non-negotiables of the first day of school were Mass and breakfast out. (To my daughters' chagrin, I've always added the somewhat negotiable, "And a little bit of math.")

It used to be so easy to schedule these things. The day after Labor Day = First Day of School. But schedules are more complicated these days. Anne and Betsy wanted to join us for our first day ritual, but their morning schedules made it trickier. Anyway, for a variety of reasons involving Mass schedules, college schedules, yada, yada, we went to Mass on Tuesday evening. Not perfect scheduling, because Anne couldn't join us, but on the plus side, the new priest at our parish made a point of stopping to ask what he can do to support the miscarriage ministry I help with, so that was lovely. On Wednesday morning, all four of us went out to breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, and loads of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, depending on which Edmisten you are.

On the way home, we cranked up the volume in the car and belted out "Let It Go." Then I had to let go of my college girls so they could go have their lives. Ramona and I dove into some math, read some books, and talked about plans and ideas for the school year.

~~~~~

In other news, I am on the final Harry Potter book with Ramona!

from Facebook:

Sept. 6th: The down side of being the youngest in this family/late to the Harry Potter party: Ramona didn't get the fun of midnight movies, book release parties, winning costume contests, and staying up till the wee hours to rip into the latest release. The upside? One book and movie after another. We finished Half-Blood Prince last night, watched the movie today, and then started reading Deathly Hallows. Anne, Betsy, and I are already talking about creating a final feast for Ramona that will include chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, chicken wings or legs (for Ron-style/two-fisted eating), butter beer, and Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.


Sept. 7th: Reading HP & the Deathly Hallows to Ramona today ... my throat hurts from my Mad-Eye Moody voice.

And from Instagram ... Ramona made Luna Lovegood's Spectre Specs.

I will be extremely sad when we finish Deathly Hallows (and not just because of all the deaths I'm going to have to read about aloud...wish me luck.) It will be the end of an era at our house. However, the great relief for all of us will be no longer having to say, "Don't talk about that in front of Ramona! Spoilers!"* 

*Last night, Atticus took Ramona along with him when he had to help run a concession stand at his school. When he introduced her to the students they would be working with, he said, "This is my daughter. She's currently reading the last Harry Potter book, so if anyone talks about Harry Potter, NO SPOILERS."

I love that man. 

Ramona's Summer Art

Lots of good stuff going on, but one thing I want to share is the live Mark Kistler 3-D drawing class that she's taking. The classes are available for free this summer, through the Homeschool Buyers Co-op.*

She's been available for only two intermediate lessons so far and she wants to try the advanced level next time, if we're home at the right time.

Mark Kistler's virtual classroom is here,  and the schedule of classes is here. On this page, you can find Kistler's top 400 recorded lessons that can be used anytime. 

~~~~~~~~

In other drawing news, Ramona is sorting Disney princesses into Hogwarts houses. So far, Ariel is a Gryffindor and Belle is a Ravenclaw. 

~~~~~~~~

* Several other free offerings from the co-op can be found here. 

The Fountains of Carrots Podcast is Up

My chat with Haley and Christy is up on the Fountains of Carrots podcast page. (It's actually been up since last Tuesday, but I, as usual, am late for my own party!)

They were so great to talk to -- 90 minutes, and we still didn't exhaust every subject. Hope you enjoy it -- I sure did, even though we all cried. :)

Covering Subjects in a Non-Traditional Way: Part the Second

Image Chef

The original question was:

"Where can one find examples of how common, daily activities with kids fit into 'subjects'?"

So, let's start with the activities, rather than starting with the subjects, and we'll start with very young children, because we all have to start somewhere.

A few everyday activities and their relevance to education (and life):

Breakfast (home ec, nutrition, health)
Reading to the kids over breakfast (reading, reading comprehension, faith [if you read Bible stories or other faith related books], history [if you read historical works], English [hey, it's a book!], vocabulary)
Morning routine (personal hygiene = health ... threats about what will happen if we don't wash and brush teeth = science)
Morning chores (citizenship, faith and self-discipline as those relate to family cooperation)
Daily Mass (faith, history, recess if you go for donuts afterward)
Make cookies (math while measuring, home ec, science, kitchen chemistry)
Make lunch (home ec again ... lots of home ec)
Break up a fight among siblings (explaining interpersonal communications = psychology ... repentance and forgiveness = faith ... learning to get along = management and human resources skills)
Trip to the post office (social studies, community study, citizenship, how government works, art ... yes, art! Aren't you going to examine all those stamp designs?)
Drive home (point stuff out -- geography of your town)
Watch an episode of Magic School Bus (science)
Take a nap (health)
Wake up from nap (science: explain the necessity and importance of sleep, explain the difference between night mommies owls and insane morning people.)
Take a walk (a nature walk! Science! Charlotte Mason is so happy with you right now!)
Tell children to play while you check email (play is serious business, people!)
Check email some more or call your best friend (hey, your sanity is important ... explain to children that social contact is vital. This is psychology and sociology.)
Start dinner (home ec! Again! Lots of home ec!)

You get the the idea. This is the easy stuff. When they're little, you really don't have to worry about record-keeping the subjects but do it if it makes you feel better, as it often made me feel better, or if you need to report on your schooling in your state. And do it for practice, for later days.

And as they get older, the connections, the overlap of subjects, the science of relations becomes clearer in so much of what we do with our children, and in what they do on their own.

More to come.

Homeschooling: Covering "Subjects" in a Non-Traditional Way

In a Facebook group for homeschoolers, the question arose: "Where can one find examples of how common, daily activities with kids fit into 'subjects'?"

I want to put together a post that goes into a lot more detail, but in the meantime, I was reminded of this old post from years ago:

From today's Charlotte Mason excerpt, found at AmyAble's new blog, A Full Life: The Works of Charlotte Mason

"One thesis, which is, perhaps, new, that Education is the Science of Relations, appears to me to solve the question of curricula, as showing that the object of education is to put a child in living touch as much as may be of the life of Nature and of thought. Add to this one or two keys to self knowledge, and the educated youth goes forth with some idea of self management, with some pursuits, and many vital interests."

One of the first things that attracted me to Charlotte Mason's ideas was this "Science of Relations" business. It matched up so perfectly with my (admittedly limited at the time) observations about how my own child learned. Anne was constantly making connections about things in her world, in our world.

Reading a book about ducks would lead to talking about baby ducks, which would lead to talking about baby people, which in turn led to playing with our own baby person, her little sister, and that led to counting said person's fingers and toes. Amidst satisfied giggles from baby-person-Betsy, Anne would ask about how God made babies, and how did God make dirt, for that matter? And did God have sisters? And speaking of dirt, could we go outside and play in some?

I could have said, "Now, now, hold your horses. One thing at a time. We can either talk about science (ducks and human reproduction), or math (counting those scrumptious little toes), or about theology, or we can go do P.E., but we can't jumble it all up like that. One subject at a time, please."

No, no, no. Anne didn't break the world into "subjects" ... that would have been absurd. All the "subjects" are connected. So, why should I attempt to divide the whole world into subjects? Learning seemed to happen more quickly, more completely, and in a more integrated way when I allowed the Science of Relations to influence our "studies."

One might argue that it's all well and good for a toddler to follow connections in an If You Give a Mouse a Cookie sort of way, (and, of course, one of the reasons I love Laura Numeroff's books is that she understands how children's minds work) but continuing to do so as they get older will just lead to ADD. Hmmm. Maybe. But, my personal experience has been that following connections and looking for the ways in which the "subjects" are interconnected has paved the way for a greater appreciation for what a real education is. For example, when we read about Archimedes were we covering history or math or science?

The kids, ahem, didn't really care which category it fell into.

I remember the first time another child asked my kids what their favorite subject was. Anne and Betsy were about 8 and 6 years old, and they looked at the child as if she were a Klingon. "What do you mean?" they asked.

I explained the whole school-and-subjects thing. I told them that since they loved books of historical fiction, they could honestly say that two of their favorite subjects were "reading" and "history." Or, because they loved to draw and paint, they could say "art." Or, because they loved to swim and ride horses, they could say, "P.E." But, really, I assured them it isn't important to break it all down into subjects. It can be helpful, especially where the Dewey decimal system is concerned (and that led to another discussion) but it wasn't necessary.

So. That's my take on today's bite-sized chunk of Charlotte Mason.

Be a rebel. Don't do subjects.

More to come soon.

~~~~~

Part 2 is here.

When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit: Ramona and I Continue Reading About WWII

Ramona and I are still reading about World War II. The other day we finished When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. She loved it, and I do, too (as did my older girls.) It's a lovely, moving, and sometimes funny book that explores one family's experience. (There are just two incidents that would be disturbing for sensitive children -- if you are doing this book as a read-aloud, you should see them coming and so can handle them accordingly.)

The story is based on the life of the author, Judith Kerr, whose family, thanks to her father's foresight, fled Germany in 1933 when she was ten years old. They subsequently lived in Switzerland, France and England, where Judith Kerr still resides. (She's 91! I must tell Ramona! We must write to her and tell her how much we love the book!)

The protagonist, ten year old Anna, is a writer, like her father:

Lately she had been producing a number of illustrated poems which had been much admired both at home and at school. There had been one about a fire, one about an earthquake and one about a man who died in dreadful agonies after being cursed by a tramp. Why not try her hand at a shipwreck? All sorts of words rhymed with sea and there was "save" to rhyme with "wave" and she could use the three new blue crayons for the illustration. She found some paper and began.

Soon she was so absorbed that she did not notice the early winter dusk creeping into the room ....

Anna's father is a wise man and a marvelous mentor. Ramona and I loved this sage writerly advice:

Anna said, "Papa, do you really like the poem?" 

Papa said he did.

"You don't think it should be more cheerful?"

"Well," said Papa, "a shipwreck is not really a thing you can be very cheerful about." 

"My teacher Fraulein Schmidt thinks I should write about more cheerful subjects like the spring and the flowers."

"And do you want to write about the spring and the flowers?"

"No," said Anna sadly. "Right now all I seem to be able to do is disasters."

Papa gave a little sideways smile and said perhaps she was in tune with the times.

"Do you think then," asked Anna anxiously, "that disasters are all right to write about?" 

Papa became serious at once."Of course!" he said. "If you want to write about disasters, that's what you must do. It's no use trying to write what other people want. The only way to write anything good is to try to please yourself."

We liked Anna and her entire family immensely. I enjoyed her mother's trials as she learned to cook and sew, and we were amused by Anna's (initially) underachieving older brother, Max, who met the word count on his school essays by padding them with long lists of the foods his characters ate. In every essay the feasting ended with, "And then they all burst."

We identified with many things that reminded us of our homeschooling life. For example, I love the following passage about studying history. Anna's father has just asked her what she learned about Napoleon, and she's rattled off an impressive list of dates and events:

"What an extraordinary way to learn about Napoleon," said Papa. "Is that all you know?" 

"But it's everything!" said Anna, rather hurt, especially as she had not made a single mistake. 

Papa laughed. "No, it's not everything," he said, and settling down on her bed he began to talk about Napoleon. He told the children about Napoleon's childhood in Corsica with his many brothers and sisters, about his brilliance at school and how he became an officer at fifteen and commander of the entire French army at the age of twenty-six; how he made his brothers and sisters kings and queens of the countries he conquered but could never impress his mother, an Italian peasant woman. "C'est bien pourvu que ca dure," she would say disapprovingly at the news of every new triumph, which meant, "It's good as long as it lasts." Then he told them how her forebodings came true, how half the French army was destroyed in the disastrous campaign against Russia, and finally of Napoleon's lonely death on the tiny island of St. Helena. 

Anna and Max listened entranced. 

"It's just like a film," said Max.

Later, Anna's parents consider sending the children to live with their grandmother while they search for housing and work in England. Anna panics, fearful that the family will split up.

"It's just that I think we should stay together," she said. "I don't really mind where or how. I don't mind things being difficult, like not having any money, and I didn't mind about that silly concierge this morning -- just as long as we're all four together." 

"But Anna," said Mama, "lots of children leave their parents for a while. Lots of English children go to boarding schools." 

"I know," said Anna, "but it's different if you haven't got a home. If you haven't got a home, you've got to be with your people." She looked at her parents' stricken faces and burst out, "I know! I know we have no choice and I'm only making it more difficult. But I've never minded being a refugee before. In fact, I've loved it. I think the last two years, when we've been refugees, have been much better than if we'd stayed in Germany. But if you send us away now I'm so terribly frightened ... I'm so terribly frightened ...." 

"Of what?" asked Papa. 

"That I might really feel like one!" said Anna and burst into tears.

As someone who felt like a nomad much of her life (I grew up in an Air Force family, and Atticus and I have moved a number of times) I loved this illustration of how very little where we live can mean to us, and how much -- everything, really! -- family means as a way of defining whether or not we are "home."

A highly recommended book.

Homeschooling Just One

That's what I'm doing this year for the first time ever.

Yeah, sure, in a way I had just one "student" when we first started homeschooling. Anne-with-an-e was seven years old, Betsy just four. Anne was (I'm sorry, sweetie) my experimental student. I tried out different methods on her, tinkered with ideas, approaches, math curricula.  But Betsy was always there, soaking in the atmosphere, listening to the books, playing with the manipulatives, eating the cookies. I never felt that I was homeschooling only one daughter -- we were living a homeschooling life together.

But, now that my older daughters are out in the world, taking classes from other people, I am finally, truly, homeschooling just one child. Anne and Betsy don't need me, which is really great in its way. There's real fulfillment in knowing that my daughters were well prepared for the stage of life they're living now. And, there's relief in knowing that their academic work is their business. (I couldn't answer a Chemistry question if you paid me in chocolate and coffee. Truly, Anne's Chemistry homework is a mystery to me on a par with the Trinity. Intricacies unseen, combinations that produce whole new entities ... it boggles my mind. If it isn't explained on a Jesse Pinkman level, I don't understand it.)

And that leads me to the present, in which I am homeschooling only one daughter. Over the summer, I wondered about how this year would proceed: What would it be like for the two of us to be on our own? Would we get bored with each other? Would we feel as if we were rattling around the house, waiting for others to join us? Or would we dig in, full of anticipation and excitement, ready to tackle hundreds of projects and take on every academic challenge?

The answer is (as it always seems to for me) in the middle. Yes, we miss Anne and Betsy, but Ramona and I have settled into The New Normal and we are loving it. There's a delightful balance to our days. There are outside activities (a weekly art class, another monthly art class, piano lessons, choir), as well as group activities that we both participate in (her writing group, swimming weekly with other homeschoolers.) And then there are the treasured days when we don't have to leave the house -- we tackle math, read aloud, read aloud, read aloud, write, read poetry, participate in NaNoWriMo, watch Food Network together, make carrot cake, learn about extracting DNA from saliva (hmmm, was it deliberate that I followed up the food references to the saliva reference?), create art, and crafts, and minions.

Sometimes we can even plan activities or outings that work with Anne and Betsy's schedules as we did last Friday when we made a last-minute plan to see Big Hero 6 together (review from Ramona coming soon), or getting to daily Mass together.

Yes, I'm homeschooling just one. But it's a rich, full life.

And we love it.

Ramona, at the end of summer.