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."

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.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

Whither has October fled?  It's gone missing and I'm left wondering if one of my favorite months met all her obligations before she took off for a year's sabbatical.

At least one obligation was clearly fulfilled -- October brought us, as it has for twenty-one marvel-filled years now, the birthday of Anne-with-an-e.

I'd never before bought a daughter a margarita for her birthday, but I can no longer make that claim. And she likes my favorite red wine, too. Yes, I am a good homeschooler indeed. I know how to teach all the important stuff.

~~~~~

Ramona and I are still on World War II. So far we've read The Winged Watchman by Hilda van Stockum, Lois Lowry's Number the Stars, The Little Riders by Margaretha Shemin, and Ian Serraillier's Escape from Warsaw (which I wish still bore its original title, The Silver Sword.)

We read Snow Treasure, which I usually include it in the WWII bundle of books, last year because it was a book club pick. I'll leave it up to her whether or not she wants to reread it this year.

I also have a stack of picture books -- we've read Always Remember Me: How One Family Survived World War II, and in the next week will pick up The Bracelet, So Far from the Sea, and
The Yellow Star: The Legend of King Christian X of Denmark. 

Lots of good geography stuff happening as we read these books, too.

~~~~~

What am I reading these days? The epic and wonderful Kristin Lavransdatter. Granted, I am only one book into the trilogy (I almost typed "three-book trilogy" ... more coffee, anyone?) but I have already dubbed it Wonderful and More.

What am I watching on the laptop these days, while I work out? Gilmore Girls. It is wonderful in a different way, and strangely connected to Kristin.

And Then There's Math

I watched this TED talk awhile back, and then a friend of mine recently reminded me of it and I watched it again. I love this guy because he sums up my philosophy about how to approach math in our homeschool.

What If They WANT to Do Worksheets?

Tamara asked:

... did you ever have a child who *wanted* to do things like pre-reading worksheets? And if so, did you just let that be while it lasted? 

That's a great question, and the answer is, "Yes. Ramona has loved herself some very worksheet-y worksheets."

Ramona loves a lot of curriculum, actually, although the more obligatory it becomes, the less attractive it is to her, and she has yet to fall in love with the math curriculum that I require of her. But she likes the accountability and neatness of filling in blanks, matching answers, and choosing one of multiple choices. She likes lists (so do I) and checking things off as she accomplished tasks (so do I.) So, curriculum appeals to the desire for order and structure.

This post -- School-y Ramona -- is from the year Ramona was seven years old. The main point was that my homeschooling goal has been to follow my girls' lead and pinpoint how they learn best. If Ramona wanted to do State of the Day, we were going to do State of the Day (while still mixing in lots of real life and hands on learning, read-alouds, and so on.)

I'm reminded of a comment on a past post in which Elizabeth said this:

On a sadder note, I am envious of your party planning and graduation parties. My son has just finished his final high school work -- we have home schooled since the beginning. He has taken 8 classes at the community college & has been accepted to GA Tech (his 1st and only choice) but the child doesn't want a graduation party. He wants no celebration -- nothing. i'm just left hanging here. I did get one of those corny yard signs that all the other kids from the local public & private schools get, announcing congratulations, etc. He won't have anything to do with a party. but I feel like celebrating -- I've spent the last 18 years of my life nurturing and educating this kid. It seems wrong not to celebrate.

My response was this:

...what's funny about our opposite situations is that I always pictured myself being more like your son -- I thought that the beauty of homeschooling was that we didn't have to do the requisite milestones/celebrations in the same way the rest of the world does, because we've always done things on our own timeline. But, my girls wanted more, so that's what they got. And, your son doesn't want a party, so that's what he's getting. We're both still tailoring things to their likes and needs. :) 

However, it does sound like your son should perhaps take your likes and needs into account, and take YOU out for a celebration dinner!

That little exchange sums up what I love about homeschooling: an individualized, tailored, responsive way of life that is centered on relationships and real goals for the real world.

And sometimes that means worksheets, for as long as they serve their purpose. (Hope this helps, Tamara!)

What I Didn't Say in Austin (Or, Turning a Keynote About Homeschooling Into a Blog Post)

When I recently spoke at a homeschooling conference, I wanted to be sure I had enough to say, so of course I over-prepared. There was a section of a talk that I didn't even get to, so it comes to you now as a blog post. Yay! Double-duty writing!

~~~~~

My relaxed methods of homeschooling prompt another question: Are we being academically challenging and rigorous enough?

That gets us to the core questions about why we homeschool in the first place: for academic excellence? For spiritual reasons alone? Do we homeschool to get our children to Heaven or to Harvard?

Personally, I’ve never really asked myself the "Heaven or Harvard" question. In our state, we have to report/declare our reasons for homeschooling by claiming an exemption for either academic reasons or religious reasons. We claim the religious exemption because we do firmly believe the Church’s teaching that we are the primary educators of our children, i.e., that we have the right and responsibility to educate them as we see fit, or to contract out their education to schools if we so choose, etc. But, the academic exemption has always been right in front of us, too, and we could legitimately have chosen that option as well.

When we wanted to pull our eldest daughter out of school it wasn’t because we were afraid that she was being spiritually tainted. She had a sweet, kind Kindergarten teacher (who later quit working outside the home and began homeschooling her own children) and she had made friends with some very sweet and lovely children. But I couldn't bear some of the other stuff: I couldn’t bear that she wasn't allowed to read (in school, I mean) the books that grabbed her. I couldn't bear that her love of learning was being dulled with handwriting practice and pre-reading worksheets. It made me mad, actually. It made me realize that I knew my daughter better than anyone else did, and that I could provide stimulating days and a vibrant education for her at home.

Certainly our goal was to raise our children, spiritually speaking, as we saw fit: saturated in our faith, living it every day. We wanted to provide a particular kind of lifestyle that allowed for exploring the liturgical year rather than the school year, for going to Mass when it worked for us, not just on Sundays, for a holy half-hour in the middle of a "school day" and for digging into a saint's life story if that's what we felt like doing.

But such a lifestyle and accommodations for our faith don't negate or ignore the desire for academic excellence. Atticus and I have always been dedicated to providing a strong and stimulating education for our girls.

On the other hand, we may not define academic excellence in exactly the same way that the world does. Allow me to elaborate. Of course we want to be the best teachers we can be and we hope to provide our children with the best possible education. But that doesn’t mean we're interested in churning out cookie cutter versions of human beings. Not everyone wants to attend a particular university or even a particular kind of university. Not everyone wants to pursue a particular type of profession, either. For us, academic excellence -- the kind that takes into account the very specific needs, gifts, passions, interests, strengths and weaknesses of each child -- will produce everything: plumbers, engineers, nurses, doctors, landscapers, secretaries, stay-at-home moms, stay-at-home dads, computer programmers, salesmen, philosophers, respiratory therapists, Spanish teachers, and ... on and on. An academically excellent homeschool considers the fact: the world needs all kinds of people and all kinds of jobs.

When it comes to raising and educating human beings with souls, paying close attention in a loving home to our individual children and what they need is every bit as important as an isolated, rigidly defined, supposedly objective standard of academic excellence.

I have never found and have never believed that there is one method, one cookie cutter ideal, one fixed rule, or one predictable outcome to homeschooling.

There is just this one thing in our homeschool: we need to figure out what this child needs at this moment, this week, this month, this year. Homeschooling, for us, is about finding what works, and then doing it.

Excellence, then, while it is about tailoring the academics to our particular children and their needs, isn’t about proving to the world that we can raise the smartest, most stereotypically or predictably "successful" kids possible. As a matter of fact, homeschooling isn’t about us at all.

Should we repeat it? Homeschooling isn't about us at all.

Sometimes we homeschooling parents forget that. There’s so much pressure -- from the world, from family or friends, from interested observers and critics --  to prove that we haven’t definitively messed up our kids. We feel compelled to confirm that we made the right choice, the best choice. And then we forget that it isn’t about us or about how we look. 

It’s about our kids. It’s about cooperating with God in this endeavor. It's about raising the people He entrusted to our care.  It's about helping them to become the people He wants them to be. Sometimes our kids will fit every preconceived notion the world has of success and sometimes they will look as far from it as is humanly possible. And everything on that spectrum is conceivably perfectly okay, as long as we keep on asking ourselves the question, “What does this child need next?”

That's why, for us, it's not "Heaven or Harvard." It's Heaven and Harvard and not-Harvard and everything in between. It's about letting a Kindergartener read Little House books all day if that's how she best learns. It's about letting a high schooler write a novel the entire month of November if that's where her passion is. And it's about having her do some math, too, because that's a practical part of life that we have to address. It's about faith and books and being excited about learning for the rest of our lives.

It's about individual human beings, it's not about me, and it's about a life lived authentically. And that's going to look different for everyone.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days (Or, Coming Up for Air)

The month of May is a blur. This is May, speeding past me:

Sometime in May, we celebrated the end of school for this year, though when you're unschoolish it's hard to tell. Ramona's love for science-y things continues and knows no schoolery bounds, and Betsy just keeps writing (currently she's revising her first NaNoWriMo novel from three years ago.) So, school is done, or it's never out. Take your pick.

And when school ended (or didn't) the company started coming.

~~~~~

My parents came to town for Betsy's graduation party and they were only 48 hours late.

Mom and Dad are 79 and 80 years old, and their patience with air travel was already wearing thin. It's not that they're afraid to fly. My father was an Air Force pilot, so he and Mom moved and flew and flew and moved, and they are, obviously, seasoned travelers.  They don't have phobias, it's just the comfort issue these days. Squeezing themselves into a cramped seat in a confined space for the privilege of feasting on a few pretzels while they circle the runway is not in their Lexicon of Retirement Fun. And given that a couple of years ago my mom was randomly pulled out of line by airport security and searched, I wouldn't  have been surprised if they'd never wanted to fly again. (What, really, is so threatening about a 5' 2" grandma who always wears really cool earrings?) So I was so thrilled that they decided to brave a trip for Betsy.

And what came next? I like to call it Operation Convince Karen's Parents Never to Fly Again.

First, their original flight out on a Tuesday was canceled. Mom called Monday night and said there was no way they'd get out of town the next day, as the airline had dropped their flight completely. Said airline wasn't very resourceful about rescheduling either, so my mom got on the internet and found a good alternative flight that the airline hadn't offered. (Hey, Said Airline? You should pay my mom a bonus for freelancing for you.)

The new schedule had them arriving in Omaha on Wednesday by 3:30 p.m. The drive to our house (a couple of hours) would have them here in time for dinner. Guess what? Operation Convince Karen's Parents Never to Fly Again kicked in in earnest. Mechanical problems with the plane threatened a dangerous landing (as in, the landing gear wasn't functioning properly. Nice. Fortunately, my parents aren't prone to panic about these things.) The plane had to make an unplanned stop in Tulsa, where the landing gear kindly decided to make an appearance and received a round of applause from the full aircraft. My parents were then stranded in Tulsa for hours before they could get another flight to Dallas, and then go on to Omaha.

Operation Convince Karen's Parents Never to Fly Again got them into Omaha about midnight. They dragged their ripped up suitcase ("We are not responsible for damage to outside pockets on luggage....") to a hotel (not a hotel provided by the airline -- thanks, Said Airline -- as they had been deposited at their final destination, though you and I know it wasn't really their destination, as their original destination at midnight on Wednesday was a bed in in my town.)

They stayed the night in Omaha, then drove to our house on Thursday.

Um, Amtrak? You know that free program you have for writers? Does it apply to writers' parents, too? I'll be giving you a call to talk it over.

~~~~~

Other out-of-towners came to town for Betsy's party, too, which was great, and we were touched to tears by some of the surprises, but none of them had Said Airline Horror Stories, so I'll just move along, adding only that I thought I'd have waaaaay too much taco meat left over, but that didn't turn out to be the case, and it is indeed the case that everyone loves Winning Hearts and Minds Chocolate Cake. 

~~~~~

Books!
I've read several good books lately -- need to do a review post very soon. 

~~~~~

We took Ramona to see Wicked. She was bowled over. 

Anne, Betsy and I have seen it twice before. I just found the post I did after the first time we saw it. Ramona was seven years old then, and we didn't tell her much about the play, but we did let her listen to some of the music. Back then, she said this about it: "It's that kind that makes you feel every emotion in one emotion, like you want to laugh and cry at the same time."

Yep. So. Much. Fun.

End of the School Year: The Exit Interview

No, it's not the kind of exit interview that means I'm leaving the job. It's more accurately an "end of year survey" but I couldn't resist basing it on real questions that might be used in an exit interview in the workplace. With that in mind, let's take a look at how this school year went:


What is your primary reason for leaving this school year?

Duh! It's May.

Did anything trigger your decision to end the school year?

Duh! It's May. I'm tired.

What was most satisfying about your job this year?

Read alouds with Ramona are always right up there at the top of the list.

Watching Ramona's artistic talents and interests grow this year. Big perk, lots of fun.

Seeing my second daughter finish high school at home (and in the community, and in church, and in classes at the college -- because homeschooling, despite some popular misconceptions, is never just about home), seeing her make decisions about her future, receive scholarships, make plans...hugely gratifying.

It is immensely satisfying to not only love my daughters, but to also like them so much, and admire their choices.

What was least satisfying about your job?

There was math involved.

Did your job duties turn out to be as you expected?

Having previously gotten a daughter through high school at home, I knew I could handle Betsy's senior year, however, every child is different, and the homeschool must be tailored to the student. But, Betsy's final year of homeschooling went swimmingly, mostly thanks to Betsy being an awesome person.

Did you receive enough training to do your job effectively?

My past duties in life taught me that I can overcome any obstacle. Converting from atheism to mere Christianity to Catholicism? That was hard. Deciding to become a parent? I never envisioned "mother" on my resume, so that was a challenge, too, yet here I am. Handling pregnancy, labor, and delivery? Umm, yeah, with that training alone, I was prepped for anything. Homeschooling was guaranteed to be, if not a snap, at least something with a learning curve that I could face.

Did you receive adequate support to do your job?

Did you say "Atticus support"?

Oh, yes! Loads of it. Especially his weekend cooking and his chocolate cakes. These things make my job so much easier.

Did you receive sufficient feedback about your performance between merit reviews?

Merit reviews? I'm a mom. What planet do you live on?

Were you satisfied with this company's merit review process?

See snark, above. "This company" (i.e., the world at large) could stand to beef up its appraisal of the stay-at-home mom thing.

Did this company help you to fulfill your career goals?

Goals this year included:

Read great books. Check.
Spend time with my daughters. Check.
Prioritize Atticus and our family time over just about everything else. Check.
Spend time on math, even though we all hate it. Check.
Write a novel at the same time Betsy does. Check.
Lead a writing group for Betsy and friends. Check.
Meet with other homeschooling moms for support. Check.
Read more great books. Check.

Do you have any tips to help us find your replacement?

I have her lined up already! "Teacher" has left the building (i.e., math books have been hidden for three months) and "Mom" is reporting for duty.

Soon, "Atticus Cooks All Summer Long" will be reporting for duty as well. "Mom" will be doing a happy dance when no one is looking.

What would you improve to make our workplace better?

Honestly, the pay for a homeschooling mom could be better. Now that I think of it, I don't recall receiving a single paycheck or tax incentive. I do, however, appreciate the public library beyond all ken. Also, if coffee would learn to make itself, I'd really like that. If Atticus could quit his job, stay home and cook, that'd be great, too.

And if my kids would stop growing up, I'd be guaranteed job security as a teacher until I die. As it is, my workload will be drastically cut next year, with just one soon-to-be-twelve-year-old in our homeschool. That will be simultaneously an improvement, in terms of time management, and a heartache in terms of facing reality.

Were you happy with your pay, benefits and other incentives?

As mentioned above, the pay stinks, but the fringes are excellent: close relationships with my daughters, a flexible schedule, and never having to go to the grocery store on a Saturday.

What was the quality of the supervision you received?

God is kind of in charge of this homeschool, and I'd have to say that His leadership was excellent. I sometimes wish He would yell at me, though, so I'd have a clearer picture of His expectations, but that doesn't seem to be the kind of boss He is. Overall, His quiet management style suits me. He doesn't micromanage, and yet He always seems in control. Wish I could pull that off.

Based on your experience with us, what do you think it takes to succeed at this company?

An ability to laugh. At everything. And everyone.

Did any company policies or procedures (or any other obstacles) make your job more difficult?

Could you drop the company policy on having to cover math? That one makes my staff cranky.

There's also this requirement to feed the staff constantly. That one makes me cranky. When I took this homeschooling job, I wasn't thinking about how people can be so unreasonable -- wanting dinner every, single night. Dirtying up bathrooms that demand to be cleaned on a regular basis. Generating laundry daily because everyone insists on wearing actual clothes every, single, day.

In other words, if those characters under my supervision didn't have to eat, dress, function, and learn how figure out a mortgage payment, my job would be much easier. Could you work on self-sustaining model of student? (Oh, wait. Then I'd be out of a job.)

Would you consider working again for this company in the future?

Oh, yes. I'll be back in September. Please hold my spot for me.

Would you recommend working for this company to your family and friends?

Highly recommend it. I know it's not for everyone, but it's worked out great for us. Maybe try it out, as an intern first, if you're considering taking the plunge.

How do you generally feel about this company?

My gosh, you ache for approval. You Exit Interviewers really get tiresome. Okay, I'll say it again: this homeschooling stuff is amazing. Great job, I love it. I recommend it to anyone who's up for a challenge and the freedom of a different and interesting lifestyle.

What did you like most about this company?

Will you stop already?

What did you like least about this company?

Stop being so self-centered!

What does your new company offer that this company doesn't?

Ummm ... summertime.

But, as I already told you, I'll be back in the fall.

Chill out.

Did anyone in this company discriminate against you, harass you or cause hostile working conditions?

Let's not revisit that one time with Ramona and math, okay? I'll be back in the fall, despite that incident, and we'll just keep it between us, okay?

Any other comments?

Hello, freedom from math summer. I've missed you.

Revolutionary Women, Picture Books, and Bad Impressions

Because Ramona and I will never be too old for picture books, and because we are all about the Revolutionary war this year, we recently read these:

Thomas Jefferson: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Everything  by Maira Kalman.

Thumbs up from Ramona for the pursuit of everything in this one: the illustrations, the humor, the tidbits of information about the ever-fascinating Thomas Jefferson.

(Quick heads up: if you have very young children, please be aware that the book briefly addresses his relationship with Sally Hemmings.)

Founding Mothers: Remembering the Ladies 

This one covered some interesting ground and notable women, but the writing wasn't highly engaging. Does include a nice timeline, though, of the women, and the reading was good reinforcement for some women we'd previously read about in the following magazine:

Ramona loved this issue. I can't recommend Kids Discover highly enough. Good stuff for unschoolish learners.

Finally, we left the Revolution and took flight with these two:

Amelia And Eleanor Go For A Ride by Pam Munoz Ryan, with illustrations by Brian Selznick.

A fun read. As I was doing voices for it, my Eleanor impression suddenly sounded a little funny.

"Why does Eleanor Roosevelt sound like Julia Child, Mom?" Ramona asked, puzzled.

I stopped and frowned.

"I don't know," I said. "Let's find out what she really sounded like."

(Thank you Google -- love you for stuff like this. We listened to Amelia Earhart, too.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Now it's time to visit the library again. 

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

Now that I have a daughter in college and a high school senior who has taken classes,  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 will learn this: that you do what you need to do when you need to do it. Doing it sooner than you have to do it doesn't teach you to do it any more efficiently.

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 will 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, 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 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 and textbooks so much that she 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 understand basic concepts such as time management, goal setting, and doing what is necessary to achieve a desired result.

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.) And you will learn that, with very little formal curriculum, their ACT scores and college grades will 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.

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."

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 -- is that the answer to that question is, "No. A thousand times no."

Cathy Duffy's Review of A Little Way of Homeschooling

Cathy Duffy (whom I think of as more of a legend than an actual, breathing human being, and I mean that entirely as a compliment) recently did a wonderful review of A Little Way of Homeschooling: Thirteen Families Discover Catholic Unschooling.

She writes:

While this book is clearly about Catholic unschoolers, it is also one of the best on unschooling in general. Through the different stories, we see the common thread of concern for the individual nature of each child and a rejection of the prevalent school model that treats children like programmable machines. Because of that, learning is viewed by unschoolers as a normal part of life that does not need to be scheduled and forced. Instead learning is an integral part of life that takes place whenever and however seems best.

She concludes the review:

I have rarely reviewed books on approaches to education in recent years because most seem to repeat what’s already been said elsewhere, but A Little Way of Homeschooling deserves to be an exception!

You can read the entire review here.

Thank you, Cathy!

Poetry Friday: When We Last Left Ramona and Her Poetry Project...

... she was hunting down Billy Collins (not in a stalker-ish way -- that's my beat -- but in an, "I have to find 'Snow'!" way.)

And, yes, Mary Lee was spot on (have you been dropping in at our house, Mary Lee? You know how we do things around here....) We listened to the music mentioned in the poem: Thelonious Monk's "Ruby, My Dear" and the Ronettes singing "Walking in the Rain" and George Thorogood (Billy didn't specify a tune, so I picked "Move It On Over.") We listened to Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings"and then we talked briefly about Jean-Paul Sartre, because you can't read a poem that mentions Being and Nothingness without making sure your child gets the reference, even if she is only eleven years old.

And since I'm finally getting over that cold/flu thing I had, we've forged ahead with Project Mommy's Daily Poem, as Ramona named it. We had an eclectic week around here, poetically speaking, and Ramona's hunts included the following:

• "I Never Saw a Moor" by Emily Dickinson (I bookmarked it in this book, which I love)

• "The Panther" by Ogden Nash, tagged in our well-worn copy of Favorite Poems Old and New

• "Hurt No Living Thing" by Christina Rossetti, which I decided to pull from The Tree That Time Built: A Celebration of Nature, Science, and Imagination

And today, I'm highlighting a book that Ramona and I found a few years back and both fell in love with. After repeated library check-outs, we gave The Cuckoo's Haiku: and Other Birding Poems by Michael J. Rosen to Ramona for her seventh birthday (and I could have sworn that was ten minutes ago.)

I blogged about the beginning of our infatuation with this book here, and linked to an interview with Rosen at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast here. Here's another extended interview with the author in The Columbus Dispatch.

And this week for the Daily Poem, Ramona hunted down the following from The Cuckoo's Haiku:

hunkered, plumped sparrow

each feather pockets the heat 

a mitten-warmed fist 

Her self-assigned project continues to grow. We've decided to start a Poet Notebook, too. I'll keep you posted.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Poetry Friday round up is at A Teaching Life. 

Yup. Me, too.

Danielle Bean sums up so much so well.

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

Not because there aren't a million inspirational, wise, funny, interesting homeschoolers out there. There are. And not because there aren't terrific books, and stories, and ideas. There are.

And 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 are 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, Danielle, for the impetus to reflect and blog today, and 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.

~~~~~~~~~~

ETA: The link that mentions pegs, in the post Twelve Things I've Learned in (Almost) Twelve Years of Homeschooling, is broken. Here's a new link, to Melissa Wiley's blog, that explains the idea of pegs, which first came to us from Leonie at Living Without School.

Ran Into Renoir This Weekend

We were out of town this weekend for a graduation party (hey, Host and Hostess, you know who you are: Great party! Great food! Great daughter! Congrats, again!) and managed to squeeze in a few other activities, too.

We stopped at a bookstore, where Betsy giddily nabbed the Complete Novels of Jane Austen: 

Anne found a Sherlock Holmes book she'd been looking for (can't remember which one), Ramona snagged her own copy of Frindle (a longtime favorite around here), and I found a copy of an Eleanor Estes book, The Hundred Dresses, that I somehow missed all these years. 

Whew, what a relief that we found books to buy -- you know, because, ummm, we just got rid of eleven grocery sacks full of them. Can't actually let enough space materialize for all the books we own, can we? 

We went to the zoo:

Atticus and Ramona in the jungle

And while Atticus dropped in on a Civil War book discussion group, the rest of us took in an exhibition, Renoir to Chagall: Paris and the Allure of Color, at our favorite art museum.

Too many incredible paintings to name, but one that particularly captured the girls' attention was Morisot's Peasant Girl Among Tulips: 

And Gaston La Touche's Joyous Festival: 

So much beauty in one building ... it overwhelms me sometimes, and breaks my heart, and makes me laugh like an idiot. Wow, God ... You really knew what You were doing when You created beauty. 

Ramona stopped to do a little figure drawing at the museum, too:

Funny note: Atticus realized, while we were at the bookstore for his discussion group, that all three of his daughters were wearing book-themed t-shirts. Anne was wearing her Gryffindor shirt, Ramona sported Little House gear from our time at Rocky Ridge, and Betsy was wearing her recent birthday present:

All in all, a lovely, bookish, celebratory, zoo-ey, artsy, gabby, weekend.

Today's Lesson on Linguistics

Fun stuff for word nerds!

This link shows 22 maps, put together by PhD student Joshua Katz. The maps illustrate just how we Americans are separated by a common language.

How do you pronounce "caramel"? Or "crayon"? What word do you use for "a sweetened carbonated beverage"? (Apparently I am out of sync with the rest of the midwest, because I call it "soda," not "pop." Also? I call mayonnaise "man-aze" which makes me geographically incorrect.)

"Hey, there's pepper all over my notebook!" (Or, Schoolish and Unschoolish Things)

Anne-with-an-e was studying for a zoology test.

Ramona had been on my laptop, watching a science video. I can't remember what Betsy was doing (I'm sorry, Middle Child! I feel your Middle Child pain!)

Ramona had been performing her scientific inquiry, that of sorting salt and pepper with a static-charged balloon, at the kitchen table, which was also Anne's workspace of choice. So, naturally, a bit of overlap occurred between animal and mineral.

Then, Ramona decided that her experiment might one day be the basis of a homeschool pick-up line. She did her best imitation of a suave homeschool guy purring, "Hey, there ... I can separate salt and pepper."

This led me to ask her what, exactly, she knew about pick-up lines. Then I remembered that I had, at some point, shared this little gem with the girls, and I wondered if Ramona had remembered or read over someone's shoulder. She said, "No. I've just heard the girls talk about pick-up lines."

I made a note to myself to ask the girls more about this.

It's possible that while the separation of salt and pepper was occurring, Betsy was reading Brain Rules, which is a pretty fun and fascinating little book. Or she could have been playing Dragon Box, which my kids surprisingly love. I say "surprisingly" because it's an app based on algebra and my daughters swear on a stack of slide rules that they hate math. Or she may have been furthering her love of all things Jane Austen by rereading Pride and Prejudice for the -- how many times is it now? Do I need a slide rule to figure this out?

And now I'm back to the homeschool pick-up line. Any guy with half a brain, trying to impress a homeschooled girl, need only say something like this: "If I can ever be even a tenth of the romantic that Fitzwilliam Darcy turned out to be, I'll die a happy man."

Don't fall for it, girls.

And that's a recent day in the life.

Our First Days of School

Recently (oh, was that really back on August 21st?) I mentioned that we'd be getting back to school after Labor Day. We did indeed start and it's been pronounced "Good!" by those in the know (that would be Ramona.)

First Day of School:

Went to Mass. Lovely, quiet, daily Mass. Lovely, quiet way to start and fortify our day.

Went to breakfast (though I would argue that Ramona's #1 choice -- a McGriddle at MacDonald's -- is not, in actuality, food).

Music lessons for Betsy and Ramona. We are the scum at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to keeping up with instruments over the summer. When there is no routine -- when no one named Mom is writing on Whiteboard Central in the kitchen, "Practice Today!" -- it doesn't seem to happen. Apparently, I am completely to blame. But, they're getting back up to speed quickly, and all is well and all will be well.

Math for everyone! Because we love it so much! Oh, wait. No. That's not the reason.
(Fact: I have five posts labeled "Math" on this blog. And one of them is a rerun.)

The park. Because it was a gorgeous day. Because it's fall. Because that means I'm coming back to life after wilting like old lettuce for months.

A spelling book! Because Ramona likes to challenge me.

Writing. Because we love it so much! And this time that's true!
(Fact: I have 133 posts labeled "Writing", "Blogging", or "Writing With the Kids." And those are just the ones I remembered to label.)

We're starting our Writing Groups up again. Ramona meets with hers at a friend's house, and I host one here for the teens. This year's a little different, though. For the past three years, Writing Group has been "my girls" -- Anne-with-an-e, Betsy, and their two best friends. So, we can be as girly as we want to be, and Betsy can write as many Jane Austen-y romance-y subplots as she likes, and these four such-best-friends-you-can-barely-tell-them-apart can write stories that include every inside joke they've ever split their sides over.

But this year, Anne and her best friend are busy with college classes, and meeting with us during the week doesn't work. Ack! What are we to do?

It happens that there are now two teen boys who are also interested in coming to Writing Group, so the dynamic has changed. Everyone has agreed not to laugh at anyone else's idea of good writing, whether that idea includes true love or things blowing up real good.

Days since the first day have included: 

The Prairie Thief read-aloud (which can be accomplished only when both Anne and Betsy are home and free to listen because they've made it clear they'll kill me if we read Lissa's new book without them.)

A visit to the library to hear a Laura Ingalls Wilder Chautauqua. Will probably do a separate post about it.

Betsy is reading Quiet, and a Sherlock Holmes book. (And doing math! Because she loves it so much! Just keep saying it, Karen....)

Back to School and Not Back to School

Yesterday my eldest daughter headed off to college classes. She's attending school here in our town, so it's not the seismic shift it would be if she were moving away, but's it's new and different. Between classes and her job, we'll be seeing a lot less of her.

My middle daughter also went to a college class (dual high school/college credit for a foreign language), is thinking about getting a job, is involved in various activities, etc., so she's getting busier all the time, too.

Anne-with-an-e and Betsy are "back to school" in a way we've never really been before.

Ramona stayed home with me. We cleaned her room and took board game breaks. Atticus asked if it reminded me of the days when Betsy and I would walk Anne to her Kindergarten class at the school across the street and then spend the morning together, just the two of us.

It felt a little too weird to remind me of anything I've ever experienced before.

Being somewhat unschoolish, I've always been content to just "start" whenever it suits us. But sometime back my girls wanted things to be a bit more official. And Ramona is a big fan of official.

I'm philosophically opposed to school starting before Labor Day so, years ago, I chose the day after the holiday to be our annual, official kick-off day. But, as with most things in life, I've found that the more official things get, the more likely they are to be full of letdown.

Remember this post? I talked about "lowering my standards" for First Day Expectations. My main expectations always come down to two things for the first day:

We go to Mass. We go out for breakfast.

(Evidence here, here, and here [although in this one, I neglected to mention Mass. Did we not go? I can't remember a year when we didn't start the first school day with Mass, so either I was sloppy in my recounting of the day, or something was amiss.] And here.)

Everything else is gravy. (Or cream in the coffee.)

I've never expected us to move from summer languor to school year rigor in 0-to-60, though Anne and Betsy are experiencing some of that in a way that Ramona and I can still skim over. Still, since I have a ten-year-old, full-time homeschooler, and a 16-year-old, part-time homeschooler, I'm going to hang on to my unschoolish ways awhile longer, and savor what I have, while learning to deal with what's new and different.

So, we are both back to school, and not back to school at our house. We are adjusting. Sometimes we are a little dizzy. We might need more Masses. More breakfast out. Definitely more coffee.

Most of all, as has always been true, we need each other. And we're here for each other.

Some things never change.

(Photo courtesy of Stock.xchng.)

Snapshots of Days With Ramona

We've started putting together her anatomy project (kind of hard to see, but here it is):

She made the heart with fun foam. The intestines will be made of hot pink giant chenille stems. We're thinking we'll sew lungs from pieces of red fleece. We haven't decided what Ramona's brain will be made of. Hmmm. (The idea for this came from a very old piece of curriculum, a book entitled My Temple of the Holy Spirit.)

~~~~~

More science ... discussing acid-base reactions. Yesterday, Ramona was busy mixing an indicator solution. We ran to the store for cabbage first, of course. 

~~~~~

We watched Dolphin Tale and the next day, Ramona had decided she worked at an animal hospital. She posted the proper signage in order to keep trespassers away:

~~~~~

And, although it seems too early in Nebraska for the daffodils that Atticus brought home yesterday to be in bloom, they are lovely: