Aha moments are funny; they come when you least expect them. I had one of those breaking point days earlier this summer, the kind of day when you are disappointed in yourself and everyone around you, the kind of day where the pressure is so high that you have to huff and puff and let off steam, or else you'll explode and either end up rearranging furniture or crying into your pillow. Let's just say that our furniture wasn't in the same place by the end of the evening.
I'll admit it; I was frustrated. So frustrated that for 10 minutes I perused the website of the local Montessori school, wondering if it was time to throw in the towel and send the boys to school. I sat, and I read, and then I turned off the computer and told myself that it would never work anyway. I reminded myself that we are committed to home education. I have promised my boys that I will be their guide; we even shook on it. Besides, all of the day's frustration had nothing to do with home learning, or did it?
We are life long learners. We combine a holistic philosophy with a large dose of unschooling. I try to keep the big picture in mind while muddling through the little things: phonics and place value, art and argument. I plan reading practice and make sure there is enough time for making mud pies. I make schedules that we never stick to, and delight in the unexpected experience that teaches far more than I ever could. Still, I feel a little guilty whenever we swing too far into the realm of unstructured days. We miss the integration, the rhythm, the comfort of knowing what will come next. We all start to build pressure, and we have blow ups like the one earlier this summer.
While we were at the market that day, I realized that something important had been missing from our home learning. I hadn't been guiding my boys, not in the true sense of the word. I would pay lip service to being their guide, but in reality I had been an engineer. At some point the responsibility for learning should have been passed to my boys, and I should have stepped aside and started providing maps and directions instead of pulling the train by myself.
Since then, I have tried more and more to observe and guide, rather than direct. I pay close attention to the boys throughout the day, listening to the energy in the house and deciding when once activity has run its course and the boys might need guidance as to where to go next. The more I observe, the more I stand back, the better they get at moving themselves through the transition and finding the next thing to do.
I'm still me; there are things that I want them to learn. I'm all for following a child's interests; at the same time I want them to understand math on paper and not just in their heads. There are many books and stories I want to share with them that are far above their reading levels. There are also things that I want them to learn that they may never show an interest in, but that I consider important life skills. I've found that by the time the child is old enough to clean the toilet properly, s/he has lost interest in doing it.
Teaching life skills is part of guiding a child. I'm glad that I learned the basics of ironing. I'm glad I learned how to use a hammer and screwdriver. I wish I had known more about personal finance and interpersonal relationships when I left my parents' home and started my life with Papa.
Guides teach along the way, as they walk with you. They help you identify the paths, and also teach you how to bushwhack when necessary. They point out hidden dangers. Guides take you places you might not be able to go on your own. They don't, however, carry your backpack for you. They expect you to work for the experiences you are gathering. They stand ready to to point out a gorgeous view or a beautiful flower, but they pause first, waiting for you to discover them on your own. The best guides don't teach you everything you need to know; they help you connect with the fact that you are learning all the time.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Homeschooling Conventions Are For Everyone!
We attended our first state-wide homeschooling convention August 10-12, and we had a blast! Actually, ours is called an EXPO, which is fantastic because nothing about the weekend was conventional in the least.
Now, we've been trying to get to the state convention (actually one of two major conventions in our state) for years now. Something always worked against us; we'd plan our vacations and have the dates conflict (those who read the blog regularly know that we plan our vacations about a year in advance), and we were always working against special needs.
But this time I was ready. I reserved our hotel room in October. Papa arranged to have Friday off. I put it on the calendar and planned around the weekend for almost a year. As usual, life messed with my plans and we were unable to stay at the hotel, but we did make it to all three days of the EXPO.
The experience was incredible. For one, the entire EXPO is planned with the needs of children in mind. There was so much for them to do, and there were also welcome in sessions as long as they didn't cause too much disruption. There was also plenty for the parents to do, and most of the kid things were adult-friendly as well, so we could do things together.
I'll probably take some time later to elaborate on all we did and learned, however, it occurred to me that I have met and talked to many people who think that homeschooling conventions have nothing to offer them. Without experience, I couldn't really agree or disagree. But now that I have been to one, I can disagree, because truly, homeschooling conventions are for everyone!
So let's start with some of the things I've heard, and I'll offer my observations.
1) We unschool. We don't need a convention.
Okay, so you unschool. You are doing what works for your family and that's fantastic. Do you think that everyone at a homeschooling conference does school-in-a-box? Are you so set in your ways that you think you have nothing left to learn in life? I met plenty of unschoolers at the convention, and I myself fall somewhere on the unschooling continuum. There were sessions for unschoolers, and there were plenty of things for children and adults to do, regardless of their learning philosophy. Last time I checked, building with blocks, playing dress-up, taking apart electronics, making crafts, listening to stories and music, playing with large appliance boxes, and hanging out with friends are things that most children enjoy, regardless of where or how they are schooled. On the flip side, the adult sessions always had something that I could apply to my personal life, not just my life with children.
2) We're happy with our homeschooling the way it is.
See above post. Plus, no one was out to convert anyone to a particular style of home learning. There is no down side to exposing your children to the wide world of homeschooling. You can even close your mind and try not to learn anything while you are at the convention. I too, am very pleased with our way of living and learning, and still I came away with many ideas that have the potential to make it even better. For instance, I learned:
a) Papa is excited about our home learning and really wants to participate in decision-making. He had always left it up to me, in part because he didn't know what was out there. He too was happy with our home learning, but armed with more information he wants to take a more active role.
b) There are other people out there like me that really believe life is learning, and not in a radical, TCS/NCP, go-ahead-and-watch-TV-Land-all-day cliched sort of way. I've always felt that I was lost somewhere in the homeschooling community, because I'm not a radical unschooler, not a unit-studies person, not a school-at-home person, not a classical education person, and still not really an eclectic homeschooler. When I decided on holistic learning as our educational philosophy I was combining Enki, Waldorf, John Holt, and others, with all my years of seeking a holistic life for myself.
c) My children are ready for more freedom than I have been giving them. They took care of themselves admirably, and they enjoyed the responsibility.
There was more, of course.
3) We are religious homeschoolers. The state convention is a secular gathering.
I talked to a lot of people, I listened to a lot of presenters, and I saw a lot of curricula for sale in the vendor hall. Just because a convention isn't put on by a religious organization, it doesn't mean that it is aimed solely at atheists, pagans, non-evangelical Christians, or people of the Jewish, Muslim, or Hindu faiths. There were presenters of different faiths, and there was a variety of religious curricula for sale. The difference was that the presentations weren't specifically about religious topics. This is also true of the grocery store, the zoo, the museum, and many other places that religious homeschoolers go to. Secular doesn't mean satanist; it simply means that a group doesn't espouse any particular belief or non-belief. The people within that group are free to believe whatever they want.
I think those are three most common things I hear when people are explaining why homeschooling conventions aren't for them. In case there are others, let me share a few observations with you:
There were babies everywhere! Babies in slings, babies in mei tai carriers, babies in arms, babies in strollers, babies breastfeeding, babies laughing, babies crying. There was a session about babies!
There were lots of dads present, but also many moms that came without partners (male or female). Not everyone brought their children. There was no one right way to do it.
I saw people of all abilities at the EXPO. People using canes, walkers, and wheelchairs. Deaf people. Claustrophobic people. Overwhelmed moms who needed a hand from a stranger nearby.
Community. The EXPO was all about community. If you didn't feel like you were part of the homeschooling community before the EXPO, you did by the time you left. I think everyone related to at least one other person in a way that resonated deeply, even if they just heard each other speak and never met.
Finally, my guys are kind of shy, and they were uncertain about being around so many children (and adults). In particular they don't usually like to sit next to "strangers." When they were finding their seats for the first story telling session Papa told him, "Everyone here is a homeschooler...they aren't strangers." That set the stage for a fantastic weekend.
Find out when your state homeschooling convention is being held, and GO!
Now, we've been trying to get to the state convention (actually one of two major conventions in our state) for years now. Something always worked against us; we'd plan our vacations and have the dates conflict (those who read the blog regularly know that we plan our vacations about a year in advance), and we were always working against special needs.
But this time I was ready. I reserved our hotel room in October. Papa arranged to have Friday off. I put it on the calendar and planned around the weekend for almost a year. As usual, life messed with my plans and we were unable to stay at the hotel, but we did make it to all three days of the EXPO.
The experience was incredible. For one, the entire EXPO is planned with the needs of children in mind. There was so much for them to do, and there were also welcome in sessions as long as they didn't cause too much disruption. There was also plenty for the parents to do, and most of the kid things were adult-friendly as well, so we could do things together.
I'll probably take some time later to elaborate on all we did and learned, however, it occurred to me that I have met and talked to many people who think that homeschooling conventions have nothing to offer them. Without experience, I couldn't really agree or disagree. But now that I have been to one, I can disagree, because truly, homeschooling conventions are for everyone!
So let's start with some of the things I've heard, and I'll offer my observations.
1) We unschool. We don't need a convention.
Okay, so you unschool. You are doing what works for your family and that's fantastic. Do you think that everyone at a homeschooling conference does school-in-a-box? Are you so set in your ways that you think you have nothing left to learn in life? I met plenty of unschoolers at the convention, and I myself fall somewhere on the unschooling continuum. There were sessions for unschoolers, and there were plenty of things for children and adults to do, regardless of their learning philosophy. Last time I checked, building with blocks, playing dress-up, taking apart electronics, making crafts, listening to stories and music, playing with large appliance boxes, and hanging out with friends are things that most children enjoy, regardless of where or how they are schooled. On the flip side, the adult sessions always had something that I could apply to my personal life, not just my life with children.
2) We're happy with our homeschooling the way it is.
See above post. Plus, no one was out to convert anyone to a particular style of home learning. There is no down side to exposing your children to the wide world of homeschooling. You can even close your mind and try not to learn anything while you are at the convention. I too, am very pleased with our way of living and learning, and still I came away with many ideas that have the potential to make it even better. For instance, I learned:
a) Papa is excited about our home learning and really wants to participate in decision-making. He had always left it up to me, in part because he didn't know what was out there. He too was happy with our home learning, but armed with more information he wants to take a more active role.
b) There are other people out there like me that really believe life is learning, and not in a radical, TCS/NCP, go-ahead-and-watch-TV-Land-all-day cliched sort of way. I've always felt that I was lost somewhere in the homeschooling community, because I'm not a radical unschooler, not a unit-studies person, not a school-at-home person, not a classical education person, and still not really an eclectic homeschooler. When I decided on holistic learning as our educational philosophy I was combining Enki, Waldorf, John Holt, and others, with all my years of seeking a holistic life for myself.
c) My children are ready for more freedom than I have been giving them. They took care of themselves admirably, and they enjoyed the responsibility.
There was more, of course.
3) We are religious homeschoolers. The state convention is a secular gathering.
I talked to a lot of people, I listened to a lot of presenters, and I saw a lot of curricula for sale in the vendor hall. Just because a convention isn't put on by a religious organization, it doesn't mean that it is aimed solely at atheists, pagans, non-evangelical Christians, or people of the Jewish, Muslim, or Hindu faiths. There were presenters of different faiths, and there was a variety of religious curricula for sale. The difference was that the presentations weren't specifically about religious topics. This is also true of the grocery store, the zoo, the museum, and many other places that religious homeschoolers go to. Secular doesn't mean satanist; it simply means that a group doesn't espouse any particular belief or non-belief. The people within that group are free to believe whatever they want.
I think those are three most common things I hear when people are explaining why homeschooling conventions aren't for them. In case there are others, let me share a few observations with you:
There were babies everywhere! Babies in slings, babies in mei tai carriers, babies in arms, babies in strollers, babies breastfeeding, babies laughing, babies crying. There was a session about babies!
There were lots of dads present, but also many moms that came without partners (male or female). Not everyone brought their children. There was no one right way to do it.
I saw people of all abilities at the EXPO. People using canes, walkers, and wheelchairs. Deaf people. Claustrophobic people. Overwhelmed moms who needed a hand from a stranger nearby.
Community. The EXPO was all about community. If you didn't feel like you were part of the homeschooling community before the EXPO, you did by the time you left. I think everyone related to at least one other person in a way that resonated deeply, even if they just heard each other speak and never met.
Finally, my guys are kind of shy, and they were uncertain about being around so many children (and adults). In particular they don't usually like to sit next to "strangers." When they were finding their seats for the first story telling session Papa told him, "Everyone here is a homeschooler...they aren't strangers." That set the stage for a fantastic weekend.
Find out when your state homeschooling convention is being held, and GO!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Home Sweet Chaos
When life is crazy and chaotic there is nothing more comforting than coming home to my own chaos. Indeed, I think it beats coming home to a spotless and completely organized home, because there is something I can do, a little piece of chaos I can control. I look around and see laundry that needs to be corralled and cleaned (yes, I can do that), a stack of fabric placed on the ironing board a couple of weeks ago that needs pressing (right now, that seems positively relaxing), and magazines and books waiting to be sorted and stacked (reminders that the love of reading has taken hold of my children). There are thrift store plates in a box waiting to be washed and put away (sheer inspiration in the 1970s charm). There is yarn in every room of the house. Yes, this is my home.
I'm glad it's a little messy, because hospitals are anything but warm and inviting I've spent close to 48 hours at the hospital in the last 9 days, and I'm not the patient. ICU is chaotic and loud. It's too cold. ICU doesn't have patients in their own pajamas, flowers, or teddy bears. Worry and fear permeate the unit, and even if you are feeling upbeat about your own loved one's progress you feel the sadness of the families that are saying goodbye. Plus, upbeat might not last more than a couple of hours before things go down hill and once again you live minute-to-minute.
Everyone is frazzled. A highly dysfunctional family that barely pulls itself together for major holidays will break under the stress of a medical crisis. Personalities clash. One person doesn't like the way the other one gushes and baby talks. Some family members are the glass-half-full types (indeed, some are so far into denial that they can barely come to visit), other are glass-is-nearly-empty types. Everyone moves past the breaking point, and accusations fly. Some people feel that others aren't doing enough. Some people feel that other people don't appreciate what they are doing. Some do whatever is asked to avoid disapproval.
I was at a homeschooling conference last weekend, and I went to a session about fearless homeschooling. Now, this session could have been titled Fearless Living, because that is what I took away from it. In fact, I went to the session Sunday afternoon, and Sunday evening is when we had our first extreme crisis with my mom. I was at the hospital all night long, without so much as a cat nap. I had plenty of time to think about flight or fight (which were rephrased Deny and Control). I was able to accept the situation with the knowledge that I could not control it. I was ok. Whatever happened would be ok. It was flow.
I tried to carry this with me through the week, and in terms of the medical situation I did well. When I took the night shift again Friday I wrote in my journal that I was calm and centered. Obviously that was early in the night. By 2 a.m. I was neither calm nor centered. My mom was having a great night (considering), but I was fried. We went back Saturday evening to visit, and that was great. But when they called me this morning to go sit the day shift (because my dad had stayed all night even though he wasn't supposed to) my brain was screaming NO! I went though, because I ignored what my brain and body were telling me and I moved into denial. I chose to continue what I knew was a bad situation.
Let's just say that I knew the moment I got there that I had made a bad choice, and I also knew that there was no way to undo it. I suffered through the next 6 hours. You know, it is hard to be a caregiver when you've reached the place where you are empty. I did my best. I left the room a lot, and called Papa, and cried. My contact lens came out, I cried so hard and so often. Papa was beside himself; this was one time where our choice to live as a one car family was very hard, because he couldn't come to me and share my burden.
(Let me just say here, that overall my mother was better today. Not totally out of the woods, but making progress. My issues today weren't about her. No, I had reached my breaking point and not only did I need to leave, I was agonizing over how I would explain to everyone else that I just can't keep this up.)
You see, my house may be chaotic at times, but within it there is a rhythm that sustains me. When a huge crisis comes we often find ourselves completely withdrawn from that rhythm (Who me, stay up for 36 hours straight twice in one week? The joke around here is that I don't even know what 6 a.m. looks like.).
So in the midst of the unknowing, I am once again fairly well centered. Inspired, even. I can hardly wait to clear the clutter and get back at sitting at the desk together drawing, snuggling and reading on the sofa, and working on creating my own little studio space (within the larger family room).
I'm glad it's a little messy, because hospitals are anything but warm and inviting I've spent close to 48 hours at the hospital in the last 9 days, and I'm not the patient. ICU is chaotic and loud. It's too cold. ICU doesn't have patients in their own pajamas, flowers, or teddy bears. Worry and fear permeate the unit, and even if you are feeling upbeat about your own loved one's progress you feel the sadness of the families that are saying goodbye. Plus, upbeat might not last more than a couple of hours before things go down hill and once again you live minute-to-minute.
Everyone is frazzled. A highly dysfunctional family that barely pulls itself together for major holidays will break under the stress of a medical crisis. Personalities clash. One person doesn't like the way the other one gushes and baby talks. Some family members are the glass-half-full types (indeed, some are so far into denial that they can barely come to visit), other are glass-is-nearly-empty types. Everyone moves past the breaking point, and accusations fly. Some people feel that others aren't doing enough. Some people feel that other people don't appreciate what they are doing. Some do whatever is asked to avoid disapproval.
I was at a homeschooling conference last weekend, and I went to a session about fearless homeschooling. Now, this session could have been titled Fearless Living, because that is what I took away from it. In fact, I went to the session Sunday afternoon, and Sunday evening is when we had our first extreme crisis with my mom. I was at the hospital all night long, without so much as a cat nap. I had plenty of time to think about flight or fight (which were rephrased Deny and Control). I was able to accept the situation with the knowledge that I could not control it. I was ok. Whatever happened would be ok. It was flow.
I tried to carry this with me through the week, and in terms of the medical situation I did well. When I took the night shift again Friday I wrote in my journal that I was calm and centered. Obviously that was early in the night. By 2 a.m. I was neither calm nor centered. My mom was having a great night (considering), but I was fried. We went back Saturday evening to visit, and that was great. But when they called me this morning to go sit the day shift (because my dad had stayed all night even though he wasn't supposed to) my brain was screaming NO! I went though, because I ignored what my brain and body were telling me and I moved into denial. I chose to continue what I knew was a bad situation.
Let's just say that I knew the moment I got there that I had made a bad choice, and I also knew that there was no way to undo it. I suffered through the next 6 hours. You know, it is hard to be a caregiver when you've reached the place where you are empty. I did my best. I left the room a lot, and called Papa, and cried. My contact lens came out, I cried so hard and so often. Papa was beside himself; this was one time where our choice to live as a one car family was very hard, because he couldn't come to me and share my burden.
(Let me just say here, that overall my mother was better today. Not totally out of the woods, but making progress. My issues today weren't about her. No, I had reached my breaking point and not only did I need to leave, I was agonizing over how I would explain to everyone else that I just can't keep this up.)
You see, my house may be chaotic at times, but within it there is a rhythm that sustains me. When a huge crisis comes we often find ourselves completely withdrawn from that rhythm (Who me, stay up for 36 hours straight twice in one week? The joke around here is that I don't even know what 6 a.m. looks like.).
So in the midst of the unknowing, I am once again fairly well centered. Inspired, even. I can hardly wait to clear the clutter and get back at sitting at the desk together drawing, snuggling and reading on the sofa, and working on creating my own little studio space (within the larger family room).
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Getting It All Out
So the suggestion was to keep writing, to put down the words even if I don't know where I am going with them. It may be very sound advice.
Then again, I was in the car this morning, with the stereo cranked way too loud and the words of the band Cracker filling my ears:
Get off this, get on with it
If you wanna change the world shut your mouth and start this minute
Now, certainly I believe that writers have changed the world. Yet, it seemed like a direct challenge...stop talking about it and start doing something. Not that I'm not doing anything. (Do you see how my brain goes around in circles?)
I've reconnected with old friends recently, and I read some of what people wrote to me many, many years ago, and I'm not that different than I was then. I need to own up to it, and I mean that in a really positive way. I am smart. I am sensitive. I am caring. I can make a difference. I have to stop thinking that I am just one person, alone, swimming against the tide. No, we are many. We may be small, but we are growing.
Think about it. 20 years ago I knew 2 vegetarians, and both were teenage girls. I couldn't find vegetarian menus, fries that hadn't been cooked in lard, or soups that didn't contain chicken broth. That changed. There are a lot of vegetarians. It applies to organics as well ~ do you remember when you couldn't find organic produce anywhere? Now it is big business (which is another problem in and of itself).
There may not be that many of us trying to change the world, but we are here. We will reduce, reuse, recycle, repurpose. We will cut back, we will consume less. We are on the road less traveled (or are we traveling less?).
So, in the midst of many personal crises, both large and small, I once again dedicate myself to changing the world. It's a huge task, I know, but some of us have to take it on.
What direction is the blog going? Environmental, local, non-consuming, Compacting, simplifying, living small, repurposing, community building.... But I am going to shut my mouth, at least for a short while. Look for more action, less talk.
Peace.
Then again, I was in the car this morning, with the stereo cranked way too loud and the words of the band Cracker filling my ears:
Get off this, get on with it
If you wanna change the world shut your mouth and start this minute
Now, certainly I believe that writers have changed the world. Yet, it seemed like a direct challenge...stop talking about it and start doing something. Not that I'm not doing anything. (Do you see how my brain goes around in circles?)
I've reconnected with old friends recently, and I read some of what people wrote to me many, many years ago, and I'm not that different than I was then. I need to own up to it, and I mean that in a really positive way. I am smart. I am sensitive. I am caring. I can make a difference. I have to stop thinking that I am just one person, alone, swimming against the tide. No, we are many. We may be small, but we are growing.
Think about it. 20 years ago I knew 2 vegetarians, and both were teenage girls. I couldn't find vegetarian menus, fries that hadn't been cooked in lard, or soups that didn't contain chicken broth. That changed. There are a lot of vegetarians. It applies to organics as well ~ do you remember when you couldn't find organic produce anywhere? Now it is big business (which is another problem in and of itself).
There may not be that many of us trying to change the world, but we are here. We will reduce, reuse, recycle, repurpose. We will cut back, we will consume less. We are on the road less traveled (or are we traveling less?).
So, in the midst of many personal crises, both large and small, I once again dedicate myself to changing the world. It's a huge task, I know, but some of us have to take it on.
What direction is the blog going? Environmental, local, non-consuming, Compacting, simplifying, living small, repurposing, community building.... But I am going to shut my mouth, at least for a short while. Look for more action, less talk.
Peace.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Time Flies...
...whether or not you're doing what you want to do.
I haven't been here in a while (did you notice?), and wow, I must say that I am blown away by my last two posts. They so clearly show exactly where I am right now and the things I struggle with. Sometimes when I am caught up in the day-to-day things I forget the bigger picture. At times the words I've written resound as if a much wiser me had inscribed tablets with all the very mundane me would need when the going gets rough.
So, I'm not here. Part of me wants to blog, and part of me realizes that for the most part the people who read my blog are people who know me in real life. And I must say, it can feel awkward when I'm talking to someone about something and she mentions that she read it on my blog. I get this "Oh yeah, I spill my guts on the internet" feeling, and I wonder how it effects connection at the local, human level.
But I love blogs. There are so many blogs out there that are inspire me. Craft blogs, sewing blogs, crochet and knitting blogs, homesteading blogs, cooking blogs, environmental blogs. I'd start naming names but then I'd run out of time and space. Here we are, all of us, writing and publishing ourselves on the web.
So I've been stuck. What do I want to write about? Are my thoughts an inspiration to anyone but myself? Maybe not, but maybe that doesn't matter. Should I tighten my focus? If so, where do I go with all of this? A handwork/crafts blog? A holistic home learning blog (oh wait, I have one of those, sorely neglected, of course)? A living lightly environmental blog? A fun and frugal blog? A cooking blog focusing on ethical eating with special dietary needs? Should I explore the realm of relationships and love? Share my personal journey?
I don't know. Honestly, I think it is because I don't know where I want my writing to take me. Blogging has brought back the writer that I thought had left many years ago. Writer. I used to claim the label boldly. I was a writer, and a poet, and a songwriter. I was an environmentalist, activist, a feminist, an intellectual.
When I got lost, all of the labels slipped away. It took every ounce of energy I had to simply be a person. And now, here I am, walking my path, and all of these other women I used to be keep popping out from behind trees and bushes, clamoring to merge in once more, to be part of me. And finally, finally the MAMA that I became, the MAMA that helped me heal and learn to live again, she is ready to accept that she is all of these women, that there is room for everyone. Indeed, there is room for everything that I want to be.
The tricky thing then, is figuring out exactly who that is.
I haven't been here in a while (did you notice?), and wow, I must say that I am blown away by my last two posts. They so clearly show exactly where I am right now and the things I struggle with. Sometimes when I am caught up in the day-to-day things I forget the bigger picture. At times the words I've written resound as if a much wiser me had inscribed tablets with all the very mundane me would need when the going gets rough.
So, I'm not here. Part of me wants to blog, and part of me realizes that for the most part the people who read my blog are people who know me in real life. And I must say, it can feel awkward when I'm talking to someone about something and she mentions that she read it on my blog. I get this "Oh yeah, I spill my guts on the internet" feeling, and I wonder how it effects connection at the local, human level.
But I love blogs. There are so many blogs out there that are inspire me. Craft blogs, sewing blogs, crochet and knitting blogs, homesteading blogs, cooking blogs, environmental blogs. I'd start naming names but then I'd run out of time and space. Here we are, all of us, writing and publishing ourselves on the web.
So I've been stuck. What do I want to write about? Are my thoughts an inspiration to anyone but myself? Maybe not, but maybe that doesn't matter. Should I tighten my focus? If so, where do I go with all of this? A handwork/crafts blog? A holistic home learning blog (oh wait, I have one of those, sorely neglected, of course)? A living lightly environmental blog? A fun and frugal blog? A cooking blog focusing on ethical eating with special dietary needs? Should I explore the realm of relationships and love? Share my personal journey?
I don't know. Honestly, I think it is because I don't know where I want my writing to take me. Blogging has brought back the writer that I thought had left many years ago. Writer. I used to claim the label boldly. I was a writer, and a poet, and a songwriter. I was an environmentalist, activist, a feminist, an intellectual.
When I got lost, all of the labels slipped away. It took every ounce of energy I had to simply be a person. And now, here I am, walking my path, and all of these other women I used to be keep popping out from behind trees and bushes, clamoring to merge in once more, to be part of me. And finally, finally the MAMA that I became, the MAMA that helped me heal and learn to live again, she is ready to accept that she is all of these women, that there is room for everyone. Indeed, there is room for everything that I want to be.
The tricky thing then, is figuring out exactly who that is.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
How to Homeschool Over the Summer, Without Losing the Summer Feeling
Many holistic learners will take an official break over the summer, suspending academic learning and focusing on the joys of water and warm weather. Perhaps in a perfect world we'd be able to join them, but we've strayed far from our goals and so we need to stick with a small amount of academic content. Plus, the way we planned our year, we're only midway through grade 2.
Most of all, however, is the fact that my boys are currently interested in the academic work they are doing. They instigated it, and having not spent 13 years in public schools they don't view summer as the time to lay around, listen to music, sip iced tea, and read novels they ordinarily wouldn't give the time of day to. No, that is all me.
Still, there has to be a balance. Summer feels different. We stay up later and sleep in. We're outdoors more in the mornings and evenings. It's warm in the house and we have less physical energy.
So here are some ideas for those who choose to pursue focused learning throughout the summer.
Movement: If you usually start the day with circle time, why not take up an early morning walk instead? It's still cool out (or at least cooler than it's going to be). You can chant rhymes while you walk, or just stop and watch snails trail across the sidewalk. Walking is rhythmic and relaxing.
Arts and crafts: We always step up our arts and crafts in the summer time. Painting is easier when we can do it outdoors and clean up at the hose. Hot summer afternoons are meant for exploring with colored pencils under the cool of a fan. Beeswax is softer and easier to use.
Nature: Summer is a great season for unschooling science. Let the power of observation supply the questions. Journal what you see. Use a great reference book or two to look up your findings; we love the big DK/Smithsonian visual guides with titles such as Animal, Human, Earth, and Universe.
Music: Find out if you have a summer concert series in your area. We find music both at our summer music festival and at the weekly farmer's market. We listen to more recorded music as well; what is summer without a soundtrack? Make music too; summer is all about singing around campfires and strumming guitars in the park.
As for immersing yourself in a culture? How about American culture! Celebrate summer with picnics, lemonade stands, swimming, BBQs, and porch swings. Listen to John Philip Sousa, march around, bang drums and crash cymbals. Go camping, go to the beach...heck, hang out in the cool of a movie theater. Make summer different!
Academics: If you choose to do academics over the summer, why not veer from the traditional Enki/Waldorf model? Choose a great children' novel, read from it daily, and go from there. Draw pictures, make up verses, study grammar. How about focusing on poetry all summer? We're brushing up on phonics in really short lessons, playing a lot of word games, and reading out loud daily. We're finishing up Little House on the Prairie and have chosen King Beetle Tamer for our next book, while Papa has been reading to us from Eldest.
We've pretty much unschooled math all year, but now the boys are asking for more concrete work. Horror of all horrors, we're going to buy a few workbooks. Holistic parents may hate workbooks, but a lot of kids really like them, and my guys love the Kumon workbooks best of all. We'll work with manipulatives and games too, and perhaps fit in a story cycle.
Don't spend a lot of time on academics. If you can, get it all done mid-morning and leave your afternoons fancy free. Leave a couple of days a week open from friends and adventures. Be willing to deviate from the schedule.
Think like an unschooler. If you can, put aside all of your goals and ideas and explore whatever your children come up with. You might think that they won't want to practice reading or brush up on place value, but in reality even these topics come up. Take their spark of interest and run with it.
Finally, if you can, try to let it all go for at least a month. Stick to a basic rhythm, especially if your children are young, but just go with the flow.
Most of all, however, is the fact that my boys are currently interested in the academic work they are doing. They instigated it, and having not spent 13 years in public schools they don't view summer as the time to lay around, listen to music, sip iced tea, and read novels they ordinarily wouldn't give the time of day to. No, that is all me.
Still, there has to be a balance. Summer feels different. We stay up later and sleep in. We're outdoors more in the mornings and evenings. It's warm in the house and we have less physical energy.
So here are some ideas for those who choose to pursue focused learning throughout the summer.
Movement: If you usually start the day with circle time, why not take up an early morning walk instead? It's still cool out (or at least cooler than it's going to be). You can chant rhymes while you walk, or just stop and watch snails trail across the sidewalk. Walking is rhythmic and relaxing.
Arts and crafts: We always step up our arts and crafts in the summer time. Painting is easier when we can do it outdoors and clean up at the hose. Hot summer afternoons are meant for exploring with colored pencils under the cool of a fan. Beeswax is softer and easier to use.
Nature: Summer is a great season for unschooling science. Let the power of observation supply the questions. Journal what you see. Use a great reference book or two to look up your findings; we love the big DK/Smithsonian visual guides with titles such as Animal, Human, Earth, and Universe.
Music: Find out if you have a summer concert series in your area. We find music both at our summer music festival and at the weekly farmer's market. We listen to more recorded music as well; what is summer without a soundtrack? Make music too; summer is all about singing around campfires and strumming guitars in the park.
As for immersing yourself in a culture? How about American culture! Celebrate summer with picnics, lemonade stands, swimming, BBQs, and porch swings. Listen to John Philip Sousa, march around, bang drums and crash cymbals. Go camping, go to the beach...heck, hang out in the cool of a movie theater. Make summer different!
Academics: If you choose to do academics over the summer, why not veer from the traditional Enki/Waldorf model? Choose a great children' novel, read from it daily, and go from there. Draw pictures, make up verses, study grammar. How about focusing on poetry all summer? We're brushing up on phonics in really short lessons, playing a lot of word games, and reading out loud daily. We're finishing up Little House on the Prairie and have chosen King Beetle Tamer for our next book, while Papa has been reading to us from Eldest.
We've pretty much unschooled math all year, but now the boys are asking for more concrete work. Horror of all horrors, we're going to buy a few workbooks. Holistic parents may hate workbooks, but a lot of kids really like them, and my guys love the Kumon workbooks best of all. We'll work with manipulatives and games too, and perhaps fit in a story cycle.
Don't spend a lot of time on academics. If you can, get it all done mid-morning and leave your afternoons fancy free. Leave a couple of days a week open from friends and adventures. Be willing to deviate from the schedule.
Think like an unschooler. If you can, put aside all of your goals and ideas and explore whatever your children come up with. You might think that they won't want to practice reading or brush up on place value, but in reality even these topics come up. Take their spark of interest and run with it.
Finally, if you can, try to let it all go for at least a month. Stick to a basic rhythm, especially if your children are young, but just go with the flow.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Antidote to Perfectionism...
...is living in the present.
Really.
If I look around me at all I need/want to do, and I put it off (procrastination), I simply move the problem into the future. What needs to be done still needs to be done. What I want to do may change, but it also remains undone.
If my goals and values are clear then I should be able to accomplish them now; or in the case of long term goals be making steady progress through current action). If I am not accomplishing the things that I say I want to do, then perhaps I need to decide if they are things I really want to do. If the answer is no then I should let them go, no matter what baggage is attached. If the answer is yes then I need to figure out why I am doing other things in the present, and whether the things I am doing in the present are things I really want to be doing.
For example, I say that I want to scrapbook. I have enjoyed scrapbooking in the past, and I like the scrapbooks that I made. I've invested some cash in scrapbooking tools and supplies (okay, it is not an investment; I spent past dollars on future projects). I'm still not scrapbooking in the present. I scrapbooked in the past, and I have what I need to scrapbook in the future. But I am waiting. What do I say I am waiting for? For time, and space, and printed out pictures.
For being a hobby that I am not currently involved in, scrapbooking takes up too much storage space in my home, and honestly is the source of too much guilt. When I look at it clearly, I'm not sure I want to scrapbook. I do like some of the things I have, but I've had them for a decade and haven't used them, so perhaps I like the things more than the actual scrapbooking. It is well known that for most people, scrapbooking is at least 50% shopping hobby.
Why haven't I gotten rid of my scrapbooking supplies? Because of guilt. I spent money on things that I am not using; to get rid of them proves that I wasted money. Now, the funny thing is that I know I spent the money when I shouldn't have; I just don't want to face it so honestly
Other mothers scrapbook their children's lives; I feel guilty for not having even finished my boys' baby books. What will they think when they leave home and I haven't done a full scrapbook for every year of their lives, plus vacations, sports, and holidays?
So I put it off until the future. I put it off because I believe that I can be perfect in the future; I can do all of the things that I am supposed to. I can use supplies and therefore not have wasted money. I can redeem my image as perfect mother in the eyes of my children.
Wait a minute.
I can't. I will never be perfect. I will still squander money, I will still make parenting mistakes. Worse yet, I will have been dishonest with myself, and that dishonestly will carry through to my children. They will believe that they can be perfect, and they will believe that I expect perfection from them.
No, the best thing I can do is live in the moment. I don't want to scrapbook. I do want to document my children's lives somehow, but not with patterned paper, stickers, and eyelets. I spent too much money on scrapbooking supplies in the past; I need to own up to it, forgive myself, and let it go. I started this process about 5 years ago, when I stopped buying any scrapbooking supplies.
Living in the present also works against perfectionism, because you can only be doing what you are doing now. You still have goals and values, but you are forced to act on them immediately rather than waiting for the perfect time, enough money, or whatever excuse you use to not do things.
Thus, if I am working to reduce my emissions, living in the present means that I live with those goals and values within me right now. I don't wait until I can afford a rain water capture system, or solar panels, or a house in the country with clean air and room for a big garden. Living in the present means I work with what I have now. Sure, hanging laundry takes time and only reduces my natural gas consumption by a very small amount; but it is something I can do now.
Now here is where it gets tricky. When I add up everything I could be doing right now, and expect myself to do it perfectly, I stop living in the present. I have to focus on the small picture; as soon as I think I have to be perfect I am living in the future again, overwhelmed by what might happen, afraid that my children will have very hard lives. There has to be room for error, or I stop enjoying now in my effort to create tomorrow.
I think this is one reason people decide that they can't reduce their own carbon emissions. The future looks so bleak that it is overwhelming. We can't imagine that the little changes make a difference; we're hanging on for big changes, whether personal (installing solar panels or wind turbines) of technological (there has to be something in the future that will take away the problem and our personal responsibility for it). We're not living in the present, we're waiting for something that may not happen. We're procrastinating, with the hopes that we will then find the perfect solution.
It is far easier to stop and say, Right now I am using more than my fair share of the earth's resources. What can I do right now to reduce my emissions?
Really.
If I look around me at all I need/want to do, and I put it off (procrastination), I simply move the problem into the future. What needs to be done still needs to be done. What I want to do may change, but it also remains undone.
If my goals and values are clear then I should be able to accomplish them now; or in the case of long term goals be making steady progress through current action). If I am not accomplishing the things that I say I want to do, then perhaps I need to decide if they are things I really want to do. If the answer is no then I should let them go, no matter what baggage is attached. If the answer is yes then I need to figure out why I am doing other things in the present, and whether the things I am doing in the present are things I really want to be doing.
For example, I say that I want to scrapbook. I have enjoyed scrapbooking in the past, and I like the scrapbooks that I made. I've invested some cash in scrapbooking tools and supplies (okay, it is not an investment; I spent past dollars on future projects). I'm still not scrapbooking in the present. I scrapbooked in the past, and I have what I need to scrapbook in the future. But I am waiting. What do I say I am waiting for? For time, and space, and printed out pictures.
For being a hobby that I am not currently involved in, scrapbooking takes up too much storage space in my home, and honestly is the source of too much guilt. When I look at it clearly, I'm not sure I want to scrapbook. I do like some of the things I have, but I've had them for a decade and haven't used them, so perhaps I like the things more than the actual scrapbooking. It is well known that for most people, scrapbooking is at least 50% shopping hobby.
Why haven't I gotten rid of my scrapbooking supplies? Because of guilt. I spent money on things that I am not using; to get rid of them proves that I wasted money. Now, the funny thing is that I know I spent the money when I shouldn't have; I just don't want to face it so honestly
Other mothers scrapbook their children's lives; I feel guilty for not having even finished my boys' baby books. What will they think when they leave home and I haven't done a full scrapbook for every year of their lives, plus vacations, sports, and holidays?
So I put it off until the future. I put it off because I believe that I can be perfect in the future; I can do all of the things that I am supposed to. I can use supplies and therefore not have wasted money. I can redeem my image as perfect mother in the eyes of my children.
Wait a minute.
I can't. I will never be perfect. I will still squander money, I will still make parenting mistakes. Worse yet, I will have been dishonest with myself, and that dishonestly will carry through to my children. They will believe that they can be perfect, and they will believe that I expect perfection from them.
No, the best thing I can do is live in the moment. I don't want to scrapbook. I do want to document my children's lives somehow, but not with patterned paper, stickers, and eyelets. I spent too much money on scrapbooking supplies in the past; I need to own up to it, forgive myself, and let it go. I started this process about 5 years ago, when I stopped buying any scrapbooking supplies.
Living in the present also works against perfectionism, because you can only be doing what you are doing now. You still have goals and values, but you are forced to act on them immediately rather than waiting for the perfect time, enough money, or whatever excuse you use to not do things.
Thus, if I am working to reduce my emissions, living in the present means that I live with those goals and values within me right now. I don't wait until I can afford a rain water capture system, or solar panels, or a house in the country with clean air and room for a big garden. Living in the present means I work with what I have now. Sure, hanging laundry takes time and only reduces my natural gas consumption by a very small amount; but it is something I can do now.
Now here is where it gets tricky. When I add up everything I could be doing right now, and expect myself to do it perfectly, I stop living in the present. I have to focus on the small picture; as soon as I think I have to be perfect I am living in the future again, overwhelmed by what might happen, afraid that my children will have very hard lives. There has to be room for error, or I stop enjoying now in my effort to create tomorrow.
I think this is one reason people decide that they can't reduce their own carbon emissions. The future looks so bleak that it is overwhelming. We can't imagine that the little changes make a difference; we're hanging on for big changes, whether personal (installing solar panels or wind turbines) of technological (there has to be something in the future that will take away the problem and our personal responsibility for it). We're not living in the present, we're waiting for something that may not happen. We're procrastinating, with the hopes that we will then find the perfect solution.
It is far easier to stop and say, Right now I am using more than my fair share of the earth's resources. What can I do right now to reduce my emissions?
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