I don't know where this rambling is going to go. I do know one of the coolest things I've witnessed in my short time homeschooling my kids is this: where one child learns, the others do too. Now that isn't a statement that encompasses all subjects to mastery. It simply can't be. I started homeschooling the Angel when the Boy was not yet 2 years old. What I've found is that where I sat with the Angel and the Princess and read storybook after storybook to them when they were small ones, with no direction or purpose to our reading, they retained a (un)healthy amount of information about those stories. With the Boy, he hears all sorts of information that the girls did not hear at the same age. His curiosity is piqued over a much more varied range of subjects.
Isn't this the story in all households with a number of kids? The younger children learn from the older children. I did not understand how vital this is. Sure, the annoying attachment to Dora the Explorer was passed down from oldest to middle to youngest. But how about the sing-song exercises of geography? Even more interesting is the acquisition of Latin by the 3 year old.
Wait, what? My 3 year old is learning Latin? When did this happen? This is a direct response to the repetition of Latin vocabulary words, phrases and prayers from the older girls' Prima Latina lessons. The inquisitive nature of a toddler/preschooler has taken me by surprise. Sometimes I wonder if I wasted so much of that with the older two by reading *Dora Saves the Stupids, or **The Perfect Wedding. Of course, things were different with the older two. We were different when they were this age.
So, as the Boy (who still at this point, refuses to sing the alphabet song, but can identify the sounds the letters make), grows and sits in on lessons while he waits for my and his sisters' attentions, I can't help but wonder how much he is learning passively, and what this means for him later in life. I do know that he is exposed to much more information, than if his sisters attended school outside the home. I didn't spend the time reading about the Renaissance or introducing the girls to Michelangelo when they were three, and I doubt that I would do it for the Boy if it weren't for the girls' curriculum.
Its such a simple concept, but its so interesting to watch it actually happen (in a positive manner).
*not a real book (I hope)
**unfortunately, a real Cinderella book that the girls were obsessed with for a while. ACK!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Isolation and self-pity
I don't know if its the fact that its summer, or that its because I'm a stay at home parent, or if its because we home school, or if its just because I'm a sucky person, but I am really feeling the isolation of my life right now. The kids sense it too, although we really try to take advantage of summer opportunities which allow them more outings than fall through spring. Its these opportunities that draw my attention to the realization that I do not belong and I do not fit in--anywhere.
I occasionally take advantage of the free lunch program that is found in the parks and school yards around the nation. So we find our shoes and walk across the street to the elementary school where the kids are fed brown tuna on gluey white bread and they are ecstatic because they are eating around other kids. Oh and they get chocolate milk. I have a love/hate relationship with this program. The food is generally atrocious, but its there and its a social opportunity. Children are forbidden to take food and will be chased down by summer lunch ladies if they mosey away with an apple half-eaten in their hand. The distributors of the food can't take the untouched items back, according to the federal regulations. So where my kids can only eat one apple between the three of them and would be satisfied with 1/3 of the food offered, but because they all want their own milk and entree, the rest of the food has to be thrown away. Even untouched it can't go home for later.
Enough about the food though--that's a problem to itself. Its the crowds of parents sitting together, the kids who all know one another and the ones who know my kids through various activities. Its parents that we've carpooled with. Its people who might be friendly enough to say hi, but scurry back to their own groups. I am grossly reminded that I am different. I am not welcome. Their children, who are great friends of mine in other settings, behave as though my kids harbor the plague. Its hurtful. I hate being the outcast, outsider.
Let's not assume that its only this one facet of social interaction, where the isolation is present. We've attended a church for well over 2 years now, becoming members a year ago. Its a big church and we appreciate the messages delivered every Sunday by pastors who appear to love God and His people. We appreciate the children's opportunities and try to take part in them as much as possible. But we don't really belong. I notice it when a conversation stops as we walk by (I know they aren't talking about me, I'm not known or note-worthy myself). Its in the unacknowledged "hi, how's it going?" Its the invisibility at child pickups and drop offs. Part of me wants to strike up a desperately uncomfortable conversation with a parent, any parent, just to make them feel as uncomfortable as I do, and another part of me wants to keep that pathetic, half-smile pasted on my face long enough to sign my initials and get the hell out of there. I usually go with the second option.
Here is the truth though. We wouldn't fit in anyway if we followed a conventional lifestyle. If we both worked, and the kids went to school and preschool, if we lived the American dream, if we looked the part of either happy consumer or happy hippy, we might fit in. But our normal isn't normal enough. Its just enough to keep us in a very, very narrow niche where we don't have enough in common with anyone else.
I occasionally take advantage of the free lunch program that is found in the parks and school yards around the nation. So we find our shoes and walk across the street to the elementary school where the kids are fed brown tuna on gluey white bread and they are ecstatic because they are eating around other kids. Oh and they get chocolate milk. I have a love/hate relationship with this program. The food is generally atrocious, but its there and its a social opportunity. Children are forbidden to take food and will be chased down by summer lunch ladies if they mosey away with an apple half-eaten in their hand. The distributors of the food can't take the untouched items back, according to the federal regulations. So where my kids can only eat one apple between the three of them and would be satisfied with 1/3 of the food offered, but because they all want their own milk and entree, the rest of the food has to be thrown away. Even untouched it can't go home for later.
Enough about the food though--that's a problem to itself. Its the crowds of parents sitting together, the kids who all know one another and the ones who know my kids through various activities. Its parents that we've carpooled with. Its people who might be friendly enough to say hi, but scurry back to their own groups. I am grossly reminded that I am different. I am not welcome. Their children, who are great friends of mine in other settings, behave as though my kids harbor the plague. Its hurtful. I hate being the outcast, outsider.
Let's not assume that its only this one facet of social interaction, where the isolation is present. We've attended a church for well over 2 years now, becoming members a year ago. Its a big church and we appreciate the messages delivered every Sunday by pastors who appear to love God and His people. We appreciate the children's opportunities and try to take part in them as much as possible. But we don't really belong. I notice it when a conversation stops as we walk by (I know they aren't talking about me, I'm not known or note-worthy myself). Its in the unacknowledged "hi, how's it going?" Its the invisibility at child pickups and drop offs. Part of me wants to strike up a desperately uncomfortable conversation with a parent, any parent, just to make them feel as uncomfortable as I do, and another part of me wants to keep that pathetic, half-smile pasted on my face long enough to sign my initials and get the hell out of there. I usually go with the second option.
Here is the truth though. We wouldn't fit in anyway if we followed a conventional lifestyle. If we both worked, and the kids went to school and preschool, if we lived the American dream, if we looked the part of either happy consumer or happy hippy, we might fit in. But our normal isn't normal enough. Its just enough to keep us in a very, very narrow niche where we don't have enough in common with anyone else.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Did I forget church?
So I posted the benign facebook status about how Sunday was perfect with its gardening, yard work, kids playing, too much sun, etc. Then I second guessed myself. You see, I have a lot of friends who share my Christian beliefs, and here I was posting that Sunday was perfect and omitted that we had gone to church. I worried that those facebook friends would notice my omission, because you see, these are the friends who post whole biblical passages as their statuses. They find something that excites them and they post it. They post about their fantastic Bible studies. I don't do any of that. Every one of my friends knows that I am a follower of Christ. I'm not ashamed of it, but just like my glasses--an absolutely necessary part of my life, I don't advertise that I use them. You can see the glasses on my face, and I hope that you can see that I believe in the salvation and redemption found in Christ.
But let's go a little further. You can find blog posts all over the net about how Sunday mornings are stressful. I feel better after having read a number of them, finally knowing that my family isn't the only family that oversleeps, crams cereal in their kids, yells at the excruciatingly slow, small people who can't find their dressy, white flip-flops and are looking for them in their underwear drawer (WHAT? Who puts flip-flops in their underwear drawer? Why would you even look there??). But until the anonymity of the internet and the ease of blogging, no one ever admitted that Sunday was difficult.
Admitting that Sunday mornings suck and that you end up yelling, possibly screeching, like an unholy, angry banshee mother with PMS because you know its rude to not just the Sunday School teachers, and the pastor, and the worship leaders and the little old ladies whose view you end up blocking because the only seats left are in the second row, but its RUDE TO GOD TO BE LATE TO CHURCH, ACK! was just not heard of. Obviously, you have a discipline problem when you are yelling at your kids to find their dress shoes on Sunday morning. And possibly that it true, but thanks to the internet I now know that my miserable, stress-filled time of herding old molasses into a minivan is not a unique problem. I am not the only mother on earth who wakes up on Sunday morning with a sense of dread because the next hour and a half is going to plainly suck and you'll be happy to get through it.
But let's go a little further. You can find blog posts all over the net about how Sunday mornings are stressful. I feel better after having read a number of them, finally knowing that my family isn't the only family that oversleeps, crams cereal in their kids, yells at the excruciatingly slow, small people who can't find their dressy, white flip-flops and are looking for them in their underwear drawer (WHAT? Who puts flip-flops in their underwear drawer? Why would you even look there??). But until the anonymity of the internet and the ease of blogging, no one ever admitted that Sunday was difficult.
Admitting that Sunday mornings suck and that you end up yelling, possibly screeching, like an unholy, angry banshee mother with PMS because you know its rude to not just the Sunday School teachers, and the pastor, and the worship leaders and the little old ladies whose view you end up blocking because the only seats left are in the second row, but its RUDE TO GOD TO BE LATE TO CHURCH, ACK! was just not heard of. Obviously, you have a discipline problem when you are yelling at your kids to find their dress shoes on Sunday morning. And possibly that it true, but thanks to the internet I now know that my miserable, stress-filled time of herding old molasses into a minivan is not a unique problem. I am not the only mother on earth who wakes up on Sunday morning with a sense of dread because the next hour and a half is going to plainly suck and you'll be happy to get through it.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Confessions of a sport parent
Its confession time, as the kids dance season has ended and the softball season is gearing up, the public school across the street is out for the summer and the weather is supposedly turning. And here are my confessions:
I dread softball. The Princess was put on a team where the other mothers and coach made a big deal out of her being homeschooled. So I contacted Parks and Rec and asked that she be moved to a different team. I just didn't have the energy to deal with people being asshats about my child not being in the same school as every other girl on the team. The new team works great for her, and the girls all get along well, but holy cow, the other parents are... how do I say this kindly? not very friendly. Why can't we get a team where the parents are all cool and the kids get along well? I don't want to discourage her, as right now she loves the game, but I dread sitting twice a week with the parents.
The Angel is on a fun team again this year. We lovingly call it the reject team as they lump all of the charter school/private school girls on this team. It works for us, as she gets to play with some really fun coaches, kids and parents. I'm jealous that the Man is getting to take the Angel's practices and I'm stuck with the Princess' practices PLUS herding the boy. Lucky Man. I admit that I'm jealous.
All of the kids finished out their dance season in a recital. I would have loved to have sat and watched them like the other parents. Unlike some of the other parents I have a real problem with turning my 3 year old loose in an unsecured building without supervision. I also don't expect my 6, or even my 8, year old to change costumes quickly unassisted. So again I paid money for a ticket that bought me access to the back room where I missed most of my kids' recital. I didn't even think about how this would go and didn't order the video of the whole thing either. I'm bummed and cranky. I feel like I've put a lot of time, money and energy into my little dancers and I missed getting to see them dance. I feel like other parents/guardians kind of suck for not taking care of their own kids, especially the one who took our brand new cheer shorts when I offered to loan them to her (as she had forgotten she needed them), and she disappeared after the recital with them.
I dread softball. The Princess was put on a team where the other mothers and coach made a big deal out of her being homeschooled. So I contacted Parks and Rec and asked that she be moved to a different team. I just didn't have the energy to deal with people being asshats about my child not being in the same school as every other girl on the team. The new team works great for her, and the girls all get along well, but holy cow, the other parents are... how do I say this kindly? not very friendly. Why can't we get a team where the parents are all cool and the kids get along well? I don't want to discourage her, as right now she loves the game, but I dread sitting twice a week with the parents.
The Angel is on a fun team again this year. We lovingly call it the reject team as they lump all of the charter school/private school girls on this team. It works for us, as she gets to play with some really fun coaches, kids and parents. I'm jealous that the Man is getting to take the Angel's practices and I'm stuck with the Princess' practices PLUS herding the boy. Lucky Man. I admit that I'm jealous.
All of the kids finished out their dance season in a recital. I would have loved to have sat and watched them like the other parents. Unlike some of the other parents I have a real problem with turning my 3 year old loose in an unsecured building without supervision. I also don't expect my 6, or even my 8, year old to change costumes quickly unassisted. So again I paid money for a ticket that bought me access to the back room where I missed most of my kids' recital. I didn't even think about how this would go and didn't order the video of the whole thing either. I'm bummed and cranky. I feel like I've put a lot of time, money and energy into my little dancers and I missed getting to see them dance. I feel like other parents/guardians kind of suck for not taking care of their own kids, especially the one who took our brand new cheer shorts when I offered to loan them to her (as she had forgotten she needed them), and she disappeared after the recital with them.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
School's Out!
...across the street and all over the country. Kids are celebrating their freedom from classrooms, and we hear their joyous shouts and excitement even over here, across the street. Teachers are smiling broadly and looking forward to finishing their contract time very soon so that they can get on with their much earned break. Parents everywhere are posting comments on facebook, twitter and message boards, speaking around softball fields, dance studios and other places about the dread of being with all of their children every single day of the week. Sympathy and commiseration abound everywhere... except in my world. Every now and then people who don't know that we homeschool, look at me, smile the tired smile and groaningly share about how awful it is to have to deal with the kids for 3 whole months. They just don't know what they are going to do alllllll summer long. Oh the misery!!
Its times like these that I really do feel odd and outcast. I feel a little sadness that I really can't relate to these feelings of dread and unhappiness. This is a foreign thing to me. I spend all day, every day with my kids.
And on that note, when the sounds of exuberance and joyous celebration filter through our open windows, my dear princess child looked at me and said, "I'm so glad that I'm not in school. I'd hate to stop learning for the whole summer." I savored the words.
As an adult I know that schoolchildren won't stop learning this summer break, but its such a joy to me to hear my child express that she likes learning. She wants to learn and progress no matter the season. Maybe something is right about our choices.
Its times like these that I really do feel odd and outcast. I feel a little sadness that I really can't relate to these feelings of dread and unhappiness. This is a foreign thing to me. I spend all day, every day with my kids.
And on that note, when the sounds of exuberance and joyous celebration filter through our open windows, my dear princess child looked at me and said, "I'm so glad that I'm not in school. I'd hate to stop learning for the whole summer." I savored the words.
As an adult I know that schoolchildren won't stop learning this summer break, but its such a joy to me to hear my child express that she likes learning. She wants to learn and progress no matter the season. Maybe something is right about our choices.
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