Tonight the teenagers at our church were having an activity and playing Pictionary. I watched as some of them couldn't figure out how in the world they were going to draw their word (e.g. "business" -- how in the heck do you get somebody to guess that?). Watching them I remembered playing the game at a Leadership Retreat the summer before my senior year of high school. I was given the word: "Wisconsin" and after creating a pathetic outline of the United States I suddenly realized that I didn't really know where Wisconsin was??? In the space of a few seconds I a) developed a strong dislike for the allusive state, b) started to sweat profusely, and c) kind of made a vague sweeping circle that caused my teammates to call out, "Montana" and "Wyoming." Future Leader material. Snap.
My kids already have a better idea of where Wisconsin is then I did as a 17-year old because of a very simple decorating decision -- we have a tattered cheap-o map taped to the wall under the counter where they eat breakfast every morning. Often when we are reading, or talking about a trip, or watching a movie the kids will go and reference the torn, food-splattered map. Having it immediately accessible is the key to its usefulness. It's not aesthetically appealing, but it looks better than a kid standing in front of a chalk board puzzling over where an entire state disappeared to -- because its whereabouts are not surfacing in his/her brain.
The kids have also have been working with a puzzle of the states.
This year we are going to make sure that our understanding of state locations is secure, as well as what the capitals and major cities are in each state. We will then move on to conquer the rest of the world.
Again with a birthday. Today The Dad turned... something (note: the skeleton made it into the decorating scheme because he's part of the family, which is why he got his own party hat, he's not there to represent old age). Sadly we didn't get to spend too much of the day with the birthday boy because he is taking some days off next week for our annual pilgrimage to Acadia National Park in Maine. The birthday was a part of the kiddos' day though as we incorporated some of the festivities-prep into "school."
Adjectives: words that describe nouns. This is a surprisingly difficult concept. "Likes to sing" is a lovely way to describe one's dad, but it's not an adjective, so sadly it didn't make the wall (apparently we're kind of fascist around here when it comes to parts of speech... wow).
Judd the Red Chicken came up with: "Good-tempered (most of the time)." It made me laugh... so then the kids started getting very silly and as usual, silly spiraled into scandalous. They argued that "Naked" is in fact an adjective and so wrote: "Naked (newd nude) (most of the time)." For the record, that's not true, but it certainly captures the children's ages, if not The Dad's.
The Dad is indeed: "Tall," as noted by his daughter... but the time and effort that went into this one also says that he's loved...
Getting to spend two hours in the DMV on his birthday (which is fortunate because I'm so glad I was born is exactly the phrase that most people think while at the DMV), combined with a hectic work schedule limited his opportunity for racking up the acts of service. It needs to be said though: he certainly hits his quota throughout the year.
This morning Friend A came by with a beautiful birthday cake -- a service and gift for The Dad, and incidentally one for me, as the resident cake baker (or rather, boxed-cake-mix stirrer). The kids watched it come through the door and marveled. Many times, as we anticipated the celebration, it was said, "That was so nice of her to make a homemade cake!" I pointed out that nobody asked her to do it, and she didn't ask if there was anything she could do... She just thought about it and did it. That is a valuable lesson to learn. If my students (and I, for that matter) took that lesson to heart today -- to look for ways to make people feel loved without waiting to be asked -- well, then I don't mind if we still need to work on adjectives.
Happy birthday, Daddy-o (you tall, good-tempered (most of the time) guy)!
Here's what is essential to have if you are going to home school for a year:
1. A teenager willing to do the dirty work (i.e. don a plastic garbage bag and rain boots for occupational protection and drop the Mentos into the Coke bottle... the upshot is that she looks like a superhero in this picture... appropriately so).
2. Kind friends with great families. Today the public school kids were out of school so we had ten million different play dates. Tonight we went to the home of one of The Girl's BFF's to join her family as they broke their fast for Yom Kippur (fun/kind/smart people, delicious and elegant food, and the sweetest dog in the whole world who immediately upon making eye-contact presents her belly... that willingness to be instantly trusting and vulnerable is a holy characteristic).
Unfortunately, we had to eat and dash because as I bit into my cheese blintz souffle I realized that I had locked The Sister out of the apartment... and as mentioned, we need her...
3. A child who reminds you of your commitment to embrace what is deep and meaningful. Walking home tonight I started nagging said small person for being ridiculously shy at the party. Said small person then replied very simply, "But I really am working hard on so many other things."
With these things: awesome teenager, solid friends (with access to great pets), and children who remind me of our goals and ideals... We might just be able to pull off this gig.
There are a lot of online options that support home schooling plans. I'd rather we spend our screen time watching YouTube clips of Lenny and the Squigtones, or the awesome video of the Jackson 5 with Carol Burnett. That is how The World Wide Web can enhance lives and expand awareness.
There is a program that I've decided to use to help subsidize with our Math lessons. It's called IXL. We have to pay for it, but what I appreciate is that, yes, it has lessons per grade, but it also has a section called "Standards Alignment." These are lessons that are aligned with each of the 50 states and the Common Core (cue melancholy, with a touch of sinister, music).
The format is basically just drill, drill, drill until they get enough answers correct to "master the skill." Being a Master gives them the right to click on a star and a little picture of an animal or something materializes (!!!). I'm not saying that it's fun or creative. I just think that it's a practical, if small, part of the puzzle.
First of all, I want to thank those of you who have been reading this blog and sending me lovely emails and/or saying encouraging things when we meet. Today while talking to Friend A our conversation went to the goofiness of blogs and I suddenly felt weepy. True, we have all been fighting colds and and not getting enough sleep because of the cacophony of coughs (excellent alliteration execution), but mostly I think it's because I have found this whole blogging business to be surprisingly more.
It's more work than I thought -- chucking something onto this screen at the end of a night when I'm exhausted; it's more personal than I thought -- how to express an idea without some bloodletting?; it's more embarrassing than I thought -- seeing mistakes -- either mechanically or substantively days after the fact... yipes...; it's more humbling than I thought -- I talked to somebody who has a "following" of tens of thousands a day... ummmm, yeah...I don't have that. I didn't set out to have that (of course I say that -- it's like when that kid broke up with you in 7th grade and you were all: well, I didn't want to be going out anyway...). I truly do see this as a journal for our family, a way to stay connected to a few friends, and maybe a way to share ideas with others who question what and how this generation of moppets can be learning...
And yet, in the spirit of full discloser, as stupid as it sounds (I've been blogging for a solid three weeks) there was a part of me that heard that (tens of thousands a day?!?), and thought: wow, I'm pathetic... I'm doing something chumpy and I'm not even a "successful" chump...
However, three people came through for me. Friend A, my high school English teacher, and Mr. Rogers.
Friend A, seeing me crumble, said simply: "Don't stop."
Ms. G's card that she gave me on graduation night said to remember that more important than a best-selling novel will be the words that I write to my family and friends.
Mr. Rogers spoke to me through a video that I really should watch every morning before I open my mouth for the day...
Today, after a hard day of blowing my chapped nose and destroying any confidence my kid might have had in his/her math skills (I'm pretty sure that I won the Biggest Biotch in the Building competition -- and we live in an enormous building -- eat that tens-of-thousands-a-day...), I knew that my family needed some healing. And so I turned to Fred Rogers.
If you haven't watched Mister Rogers & Me you need to get on it. On the cover it says that it's "one man's story," referring to the director, Benjamin Wagner's meeting and subsequent exploration of Mr. Rogers and his ideals. That's been done in some books. What the movie does is something cool -- it demonstrates how Wagner's talent (and the talent of his brother) -- talents that could be seen as incongruent with Rogers's message (using short clips and brief encounters to get across the message of slowing it down and being present) -- have a place. Each of us have talents that have a place.
In both writing and literature analysis classes we talk about how brilliant it is when the craft reflects the content. So here is a movie that talks about a man, a teacher, who says: you are important and I like you just the way you are. And then the movie itself shows not how the director started wearing cardigans and speaking v-e-r-y slowly, but how he used what he had to offer and built something good. What he built is a depository for all these profound Mr. Rogers nuggets that a worn out and weepy stay-at-home home-schooling mom can watch in just over an hour, and ultimately feel like tomorrow is going to be a better brand new day. And while there are things that I can/should improve, what I fundamentally have to offer is fundamentally good.
Just as important, I was reminded that my kids are valuable just the way they are. Even if they don't know their place values. Actually, because right now they don't give a rip about flipping place values.
Apparently Mr. Rogers wanted to share with people the importance of finding and appreciating the deep and the simple in a world that is increasingly shallow and complex. I've committed to help with his mission. The next time somebody asks me what our "curriculum" is, I am going to say: "We are learning how to contribute something deep and simple in a world that is shallow and complex." When pushed for specifics, I will say that we are starting with gratitude. If I am grateful that my spawn can see the numbers I'm writing, hear the questions I'm repeatedly asking, and smile at me even if they are frustrated, how much better are the lessons going to go?
And so, if you're reading this: thank you for doing so. Thank you for supporting me -- with the scheme, with the blog, with trying to be a better human. It's a good feeling to know you're out there.
