Give us this day

I've long struggled with how to introduce Jesus to my children in ways that would not seem manipulative. As a teenager, I began to feel manipulated by how Jesus was presented to me. I've never been one to feel that going to church was absolutely necessary for salvation or favor in God's eyes. Staying away from church for as long as I have has actually helped me to think more clearly about God and what that concept means to me.

I've wondered, though, how exactly to convey the depth of my faith to a child who has not yet had the depth of experience that I've had.

A few weeks ago, the older kids came across a set of rosary beads. They both thought it was a really cool necklace. I told them they were rosary beads. Naturally, the next question was "What are rosary beads?"

I explained that they were special beads that people use to say prayers and think about Jesus -- very simplistic, I know. So from there, I introduced them to The Lord's Prayer. Big Brother repeated the lines after me. I stopped every few lines to talk about words such as trespass and temptation.

Give us this day our daily bread, I told them, means that we are asking God to give us what we need.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, I explained, means that Jesus forgives us our sins and, in return, expects us to forgive others.

A trespass is another word for sin, I told him.

What's sin? he asked.

It's when you do something that you know is wrong, I said.

And as if on cue, he reaches out and grabs a ball from his sister's hand.

That was the wrong thing to do, I told him. And he gave it back to her.

Next we discussed temptation. And as I'm explaining what it means to be tempted, he begins to sneak his hand toward the ball in Girlface's hands while eying me.

You're tempted to take that ball even though you know it's wrong, aren't you? I asked.

He admitted that he was.

So, without really trying and without feeling like I manipulated my children, I conveyed the three of the most important things that I pray to God for: give me what I need spiritually and physically, forgive me and help me behave.

We've also been reading a daily devotional book during what Big Brother has come to call "blanket time." Basically, it's our morning devotional time. We read our devotion, talk about it and do a prayer. Big Brother is pretty good about repeating the prayers after me, but one morning he said, "Wait, I want to do the prayer." And he started, "Dear God, I want to talk to you."

And I was stunned and humbled.

I've been telling him that prayer is just a conversation with God and that he can talk to Him whenever he feels scared or unsure of what to do next. I didn't think it actually would sink in. I mean, why would I think that it would sink in? This is the kid who still STILL leaves the door open when he goes inside or outside.

Next up? The rules. I found a children's book about the Ten Commandments at my favorite thrift shop. I began reading it to Big Brother and Girlface. I figured that I should start with love, forgiveness and conversation with God before moving on to the rules.

Free U: Next stop is Vietnam

Armed with a calendar from church, a library card and an Internet connection, I've made a start on crafting unit studies for Big Brother and Girlface. Really, those are the only inputs. It amazes me that at this stage the resources available are more than enough to spark their interest.

Last week, we did Madagascar, which was a fairly easy start. The recipe on the calendar was easy to make (though not easy to get at least two of my kids to eat) and there was no shortage of entertaining videos about lemurs. There may even be a trip to the lemur center in Durham sometime in the future.

This week's country? Vietnam. The recipe on our calendar was quite complicated. I can't exactly make spring rolls from scratch anymore. The Baby practically pins me against the counter waving a plate at me anytime I go near the stove. 

Of course, the first thing that comes to mind about Vietnam is the war. And now I have a war protest song running through my head. You remember it right?

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

 

I can't necessarily teach that one to the children, now can I? 

 

So I decided to do what I do best. The minimum. I checked out two books from the library, read them to the kids and waited for something to spark their interest. It fascinated Big Brother that the people in our book didn't own a refrigerator and that they ate with chopsticks. We also found a recipe for soda chan in one of the books. We actually have all the ingredients for it. It's a lime soda made from sugar, sparkling water and lime juice poured over crushed ice. Sounds like a winner. For  dinner tonight, I made a nice tofu dish with rice that was dubbed a Vietnamese recipe on allrecipes.com and let the kids use chopsticks. 

 

Big Brother was the only one who was amenable to instruction on chop stick technique. Girlface is just impossible to direct these days and The Baby was intent on stabbing something or someone. There was a lot of whining, which was unfortunate since I had reached my whine limit by noon today.

 

Next week's country is El Salvador. The recipe is easy, the country is in this hemisphere and the back story on the calendar revolves around clean drinking water. I think I can make something out of that.

Free U: Just let it happen

For a few weeks, I'd been taking a more structured approach with the kids in anticipation of formally starting homeschool next fall with Big Brother. I'd instituted two structured times a day. One in the morning, which Big Brother deemed blanket time, centered around some music and movement, a kids devotion book and any other book they brought to me. A typical blanket time usually lasted as long as the kids were interested. Table time occurred after I put The Baby down for his nap and usually lasted about a half hour. The kids would play with some sort of manipulative or work on handwriting and drawing.  It seemed to work well when it was cold and rainy or just plain cold. It kept the kids from tearing up the house and it gave us a rhythm to the day.

 Lately, this has not been working so well. Big Brother won't sit still for blanket time any more. It's devolved into endless begging to play "Red Light, Green Light." Meanwhile, The Baby is running laps around the room, tearing through our spread-out blanket, and the dog is trying to sit in my lap, as she does every time I read to the kids. What can I say, the dog likes story time. And lately, I've been so exhausted by lunchtime that I corral all the kids upstairs for a nap and forego table time all together. Then I collapse on my own bed for a nap.

The best thing to come out of those weeks was developing the habit of after-breakfast chores. The Baby, it turns out, is an excellent dishwasher emptier. Girlface is good at putting away the silverware, in the proper slots, too. Big Brother is my compost runner. He takes the veggie scraps out to the compost bin.

I also set out to start unit studies. We checked out a bunch of books about butterflies and caterpillars for our first attempt at this. No day seemed right to start this, however. One kid or another was in a bad mood or sick. I just didn't have the energy to carry through on reading the books that the kids weren't too interested in or crafts that I would just end up doing myself or trips the museum butterfly pavilion that just were not a good fit for that particular week.

By now, I'm feeling like a pretty crappy homeschool mom-in-training. One of the things I like best about homeschooling, though, is the ability to change tactics when you see that something is clearly not working. Since I know my kids best, I can do what works best for them on any given day. And they let me know what works best for them by rebelling against the order of the day.  So I backed off and just decided to let the days unfold again.

This week, we went to the museum and saw the daily butterfly release. The kids got to hold butterflies and one landed on Big Brother's face. He is now terrified of butterflies. Girlface kept crying on the way home that she wanted a butterfly. Apparently, she thought the butterfly would come home with her. The kids even got to see a butterfly with it's proboscis (it's tongue) out eating an orange rind. That afternoon, I hustled the kids up for quiet time as usual. Big Brother wanted me to read one of our library books on butterflies. It was a fairly long book and he wanted me to read all the words. Since he's reading now, I can't get away with skipping words or pages anymore. I couldn't believe this was the same kid who wouldn't sit still for blanket time.

This week, we're also talking about Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday and Lent. We went to the pancake dinner at church Tuesday. On Sunday, we received a Lenten calendar and rice bowl to fill with coins for Catholic Relief Services. The calendar provides a different story for each week of Lent about a person/family from a country that CRS is helping, plus there is a recipe for each week. Each day, there is information about the country. Some days there are questions such as "How many faucets do you have in your home?" and it instructs you to put 24 cents the rice bowl in for each faucet you have. I basically have six weeks of unit studies to do with the kids that cover geography, culture, charity, cooking and math (money, counting) among other things.

I've been pondering how to introduce the whole concept to Big Brother and Girlface. Blanket time or any kind of formal sit down lesson is out of the question. So I just hung the calendar in the kitchen, put the rice bowl on top of the microwave and waited.

Around 4:30 p.m. today, Big Brother strolled into the kitchen, looked at the calendar and started asking questions. I got down the rice bowl and explained that we would put money in it to help Catholic Relief Services. He darted off to get his little safe full of birthday money and coins that he's collected over the years.

We got the safe open, he counted out a few coins and put them in the bowl. He continued taking coins out and I started twitching a bit because it just seemed like the wrong time to dump coins and bills all over the table. Supper was simmering on the stove, after all. But I decided to relax and go with it. He began counting out his bills. Then he wanted to start counting the coins. So I directed him to pick out and stack up all the quarters. When he was done with that, I told him to make piles of four quarters each. I explained that four quarters make up one dollar, so I had him count all the piles. We came up with $7 in quarters and $16 in bills.

I could not have planned that. I could not have directed that. He would have squirmed so much his little butt would have caught on fire.

Sometimes I try too hard. Today, I just had to let it happen. Whatever it happens to be.

Free U: The Identical Identifier

It's hard to shake the feeling that my son isn't learning what he's supposed to. Whatever that means. Every once in a while, I get nervous that he's reluctant to write letters or draw or that he knows all his letter sounds but won't put them together to sound out a word. It's hard, he tells me about reading and writing. I fear that he'll be behind his peers, that he won't read until he's much older, that he'll struggle to write and read, that he won't learn math easily or at all. And then I remember that life and learning are not a race and that learning should not be measured and inspected.

Learning just happens despite my efforts or lack thereof.

Lately, my 4 year old son randomly uses a word in conversation or mutters it under his breath. Then he asks what it means. Who says you have to know how to read to learn vocabulary words? I guarantee you that this kid is learning quite a bit of vocabulary words on the installment plan. (Vocabulary is such a school word, don't you think?)

The word of the week for him has been "identical."

One evening last week, my husband and I sat in the yard while the kids played. Big Brother wanted to know the meaning of identical. We told him. He brought out two trikes that are nearly identical, except for the color scheme.

"These bikes are identical," he claimed.

Jim asked him to find the similarities between the two bikes. He pointed out that the handlebars were both red. Big Brother then pointed out that the pedals were the same color: yellow. We talked about how some parts of the bike were identical and others were not.

Jim then spotted a yellow golf ball. We have probably half a dozen of these around the yard. My husband has turned the yard into a par 3. He told Big Brother to find a ball in the yard that was identical to the yellow golf ball.

And he was off for the physical education portion of that night's "lesson." He picked up a stick and began scouring the yard. Jim called it his identical identifier. (We're finding the key to keeping him engaged is to keep him physically moving. This is why we suspect a classroom would be a disaster for him. Who says you need to sit still to learn anything?)

Our dinner conversations have also turned to the identical properties of various items on and around the table. Cups are identical in color, but not size. Other cups are identical in size and shape, but not color. The dining room chairs are identical, but not the same color wood as the train table. I always hesitate to turn every conversation into something "educational." But the difference here, I think, is that he initiated the discussions. We did not craft lessons for the purpose of teaching him what identical means. He figured it out all on his own.

I know I say it often, but it bears repeating: This is spontaneous learning at its best. And I hesitate to even call it learning. He was just having fun in the backyard with his family, having a scavenger hunt for a yellow golf ball identical to the one his father gave him. He merely noticed with delight that he and his father had the same color cup and that he and his sister had the same size cup.

I envision all kinds of worksheets and mindless matching games being used to teach kids what identical means. In fact, I think that I can recall matching questions on standardized tests. This is not to say that these activities can't be fun. I did love a good game of Memory when I was a kid. Still do. It's just a lot less fun when you're being forced to play.

The view from the patio

coffee and a view

My two biggest fears are that I'll be perceived as a narcissist for seeming to record every fart and belly scratch on a blog and that my children's years with us will slip through my hands undocumented. I seem to be at war with myself. You don't want to be in my head. It's a jungle up there.

I keep this blog as a record of their childhood, my perceptions and feelings about it, our daily lives and what we value. Because in the end, I want our children to know that our family is a place where they are always accepted and loved, as trite as that sounds (another fear of mine), and thereby a soft place to land when the world is rough. I want them to learn what we value and confidently take that into the world with them. We feel that only by being their sole home base in the early years will they learn to be confident in the world. Confidence starts at home. Not in a classroom. Not in a group setting. Not in being properly socialized. In fact, I saw my son's confidence erode when he was in a group setting. He's become so much more confident over the past few months, even in social situations.

One of my other challenges is not to be reactive in how I raise my children. I have lots of opinions about the status quo. I don't believe, for instance, that preschool is necessary. Or even traditional schooling institutions, for that matter. I want to be sure however, that I'm doing what's right for them based on, well, them and not what I don't like in the predominant system of education in this country. I don't want blinders on, but I do. I need to shut the world out to focus on them and what they need. But I also need to take the blinders off to ensure that I see what in this world will benefit them best. I am at war with myself, again. The jungle is quite thick up there.

One of the reasons I write is because I think. A lot. It's actually one of the things I can do that the kids can't touch, disturb (except on those days when I can't really hear myself think), lose, flush down the toilet or otherwise destroy. They can steal my breakfast, but they can't take my mind.

the putting green

I'm not even sure why I chose to start writing this morning. Maybe it's because I'm alone with my laptop and my thoughts on a beautiful patio that my husband built over the weekend. The view is stunning from here. My husband's putting green (yes, he built himself a putting green) and flowers and herbs and my vegetable garden. All my husband's vision. All of it embodies what we value. Hard work, vision, slow and steady progress, doing for ourselves. The restructuring of the side yard was several years in the making. Click here for more photos.

Instead of hiring someone or renting a stump grinder to remove an enormous stump in the way of the new patio, my husband chopped away at it with an axe for a whole year.

Instead of bringing in extra dirt to fill in the raised beds for the vegetable garden, we shoveled in the rich dirt from the previous garden.

Instead of bringing in extra dirt to fill up the holes between the beds, we used the dirt removed from the patio area.

In fact, instead of hiring someone to do it for us, he did it himself and it took over a year to clear and level the area. He did it after a full day's work and on weekends and while doing all that being a father and husband entails.

And, of course, as I wrote those last few lines, I worried that you would think I'm bragging. The jungle is extra thick today. I don't want to brag. I just want to tell you how wonderful my husband is and how much I appreciate the way he thinks. He's the kind of man I want our children to be like.

Free U: Physical Math

It's dinnertime on Sunday night. Lovely evening on the screen porch. Until ... Girlface shows Daddy her food. Daddy says stop. She does it again and smiles.

Time out.

One person down.

Big Brother takes inventory.

Hey. There's four now, he says.

That's right. Five minus one equals four, I say. He's been asking about the word equal a lot lately. I figured now would be a good time to start using the word in context.

Daddy gets up.

So, four minus one equals? I ask.

Three, he says.

Daddy and Girlface return. Three plus two equals?

Five, he says.

Then he runs giggling from the table on the screen porch into the backyard. Normally, this would be a major infraction. But it was Sunday night and we were eating outside and he was engaged in a physical math activity. I thought it was pretty cool, actually.

When he came back, he said, four plus one equals five.

And that concludes today's lesson on addition and subtraction. 

I really can't imagine anything more boring than looking at numbers on a piece of paper and puzzling out the answers to addition and subtraction problems. In fact, thinking about it makes my head hurt. To this day, I couldn't tell you what algebra was all about. I probably use the principles in my life every day without knowing it. (If someone has an illustration of this, I'd love to hear it, because, as I said, I wouldn't know what real-life algebra application looks like.)

My son is a very physical little boy who is in a very literal phase. Although he recognizes most numbers and can count, he also needs to see what numbers look like in real life. And it helps if he can physically add and subtract himself from the mix.

Free U: Numbers

A stack of blue sticky notes and a chart with the numbers from 1 to 100 provided a 20-minute, unscripted, Big Brother-led number lesson on a napless Friday afternoon.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the two of them that afternoon. I was certain, though, that I wanted two exhausted kids by 8 p.m. instead of two wired monkeys hounding us from the top of the stairs until 10 p.m. So they wound up at the kitchen table with crayons, sticky notes, paper and markers while I prepped dinner. And, of course, they were begging to eat the frozen peas I was tossing in the casserole. (My kids are weird like that. They love to eat frozen veggies.)

It all started with the number four. Because, you see, Big Brother is four years old and he is the center of the universe. He counted out four frozen peas. Then he asked me to write the number four on a sticky note. Then he ran to get the number chart I had printed out months ago.

My sister told me about this handy little chart. It's just 10 rows of numbers from 1 to 100. For a time, it was written on the chalkboard wall. She told me to just put the hundred number board where he could access and study it anytime he wanted. 

I had to resist the urge to lead the lesson. I didn't always succeed. When I tried to get him to start counting from number 1, Big Brother quickly lost interest and began fidgeting. When I backed off, he started pointing to numbers, asking what they were and telling me to write them on the sticky notes. He called it his number map. I began sticking them along the edge of our round kitchen table. In order, of course. (I had to do something, but I didn't mention that they were in numerical order.)  He asked how old certain family members were. "What number is PopPop?" he'd ask. I showed him the ages of everyone in the family and wrote those on sticky notes with the corresponding name.

I decided to do a little matching game with him. I asked him to match the numbers on the sticky note with their matches on the number board. He found them quickly and correctly every time.

Then I explained how to name all the numbers. For instance, we talked about the 70 row and how every time you see a 7 before another number, you say 70 and then the number after the 7. I pointed to 71. He said 71. We went down the row this way. He got every one of them correct without hesitation. We did the 40 and 90 row, by no means sequentially as the lesson may have been in school.

This went surprisingly well for an indoor afternoon with no naps. If I had to plan an introduction to numbers lesson, I'm pretty sure this English major would have broken out in hives. He may not want to talk about numbers again for a few days, weeks or months. And that's okay (partly because anything math related does make me sweat). One of my core beliefs about learning is this: The teacher appears when the student is ready. And the teacher isn't always a person with credentials or a plan; it can be any situation or experience such as a piece of  paper with numbers written on it and a parent willing to just sit and answer whatever questions come up.

Free U: Dissolve

We've been having lunch on the back porch quite a bit lately. It's been that nice. The kids just don't want to come inside. You'd think my house would be cleaner; but it's not.

Mealtime at our house is a full sensory experience. My kids don't just eat their food; actually, they rarely eat their food. Instead they feel it, taste it, chew it, spit it out, feel that stuff, smell it, smear it, dip it, mix it and smash it.



This morning, Big Brother began dipping his french fries in ketchup and then in his water.

He asked, "What's dissolve?"

"Well, that's when a substance melts or disappears in the water."

He looked at the bits of ketchup in his cup, stirred it up a bit and said, "It's not dissolving."

I told him that some things dissolve quicker than other things and other things don't dissolve at all in water. He started rattling off items from the kitchen such as salt, butter and sugar. He wanted to dissolve more things in water. I failed to convince him that it was not a good time since The Baby was still awake.

So I brought out some nutmeg, salt, sugar, olive oil in a Misto, butter, corn starch, oatmeal (this one was his idea) and a bunch of clear plastic containers. He kept running into the house to refill his cup with water to test the collection of items I'd brought out. I even brought out some warmer water to better dissolve the sugar and salt.

We talked about how oil and water don't mix and how salt and sugar dissolve better in warm water than cold. He noticed that the corn starch dissolved and turned the water white.

Sliding backward

Meanwhile, Girlface was sliding down the slide backward and The Baby was sitting in the yard very methodically putting leaves into a container--both conducting experiments of their own.

Later this afternoon, Big Brother asked to do water experiments again. The lesson expanded as we talked about why some of the items float on top of the water and others sink. I told him that items sink when they are heavier than the water and float if they are lighter than the water. Each time he added something new from the spice basket I brought out, we watched what it did and I asked if it was lighter or heavier than the water. We also observed how liquids such as corn syrup, molasses and food dye behave in water. (Like a tornado, according to Big Brother, who observed the swirly patterns each substance made in the water. I explained diffusion to him.)

He had a blast and the activity was driven by his interest. I couldn't have planned it any better. But I still did an Internet search to gather more ideas on water experiments. My kids just can't get enough of water play and it's good to have some ideas. (You'd think my kids would be cleaner for all their interest in water, but they just aren't.)

Of course, our first water experiment on the screen porch ended when Girlface got involved and a bowl full of water, oatmeal and God knows what else spilled all over the deck and their half-eaten lunches. Ah, well.

Next lesson? How to be a janitor.

Free U: What's scaly, mom?

Yesterday morning, Girlface wanted the animals from her Little People Zoo. I got them down for her, opened the case and tried to return to emptying the dishwasher. She went into a full body hyperwhine and repeated the same incoherent phrase over and over. My head threatened to explode. Then I realized what she was saying.

"Have to play with me."

Yes, baby. Yes, of course, I do. (Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.)

So we played. And the dishes waited.

She matched the animals with the letters and pictures on the mat. She named several of the animals. And the ones she didn't know she called "Go outside." That's her go-to answer to every question lately. She's weird.

Then I began sorting the animals into groups and explained each group to Girlface. All the birds. All the animals with fur. All the animals that go in the water. All the animals with scaly or leathery skin.

Big Brother was in the other room watching TV. I told him TV time was over. He quietly turned the TV off. (I'm surprised he actually did this without squawking.)

He joined us and looked with interest on my little anal-retentively arranged menagerie. I explained what each pile was. He moved the penguin from the bird category to the water animal category. I began sorting them into subgroups. All the animals that live in Africa or Asia or South America. Big Brother has a puzzle of a world map with animals on it from every continent. He's learned the names of the continents and sometimes remembers the animals associated with each continent.

Then he asked "What's scaly, mom?" as he fingered the group which included an an alligator and an iguana, among other animals. Girlface perked up and was interested, too.

Well, let's see. How to explain this?

I whipped off my sock and let them feel my dry, hard, cracked heels. (It's been a long winter.)

"That's scaly," I said. "Want to touch it?"

They did. They thought it was hilarious. And weird.

So ... I saved $25 by not getting a pedicure and my kids spontaneously learned what scaly means.  They probably also picked up on sorting methods, animal names and where certain animals come from.

That's enough homeschool for one day, but the dishes can still wait.

Of guns and little boys

Moms of boys will tell you that no matter how much you shield the young lad, guns always become an issue. It's almost as if gun play is written into their DNA as the self-defense and rage channeling mechanism of choice.

We don't watch a lot of television here, so he's not getting it from there. The only channel they are allowed to watch is PBS. Actually, it's the only channel they can watch; we don't have cable. When he first wielded his finger as a gun, the only group play he was involved in was our church's Parents Morning Out program. It's hard to imagine that he learned it there, but it takes only one kid and one isolated instance to activate this urge, it seems.

Or no context or incident at all, as my mother found. My two brothers used to construct guns out of Construx and wooden blocks. (My sister and I used to make furniture for our baby dolls from these toys.) And you'd be hard pressed to find a more anti-gun, anti-television crusader than my own mother. The day we all took the photo at the right was the first time my brothers ever had their hands on a "real gun." My dad says he thought they were going to wet their pants.


Our conversation about how and when and why we use guns has evolved over the years. And, yes, it's been years since he started talking about or pretending with guns.


When it began, we told him that guns are only for shooting animals that you want to eat. We didn't want to introduce the notion of shooting at people or animals in self-defense. Then he told us one day that he wanted to eat our dog. We clarified. We don't shoot our friends and Bob is our friend, we told him.

When he "shot" at his sister and Jim and I, we were very clear with him that using a gun is not how to handle anger. We realized that the issue at hand wasn't about guns. It was an opportunity to teach him how best to manage his feelings.

When he has strong feelings about a movie he is watching, he often stands on his chair and yells at and "shoots" his hands at the screen. (Don't worry, he's not watching Terminator or anything like that. He gets riled up watching Peter Pan and 101 Dalmations.) This is his way of dealing with his emotions and we feel this is healthy and normal, if not loud, annoying and somewhat amusing.

A month or so ago, we had a play date with a friend whose son chased and pretended to shoot at Big Brother. Big Brother was terrified and I wound up holding a gangly 4-year-old who refused to get down for about five minutes. The little boy's mother was apologetic, but I was happy to see his reaction. It gave me the opportunity to explain that guns are scary when pointed at people. My previous attempts at explaining this to him had fallen on deaf ears. He hasn't pointed a "gun" at anyone since.

Lately, I've been explaining to him that he can learn to use a gun when he is older. This wasn't completely unprompted. He's been asking about it. It comes up at the weirdest times, too.

"You'll be six when Girlface is four," I explained to Big Brother one day.

"Then I can have a gun?" he asks.

Sure, just in time for kindergarten, kid.

Which brings me one of the reasons we don't want to put our children in school: The black-and-white, zero tolerance attitude about guns, real or imaginary, drawn or spoken about, that exists in today's school environment. This nonsense leads administrators to suspend or expel children for drawing guns, possessing a one-inch GI Joe machine gun replica or even talking or joking about guns. These somewhat isolated incidents become fodder for local newspapers and free-range parenting discussions. The prospect of  having our child's permanent record sullied over an innocent remark or drawing, though, is the much bigger deal here for us than the so-called infraction.

The overreaction to guns recently squelched the aspirations of a handful of local students engaging in the sport of marksmanship. These high school students were poised to compete in a statewide youth marksmanship competition. These kids had learned a valuable skill, which one state agency was trying to promote to replenish the dwindling ranks of hunters in the state. A local school administrator put the brakes on their participation citing a ban on deadly weapons on campuses that also prohibits students from carrying guns on school trips. The decision to bar the team from competition wrongly, in my opinion, extended the ban to students participating in an off-campus event sponsored by a state agency, not by any school system. The school board later amended the policy to allow participation in the event, but not in time for the students who trained and expected to compete that particular year.

This black and white thinking about violence in general is also reflected in a school policy that I've always found to be unfair and, frankly, quite lazy and cowardly on the part of administrators. Most schools don't recognize the difference between the instigator and the victim when a fight breaks out on campus. A student who is beaten up by another and tries to fight back and protect himself is often punished the same as the one who throws the first punch. No where else can you be punished for being a victim. Even here, I realize there are mitigating factors such as whether the victim used sufficient force to get away or if the force was overly retaliatory. But in my day (I sound like an old woman here, I know) such factors were not taken into account.

We don't want to send our children into an environment that teaches absolutes such as all gun use is bad or everyone who is involved in a fight is responsible. We don't want our children to be subject to the arbitrary rulings of administrators with an agenda. That teaches children right from wrong only in the context of an artificial environment--school. In real life, what's right in one situation would be wrong in another. For instance, shooting a trespasser who is not threatening you is wrong; shooting the same trespasser who has threatened you with a gun, other weapon or sufficient physical force to make you fear for your own safety is justifiable. We're teaching our children to think for themselves and apply and adjust that thinking to a variety of situations.

For us, zero tolerance about guns and even violence is a grave mistake. Our job as parents is to teach the subtle nuances of living life. We don't want to teach him to fear guns or be cut off from his survival instincts. If he's hungry in the wilderness or our society one day devolves back to a subsistence economy, we want our kids to know how to provide for and protect themselves and their families. The reality is that killing animals for food or defending yourself with guns or other weaponry is a fact of life that we are cut off from in modern society. Our base instincts for self-preservation, however, still exist and we want to be sure that our children can tap into that when necessary. (Of course, we don't believe that you need an automatic or even a semi-automatic weapon to kill a deer or a duck or stop a human predator.)

We want our kids to know that guns are used as tools: tools for self-defense, tools for policemen and tools to provide food. As with all tools, you have to know how and when to use them them safely and responsibly.

And I think that message is getting through to him. This weekend, after he received a mini marshmallow gun, he cautiously wielded it and told me with some gravity, "You have to know how to use this, mom."

Free U: The yard birds

An occasional feature
 
So much of what goes on around here is "educational" without being planned. I'm finding that I subscribe more to the unschooling philosophy of education. Or what I like to call just living. A few years ago, my sister, who homeschools her three children, would write blog posts about what her kids were doing and what they were learning while engaged in these activities. The activities were often not school-like activities and would grow out of the kids' interests rather than her planning. Big Brother is now so curious and engaged. Every day there seems to be an episode of spontaneous learning prompted by his questions about his world or just what his father and I are doing. I want to share these bits with you to show just how effortless learning can be.

Last weekend, we were homebound with three out of five us ailing from a nasty chest cold. My husband was a bit restless, as usual, and just itching to get out the hot glue gun. The kids had just finished off a pack of gum that comes in a several inch tall round container with a flip-top lid. This gave him an idea. And we wound up with this thing stuck to our window:

Yes, that is a piece of a child-safety cabinet lock acting as a bird perch.

It took about a week for a bird to actually show up at our windowsill. They were probably a little terrified of the jumpy, loud children with their faces and hands pressed against window. The entire week, though, I had two children eagerly watching birds out the window, noticing their colors, where they flew to, when they were eating seed off the ground, listening to the sounds they made (we could actually hear them through the window. Cool!!). Big Brother can now identify two types of birds: a cardinal (It's my bird, he says. It's red.) and a robin.

Just by chance, Big Brother's preschool class did a unit on birds this week, too. He didn't talk much about it at home and I found out only after the fact in the weekly email from his sweet teacher. One day he came home with a pair of "binoculars" -- two toilet paper tubes stapled together with a piece of yarn to hang around his neck. Another coincidence ... this weekend, Big Brother found an old Highlights magazine. He turned to an article about birds and saw a project he wanted to do: a bird feeder from an old milk carton.

The whole family is now interested in what kinds of birds we have hanging out in our side yard. This week, we will go to the library to find a bird identification guide, mostly for me. I'm curious myself and I know from experience that my curiosity usually sparks theirs.

I'm mentally filing this under science, but it's so much more. It's about observation. It's about reusing materials. It's about using your imagination. The kids saw Jim make a bird feeder out of something that you wouldn't normally see and think, "Hm, that would make a good bird feeder."

What was neat about this past week was that none of this was planned as part of a unit study. It just happened. And, aside from the bird seed that we bought, it was free.

A totally free education

I don't like to pay for things that are actually free. Education should be free. And, make no mistake, "free education" is not really free. As we're finding with Big Brother's preschool experience, school is an investment of time for the entire family that we foresee becoming more intrusive if our children move forward in this system. School tends to follow kids home and often leaves little private time for them to fashion a whole self. And when just one kid goes to school, the whole family's time and energy gets sucked into school and school-related activities.

I haven't written much about education lately. I used to write about it more when our decisions about education were not staring us in the face. Actually, my opinions seemed stronger and more certain when the issue didn't effect us so directly. Big Brother is 4 and we will have to decide soon what to do about school for him. And, of course, that decision will factor into what we do for the other children. We're opting out of preschool next year because of cost and the time investment. Four half days are too much for him and for us to commit to an institution that we don't feel will have much bearing on his future happiness and productivity as a citizen of the world. Practically speaking, hauling three young kids in and out of the van and into the preschool twice a day, the van ride, the getting ready, the "homework" and the volunteer hours were all too much for us. These things may not have become the burdens they did if I felt preschool was critically important.

The only thing I do know for sure is that, for me, educational philosophy is as personal as spirituality and should be treated as such. Every individual experiences spirituality and education in their own unique way. That is why I feel so strongly that the one-size-fits-all K through 12 schooling -- the predominant model in this country -- is a grave disservice to children and families. I know many will disagree with me on this point. That's okay. I actually would be fine with the K through 12 system in place if it were just one of many educational options available for families and children that is supported by public funds. Here it seems diversity extends only as far as skin color and culture and is not applied to the vast variety of learning styles.

Homeschooling is something we are interested in but, as for most people, will have to be balanced with the financial needs of our family. I've been reading a bit about unit studies and curriculum that pull multi-disciplinary lessons from literature. It sounds easy enough but seems like a lot of work if you actually commit to following through on it. Spontaneity seems to work well here so far. A few instances recalled from just one day prove this point, if only to me.

We read "If You Give a Moose a Muffin" at story time one night. The next day, Big Brother pulled out the book. A few minutes later, he came in and said, "We've got to make sock puppets. We've got to do a puppet show with a moose and a mouse."  He ran around closing curtains and asking to make sock puppets for a few minutes.

For those who don't know the story, a moose is given a muffin which makes him think of something else he wants which, in turn, leads to another train of thought. Actually, he's kind of like Big Brother, scrambling to put on a sock puppet show, now that I think of it. Very cute book, as are its companions, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,"  "If You Give a Cat a Cupcake" and "If You Give a Pig a Pancake."

The puppets are one of this creature's fantastic ideas. I gave it a few seconds thought. I got out some holy socks, the glue gun, some googly eyes, some red puff balls and a brown pipe cleaner and came up with these crude looking things.

We played with them for about 15 minutes. He wanted me to chase him around the house with them. His sister tried one on. His poor teething brother thought they were hilarious and then tried to bite it off mommy's hand.


Here Big Brother displayed reading comprehension, reading recall, imagination, initiative. If this were a classroom, it would be a unit study on this book, all kids doing the same thing planned by the teacher, all projects looking nearly the same. Whatever it would look like in a classroom, I doubt my son would be quite as interested.


----
Later that same day, we were outside playing in the back yard. He went over to his trapeze and asked me if it was made of plastic. I felt no need to quiz him or ask him what he thought. I just told him, "No, honey, it's metal."

"Oh, it's magnetic," he said excitedly. That gave me an idea. We have a magnetic learning lab that Nana bought for Christmas with magnetic wands, ball, chips, etc. They both love it and it is a late afternoon go-to activity when neither have napped. I went in and got magnetic wands for him and his sister, red for him, pink for her, of course. He ran around the back yard for 15 minutes trying to find magnetic objects. He felt the pull in a few rocks, some of our deck furniture, door hinges and screws, the trapeze and even the chains on his swing. Trees, the ground, the dog's bowl and matchbox cars? All not magnetic. Now I'm curious as to why the dog's metal bowl and matchbox cars aren't magnetic and plan to look it up. What I loved about this was its spontaneous nature. And if I were to have to classify this by subject for some bureaucrat somewhere (as it appears I may have to in a few years) I could file it under science and physical education. But, really, learning can't and shouldn't be classified and quantified.
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I like your sweater, Big Brother told his father later that night.
It's wool, Jim replied. Do you know where wool comes from?
Sheep, he said, without skipping a beat.

Where did he learn this? One book that he likes, "Ice Cream Cows and Mitten Sheep." One question, one answer. No unit study, no quizzes or drilling, no field trip to see farm animals. Did he retain it? Of course. But the real question is do I want him to spit back random facts learned in a sterile environment or do I want him to learn about his world in a context that is meaningful to him and in a place that is safe and familiar? The latter, of course.  

The lesson being if you give a kid books and access to nearly everything in his world, answer his questions to the best of your knowledge and look it up when you can't, he's going to learn, he's going to ask questions, he's going to get his own ideas and feel free to act upon them within reason.

This takes all the time in the world, of course, but very little effort. This is my kind of learning. And it's free.

One from the kitchen ...

Do you know what this is?

If you answered, "a dried apple," then give yourself a gold star.

Do you know where I found this? If you said, "Trader Joe's", then guess again. I found it ...


ON MY KITCHEN FLOOR.

(And yes, I did take a little bite out of it. I know, that was very unhygienic of me. But it was also pretty tasty, just like dried apples from Trader Joe's.) 

It occurred to me that in addition to my kitchen floor being a giant trough, it is also a food dehydrator. Go figure.

So ... if a sliver of apple left on the floor for, oh, I don't know, maybe 48 hours turns into a dried apple a la Trader Joe's, then, maybe using just the air in my kitchen and my habit of forgetting about various projects that I've started, I can make dried apples. Chances are by the time I remember the slivers of apple sitting atop my refrigerator, they'll be dried.

And this is what I got ...

Not bad. They're quite tasty, but not as sweet as the floor-dried version. I should have left them longer than 24 hours, but I'm impatient. I like to think of it as Big Brother's first homeschool science and economics lesson. Using free air in the kitchen instead of a $60 food dehydrator, decomposition and dehydration occurred, creating a tasty little snack or addition to our oatmeal or whatever. And it's a whole lot more hygienic than eating two-day old dried apples from the kitchen trough, er, floor.

Freedom for 10 weeks a year (a repost)

Today I heard a commercial on the radio for a retailer who claimed to have the brands your kids want for back to school. I reflexively flinched, as I do every year about this time. Right now, I have little energy or brainpower to say much better what I wrote a few years ago on the subject. I've made some revisions in an effort to make my offerings on the subject more thought-provoking than offensive. Please, please, please do not take my criticism of the predominant model of schooling in this country as a rejection of education or a desire to reform that education model. My desire is simply for choices about education to be returned to parents, who know when and where and how their children will learn best.

The back to school propaganda machine is in full swing from news media to advertisers. The news media makes light of the collective groan from children mourning the loss of summer freedom and cheers from adults anticipating the return of "free" day care in the form of compulsory public education. Advertisers swoop in with the diversion of back-to-school shopping. New clothes, fresh supplies, the latest electronics—all to distract parents and children alike from the scary reality of ever-increasing government control over our children, our time, our entire lives.

Children's instincts are right, but not for reasons that they are even conscious of. Learning is about making sense of the world around you, but too many children are cut off from that world. They are stuffed in a classroom for eight hours a day after a too-early bus ride and are spending even more time away from family on homework or extracurricular activities. Caged like animals, cut off from their natural instincts to explore, observer and learn, they turn into adults who can't make sense of the world around them. Their survival instincts were shut off at an early age. They know it isn't right or natural, and I suspect, deep down, parents know this, too. They go along with it, though, perhaps because they feel they have no choice. They accept, essentially, government-mandated control over how their family spends its time.

Here in North Carolina, it's still over 90 degrees outside, hurricanes are churning in the Atlantic, summer thunderstorms wash away the day's heat, the ocean water is the perfect temperature, the cool air of the mountains still beckon, not a single leaf has turned color, tomatoes are still ripening on the vine, mosquitoes and fireflies still flutter in my backyard. Yet students are returning to school next week, unnaturally ending a season that naturally meanders into late September. Every year, I feel excitement with a twinge of sadness as seasons pass. But as a child, returning to school in late summer was met with unspeakable sadness and anxiety. It unnaturally cut short time with family, time to play, enjoy summer, read, sew, garden, swim, be with friends or be alone, even doing nothing at all.

The language of the back-to-school blitz makes me flinch. A "Kickoff to Kindergarten" event at a local museum was described as boot camp for 5-year-olds; a lifeguard described the change in demeanor among children in the past week saying "It's just like they put their heads down and look at their feet. They know what's coming."

A headline declared "Last week of freedom." I'm afraid that's old news. Our freedom was lost a long time ago.

Reading just happens ... really.

Even when you don't have cable, you still wind up watching mindless crap, we've found. We've also discovered that there's never anything good on the tele on Monday nights. When that happens, we wind up reading our daily Wall Street Journal, chatting and taking in bits and pieces of a home show on one of the network's HGTV substitutes called Live Well HD.

A segment this evening was about making a reading area for children. The host covered different types of shelving, lighting and other ambiance-enhancing items. She suggests having comfy pillows, reading mats and small LED lights (which don't emit any heat) - mostly from IKEA, of course. She also imparted the importance of having a place in your home where parents and children can read together.

Then she described how her son loves Godzilla and how they read books about Godzilla together and how they talk about the story afterward. To which my husband said, "Yeah, and then he stomps all over the pillows and hits his sister with them, right?" She went on to talk about how she and her son "made" their own book and hung it on a bulletin board in his reading corner.
 
After listening to this, I'm convinced this woman is lying about having children or is on Prozac or her kids are on some sort of drug.

Let me first say this: There is no such thing as confining one activity, like reading, to an "area" when you have children. They are like a gas ... they take up all available space. Try as I may to make distinct play areas for the children, their toys wind up in the kitchen, the bathroom, the hallway, my bathtub, their bathtub, beneath my bed, in the hampers, in the sink, under the dining room table ... well, you get the idea. Everywhere I look on my evening cleanup jaunt, there's a toy mingling with the dust bunnies. Some nights, to avoid bending over one more time, I just leave them to enjoy each other's company on the floor.

Anyhow, here's what happens when I read my son a book about his favorite topic: cars. He shouts, "Gotta get my cars" then runs them up and down my legs and arms and in my hair and throughout the roads in the book, making vroom-vroom noises the whole time. Oddly enough, despite the seemingly distracted behavior, he can later retell the story.

We do have a few shelves with books within the kids reach. Here's what happens: Every morning, Godzilla-ette clears books from the shelf in Big Brother's room, then moves on to the shelves in her bedroom and the living room. She does bring me books and lets me read to her, though, unlike her brother at that age who was more interested in, well, anything else. And as for making his own book? His attention span for anything remotely crafty is maybe 2 minutes. Then his sister would get a hold of his craft and try to eat it.

We have a tent with pillows and a blanket in it for the kids to chill out in. Here's what happens: They rough house in the tent, hit each other with pillows and roll around. Eventually one hurts the other, everyone's in tears and I have a headache.

As for having a place for children and parents to read together, well, reading happens everywhere in our house from the kitchen table over breakfast and lunch to the bathroom on the potty and in the tub to the bedroom to the living room and even sometimes while he's watching television (yes, my kid watches television and still managed to develop an interest in books. imagine that.).

Seems to me that the mantra to read, read, read to your children as early as possible is rather overbearing. If you do have a kid who is interested in books early on, great. If not, no big deal. That interest will develop whether or not you reserve an "area" for them to engage in that activity or incorporate reading into your routines. If my kid is more interested in eating the book or flipping the pages, forcing the activity on them will likely turn them off to reading, wouldn't you think? This incessant read, read, read mantra seems to be born of a deep-seated mistrust in the innate ability and desire of children to learn with little prompting from adults.

Here's the dirty little secret: You and what you are doing is the most interesting thing in the world to your kids. (Seriously, it's why they stalk me when I'm doing laundry or emptying the dishwasher or making dinner or reorganizing a cabinet. And later, when I could reasonably expect some help with these things, they will, of course, be completely uninterested.) If they see you reading, then they'll want to read, too. No special area complete with IKEA furniture is required, really.

How utterly terrifying

Excerpts from President Obama's speech this week:

That is why it will be the goal of this administration to ensure that every child has access to a complete and competitive education – from the day they are born to the day they begin a career. ...

But whatever the training may be, every American will need to get more than a high school diploma. And dropping out of high school is no longer an option. It’s not just quitting on yourself, it’s quitting on your country – and this country needs and values the talents of every American.

The message is clear: The United States government owns you and your children. You are the property of the government and you work for the good of the country, not for the good of your family and future. Cradle to grave, the government owns you.

Make no mistake, this man and the current power structure in Washington have no respect for individuals. Where do I go to escape this utter disrespect for individual rights? I feel helpless knowing that my husband and I may soon not have much choice in our children's education. The increasing federalization of education ensures that.

The good news? An article in the Wall Street Journal today says some activists are worried that the economy will keep Obama too busy to institute his education agenda.

Here we go again

Though it's totally against my educational beliefs, I've started exploring preschool for Dan again. This is one of those issues where we have to carefully examine our motives before committing our most valuable assets - time and money. Right now, my motivation seems to be that Dan and I need a break from each other. Whether that's a good motivation, who knows?

He's been a bear lately, with lots of tantrums and defiance. But in the past few days, he's had a language explosion and become a bit more bearable. Of course, my assessments of him are often more generous between Friday night and Tuesday, I've noticed. I work all weekend and this past weekend, he spent the night at Nana and PopPop's house. He's nearly speaking in full sentences, having somewhat coherent conversations and making connections that he couldn't have made, or at least expressed, a week ago. For example, Jim and Danny were reading Family Circus in the comics this evening. Danny pointed out that the mom had a vacuum and some other cleaning supplies. Jim asked him, "What do you think she was doing in there?" He replied, "Clean." I can't wait to hear what he has to say about Baby Ona.

All the things he can do at the preschools I've investigated are things we can give him at home. I'm not big on preschools where the main goal is to prepare children for indoctrination, I mean, traditional school. The two programs that I have looked into use some combination of learning through free-play approaches that encourage child-led development, like Waldorf or Reggio Emilio, We could pay up to $200 a month for a two-day program in a home-like setting. But it begs the question ... why would I pay that much to mimic the home environment? Is it the social aspect I think he's missing? Most young children parallel play in large groups, not really interacting with other children. Danny does have play dates of varying sizes throughout the week, from one on one to up to 16 kids of varying ages at church. How will this integrate into our plans to home school? I can't see putting him in preschool and then taking him out when he's too old for a program. Just how do you explain that to a five year old? "Honey, you're too old for the schools we can afford because the government steals our money to fund schools we would never dream of sending you to." Maybe that could be his first civics lesson.

As much as Danny and I may need a break from each other, he'll need me more once Baby Ona gets here. Maybe we can get on a waiting list and revisit the issue in the fall. Besides, I can't very well put him in preschool now ... he curses randomly and asks for beer whenever Jim is drinking root beer or ginger ale or he sees a commercial during football games.

An almost TV-less morning

Danny has been getting too attached to TV. And, of course, it is partly my fault. Being pregnant, sick in the morning, exhausted (Danny now says "Mommy tired") tends to shape our morning. I do manage to get our oatmeal mix made the night before so all I have to do is add water. But, lately, I turn on the TV and put him in his high chair with his apple sauce while the oatmeal cooks. He's also been giving us trouble going to bed, mostly because he wants to keep watching TV after Curious George is over.

I've been worried about it because once the baby comes, from what my two-child girlfriends have told me, the TV may become a bit of a babysitter for a few weeks. I don't think all TV is bad, but we do want to start setting some limits. So this morning, I decided to not turn on the TV until Sesame Street at 10 a.m. Amazingly enough, he asked for the TV only once and accepted my answer without tears.

I got out a few toys and he brought out one that he wanted to play with. In less than an hour, he had exhausted his interest in the Aquadoodle, Megablocks, Funky Footprints mat and his Little People zoo and was downstairs "feeding the cat" again. A few days ago, we found him down by the cat's dish scooping cat food into a nearly empty bowl. Now, he's fascinated with the process. Next, I decided to start some sewing while he was occupied. He came over and I gave him a box of ribbons and sewing notions (yes, I removed all the pins and needles) and he played for about a half hour exclusively with zippers, bobbins, ribbons and snaps. Bonus: I got to sew one more diaper, this one from an old felted wool sweater and an old prefold diaper. Photo to come, if you're interested.

Silly me, I was afraid we had ruined his attention span with all that TV. He's now watching Sesame Street and I'm going to go finish my turkey meatballs and clean up the sewing notions strewn about behind me.