Wednesday, March 29

Dona Quixote?

Don Quixote: "Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished. Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich, for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless."

Sancho: "What giants?"

I'm re-reading Don Quixote, and having a wonderful time of it. This second time through, I've got a better feel for the cadence of the language and the tone of the characters. It's a riot. This morning, though, I realized why I enjoyed this book so much, and it's a scary thought: I am Don Quixote, and am raising three (potentially four, but the little one can't talk yet, so the jury's still out) little Panchos. Would that make Zorak an unsuspecting Dulcinea?

I see giants to be slain (character development issues, academic ignorance, forces to belay mental acuity). The loyal children scan the horizon. They see... windmills. And they're pretty sure I'm insane. But they plug along beside me, nonetheless. It's quite an adventure, this life.

God help us.

This week, we have enjoyed homeschooling in the most integral ways. It's becoming once again a part of our pattern, our flow. This is a good life we're living. But you know, I hesitate to write things like this, although they are true, for there will always be someone who reads it and gasps, "Oh, she's got it all sooooo together." Then promptly starts in on the comparisons and the self-loathing. Please, if that's you, stop now. Take a swig of coffee, hitch up your bra (or pick a garment), and read on.

Homeschooling four children will never be pastoral. We will never have the children donning white breeches with sun hats and skippily merrily to the table singing old English hymns. That's not having it "together". That's a delusion far, far worse than any I harbor (and I do, admittedly, harbor quite a few). Homeschooling four children is, for me, more like hauling cats in a sack that won't close. But I really like the cats, and it's a good sack, so I'm okay with it.

I'm having one heck of a time getting through John's reading lessons with Smidge piling books on my lap and kissing my nose while James shouts from the computer, "Mom! Come LOOK!" (And, of course, I have to go look because I just know the one time I don't, it's going to be the one time our pop-up blocker didn't work and his eyes will start bleeding.)

And it's even more challenging to get through Young Drake with James while John and Smidge duke it out with teriyaki skewers in the living room. Sir Francis Drake did not, as far as we know, ever shout, "You're going to poke an eye out with that thing!"

I have developed the posture of an 80 year old dairy maid from sitting Indian style on the floor, reading aloud while nursing.

The children are convinced there are hidden cameras on the property, filming a warped sequal to "Pioneer House", and they cannot wait to appear on PBS. I have no intention of telling them otherwise, because (a) anything that will keep them on their best behavior is a keeper, and (b) it's kind of fun to watch them make silly faces at the trees, in the hope that they're being filmed. (We have no cable, so I take what I can get for entertainment.)

Our study on blindness turned into quite the adventure the other day, too. I ventured into the realm of the Crafty (I don't live there, and they don't want me there permanently) and made goggles for the boys using wax paper for the lenses so they could get a feel for being blind. The point of our exercise being to foster empathy and understanding toward those who cannot see. The point was made when James slammed into the pre-hung door leaning against the hallway wall. The point was then lost, however, when he backed up and promptly slammed into it again.. and I burst into a fit of giggles.

It's not that we have to "have it all together", ready for a photo shoot from Good Homeschoolers of the Year, in order to enjoy the life that is homeschooling. It's being with our children as they learn. It's hearing one of our children say, "I didn't know I was capable of that!" It's hearing another one say, "Thank you for teaching me this."

It's knowing that those words are sometimes sweeter after a long struggle to master a concept. So during the struggle, it's easier to keep calm and be encouraging. On the days that something (or everything) doesn't click, it's about being able to take a deep breath, share a story, pick another topic, start over tomorrow. There won't be 30 other kids resenting the break you took, and nobody will be behind. Nobody will be "ahead" and get bored, either. We're right where we should be, as homeschoolers. Our goals are on track. Our days are full.

It's enjoying the sense of humor in your children when you begin reading history and lovingly guide them to answer review questions. "The Egyptians live on the ___ ___" Fill in the blank? One of them shouts "golf course" and while that's the end of today's history lesson (you'll never make it to the Indus River Valley through all the golfing jokes now), you've had some good time together, and have seen a side of them you may not see so much of otherwise. (And you pray, when you go to bed that night, that they really did know it was the Nile River...)

I think one of the cats just escaped the sack again, and it's heading for the windmill, so I better go. But I wanted to remind you not to get into the comparison trap. Your homeschooling, your family, your home, it's all good stuff. Just like ours is. Enjoy that for all its worth and don't hesitate to be glad for the life you can live.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

I do that. I tend to compare myself, my family, our homeschooling to other people. I think maybe it's because I'm insecure. What if I'm doing soemthing wrong? But lately I've been really trying hard just to be "me". Every one of is is unique. We all have different experiences. There is no way we can compare to anyone else.
Dy, I relate so much to the things you talk about. That is the kind of life I want for my kids, a home full of love and laughter and learning. Does it get any better than that? And loving the ride along the way. But doing it the best way I know how.
Thank you for this post today. I needed to hear it. Have a great day!
-dawn

Kim said...

I'm reading DQ too!

I was reading while #2 son was in his guitar lesson, and I was amazed at how articulate DQ was considering he had just been pelted with stones by a groupf of shephers. He was spitting blood and teeth, yet he still sounded pretty articulate.

Anonymous said...

Okay, I've posted pics on my blog now of some of my windows. I kinda think this wasn't quite what you were looking for though. We don't have wood trim around our windows like they do on most houses outside of this state. But hey, at least here's some pictures of our window coverings. :-)

-dawn

CooksonMom said...

You have pinpointed the reason that we have chosen to homeschool also. I do my best not to compare, and like you, hope that others do not think that I am writing how "perfect" our homeschooling experience is. Although, to me, it is perfect!

Melora said...

I read your post this morning, and have been pondering it, on and off, all day. You always sound so calm and kind, and I do compare myself to moms who keep their cool and are good humored when their children are being impossible. I think sometimes comparisons, like guilt, can be constructive when they inspire one to self-improvement. Picturing you laughing at the golf course comment, after a morning of struggling to teach Travis about Henry the Navigator, is helpful to me, so I thank you!
I have to say that I have Never heard, "Thanks for teaching me that, Mom," but I sure would love to. However often I am disappointed by my failures to inspire my kids to be enthusiastic learners, there are still enough moments when I see that progress is being made, or that an important lesson has made it through, to make it all seem worthwhile.
Thanks for an inspiring post!
Cordially,
Melora

Anonymous said...

Dy,
You are such an encouraging influence in the shift that our homeschool experience is taking right now. Eight years into this adventure, I'm feeling less obsessive about what we're missing, more content with what we *are* doing.

By looking back at what I wish we had done differently in past years, it is helping to form the future plan into something that will be more profitable and enjoyable for all of us.

Thanks for sharing your real life with a positive spin. I love reading it, and find encouragement in it. Keep up the good work - in life & in your writing! :-)

Cathy

Anonymous said...

Thanks for posting that. I stuggle with comparison issues all the time. I always feel like I am not doing things good enough, and my kids aren't learning what they need to.

Amber said...

Thanks for that post, Dy. It is such an amazing journey, and one I am so happy to be starting with Emma. I know I have a long road ahead of me, but I'm very hopeful that it will turn out as the best possible path for our family (and I aim to do all I can to ensure that it is!!)

I have to admit I've been feeling a bit of the niggling comparison itch over this whole reading thing, mainly because someone else's child started at the same time using the same book and is doing much better with it (and her daughter is a couple months younger than mine *sob*) But really, I'm keeping it at bay... except for those occasional dark moments.

I loved the image of the cats and the sack. I am so curious to see how this all goes when Gregory starts needing a bit more than being held and nursed all the time! *grin*

And sorry, you are not getting any window pictures from me. My windows and the trim around them are terrible. All we have hanging in them are your basic blinds - very uninspiring, and all in all not fit for internet publication.