Ish. Busy Autumnish. But close. We've had two days in a row with temps below 90. I'm wallowing in it. Of course, I'm also sweating my arse off because I keep insisting on wearing a hooded sweatshirt in honor of Fall! Yeah, I know. If I'd had this little self-restraint in the 1800's, they'd have shot me on the starting line for the homesteading race.
The home computer got kneecapped by a cranky motherboard. Uncle Wil said he will help us fix it. In the meantime, we're on a replacement placeholder thing that has no pictures, and I haven't figured out how to get the software we might need switched over. It's bare bones, this. But we have email, we can pay bills, and I figured out how to lock down the connection, so it's all good.
School is going well, aside from the tarbaby routine the kids seem to have going. Slow.er. than. molasses. (Then Zorak went and told them the joke about how to make molasses, and now I cannot say that they are slow as molasses, because they all start laughing and Jake Rabbit laughs so hard he cries, and then for the rest of the day he starts chortling and choking at random intervals, eventually emitting the punchline to the joke. I never know when it will strike. So, I've got to come up with another colloquialism to use to describe how freakishly slowly they accomplish their morning routines.)
And then there is the tendency to get sidetracked, which they come by honestly. *aherm* (looks around, whistles a tune, wanders off...)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 14
Thursday, May 27
Myths and Ire
M'kay... So, I saw this online the other day...
As you know, if you've read here for any length of time, I believe that teaching children is one of the most noble, powerful, worthwhile endeavors any human can engage in. While we choose not to contract with the government for the education of our children, we've also long felt that teachers should have more control over their classrooms, better pay (particularly when viewed through the School District spending, in general), and backup from the parents. Granted, as long as the Department of Education continues to expand its grip on American Education, that first bit isn't going to happen, not by a long shot.
And as long as the educational unions remain as prolific as they are, the deadlock of corruption and waste endemic in the public school systems will not be resolved to anybody's satisfaction in the foreseeable future. (And really, who can blame voters for voting down bond measures when Admin salaries or peripheral expenses go up and up and teacher's salaries stagnate, every time? We could mortgage our futures, and yet it seems the teachers won't ever see the money.)
And, really, while I'm generally pretty empathetic about teachers' salaries, the amount of sheer smarminess in this little tirade rubbed me the wrong way. First of all, who gets a baby sitter for $3/hr? Oh, I know, that's supposed to be "the point". Well, let's look at a few other points:
~ A babysitter will come to my home.
~ A babysitter will do so on my schedule.
~ A babysitter will give my child individualized care and attention.
~ A babysitter will use the materials I feel are superior, and not just what the Head Sitter has told her to use.
~ A babysitter will happily use materials I provide, if hers are not up to par.
~ A babysitter is accountable to me.
~ If the babysitter sucks at her job, I can fire her and find a competent one.
~ If the babysitter simply is not capable of interacting or connecting with my child, I can fire her and find one who is.
~If the babysitter abuses/hits on/offers drugs to my child, the sitter is out. of. here. - no "administrative leave", and certainly not a paid one! Gone. If I don't trust you, you have no business being in charge of my child. That's my call.
~ If I find out the babysitter is trying to teach my children that they, minors who can't live on their own yet, are intuitively more worldly and knowledgeable than we, their parents, are, I can fire her and find one with a functional moral compass.
~ If I have any questions or concerns about how the babysitter is doing her job, I don't have to worry about getting the run around about "standard procedures", "school policy", "protocols", or "letting the *experts* handle this".
~ A babysitter isn't obligated to some union that has my children at the bottom of the priority list.
~ A babysitter is someone I have personally chosen, based on the criteria I value and desire in the interaction and care of my children, not based on someone else's ideas of "competent", "certified", or even "professional".
~ A babysitter will pick up a bit, too, if she's really good.
~ A babysitter doesn't forget that I, the parent, AM the Ultimate Advocate for my child. Ever. (Refer to the sixth one, above.)
I'd say that's worth something.
And when you add in actually teaching, educating, my child? AND doing it well? There simply is no way to fully compensate someone monetarily for that, no matter how much blood you tax from property owners. And so, I do it, myself. And still pay the taxes so that other people have access to teachers for their children.
As with any social government program, though, public education is rife with bureaucracy, red tape, conundrums wrapped in enigmas, waste, corruption, pissing contests among all participants, political malarkey, and, of course, inefficiency. I'm really sorry the system is in such bad shape, but don't get snarky with me, expecting me to believe that more money will magically fix the problems. Clean house and sort it out, then talk. Or not. Whatever.
Just makes me that much happier that my children aren't in the hands of people with this much ire toward the rest of the world.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I am fed up with teachers and their hefty salary guides. What we need here is a little perspective. If I had my way, I'd pay these teachers myself.... I'd pay them babysitting wages. That's right... instead of paying these outrageous taxes, I'd give them $3.00 an hour out of my own pocket. And I'm only going to pay them for five hours, not coffee breaks. That would be $15.00 a day - each parent should pay $15.00 a day for these teachers to babysit their child. Even if they have more than one child, it's still a lot cheaper than private day care.
Now, how many children do they teach a day - maybe twenty? That's $15.00 x 20 = $300 a day. But, remember they only work 180 days a year!! I'm not going to pay them for all those vacations. $300 x 180 = $54,000. (Just a minute, I think my calculator needs batteries.)
I know now you teachers will say what about those who have ten years' experience and a Master's degree? Well, maybe (to be fair) they could get the minimum wage, and instead of just babysitting, they could read the kids a story. We can round that off to about $5.00 an hour, times five hours, times 20 children. That's $500 a day times 180 days. That's $90,000....HUH???? Wait a minute, let's get a little perspective here. Babysitting wages are too good for these teachers. Did anyone see a salary guide around here??
Author Unknown - it could have been any one of America's 2.5 million "overpaid" public school teachers
As you know, if you've read here for any length of time, I believe that teaching children is one of the most noble, powerful, worthwhile endeavors any human can engage in. While we choose not to contract with the government for the education of our children, we've also long felt that teachers should have more control over their classrooms, better pay (particularly when viewed through the School District spending, in general), and backup from the parents. Granted, as long as the Department of Education continues to expand its grip on American Education, that first bit isn't going to happen, not by a long shot.
And as long as the educational unions remain as prolific as they are, the deadlock of corruption and waste endemic in the public school systems will not be resolved to anybody's satisfaction in the foreseeable future. (And really, who can blame voters for voting down bond measures when Admin salaries or peripheral expenses go up and up and teacher's salaries stagnate, every time? We could mortgage our futures, and yet it seems the teachers won't ever see the money.)
And, really, while I'm generally pretty empathetic about teachers' salaries, the amount of sheer smarminess in this little tirade rubbed me the wrong way. First of all, who gets a baby sitter for $3/hr? Oh, I know, that's supposed to be "the point". Well, let's look at a few other points:
~ A babysitter will come to my home.
~ A babysitter will do so on my schedule.
~ A babysitter will give my child individualized care and attention.
~ A babysitter will use the materials I feel are superior, and not just what the Head Sitter has told her to use.
~ A babysitter will happily use materials I provide, if hers are not up to par.
~ A babysitter is accountable to me.
~ If the babysitter sucks at her job, I can fire her and find a competent one.
~ If the babysitter simply is not capable of interacting or connecting with my child, I can fire her and find one who is.
~If the babysitter abuses/hits on/offers drugs to my child, the sitter is out. of. here. - no "administrative leave", and certainly not a paid one! Gone. If I don't trust you, you have no business being in charge of my child. That's my call.
~ If I find out the babysitter is trying to teach my children that they, minors who can't live on their own yet, are intuitively more worldly and knowledgeable than we, their parents, are, I can fire her and find one with a functional moral compass.
~ If I have any questions or concerns about how the babysitter is doing her job, I don't have to worry about getting the run around about "standard procedures", "school policy", "protocols", or "letting the *experts* handle this".
~ A babysitter isn't obligated to some union that has my children at the bottom of the priority list.
~ A babysitter is someone I have personally chosen, based on the criteria I value and desire in the interaction and care of my children, not based on someone else's ideas of "competent", "certified", or even "professional".
~ A babysitter will pick up a bit, too, if she's really good.
~ A babysitter doesn't forget that I, the parent, AM the Ultimate Advocate for my child. Ever. (Refer to the sixth one, above.)
I'd say that's worth something.
And when you add in actually teaching, educating, my child? AND doing it well? There simply is no way to fully compensate someone monetarily for that, no matter how much blood you tax from property owners. And so, I do it, myself. And still pay the taxes so that other people have access to teachers for their children.
As with any social government program, though, public education is rife with bureaucracy, red tape, conundrums wrapped in enigmas, waste, corruption, pissing contests among all participants, political malarkey, and, of course, inefficiency. I'm really sorry the system is in such bad shape, but don't get snarky with me, expecting me to believe that more money will magically fix the problems. Clean house and sort it out, then talk. Or not. Whatever.
Just makes me that much happier that my children aren't in the hands of people with this much ire toward the rest of the world.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, April 18
We're on the road...
Oh, it's been a crazy-busy weekend. Even by Baseball Season standards, yesterday was a blur that I'm still not able to think about. And although we'll slow back down for the rest of the week, it's still a bit busy. On the road we travel, Baseball Season weekends are a detour down a side road with good company, nice scenery, and bad food. Come tomorrow, though, it's back to our regular road...
To scientific advancement,
To scientific advancement,
Mathematical mastery,
Literary prowess,
and, evidently, Shambala.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, April 12
Back to Basics
A few changes in the works, here. First, I'm abandoning Photoshop. It may be a fantastic program, but it requires time, patience, and an uninterruptedness that I simply haven't got at the moment. My feelings on this are along the same lines as on curriculum choices - The best program in the world won't matter if it sits on the shelf. So, back to Picasa, which has pretty much everything I need. (And what I need is to get pics available to Granny more often, for one thing! And to blog more often, for another.) So, here we are...
The weather is gorgeous, and it looks like we might actually make a little headway on the land, this year! So far, we've put in a blueberry stick (bush, eventually, but right now, shyeah, it's a stick), two raspberries, a blackberry (all sticks), and two cherry trees (actual trees - they make the sticks look even more pathetic). There are two fig sticks awaiting transplant, and Zorak did a little tilling in the garden, too!
EmBaby is still in charge of major defoliation projects, but she's agreed to stick to things that won't bear fruit, eventually. And, the apple and pear trees seem to be up and running for this year. We're hoping to avoid the June drop with proper thinning on the pears, and really just tossing Hail Marys at the apples. Not much else we can do, with them.
Some other changes we're making around the the Old Shack are educational - back to basics; nutritional - again, back to basics; philosophical - back to... hey, do you see a pattern here?
And so far, we're enjoying the changes!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The weather is gorgeous, and it looks like we might actually make a little headway on the land, this year! So far, we've put in a blueberry stick (bush, eventually, but right now, shyeah, it's a stick), two raspberries, a blackberry (all sticks), and two cherry trees (actual trees - they make the sticks look even more pathetic). There are two fig sticks awaiting transplant, and Zorak did a little tilling in the garden, too!
EmBaby is still in charge of major defoliation projects, but she's agreed to stick to things that won't bear fruit, eventually. And, the apple and pear trees seem to be up and running for this year. We're hoping to avoid the June drop with proper thinning on the pears, and really just tossing Hail Marys at the apples. Not much else we can do, with them.
Some other changes we're making around the the Old Shack are educational - back to basics; nutritional - again, back to basics; philosophical - back to... hey, do you see a pattern here?
And so far, we're enjoying the changes!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, January 14
Delayed Response
I tried to post this yesterday from my phone, but my figurative VCR clock is still blinking on that thing, and I couldn't make it work. I may have inadvertently sent a death threat to Putin, though, so... yeah. Remember my Come Find Me post? Totally counts, even if the no-longer-KGB is involved, okay?
So, we got our order in from Yesterday's Classics. The boys perused the books on the way into town. When we arrived at the music store, Smidge held up a book and said, "Mom, we need to add this to my school!"
I looked up to see what he was talking about. Fifty Famous Stories Retold, by James Baldwin. He loves it. He read the first two stories on the drive! Score!!!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
So, we got our order in from Yesterday's Classics. The boys perused the books on the way into town. When we arrived at the music store, Smidge held up a book and said, "Mom, we need to add this to my school!"
I looked up to see what he was talking about. Fifty Famous Stories Retold, by James Baldwin. He loves it. He read the first two stories on the drive! Score!!!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, December 29
Tuesday
Just Tuesday. It's trash day, and I overslept (man, our bed is comfortable, and the blankets over the window for warmth have the added distraction of also making me think it's still 5:30, no matter how late it gets), but it looks like Zorak got up and at 'em and got the trash out. He also left coffee and a fire. It's like Santa's slightly odd cousin came. He doesn't leave wrapped gifts, but it's still a wonderful feeling.
We aren't supposed to get back to schooling until the fourth. But... yeah. We might ditch that plan and start back today. The lack of structure is about to kill all of us. Maybe just math, Latin, reading and music. That would make for an easy week back, and it would also keep us from spending the day wallowing in mindless entertainment while the debris piles up around us. Not that that's a bad thing, per se, it's just that after two weeks of it, we need to dig our way out and find the path again.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We aren't supposed to get back to schooling until the fourth. But... yeah. We might ditch that plan and start back today. The lack of structure is about to kill all of us. Maybe just math, Latin, reading and music. That would make for an easy week back, and it would also keep us from spending the day wallowing in mindless entertainment while the debris piles up around us. Not that that's a bad thing, per se, it's just that after two weeks of it, we need to dig our way out and find the path again.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, October 1
Virtual Friday
Tomorrow, Zorak is off for the day, and so are we. Well, from school. There's still work to be done, wood to be hauled, equipment to be moved. But, in theory, we're off for the day. Which means today we must bust a hump and really make some progress.
It's been a slow week. It's been one of those weeks where you look at the children making origami (drawing pictures, having swordfights) and you think, "I'm pretty sure the math we JUST went over isn't done yet."
No sooner have you made the rounds, getting everybody back on task, only to return to your original spot to find the beginnings of a paper crane...
a stunningly complex rendition of Harry Potter Meets Captain Nemo...
and clue in to what's happening, just in time to duck a particularly wild sword thrust.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Feed them. Get back to the repeating part.
Collapse into a heap around ten PM, with a glass of wine and a pile of peanut butter cups. Watch as many episodes of Chuck as you can before your spouse starts making snarky comments about how he could be an inept spy, too, if it would help.
The down side is that you get to get up and do it all. over. again.
The up side is that you DO get to get up and do it all over again.
Today, I'm taking the sword to the crane for "history". But I think we may just call the drawings "art". I'm out of wine.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
It's been a slow week. It's been one of those weeks where you look at the children making origami (drawing pictures, having swordfights) and you think, "I'm pretty sure the math we JUST went over isn't done yet."
No sooner have you made the rounds, getting everybody back on task, only to return to your original spot to find the beginnings of a paper crane...
a stunningly complex rendition of Harry Potter Meets Captain Nemo...
and clue in to what's happening, just in time to duck a particularly wild sword thrust.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Feed them. Get back to the repeating part.
Collapse into a heap around ten PM, with a glass of wine and a pile of peanut butter cups. Watch as many episodes of Chuck as you can before your spouse starts making snarky comments about how he could be an inept spy, too, if it would help.
The down side is that you get to get up and do it all. over. again.
The up side is that you DO get to get up and do it all over again.
Today, I'm taking the sword to the crane for "history". But I think we may just call the drawings "art". I'm out of wine.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, August 13
I love vocabulary.
Not as an exercise on its own, but as a part of the day, it's wonderful. What's a "mazer"?
What's the difference between a broadsword and a regular sword?
"OH! Well, no wonder, then!"
Heh.
Yes, this is good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
What's the difference between a broadsword and a regular sword?
"OH! Well, no wonder, then!"
Heh.
Yes, this is good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, August 11
First Grade for Smidge
That's such a weird sensation. *pause to reflect how quickly it goes. pause, pause, pause* OK, not getting any easier. Let's move on, anyway.
He's pretty much following the path his brothers have packed down ahead of him, with variations to account for support where he needs it, and leeway where I wish I'd given it with the older two. Not a lot of "seat time". Plenty of "couch time". Lots of "outside time" (when it cools off a bit). This isn't Victorian England, and I don't have a stash of opium, so we don't have the pastoral scenes of young children learning that one might expect or desire. We have a lot of paper, tons of colored pencils and drawing materials, books absolutely *everywhere*, and I think there's Sculpey stuck to the bathroom wall. (I don't know how or why. I quit asking years ago.)
Science is Life. Particularly at this age. It's Parables From Nature. It's a magnifying glass and an afternoon on the floor with encyclopedias and Mom. It's drawings and rabbit trails. Leaves and seeds and flowers and fruit. Eggs and larvae and things you probably don't want in your home. It's antibacterial soap and a lot of deep, slow breathing.
Math-U-See Alpha is math for Smidge. It's his happy spot. He enjoyed Primer, learned plenty, and was anxious to start in his new book. (Comes by that last bit honestly. We all just love a fresh, new book, around here. It's almost, but not quite, a sickness.)
Music and Art are still a bit haphazard, here. Although we do still enjoy Artistic Pursuits and Meet the Great Composers, so he'll continue to use those in a light and painfully unstructured way.
For History, I feel like I ought to go back and start him with Vol. I of Story of the World. We had such a good time with that. Then I realize what a scheduling nightmare I'd be inventing for myself. It's not as if he hasn't been listening in along the way, and I have to remind myself (sometimes forcibly) that he's putting up pegs on which to hang future information. Since he draws Hammurabi cartoons, explains how a trebuchet works, and makes jokes about privateers, I'm guessing he's been listening - at least peripherally - and has been, quite happily, slinging pegs here and there along the way. So he's doing Modern Times with us, at a slower, softer pace.
For Reading, Phonics, Spelling, and so forth, I still cannot recommend The Writing Road to Reading highly enough. It is thorough, concise, and well done. And, with apologies to Ms. Spalding, I modify it to suit our needs. Smidge needs extra work on his speech, so this is where I put that in, too. More focus on speech, less on reading for him than is usual.
Copywork, copying the work you're reading together, is the absolute best at this age. Pick the things you enjoyed as you read. Write them out, let them copy, and then turn them loose to illustrate it. Some children love coloring books. So far, none of mine really have. Smidge seems the closest, but even he will draw his own illustrations quite happily. Put them up. I have no clue what color my fridge used to be. Someday, the weight of the tape, magnets and paper will pull the door off, I'm sure, and then we'll remove the pictures and narrations and copy work and see what it looks like. Before we cover it up again.
A note on reading. (Pardon me while I pull out my little soapbox. It's just a little one.) The reading comes. Whether it comes when they are two, four, six, or seven, it does come. Read aloud to them. Tell stories. Make up stories. Let language fill your days and nights. Create for them a world rich in literary texture, tastes, and images, and they'll want to make it their own. You've got a big old bag full of tools to share along the way, and yes, show them those tools. Explain how they work. But if it doesn't click, don't get angry or frustrated. Put the tools away and dive back into the words for a while. Try again later. Definitely keep your eyes open for places where there may be trouble, and address those spots if you find them, but always remember that reading is a gift we can cultivate in their hearts, as well as their minds. It's interesting to me that that's the one area I've never sweated, and it's the one area I have no/few regrets now that I'm in a position to start looking back. I have a horrible suspicion I'll find many other areas where I will wish I'd applied this philosophy a bit more soundly. (Sheepishly tucks soapbox back under the desk.)
Literature. Such a word! For the Littles, it makes it sound much less enjoyable than it is! There are book lists and book lists and book lists. I can't even pretend to know a tenth of what's out there, and when I try to collect it all, Zorak inevitably finds me curled up on the porch, feverishly figuring out what we'd have to sell or go without in order to BUY IT ALL RIGHT NOW. So. I try not to peruse more than one or two lists at a time. Zorak appreciates that, and so does my blood pressure. I like Veritas Press' reading lists, and of course, The Baldwin Project's books are big favorites, here, too. If you find something at Baldwin Project that you'd like to have in print, Yesterday's Classics offers many titles. We've ordered from them, and have always had great service. The books are decent quality softcover books. Lang's Fairy Books are also a staple.
For an all-in-one collection at this stage, the 20th Century Children's Book Treasury is my all-time favorite collection. It gets read, and read, and loved on and read. The binding is crap, and the book won't last through three children before Chicka-Chicka Boom-Boom and part of Swimmy fall out in the hallway. But I haven't found a collection of favorites like this anywhere else. Even Zorak got excited when we received this book, years ago. (Who knew he had such a soft spot for Sylvester?) Ideally, we'd all be able to buy all the books individually, but realistically that's an investment of almost $1,000 all said and done. And you know, if I'm going to lay out a grand for a book collection, it'll be the one *I've* been coveting for almost a decade now, thanks. This, however, does the trick quite nicely. And, as True Favorites emerge, you can pick them up here and there without giving anybody involved in the household finances a stroke. There's that.
Poetry. Don't scoff. (OK, go ahead and scoff, but come back. I'll wait.) Poetry. Charlotte Mason's educational philosophy incorporates daily poetry. As with anybody who has homeschooled more than, say, six months, I've read her papers, poked around Ambleside Online, fallen in love with it, and eventually abandoned it, in general, taking precious gems with me back to my eclectic educational cave. Poetry was one of those gems. It doesn't have to be dry or dull. Hilaire Belloc, Mother Goose, Robert Lewis Stevenson - whimsical, beautiful, rich poetry is available and wonderful for use in daily life. I can tell you this: the best year we've ever had, as far as routine, tone, flavor, and pace, was the year we incorporated poetry into our daily routine. We are bringing it back this year. It was that good.
The bulk of our school is reading, even at this age. When they're older, they read and we discuss. When they're younger, we read together and we discuss. When they're younger, I read to them and we discuss. It looks different at every stage, but you'd be hard pressed to find me, at any stage, putting us in a circle, clipboard on my lap, peering over imaginary spectacles as I toss out a topic and say, in the manner of James Lipton, "Why?" More likely is that Zorak comes home to find us piled up in the boys' room, or the living room, talking animatedly about whatever it was that struck our fancies.
Mostly, it's an organic flow of discussion. Questions, point-counterpoint, more rabbit trails, bantering, back and forth, and always, in the end, more reading. When you care what they think, what they liked, and what they got out of it, they know. And they're happy to share. This is what I'm talking about when I tell people that homeschooling is a lifestyle more than just an exercise in academics. It's how we do things, and who we are, part and parcel, inseparable. Sometimes, you'll want to bang your head against the wall, but not right now (I'll go into that more on the appropriate entry, later). Right now, it's all magic. It's all new and exciting and interesting.
And, I think that's about it, for First Grade.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
He's pretty much following the path his brothers have packed down ahead of him, with variations to account for support where he needs it, and leeway where I wish I'd given it with the older two. Not a lot of "seat time". Plenty of "couch time". Lots of "outside time" (when it cools off a bit). This isn't Victorian England, and I don't have a stash of opium, so we don't have the pastoral scenes of young children learning that one might expect or desire. We have a lot of paper, tons of colored pencils and drawing materials, books absolutely *everywhere*, and I think there's Sculpey stuck to the bathroom wall. (I don't know how or why. I quit asking years ago.)
Science is Life. Particularly at this age. It's Parables From Nature. It's a magnifying glass and an afternoon on the floor with encyclopedias and Mom. It's drawings and rabbit trails. Leaves and seeds and flowers and fruit. Eggs and larvae and things you probably don't want in your home. It's antibacterial soap and a lot of deep, slow breathing.
Math-U-See Alpha is math for Smidge. It's his happy spot. He enjoyed Primer, learned plenty, and was anxious to start in his new book. (Comes by that last bit honestly. We all just love a fresh, new book, around here. It's almost, but not quite, a sickness.)
Music and Art are still a bit haphazard, here. Although we do still enjoy Artistic Pursuits and Meet the Great Composers, so he'll continue to use those in a light and painfully unstructured way.
For History, I feel like I ought to go back and start him with Vol. I of Story of the World. We had such a good time with that. Then I realize what a scheduling nightmare I'd be inventing for myself. It's not as if he hasn't been listening in along the way, and I have to remind myself (sometimes forcibly) that he's putting up pegs on which to hang future information. Since he draws Hammurabi cartoons, explains how a trebuchet works, and makes jokes about privateers, I'm guessing he's been listening - at least peripherally - and has been, quite happily, slinging pegs here and there along the way. So he's doing Modern Times with us, at a slower, softer pace.
For Reading, Phonics, Spelling, and so forth, I still cannot recommend The Writing Road to Reading highly enough. It is thorough, concise, and well done. And, with apologies to Ms. Spalding, I modify it to suit our needs. Smidge needs extra work on his speech, so this is where I put that in, too. More focus on speech, less on reading for him than is usual.
Copywork, copying the work you're reading together, is the absolute best at this age. Pick the things you enjoyed as you read. Write them out, let them copy, and then turn them loose to illustrate it. Some children love coloring books. So far, none of mine really have. Smidge seems the closest, but even he will draw his own illustrations quite happily. Put them up. I have no clue what color my fridge used to be. Someday, the weight of the tape, magnets and paper will pull the door off, I'm sure, and then we'll remove the pictures and narrations and copy work and see what it looks like. Before we cover it up again.
A note on reading. (Pardon me while I pull out my little soapbox. It's just a little one.) The reading comes. Whether it comes when they are two, four, six, or seven, it does come. Read aloud to them. Tell stories. Make up stories. Let language fill your days and nights. Create for them a world rich in literary texture, tastes, and images, and they'll want to make it their own. You've got a big old bag full of tools to share along the way, and yes, show them those tools. Explain how they work. But if it doesn't click, don't get angry or frustrated. Put the tools away and dive back into the words for a while. Try again later. Definitely keep your eyes open for places where there may be trouble, and address those spots if you find them, but always remember that reading is a gift we can cultivate in their hearts, as well as their minds. It's interesting to me that that's the one area I've never sweated, and it's the one area I have no/few regrets now that I'm in a position to start looking back. I have a horrible suspicion I'll find many other areas where I will wish I'd applied this philosophy a bit more soundly. (Sheepishly tucks soapbox back under the desk.)
Literature. Such a word! For the Littles, it makes it sound much less enjoyable than it is! There are book lists and book lists and book lists. I can't even pretend to know a tenth of what's out there, and when I try to collect it all, Zorak inevitably finds me curled up on the porch, feverishly figuring out what we'd have to sell or go without in order to BUY IT ALL RIGHT NOW. So. I try not to peruse more than one or two lists at a time. Zorak appreciates that, and so does my blood pressure. I like Veritas Press' reading lists, and of course, The Baldwin Project's books are big favorites, here, too. If you find something at Baldwin Project that you'd like to have in print, Yesterday's Classics offers many titles. We've ordered from them, and have always had great service. The books are decent quality softcover books. Lang's Fairy Books are also a staple.
For an all-in-one collection at this stage, the 20th Century Children's Book Treasury is my all-time favorite collection. It gets read, and read, and loved on and read. The binding is crap, and the book won't last through three children before Chicka-Chicka Boom-Boom and part of Swimmy fall out in the hallway. But I haven't found a collection of favorites like this anywhere else. Even Zorak got excited when we received this book, years ago. (Who knew he had such a soft spot for Sylvester?) Ideally, we'd all be able to buy all the books individually, but realistically that's an investment of almost $1,000 all said and done. And you know, if I'm going to lay out a grand for a book collection, it'll be the one *I've* been coveting for almost a decade now, thanks. This, however, does the trick quite nicely. And, as True Favorites emerge, you can pick them up here and there without giving anybody involved in the household finances a stroke. There's that.
Poetry. Don't scoff. (OK, go ahead and scoff, but come back. I'll wait.) Poetry. Charlotte Mason's educational philosophy incorporates daily poetry. As with anybody who has homeschooled more than, say, six months, I've read her papers, poked around Ambleside Online, fallen in love with it, and eventually abandoned it, in general, taking precious gems with me back to my eclectic educational cave. Poetry was one of those gems. It doesn't have to be dry or dull. Hilaire Belloc, Mother Goose, Robert Lewis Stevenson - whimsical, beautiful, rich poetry is available and wonderful for use in daily life. I can tell you this: the best year we've ever had, as far as routine, tone, flavor, and pace, was the year we incorporated poetry into our daily routine. We are bringing it back this year. It was that good.
The bulk of our school is reading, even at this age. When they're older, they read and we discuss. When they're younger, we read together and we discuss. When they're younger, I read to them and we discuss. It looks different at every stage, but you'd be hard pressed to find me, at any stage, putting us in a circle, clipboard on my lap, peering over imaginary spectacles as I toss out a topic and say, in the manner of James Lipton, "Why?" More likely is that Zorak comes home to find us piled up in the boys' room, or the living room, talking animatedly about whatever it was that struck our fancies.
Mostly, it's an organic flow of discussion. Questions, point-counterpoint, more rabbit trails, bantering, back and forth, and always, in the end, more reading. When you care what they think, what they liked, and what they got out of it, they know. And they're happy to share. This is what I'm talking about when I tell people that homeschooling is a lifestyle more than just an exercise in academics. It's how we do things, and who we are, part and parcel, inseparable. Sometimes, you'll want to bang your head against the wall, but not right now (I'll go into that more on the appropriate entry, later). Right now, it's all magic. It's all new and exciting and interesting.
And, I think that's about it, for First Grade.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, July 30
Summertime Summaries
It's summertime, and the frogs are out. The weather is hot 'n sticky. The kids are growing like weeds, and if the fertilizer I bought in the Spring (and then promptly neglected to put on the trees in time) wasn't still sitting in sealed bags, I'd swear they were eating the stuff.
We're back to school this week, and so far, that's going well. John still stresses over math, and loves history. James still cannot, for the life of himself, pay attention to case endings, but can re-write songs in different keys while he eats breakfast. Smidge is gung-ho to get into the groove, and I'm a bit excited to see what he loves and what he must wrestle with. Also thinkin' I should probably put in the rest of my orders at some point... Anyway, I'll post our plans and winners/losers sometime in the next few days. (I hope y'all are sharing yours! I'll have a spare minute sometime around Midnight, Friday, and plan to go frolick in other people's lesson plans for a bit.)
The dishwasher died, and although I've always appreciated it, I didn't realize how much it HELD. Er, holds. I could still, technically, fill it. But it takes three loads by hand to empty the thing. We must get it fixed, if only for the water conservation. As of right now, the boys still find the novelty of washing dishes by hand quite fascinating. All I've really had to do is stand there and chat with each boy, show him how it's done, and then chit-chat some more while he does it. Sometimes they let me rinse. Not like this is killing us -- one-on-one time, fun, learning, etc. -- but I'd like to get it fixed before the novelty does wear off and I'm left alone in the kitchen as soon as the tub fills with dirty dishes. Which is often. I swear, I suspect the boys are harboring orphans in their room somewhere.
And so, it's one thirty. I'm tahrd. Had more to say, but Zorak was shopping online and I started working on the socks I'm trying to crochet. (I may just run a string through the open end and tell the boys they are juju bags. We'll see.) The next thing I know, my eyes are watery and my head weighs a ton. I believe that's a sign that it's time for bed? Or that my brain is swelling and I need to see an optometrist. But we'll go with exhaustion for a thousand, Alex.
Night!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, March 31
A Normal Day
Yesterday, we did lessons. We talked. We walked about outside. We did more laundry, more disinfecting, more dishes. We read.
James said he's glad he's read Robinson Crusoe. That made me smile, because he hasn't always been glad. But it picked up, and it got interesting. And he got over whatever mental block he had and found it fascinating. And we both smiled.
John's handwriting is now improving as much as James' has. I need to write a thank you note to the folks at Italic Handwriting. Thanks to them, I may be able to stave off needing glasses for one more year.
Jake has no desire to read, but he sure wants to catch up with his brothers in math.
Emily wants to read. She wants to read everything on every surface, every sign. She knows there's a pattern in there, and she wants to know the key.
Jason's third tooth finally erupted after he started antibiotics. Now three more have come through. He looks like he's wearing a partial bridge.
We'll resume baseball and piano and gardening this week. We'll finish up our history and literature and begin the next round. We'll hopefully make it to church this Sunday.
Our normal. It feels pretty exciting, right about now.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
James said he's glad he's read Robinson Crusoe. That made me smile, because he hasn't always been glad. But it picked up, and it got interesting. And he got over whatever mental block he had and found it fascinating. And we both smiled.
John's handwriting is now improving as much as James' has. I need to write a thank you note to the folks at Italic Handwriting. Thanks to them, I may be able to stave off needing glasses for one more year.
Jake has no desire to read, but he sure wants to catch up with his brothers in math.
Emily wants to read. She wants to read everything on every surface, every sign. She knows there's a pattern in there, and she wants to know the key.
Jason's third tooth finally erupted after he started antibiotics. Now three more have come through. He looks like he's wearing a partial bridge.
We'll resume baseball and piano and gardening this week. We'll finish up our history and literature and begin the next round. We'll hopefully make it to church this Sunday.
Our normal. It feels pretty exciting, right about now.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, March 13
And we're off!
I got something in the crockpot today!
Granted, it was just keilbasa and sauerkraut. And it only needed to warm up, not actually *cook*. But boy, did I feel like a Big People, dishing it up between practice and Scouts tonight.
We've been hit with a cold snap. Or more of just a super-chilly *period*. It's just chilly enough to make hot chocolate and games sound nice. Unfortunately, it's not cold enough to cancel activities, but too cold to be comfortable sitting on metal bleachers. Really. Metal? What's wrong with splinters? At least splinters don't get that cold.
This weekend will be wild, with practices and derby and church and cold and practices and... I'm not repeating myself. It's going to be that busy!
Meanwhile, EmBaby seems to have given up on the idea that she'll ever get an education if left to my plans, and she is forging on without us. She convinced the boys to change the audio on her favorite videos, and tonight she told me, "I'm learning French, Mom!"
It was probably a good call, on her part, to start teaching herself now. Poor James held out hope for *years* that I'd teach him French. All of my protestations about not *knowing* French, having never taken any French, and really not being all that interested in adding it to my To-Do list fell on his deaf, ever-hopeful little ears. Maybe EmBaby will teach him, once she gets the hang of it?
The fire is going, and the house is toasty. It's time to bank it up and head for bed. Busy day tomorrow!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Granted, it was just keilbasa and sauerkraut. And it only needed to warm up, not actually *cook*. But boy, did I feel like a Big People, dishing it up between practice and Scouts tonight.
We've been hit with a cold snap. Or more of just a super-chilly *period*. It's just chilly enough to make hot chocolate and games sound nice. Unfortunately, it's not cold enough to cancel activities, but too cold to be comfortable sitting on metal bleachers. Really. Metal? What's wrong with splinters? At least splinters don't get that cold.
This weekend will be wild, with practices and derby and church and cold and practices and... I'm not repeating myself. It's going to be that busy!
Meanwhile, EmBaby seems to have given up on the idea that she'll ever get an education if left to my plans, and she is forging on without us. She convinced the boys to change the audio on her favorite videos, and tonight she told me, "I'm learning French, Mom!"
It was probably a good call, on her part, to start teaching herself now. Poor James held out hope for *years* that I'd teach him French. All of my protestations about not *knowing* French, having never taken any French, and really not being all that interested in adding it to my To-Do list fell on his deaf, ever-hopeful little ears. Maybe EmBaby will teach him, once she gets the hang of it?
The fire is going, and the house is toasty. It's time to bank it up and head for bed. Busy day tomorrow!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, January 20
And We Wonder Why They Get Confused
I'll set the stage:
James and John are at the table, completing their writing work for the day.
I'm working in the kitchen.
Smidge and Emily are riding a tricycle/chasing one another around the house.
Jase is eating something nobody can remember giving him, and providing general background noise.
*************************************************************
Em asks Smidge to wait. He ignores her. She tells him to wait. He goes a few more feet before stopping, but still doesn't acknowledge her with his words. She shrieks. He hollers.
I take a deep breath and remind everybody that this nonsense of ignoring one another simply has. to. stop. Like yesterday. Thank you.
Smidge, Em and Jase return to their regularly scheduled noise making.
James asks if he can write now.
What? Of course you can.
Well, it's just hard to concentrate with you talking to the littles every few minutes.
(And you see this coming, don't you?)
Well, honey, you're just going to have to learn to ignore me.
Thankfully, he cracked up and got back to writing. It could have gone horribly awry.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
James and John are at the table, completing their writing work for the day.
I'm working in the kitchen.
Smidge and Emily are riding a tricycle/chasing one another around the house.
Jase is eating something nobody can remember giving him, and providing general background noise.
*************************************************************
Em asks Smidge to wait. He ignores her. She tells him to wait. He goes a few more feet before stopping, but still doesn't acknowledge her with his words. She shrieks. He hollers.
I take a deep breath and remind everybody that this nonsense of ignoring one another simply has. to. stop. Like yesterday. Thank you.
Smidge, Em and Jase return to their regularly scheduled noise making.
James asks if he can write now.
What? Of course you can.
Well, it's just hard to concentrate with you talking to the littles every few minutes.
(And you see this coming, don't you?)
Well, honey, you're just going to have to learn to ignore me.
Thankfully, he cracked up and got back to writing. It could have gone horribly awry.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, January 12
Clear and Cold, School is in Session
Weather reports from some obscure portion of North America. Just what people come to read, no? No. Yeah. Well, I'm trying desperately not to write a "to-do" list, which is what AM blogging usually turns into, for me.
Tried to teach Smidge his reading this morning. I should never have deviated from my belovedly mangled method of teaching via of WRTR. He *hates* (loathes? thinks dark thoughts toward?) Spelling Workout. I thought he'd like it. Turns out he's not a workbook kid. And that's okay. That's why we don't have to do it, and he doesn't have to hash out whether that's supposed to be a "car" an "automobile" or a "Jeep" in the picture before he decides what the beginning sound is supposed to be. So. Yay.
But then, trying to spice things up a bit, I tried to be funny. Or fun. Or something. So I'm telling him about the "magic letters, e, i, and y" and how they can magically change c or g to say different sounds. He didn't buy it. "There's no such thing as a magic letter, Mom."
So I called in the big boys for backup. (I should know better.) They were with me on all of it, up to the point that I said, "So, see? They're magic letters!" They bailed on me! There's no magic letter! No magic at all! It's all *gasp* LOGIC.
And humor. Oh, everybody's a comedian. They took that ball and ran with it, juggled it, and then somebody fell off the chair and everything was all pandemonium.
Fine. We'll do it your way, then.
But Smidge won't soon forget that C, followed by e, i, or y, says it's second sound. ;-) And, he much prefers the dry erase board and a slightly botched Spalding method to learning this stuff than the workbooks and pencils.
More fun with words: John is doing battle with the dictionary. He's pretty sure we know the definitions and could save him a lot of time, but -- for whatever reason *cough*cough*, we aren't sharing the information. And hostel is just a wee bit different than hostile, just in case you were wondering!
Not bad for a Monday morning, with nothing yet to reflect on, I think. But it is quite clear and cold this morning, and Zorak didn't leave me enough kindling to re-start the fire. (He has too much faith in my abilities, that man. Far too much faith.) So, I'm going to redirect the children in a few minutes and go hack up some splinters for the fire.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tried to teach Smidge his reading this morning. I should never have deviated from my belovedly mangled method of teaching via of WRTR. He *hates* (loathes? thinks dark thoughts toward?) Spelling Workout. I thought he'd like it. Turns out he's not a workbook kid. And that's okay. That's why we don't have to do it, and he doesn't have to hash out whether that's supposed to be a "car" an "automobile" or a "Jeep" in the picture before he decides what the beginning sound is supposed to be. So. Yay.
But then, trying to spice things up a bit, I tried to be funny. Or fun. Or something. So I'm telling him about the "magic letters, e, i, and y" and how they can magically change c or g to say different sounds. He didn't buy it. "There's no such thing as a magic letter, Mom."
So I called in the big boys for backup. (I should know better.) They were with me on all of it, up to the point that I said, "So, see? They're magic letters!" They bailed on me! There's no magic letter! No magic at all! It's all *gasp* LOGIC.
And humor. Oh, everybody's a comedian. They took that ball and ran with it, juggled it, and then somebody fell off the chair and everything was all pandemonium.
Fine. We'll do it your way, then.
But Smidge won't soon forget that C, followed by e, i, or y, says it's second sound. ;-) And, he much prefers the dry erase board and a slightly botched Spalding method to learning this stuff than the workbooks and pencils.
More fun with words: John is doing battle with the dictionary. He's pretty sure we know the definitions and could save him a lot of time, but -- for whatever reason *cough*cough*, we aren't sharing the information. And hostel is just a wee bit different than hostile, just in case you were wondering!
Not bad for a Monday morning, with nothing yet to reflect on, I think. But it is quite clear and cold this morning, and Zorak didn't leave me enough kindling to re-start the fire. (He has too much faith in my abilities, that man. Far too much faith.) So, I'm going to redirect the children in a few minutes and go hack up some splinters for the fire.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, January 8
Back to School, Part II
The Christmas break is over. We're halfway through our first week back, and all is well. Mostly. The boys aren't "thrilled" over being back to their studies, but they are tickled to see they haven't forgotten everything (yay!), and they've had good luck so far with getting their things done so that they can still enjoy the afternoons. By Jove, I think they've got it! (They may lose it again in a few weeks, but for now, we'll just go with it.)
In looking back through this year's curriculum choices, I have to say there have been a few stand out winners.
Italic handwriting rendered James' work legible at first glance. In just four months! *sniff* That's like a little gift from Father Christmas, just for me.
Artistic Pursuits, and Meet The Great Composers were two other winners. A great program is only a great program if you'll use it, and these two made it easy to include art and music history in our regular schedule. So happy, we are. So enlightened. *giggle*
Of course, I may request my official MUS-Cultist card with my next math order. But then, y'all already knew that about us.
That's about it, on the round-up.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
In looking back through this year's curriculum choices, I have to say there have been a few stand out winners.
Italic handwriting rendered James' work legible at first glance. In just four months! *sniff* That's like a little gift from Father Christmas, just for me.
Artistic Pursuits, and Meet The Great Composers were two other winners. A great program is only a great program if you'll use it, and these two made it easy to include art and music history in our regular schedule. So happy, we are. So enlightened. *giggle*
Of course, I may request my official MUS-Cultist card with my next math order. But then, y'all already knew that about us.
That's about it, on the round-up.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 19
Monday was many things.
It was long. And I do mean l-o-n-g.
It was productive. Really productive!
It was interesting. Though not in a "wow, I love learning" way.
We learned a few things, too.
I don't think I can physically blow that much time every day. I don't have 30 kids I have to check for retention. I don't have kids getting up to get a pencil (they just reach across the table and grab a new one from the pencil cup.) I don't have to play to the middle, or drag it out and find busy work. Busy work is harder on the preparer, I think. Although there are probably scads of 10yo's who would disagree with me.
The kids are learning more than I give them credit for in my more worrisome moments. Even if they are a titch lazy, they are still learning and moving forward. That's encouraging to know for certain.
We do well with a schedule, because honestly, we're ALL a bit like a litter of puppies. Yours Truly, included.
Take Andie's advice whenever you can. Movies are educational! (Actually, the timing was perfect, as our documentary on Art in the Late Middle Ages arrived from Netflix on Tuesday.)
John figured it out. Clever boy. Unfortunately, I let that give a reprieve to both boys, and James... well, James needs a bit more of the structure to understand that yes, Virginia, there is more to learn. *groan*
Zorak rocks. I mean seriously, deeply, honestly rocks. He knows just when to rub my back and tell me I'm not The Crazy Lady, and just when to share a story of Life, Through the Eyes of a Ten-Year-Old Boy. Those stories make me laugh until I cry. But it's more of a happy, relieved cry than a maniacal "abandon hope, all ye who enter" cry. He makes me laugh. He reminds me that our kids are really, REALLY great kids.
He also gives me hope that one day I will not have to explain that, yes, you really should rinse soap off your face. You know... like you do off your body. (And that you can't use shampoo in your example, because that's "shampoo" and not "soap".) He remembers when those arguments made sense in his head, and he assures me that one day, the boys will outgrow it, too.
And so, it's been a good week, in many ways. Probably not the ways we anticipated. But then, it hasn't been bad in the ways we anticipated, either. Today, we hit the dentist for the kids, and then piano, and then TCTSNBN. We'll be doing some car schooling and a little waiting-room-schooling, as well. But it'll be another good day. It will.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
It was productive. Really productive!
It was interesting. Though not in a "wow, I love learning" way.
We learned a few things, too.
I don't think I can physically blow that much time every day. I don't have 30 kids I have to check for retention. I don't have kids getting up to get a pencil (they just reach across the table and grab a new one from the pencil cup.) I don't have to play to the middle, or drag it out and find busy work. Busy work is harder on the preparer, I think. Although there are probably scads of 10yo's who would disagree with me.
The kids are learning more than I give them credit for in my more worrisome moments. Even if they are a titch lazy, they are still learning and moving forward. That's encouraging to know for certain.
We do well with a schedule, because honestly, we're ALL a bit like a litter of puppies. Yours Truly, included.
Take Andie's advice whenever you can. Movies are educational! (Actually, the timing was perfect, as our documentary on Art in the Late Middle Ages arrived from Netflix on Tuesday.)
John figured it out. Clever boy. Unfortunately, I let that give a reprieve to both boys, and James... well, James needs a bit more of the structure to understand that yes, Virginia, there is more to learn. *groan*
Zorak rocks. I mean seriously, deeply, honestly rocks. He knows just when to rub my back and tell me I'm not The Crazy Lady, and just when to share a story of Life, Through the Eyes of a Ten-Year-Old Boy. Those stories make me laugh until I cry. But it's more of a happy, relieved cry than a maniacal "abandon hope, all ye who enter" cry. He makes me laugh. He reminds me that our kids are really, REALLY great kids.
He also gives me hope that one day I will not have to explain that, yes, you really should rinse soap off your face. You know... like you do off your body. (And that you can't use shampoo in your example, because that's "shampoo" and not "soap".) He remembers when those arguments made sense in his head, and he assures me that one day, the boys will outgrow it, too.
And so, it's been a good week, in many ways. Probably not the ways we anticipated. But then, it hasn't been bad in the ways we anticipated, either. Today, we hit the dentist for the kids, and then piano, and then TCTSNBN. We'll be doing some car schooling and a little waiting-room-schooling, as well. But it'll be another good day. It will.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, November 17
Trying a New Approach
It's been coming. I've seen it coming, but kept hoping the "reminders" (or the "thinly veiled threats") would do the trick. But no, eventually, they will stop believing you when you say they have it easy. Eventually, my friends, they will call your bluff.
Our regular course of academics includes math, Latin, reading, science, history, art, music, and general language arts (literature, spelling, grammar, etc.). But the Bare Bones are math, Latin and reading. If we have a particularly busy day, or are experiencing a plague, those must get done. You can curl up and die under the coffee table after, and only after, your math-Latin-and-reading are done.
Somehow, at some unknown point, that devolved to doing only math, Latin and reading every day. That should take an hour, tops, right? Yet, how did I not really catch on that this was *all* we were accomplishing? Well, they were taking four or five hours to accomplish those three. That's how. Still, I could have spotted it earlier.
I mean, they were more than happy to complain that we didn't do art. But they didn't hear me when I explained that we weren't doing art because art comes after history and spelling in the Grand Scheme of Things, and we weren't getting to those, either. (Of course, obviously, I didn't hear me, either. I'm pretty sure once my throat tightens past a certain point, only dogs and the occasional armadillo can hear me).
And so, last Thursday, at approximately a quarter past three, when there came upon us a Whining of Immeasurable Proportions that I would dare to ask them to unload the dishwasher while they were slaving away at math. Or reading. Or whatever it was at that point. And they were starving, to boot! ...well, I snapped.
They were starving because I had yet to prepare a mid-day meal, hence the request that the dishwasher be unloaded, which is normally done when the Big 3 are completed, but they weren't done yet, but we were hungry, so could you pleeeeeaassseee... ah, but you get the point. Things were, quite simply, out of hand.
This week, we're on an 8-3 schedule. Fifteen minute recess. Outside. (Because it's important for them to be out. side.) Thirty minute lunch. Timers and schedules and... my favorite part... homework. Heh. Yes, I'm spending this week lecturing for a full 35 minutes per subject, doling out the busy work, and then assigning as "homework" the very pages they'd have done during the day if they hadn't pushed that envelope. Although I haven't let them know, yet, that that's exactly what's happening. We'll see if they catch on. I figure if they do catch on on their own, hold a pow-wow, and articulate their understanding of the situation, then, sure, we'll stop this little experiment. That will be worth the effort going into it.
If they do not figure it out by Friday, I will fill them in on the fact that their evenings, which have been so full of work thus far, could easily be free from strife and worry if only they would stick to the Task At Hand during the day. AND we could be done before three. AND they'd still get a fantastic education in the end. It'll probably also make them more observant creatures in the future, I'm sure.
The scary part, though, is that although the actual time-frame is pretty rotten, the timer thing, and the uber-scheduling, and so on... it's been a pretty nice day. It's 1:30, and all we have left to do is art. Fortunately, I began homeroom (ha - I'm such a dork, I know) this morning by explaining that this "isn't a punishment, but rather an opportunity to see things through a different lens" - they didn't buy it, but I did let them know that if they find things they do enjoy this week, things they'd like to incorporate into our regular schedule, by all means -- glean away, wee ones! This is your life, your education. Whatever it takes to keep you actively involved, I'm good with it. (Although I do hope they don't opt to keep the 7:30 start time... that was a bit rough.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Our regular course of academics includes math, Latin, reading, science, history, art, music, and general language arts (literature, spelling, grammar, etc.). But the Bare Bones are math, Latin and reading. If we have a particularly busy day, or are experiencing a plague, those must get done. You can curl up and die under the coffee table after, and only after, your math-Latin-and-reading are done.
Somehow, at some unknown point, that devolved to doing only math, Latin and reading every day. That should take an hour, tops, right? Yet, how did I not really catch on that this was *all* we were accomplishing? Well, they were taking four or five hours to accomplish those three. That's how. Still, I could have spotted it earlier.
I mean, they were more than happy to complain that we didn't do art. But they didn't hear me when I explained that we weren't doing art because art comes after history and spelling in the Grand Scheme of Things, and we weren't getting to those, either. (Of course, obviously, I didn't hear me, either. I'm pretty sure once my throat tightens past a certain point, only dogs and the occasional armadillo can hear me).
And so, last Thursday, at approximately a quarter past three, when there came upon us a Whining of Immeasurable Proportions that I would dare to ask them to unload the dishwasher while they were slaving away at math. Or reading. Or whatever it was at that point. And they were starving, to boot! ...well, I snapped.
They were starving because I had yet to prepare a mid-day meal, hence the request that the dishwasher be unloaded, which is normally done when the Big 3 are completed, but they weren't done yet, but we were hungry, so could you pleeeeeaassseee... ah, but you get the point. Things were, quite simply, out of hand.
This week, we're on an 8-3 schedule. Fifteen minute recess. Outside. (Because it's important for them to be out. side.) Thirty minute lunch. Timers and schedules and... my favorite part... homework. Heh. Yes, I'm spending this week lecturing for a full 35 minutes per subject, doling out the busy work, and then assigning as "homework" the very pages they'd have done during the day if they hadn't pushed that envelope. Although I haven't let them know, yet, that that's exactly what's happening. We'll see if they catch on. I figure if they do catch on on their own, hold a pow-wow, and articulate their understanding of the situation, then, sure, we'll stop this little experiment. That will be worth the effort going into it.
If they do not figure it out by Friday, I will fill them in on the fact that their evenings, which have been so full of work thus far, could easily be free from strife and worry if only they would stick to the Task At Hand during the day. AND we could be done before three. AND they'd still get a fantastic education in the end. It'll probably also make them more observant creatures in the future, I'm sure.
The scary part, though, is that although the actual time-frame is pretty rotten, the timer thing, and the uber-scheduling, and so on... it's been a pretty nice day. It's 1:30, and all we have left to do is art. Fortunately, I began homeroom (ha - I'm such a dork, I know) this morning by explaining that this "isn't a punishment, but rather an opportunity to see things through a different lens" - they didn't buy it, but I did let them know that if they find things they do enjoy this week, things they'd like to incorporate into our regular schedule, by all means -- glean away, wee ones! This is your life, your education. Whatever it takes to keep you actively involved, I'm good with it. (Although I do hope they don't opt to keep the 7:30 start time... that was a bit rough.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, November 3
Meet Viggie. He's French.
So the boys are working on their Latin. James is... I don't know what James is doing. He's moved so far past me and my SLACKER STUDY BUDDY (erin...) that he could be writing dirty jokes in Latin and I'd have very little clue.
John is at the dry erase board, conjugating verbs. (It's more fun when you can smear the words with your fingers.) Suddenly, he turns to me and says, "It's 'viggie la MOOSE', Mom."
Uh, no. It's /vig-i-LA-moose/, honey.
He looked at me a bit funny, and repeated his "Viggie la MOOSE" schtick.
Just as I started to worry that perhaps Latin is not going to be his thing, James pointed out, oh so helpfully, "Mom, I think he's trying to emphasize the verb ending, 'mus'. That that's the right one for 'we watch'."
Ahhhh... clever child.
I may be outmanned, and outgunned around here, but I'm going to go down chuckling. And I plan to get the boys plush Viggie 'la moose' toys for their stockings, too. Who wouldn't love a Latin-speaking French Moose?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
John is at the dry erase board, conjugating verbs. (It's more fun when you can smear the words with your fingers.) Suddenly, he turns to me and says, "It's 'viggie la MOOSE', Mom."
Uh, no. It's /vig-i-LA-moose/, honey.
He looked at me a bit funny, and repeated his "Viggie la MOOSE" schtick.
Just as I started to worry that perhaps Latin is not going to be his thing, James pointed out, oh so helpfully, "Mom, I think he's trying to emphasize the verb ending, 'mus'. That that's the right one for 'we watch'."
Ahhhh... clever child.
I may be outmanned, and outgunned around here, but I'm going to go down chuckling. And I plan to get the boys plush Viggie 'la moose' toys for their stockings, too. Who wouldn't love a Latin-speaking French Moose?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, October 31
Typical Virtual Friday
A kind-of, sort-of Day in the Life. Thursday is the new Friday!
No, not really, but it's late, and that's the best I could offer. Although, it *is* our friday...
*aherm* Anyway...
8:00 - We stage our own little revolt this morning and refuse to get dressed. You can carry compost to the heap in your jammies, right? It's not like the neighbor's chickens care if you match. The kids grab fruit and start their lessons while I read the news and warm up with a cup of coffee.
8:20 - They're all in here, reading the news over my shoulder. From the comments they're making, I'm guessing they'd like a little breakfast. (Namely EmBaby: "That boy looks hungry, mama. Hungry like your Em-lee. I'm jus' a hungry girl." Someone tell me she will somehow master "subtle" without going into "codespeak", right?)
8:45 - I start the pancakes and ask them to get back to their lessons. James starts with reading. John starts with math.
8:50 - We're fixing pancakes while we discuss random thoughts that pop into their heads. Not a lot of reading or math getting done. Redirect the Bigs. Throw pancake scraps to Em. Flip pancakes. Redirect again.
9:15 - Pancakes are ready, John's math is done, but James' reading book is now lost. We don't know how it happens. He never once moved from the breakfast bar. The breakfast bar has a finite flat surface and no shrubbery surrounding it. Where'd the book go? *shrug* Oh well, let's eat.
11:00 - I've been done for an hour and a half. The boys are still eating. After I finished, I took advantage of having a semi-captive audience to read two chapters of Five Little Peppers, do a little geography, and cover Music History. But still... I've been dancing with Embaby to Handel's Hallelujah Chorus for forty minutes, and my knees ache.
11:30 - I finally declare that if they keep this up, I am going to put us all on a public school schedule, complete with "bus ride" at six in the morning, pee breaks only between "classes", twenty minute OUTSIDE recess (no matter how cold it is), and the one that always gets them, HALF HOUR LUNCH PERIOD.
11:32 - Their spots are cleaned, books gathered, and all the happy, well-fed children are looking at me expectantly for the next lesson. (Um, it's art. But I didn't expect my public school schedule speech to be quite *this* effective, and I must go dig up the art book.) Oh, hey, this one is on observation and detail! We're supposed to go outside and "observe the marvels of the world"! James looks outside, at the 40-degree day and says, "How 'bout we observe the marvels of the MODERN world?" Yeah. We'll stay inside. I don't know where your coats are, yet.
1:27 - Art is done. Chores are done. Math, latin, reading - all done. James has my Henle because he cannot find his LP text. The four principle parts are laid out differently, and it makes us batty. I really hope his book turns up. (Perhaps it's hiding with his reading book? I'm sensing a pattern, here. Remember to check the pantry and cupboards tonight, when he's in bed.) James makes lunch for everybody. John sets the table. Jase serenades us with jokes in his native tongue, and laughs maniacally at each and every one. I wish at least one of us could speak Infantese. Smidge and Embaby do not fight. This is a beautiful moment in my day.
1:45 - They're done eating. (I'm having that "schedule speech" printed out, dipped in gold, and hung on the wall behind the dining table!)
2:00 - Break time. Video games, stories, games, reading, playing, napping. Kind of a free-for-all, but in a good way that doesn't result in any broken bones or bleeding noses. Smidge helps me make banana bread. I send him on his way with a kiss and a snuggle after he blows flour from the bowl all over my head. Love that help, though. It changes so quickly into "can I do it all by myself".
At some point, Zorak gets home. Since it's Virtual Friday, we have a special movie to watch. Zorak suggests a finger food supper (he brought shrimp! *swoon*), and so that's what we do. Shrimp, green olives, tortilla-cheese-ham-wrap-things, pickles, okra, and banana bread. Journey to the Center of the Earth (the new one, with Brendan Fraser).
And then, bedtime. Quiet time. I'll do the dishes tomorrow, unless the Project Fairy* comes and does them for me. Not holding out much hope on that one. It's okay.
But first, I'll kiss those babies!
~Dy
* The Project Fairy, from the tv show, The PJs - who the super told his wife he thought magically came in and cleaned the apartment each night.
No, not really, but it's late, and that's the best I could offer. Although, it *is* our friday...
*aherm* Anyway...
8:00 - We stage our own little revolt this morning and refuse to get dressed. You can carry compost to the heap in your jammies, right? It's not like the neighbor's chickens care if you match. The kids grab fruit and start their lessons while I read the news and warm up with a cup of coffee.
8:20 - They're all in here, reading the news over my shoulder. From the comments they're making, I'm guessing they'd like a little breakfast. (Namely EmBaby: "That boy looks hungry, mama. Hungry like your Em-lee. I'm jus' a hungry girl." Someone tell me she will somehow master "subtle" without going into "codespeak", right?)
8:45 - I start the pancakes and ask them to get back to their lessons. James starts with reading. John starts with math.
8:50 - We're fixing pancakes while we discuss random thoughts that pop into their heads. Not a lot of reading or math getting done. Redirect the Bigs. Throw pancake scraps to Em. Flip pancakes. Redirect again.
9:15 - Pancakes are ready, John's math is done, but James' reading book is now lost. We don't know how it happens. He never once moved from the breakfast bar. The breakfast bar has a finite flat surface and no shrubbery surrounding it. Where'd the book go? *shrug* Oh well, let's eat.
11:00 - I've been done for an hour and a half. The boys are still eating. After I finished, I took advantage of having a semi-captive audience to read two chapters of Five Little Peppers, do a little geography, and cover Music History. But still... I've been dancing with Embaby to Handel's Hallelujah Chorus for forty minutes, and my knees ache.
11:30 - I finally declare that if they keep this up, I am going to put us all on a public school schedule, complete with "bus ride" at six in the morning, pee breaks only between "classes", twenty minute OUTSIDE recess (no matter how cold it is), and the one that always gets them, HALF HOUR LUNCH PERIOD.
11:32 - Their spots are cleaned, books gathered, and all the happy, well-fed children are looking at me expectantly for the next lesson. (Um, it's art. But I didn't expect my public school schedule speech to be quite *this* effective, and I must go dig up the art book.) Oh, hey, this one is on observation and detail! We're supposed to go outside and "observe the marvels of the world"! James looks outside, at the 40-degree day and says, "How 'bout we observe the marvels of the MODERN world?" Yeah. We'll stay inside. I don't know where your coats are, yet.
1:27 - Art is done. Chores are done. Math, latin, reading - all done. James has my Henle because he cannot find his LP text. The four principle parts are laid out differently, and it makes us batty. I really hope his book turns up. (Perhaps it's hiding with his reading book? I'm sensing a pattern, here. Remember to check the pantry and cupboards tonight, when he's in bed.) James makes lunch for everybody. John sets the table. Jase serenades us with jokes in his native tongue, and laughs maniacally at each and every one. I wish at least one of us could speak Infantese. Smidge and Embaby do not fight. This is a beautiful moment in my day.
1:45 - They're done eating. (I'm having that "schedule speech" printed out, dipped in gold, and hung on the wall behind the dining table!)
2:00 - Break time. Video games, stories, games, reading, playing, napping. Kind of a free-for-all, but in a good way that doesn't result in any broken bones or bleeding noses. Smidge helps me make banana bread. I send him on his way with a kiss and a snuggle after he blows flour from the bowl all over my head. Love that help, though. It changes so quickly into "can I do it all by myself".
At some point, Zorak gets home. Since it's Virtual Friday, we have a special movie to watch. Zorak suggests a finger food supper (he brought shrimp! *swoon*), and so that's what we do. Shrimp, green olives, tortilla-cheese-ham-wrap-things, pickles, okra, and banana bread. Journey to the Center of the Earth (the new one, with Brendan Fraser).
And then, bedtime. Quiet time. I'll do the dishes tomorrow, unless the Project Fairy* comes and does them for me. Not holding out much hope on that one. It's okay.
But first, I'll kiss those babies!
~Dy
* The Project Fairy, from the tv show, The PJs - who the super told his wife he thought magically came in and cleaned the apartment each night.
Sunday, October 19
Autumn Joy
We're breaking out the flannel sheets! That means the temps will probably be back in the high 80's at night sometime in the next two weeks! heh. I hadn't even thought of it, until James asked tonight if we could turn up the heater, and I realized we don't have the heat on. Uh, come to think of it, why don't you try wearing warmer jammies? Oh, and hey - warmer bedding! Ta-da! We don't need to turn on the heat yet, at all.
Zorak took all the kids to work on the barn and lower meadow Saturday, leaving me in relative peace and quiet (so there were no witnesses, should the whole experiment go horribly awry) to put up four jars of persimmon jelly and eleven jars of pear jelly. They haven't set yet, and that's okay. The pathetic level of enthusiasm I garnered just hearing the little "pop" of the jars as they sealed, one by one... that was worth it, right there. (I was somewhat certain the whole canning thing may be the homemaker's parallel to snipe hunting.)
Me-Wa is back! He'd been gone the last four months. Long months, for the kids. (Probably a lot longer for Me-Tae!) And today we were able to head up that way to visit. It was good to see him, great to visit. We got to meet the newest member of their clan, little Katie (a golden lab - oh, so cute!) The older dogs are not so fond of her, but she's sweet enough that I'm sure she'll grow on them.
There's a little boy who lives just up the road from them who comes over to visit - he's a sweetie. They play outside, go in to play pool, and migrate to the computer after a while. He hit me today with a doozie out of nowhere, though, and I had to laugh at how it all turned out.
There's an awful lot going on right now, not the least of which is that I can't seem to carve out time during the week to be left alone for fifteen minutes or so. Long enough to compose my thoughts, find something humorous in it, and write it up. I've been able to compose my thoughts, but I could sure use a few more minutes to find the humor before having to move on to the next thing. Hopefully, a little more rest, and a better schedule will help. I'm going to give that a shot this week and see how it goes. The kids deserve a Mom who can find humor in the daily things. I'm sure Zorak prefers that, too, over the rather irritable alternative he's been presented with lately. So. Yeah, gotta work on that.
And in that vein, I think I'm going to sweep up a bit, lay out tomorrow's plan, and try to hit the hay before eleven! (Livin' large, no?)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Zorak took all the kids to work on the barn and lower meadow Saturday, leaving me in relative peace and quiet (so there were no witnesses, should the whole experiment go horribly awry) to put up four jars of persimmon jelly and eleven jars of pear jelly. They haven't set yet, and that's okay. The pathetic level of enthusiasm I garnered just hearing the little "pop" of the jars as they sealed, one by one... that was worth it, right there. (I was somewhat certain the whole canning thing may be the homemaker's parallel to snipe hunting.)
Me-Wa is back! He'd been gone the last four months. Long months, for the kids. (Probably a lot longer for Me-Tae!) And today we were able to head up that way to visit. It was good to see him, great to visit. We got to meet the newest member of their clan, little Katie (a golden lab - oh, so cute!) The older dogs are not so fond of her, but she's sweet enough that I'm sure she'll grow on them.
There's a little boy who lives just up the road from them who comes over to visit - he's a sweetie. They play outside, go in to play pool, and migrate to the computer after a while. He hit me today with a doozie out of nowhere, though, and I had to laugh at how it all turned out.
He left it at that, and we moved on to an in-depth discussion of Dodgeball. I'm not entirely sure what the converation meant from his perspective, but it made me chuckle.Boy: You still homeschoolin' them?
Me: Yes, we are.
Boy: What's wrong with y-- uh, I mean, why don't you just send 'em to school?
Me: *aherm* WELL, we like the education we can give them at home.
Boy: Hmpf. Well, they're lucky, then.
There's an awful lot going on right now, not the least of which is that I can't seem to carve out time during the week to be left alone for fifteen minutes or so. Long enough to compose my thoughts, find something humorous in it, and write it up. I've been able to compose my thoughts, but I could sure use a few more minutes to find the humor before having to move on to the next thing. Hopefully, a little more rest, and a better schedule will help. I'm going to give that a shot this week and see how it goes. The kids deserve a Mom who can find humor in the daily things. I'm sure Zorak prefers that, too, over the rather irritable alternative he's been presented with lately. So. Yeah, gotta work on that.
And in that vein, I think I'm going to sweep up a bit, lay out tomorrow's plan, and try to hit the hay before eleven! (Livin' large, no?)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
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