A Good Homeschool Morning!

I had a splendid plan to get up early this morning to go walking. Sounded good, anyway, until the sun peered in the window, the birds began their serenade, and the Mighty Snuggly Smidge crept into bed to... well, to snuggle. And so, instead, we all slept in a bit, and are now enjoying hot tea, Themistocles, free play... and the free concert the birds are still providing. If we had a porch swing, we'd be out there right now, instead. (As a matter of fact, I've decided a nice, big porch swing is a homeschooling necessity. Skip the desk, use the kitchen table, and invest in a swing. Yup.) We'll walk later, when our lessons are done.

Spring brings with it an end to our mini-hibernation from the bitter cold of January. We get out and roll about in the daffodils. We stretch our limbs and scratch our mosquito bites. But we keep learning. Spring is a good time to review the plan and see how it's coming along. And that's what we've been doing. I like taking that time to review my job. For instance, it's my job to create a safe place for our children to learn, to provide good things for our children to learn, and to model the things for these children to learn. It's the best job I've ever had, and yes, a task to which I sometimes feel inadequate. But when that happens, it's not a time to give up (how would we feel about any teacher, pastor, mentor who simply rolled over and gave up when things got a bit challenging?) That's when it's time for me to take a deep breath, take stock of our plan, and work a little harder at what I do. Part of that whole modeling thing, I suppose. It pays off.

I had the delight yesterday of watching one of my children do something "for fun" that, just six months ago, would have caused him no end of frustration and sadness. He sat, writing words, solving crossword puzzles, reading directions, as if he'd been doing it his whole life. He giggled at silly games and said laughingly, "Oh, I know this! It's easy!" And it is, now. But I remember when those things didn't come easy for him, when the task of deciphering felt insurmountable to him. And I couldn't help but smile because this whole world is open to him in a way we often take for granted. I'm thankful to be a part of his learning adventure. And I'm humbled, when I stop to think that I have been a participant in history. Not world history, perhaps, nor even events that will make it into the annals of the state records. But our history. His history. His story. Wow.

While one child enjoys the gift of the written word, another child grapples with the spoken word. He works hard, every day, to express himself more clearly, to grasp the sounds and syllables that often evade only him. His speech and vocabulary have expanded tremendously this last year, but the work isn't done. He knows it, and I know it. And that's okay. He knows we are a team, and we're working toward the same goal. He knows he's safe among us and won't be ridiculed for his failures. He knows they won't be counted as failures, or held against him, or used to define who he is. His "classmates" won't ever tease him, or mock him for that which he attempts -- whether he succeeds or not. He knows that when he does succeed, we'll be there to lift him up in triumph. He knows that when he needs to try again, we'll be there to cheer him on. Of course, he doesn't know how to express it like that. He doesn't even know there is another way to learn, to live. And once more, I'm humbled and thankful.

And again, I've watched another child (wow, there's a lot of children in this reverie!) fly through some tasks and skills with the ease of one who has been doing them for ages, then in turn struggle and wrestle with others. So while the math and the science, the analysis and deduction all come intuitively to him, the self-discipline of staying on task and paying attention, of remembering what he's heard, and remembering that he's supposed to be reading... and paying attention to what he's read... well, those are his special challenges. And I am here, to guide, instruct, cheer, encourage. He'll get it, and it'll be his hard work that gets him there. But I will be there when he does, and I will know just what it took for him to enjoy the savory, rich flavor of a job well done.

The thing that strikes me clearly is that none of this is due to any Phenomenal Educational Training on my part. It's the dynamic of our homeschool. It's the ebb and flow of Life that we've chosen to embrace. It's the Big Picture goals Zorak and I have set for our home, our family, and our children. What they do with the tools we give them is up to them entirely. We hope to teach them to use their tools well, to take care of their tools, and to put them to good use no matter where they go or what they do in their lives.

And in the meantime, we're here. We're modeling. We're learning, striving, failing, achieving. I can't think of a better place for a child to learn than right here, at home.