Sometimes blogging is good for you.
In a few different deleted posts, I tried to figure out why I was so reluctant to blog about homeschooling. It's my parents, those posts said. Their opposition to homeschooling really touches a nerve. My parents disagree with most of my out-of-the-mainstream choices, but it rarely bothers me. When it comes to homeschooling, their disapproval really gets under my skin.
They disapprove for three reasons: (a) they think I am consigning my children to a life of freakdom since homeschooled kids are weird (both Mom and Dad), (b) they have heard that homeschooled children are so used to doing their own thing that they can't function in the workplace (mostly Dad, and one of these days I need to tell him, "You know, increasing their tolerance for soul-sucking boredom is not on my list of educational goals for my children, and I'm not ashamed of it"), and (c) they think a mother can't be an effective teacher for her own children (mostly Mom, based in part on trying to learn piano from her own mother).
But I think they also disapprove because there is some old tension between us on the subject of education. My own school experience was frequently miserable, and they seemed to expect that I would just suck it up. I suspect that their unwavering insistence that my kids should learn to get by in public school arises from their previous unwavering insistence that I should learn to get by in public school.
Somewhere I read that you're never really grown up until you let go of your need for your parents' approval, and in this series of drafted and deleted posts I have been feeling like a flunkout from emotional maturity kindergarten. I don't know why, exactly, I get so sad about their attitude. Maybe because I try so hard to do it well and they remain convinced, in a "don't confuse me with the facts" way, that homeschooling is always a bad idea.
For a while I was thinking, "I should have one of those low-key Harriet Lerner kinds of conversations with my parents. What was it like for them when the boy in junior high set my hair on fire? What was junior high like when they were kids?" But something inside me would seize up at the prospect and say, "Ha! As if! Maybe in ten years, if Alex is cruising through Harvard and I am vindicated at last!"
But do you know: around the fourth deleted post I began to feel a little calmer. I began to think that maybe I could actually have a conversation with them that didn't leave me tied up in knots. And even if I don't have that conversation with them, I am at least feeling more peaceful myself.
I knew, before, that I couldn't handle any trollery on this topic. You want to tell me I'm a nut for giving birth at home or tandem-nursing? Feel free. You want to tell me I'm a nut for homeschooling my children? Watch Jamie curl up into a ball and doubt herself one more time. This is why I've written so little about something that takes up so much of my life -- I was staying out of the kitchen for fear of the heat. While I'm in a better spot these days, I'm still feeling a little tentative about this post. (If you want to tell me about any areas in which your parents can push your buttons effortlessly, it would help me to feel less alone here in remedial emotional maturity kindergarten.)
Moving on: I am resolved to post semi-regularly about homeschooling. Why don't we use a math curriculum? How do you teach Latin to a kid in kindergarten and make him think it's funny? Where is the baby during all of this? (Hint: not under the haystack, also not fast asleep.)
Here's a bit of the logistical side of things, with more to follow. I don't use a packaged curriculum. I like parts of the book The Well-Trained Mind and I use their approach to history and literature. The authors divide history into four chronological periods; using their plan you complete three four-year cycles, looking more deeply into the material with each one. We started with the ancients in the fall of 2002; we just arrived in the 20th century last month
Each week or two I sit down with my materials and my spreadsheet software, making a plan for the next week or two. (I have used less structured approaches in the past, but this is my first year with two students and I have to say I was really unhappy with our foray into unschooling last year. Ergo, more structure. So far it's working a lot better for all of us.)
Someone left me a comment which I can't find at the moment (sorry, Someone!), about wanting to homeschool but having a husband who disagrees. My husband disagreed for a long time and now he is 100% behind homeschooling, so there's hope. Unity is critical, I think -- I simply could not do it if he weren't on board. I need help with the kids during my planning time; I need to be able to vent about a bad day without worrying that he will say, "Obviously, they should be in school."
I think it was Rachel who asked about what happens with the little kids while the three of us are working on school. They are usually right in the middle of things with us. One of the distinctive things about homeschooling is its organicity. This is our life -- we learn together, we eat together, we fold laundry together, we read together, we fish Legos out of the baby's mouth together, we learn some more things together.
Sometimes it's a bad thing: if somebody wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, you'll be dealing with it all day long. But often it's a really good thing. One night I was tucking in my oldest son and he asked me a question about the imperative mood in Latin. I answered his question and BING! I saw the line jump from dot A to dot B. He understood, suddenly. Or on Immaculate Conception -- we read Rev. 12 right before we went to noon Mass at the Newman Center. At the end of Mass we turned around and I said, "Look, boys, look! The woman clothed with the sun!" I hadn't remembered the enormous image of Our Lady of Guadalupe painted over the chapel doors.
So what do we do with the little guys? We flow, mostly. We've set up our schedule, about which more below, to accommodate a 3yo who needs attention. I do a lot of reading aloud with a baby on my hip. Sometimes we take a ten-minute break to get a fussy Pete down for a nap. Sometimes I smack my forehead in frustration when he wakes up fifteen minutes later. But in between we learn a lot, not only about WWI and German pronouns, but about doing unto the least of these, and about being patient with each other.
It works best for me to have a schedule, and it works best for me to plan on 15-minute lessons. I'm running out of minutes, so I'm just going to type in our Monday-Thursday schedule here:
9:00 writing for Alex, reading for Marty
9:15 Latin/German (each one gets two days per week)
9:30 history/science (ditto)
9:45 Alex learns more about our history or science topic on his own, using library or internet resources, and I read a picture book to the middle boys
10:00 Bible
10:15 art/music
At 10:30 we take a 30-minute break.
11:00 memory work
11:15 math
That's it for the morning. After lunch I read aloud to everybody. Twice a week we work on geography; twice a week Alex is supposed to work on a writing assignment.
I could make this a huge post because there's lots more to say, but I'll stop here for tonight because my bed is calling loudly. Questions? Comments? I'll try to get back to you soon.
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