Wildwood Academy: Group Study

Homeschool is proceeding differently this year.

A true statement I can make every year.

Even though I waited in line a loooong time to get into a fabulous homeschool co-op last year, we’re not all doing the same co-op this year.  (And it still is fabulous, mind you – just not what our house needs this year.)

Riley is attending classes there but my younger crowd is heading in a different direction.

I mentioned being excited (I might have said “wildly optimistic”) about an upcoming joint homeschooling venture with several other families.

We’re two weeks in and it seems to be going swimmingly.

The idea was born of thus: Four of us.  We all homeschool.  Our children are in the same grades.  We have made similar homeschool curriculum choices.  We have specific strengths and weaknesses.  We like one another.  Our children like one another.  We like how our children like one another.  We want opportunities for said likable/liking children to listen to other adults, to work in group situations and to speak in front of an audience.

And so we schemed this plan: Meet twice a week – one morning, one afternoon.  Divide our children into Bigs and Littles.  Teach what you know best.

Together we’re conquering Poetry Appreciation, Science, Music Appreciation, Art and Nature Study.  The younger set joins in where they can and also spends time learning colors, calendar information, numbers etc.

I know it’s early, and I already confessed to wild enthusiasm, but I think we’re off to a pretty wonderful start.

I actually thought that the first day.

But this week really hooked me in.

I have the pleasure of teaching (leading) the Bigs in Poetry Appreciation first thing in the morning.  And so far we’ve been able to have “class” on the front porch.  Eight sweet heads, pondering the words of Alfred Tennyson.  Green grass, breeze blowing.  If only everyone’s education could embrace mornings like that.  Last week we studied “Flower in the Crannied Wall” and all the kids were challenged to memorize the poem and present it to the group the following week.

You would not believe the enthusiasm those kiddos expressed for sharing their memorized poems.  Last week it was all, “Do we have to?”  “I can’t.”  “Not in front of everyone!”

And this week it was all – “Can I go first?”  There was cheering, kind verbal encouragement, clapping and celebrating as kid after kid walked down the steps and delivered their memorized work of poetry.  Every kid did a fabulous rendition.  (All except my one supremely-shy-of-public-attention son.)

After the reciting we turned poets ourselves – inspired by Tennyson and by what inspired him.

Spread out across the porch the kids each wrote a poem addressed to a part of nature.

Eight heads, eight pencils, eight sheets of wide-ruled blue-lined paper.

And, in less than twenty minutes, eight nature-inspired works of art.

I’d share them all – but alas – I do not have them all at my house since not all of those eight poets live under my roof.

But as for the poets I do have, here’s what they crafted, on their own.

Leaf on a Branch

by Bergen Keigley

You are hanging on a branch,

swinging in the wind.

You are falling.

It’s going to be winter soon.

I want to take you home

and display you on the mantle.

Butterfly in the Bush

by Mosely Keigley

How do you fly?

How do you get such beautiful wings?

I like how you look –

so yellow and black and strong.

You, butterfly, are the most beautifulest animal on earth.

Kitty in my Lap

by London Keigley

Your fleas crawl over your face.

Oh kitty –

Your orange fur all wet from Ringo.

All spaghetti stains on your chest.

Bits of grass all over you.

Oh kitty –

go take a bath!

Goodness – couldn’t you just hug these little poetry-writing, poetry-reciting, front porch-learning children?

I complain sometimes, I know I do.

About lack of free time and overwhelming days and pressure to educate well and about fear and exhaustion.

But I know, as deep as a person can know anything, that I am privileged to be right here right now.

This is as holy a ground as it comes. 

This front porch.  This living room.  This kitchen.

And I am standing in the middle of it all – arms wide open to these moments.

And aware.

I can’t help but pray . . .

Oh Lord, keep me aware.