HomeSchooling
That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not alone and isolated from anyone. You belong. - F. Scott Fitzgerald
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good morning Monday.
It’s Monday morning. And it’s raining. We just returned from a weekend camping trip at Lake Jocassee where it did not rain for almost the entire weekend. The camping trip was marvelous, lovely, fun, wonderful. This week I’m going to post more pictures from our weekend adventures but Kevin has the better ones on his phone so it’ll take a few days to wrangle the simple acts of clicking and sharing. But this morning I feel as if I’m going to ramble a little bit. (That is me, giving you fair warning.) Did I mention that it is raining? And has been for days here apparently. Our home is so…
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a distracted exit.
The days have been breezy beautiful. That’s good for life but a challenge for finishing strong these last few weeks of school. I confess – I think I want to spend my days outside digging in earth and playing games even more than the kids want to. Our regular schedule has been off. We’ve completely finished a few subjects – science, music appreciation, art, poetry, nature studies. Bergen’s blazed his way through his entire math curriculum. Our co-op has wrapped up for the school year. But we’ve got a few lingering tasks and you’d think being completely finished with several areas would open up space to more diligently complete the…
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the definition.
A graduate of high school now lives in our home. Which makes three of us, I suppose. When Riley was just a little kid, seven or eight, she asked me a question. “What does bittersweet mean?” And so we talked about it. About bittersweet. The rising joy and the crushing sorrow. The tinge of grey skies around all the bright yellow sunshine. The Amy Tan quote I read years earlier about happy and sad sometimes being from the same thing. She was only a kid. A squirt. A curious and forgetful sprite. But even little kids understand big truths. For months, maybe even years, after that conversation Riley would be…
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how can I not share this stuff?
When I ask London Scout to write about a field trip we just took, she’ll give me a sentence or two. A drawing. Doodles around the corner of the page. After handing her the black notebook we use for our writing schoolwork and assigning her a written narration of a story we just read, she sighs a little and sometimes offers a compromise to try to avoid the task of rewriting a story from memory. But last night, when I was tucking her into bed, I saw a little notebook I had given her a while ago. It contained a plethora of short stories and cute drawings. I loved them…
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Friend: Five Minute Friday
It’s Friday. I’m jumping over to Lisa-Jo’s blog and joining Five Minute Friday again. Five minutes of writing on an assigned topic – no second-round editing. The topic is Friend. Go. _____ This year marks the year my children have developed real friends. Friends I think they will remember. Oh yes, we’ve been blessed with buddies like cousins and relatives and the family that will be and is the ebb and flow of our relationships together for life. (And those friendships are tight and wonderful.) But this year seems to be the year my children have made comrades amongst their peers. That they even have peers. Otto has friends. He talks…
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my boy . . . .
He laughs at Shel Silverstein. Laughs loudly and deeply. Tugs on my arm and says, “Listen to this one.” Reads the funniest poems out loud and waits for my response, blue eyes staring expectantly. Playing a geography game he announces, “Mom – we should visit Iowa. They’re for me – they’re the Hawkeyes.” And then this ….. “Mom – want to draw with me?” My favorite request. Not because my sketch pad looks awesome, but because I love this seven-year-old and it seems with each passing day that he lingers by my side less and less. “Yes, I want to sit on the front porch and draw with you.”
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publicly thanking my husband.
I love my job. I’m so grateful. So grateful I didn’t renew my teaching contract ten years ago. Said “no” to the pleas of several of my favorite students to just stay “one more year” to see them through until graduation. Those same students who are marrying and giving birth to babies and who will begin to understand why I chose “no”. I was covered in leaking breast milk and projectile spit up while my former co-workers were mapping out lesson plans and sharing inside jokes and inspiring future writers and thinkers. I would still make the same choice. We’ve known seasons of low income and sharing one car…
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Book Club: Island of the Blue Dolphins
Book Club. I’ve been loving it since it began. February brought us Island of the Blue Dolphins. I think Scott O’Dell should have put the author’s notes in the front of the novel this time instead of the back. It wasn’t until after I read the entire book that I realized that the fascinating story was based on true events. This was the first novel that London, Mosely and I each read separately. London first. Mosely second. Me third. Surprisingly, London was a big fan. She actually discussed this book on her own, pre-book club. (She reads books and usually responds with – “it wasn’t my favorite”.)…
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the road to adventure.
“I hope adventure finds you today.” That’s the text my friend sent out last Tuesday morning. Several of us were scheduled to attend a class about wolves about Pisgah National Park. The weather had other plans and snow on the mountain caused our class to be cancelled. We all joked about our day’s schedule being altered and she sent that text. “I hope adventure finds you today.” I had already planned the day as a field trip day. Lunch was already packed. Water bottles were filled. Shoot, I’d even baked homemade pita the night before. I looked at my kids – dressed in field trippin’ attire – and I said,…
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ripple. we’ll be expecting you.
Many months in the planning, the women in our homeschool gathering had a bit of a grown up slumber party/retreat/call it what you want this weekend. And, frankly, I’m at a loss for words to describe the simple beauty of the few days spent in comfortable camaraderie with like-minded moms. (All you mothers out there – schedule one for yourself as soon as possible. It’s the anecdote to loads of concerns and troubles.) We started tossing the idea around probably five months ago and picked the weekend at least four months prior. That’s how you have to roll when five mothers represent eighteen children. (Thank you husbands for staying home…
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storing sunshine
60 degrees in January. I will not complain. Nature Study outside in t-shirts without jackets or scarves or mittens. Lunch on the porch. The sun literally warm on our backs. It’s hard to focus on George Washington and crustaceans and a dog named Lassie. Feels like spring fever come early. The kids are making giant nests out of dried field grass and we’ve actually spread a blanket to complete our school work. But I keep granting breaks. “Yes, we can swing on the rope swing after science.” “Yes, let’s gather leaves after history.” “Just finish your copy work and you can have yard races.” I can’t help myself. I know…
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Keigley Campaign. Paris Mountain.
The forecast said the lows were in the thirties. (But no rain was predicted.) Circumstances dictated that we only had one free night instead of our regular two. Budget restraints dictated that our gas allowance would not stretch to include a two hour or more drive. But the calendar said the Keigley Campaign was slated for this weekend. And we’ve discovered that if you don’t seize the day, the day seizes you. If you don’t simply make the time, that time always evaporates and is nearly impossible to redeem. We looked over our map of state parks. We’ve conquered pretty much every nearby park. Except one. One we usually overlook…
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reading. aloud. together. all the time. every day.
I have heard mounds of advice about homeschool over the years. Piles and gobs. Good advice about managing your time wisely, about organizing your day, about unschooling and school on line and classical vs. Charlotte Mason, about textbook choices and co-ops and at what age your child should be able to read, speak, think, tie shoes, make a pie, write an essay, climb a ladder. And it varies greatly. All that advice – it points you in a thousand directions frequently opposed to one another. It’s tricky to navigate and it’s personal and it’s big and intimidating and it’s overwhelming. But I don’t think I’ve ever met a homeschool parent…
