I’m moving back to Blogger until I can figure out all the ins and outs of WordPress. For now please join me at Serendipity Academy. I love Andrea and Ron to bits, so I can’t imagine I’ll be away from this little spot for long. I just really need the Idiots Guide to WordPress!!!
I am so embarrassed. My friend, Wendy, was kind enough to share this award with me so long ago that I am hanging my head in shame some time ago. I’ve been on a bit of a mental treadmill for the past month, so I’ve let a few things slide. My gratitude AND my apologies to the awesome Wendy.
I have at least eight blog posts, half finished, running around in my head. Life is good. Life is busy. My blog has been neglected.
I have spent the last week really getting myself more organized. I have been able to progress past the point of “creating an encouraging learning environment.”
Now I need to give a bit of history here. I have been an organizational freak in the past. I’ve even (in my former sales executive life) gone to paid seminars to learn how to use specific planners to improve productivity. I have purchased many, many planners over the years. I’ve even taught seminars on goal setting and time management, but it is the planners that get my blood pumping. A planner is much like a blank canvas to me where I can create anything with the time I have at my disposal.
It isn’t just the possibilities of mapping my time and efforts, but the actual process of working with a useful planner. It’s also the promise of what I can carve out of this life, and the little components of my planner help me to do that. It’s odd that a musician, a free-spirit kind of girl like me, would thrive on such stuff. Oh, but I do. I really do.
For some reason, I sort of shelved that organizational part of me for a time. I’ve been busy exploring paths to different places. Now that I have a firm direction (for now), I need a roadmap to keep me on course. My planner serves that need for me. I sit each morning with an empty page, and create a day that will serve me well. I get out my highlighters and prioritize tasks so that the things I feel are most important are addressed before the day ends. It’s quite gratifying.
I do not necessarily schedule my day. I work with goals and blocks of time in which I know I am the most productive. I’ve been using this new planner system for a couple of weeks, so today I added a new element.
Our schooling is going quite well, but I wanted to invite C into the goal planning process, so that her learning is both interest led and directed. We began this morning with a weekly goal sheet, and I was very impressed with her choices.
Her list of goals was pretty impressive, and it showed me that I had perhaps not been supplying her with enough formal material. We will have to see how this week progresses to see if we need to re-allign things. We made it through her goals today with a very positive attitude and focused effort. This method allows us to chart our own course and approach her education as a partnership. I like the way that feels.
A couple of my buddies have asked to see our newly posted list of things to do. I’m happy to share. Please be mindful that my girls are eight and five, so this list reflects their interests. Our poster was made using a regular full-sized piece of white poster board, and the items listed were written in many colors with some “girly” decoration thrown in for good measure. 
Here is our list….
Our list is continuing to grow as ideas spring to mind. I would love to hear your ideas. What else comes to mind?
Today has been one of those stupendous days in the life of a homeschooling family. It’s not that anything “big” happened. It is instead that so many beautiful, small things happened which worked together to create a great big fabulous day.
I have shared quite often the struggle I face in creating that delicate balance between the lovely vision I have of unschooling and the rigorous classical education that I wish for my children. I put my faith in the concept of classical unschooling and began moving in that direction - completely on faith. Today is the first time that I have felt deep down in my soul that our family could make this work. We have struggled. Today, though, the cloud of doubt lifted.
After doing some math work and a bit of reading on cheetahs this morning, C asked for a break. She went outside to explore for “just 30 minutes.” I checked on her a few minutes after she had gone out and found her raking leaves - voluntarily. She and E found an injured bird awhile later, so a bit of life science naturally occured. That was a nice bonus.
I used that time to create a poster. (Yes, I know. The teacher in me just won’t settle down.) We have talked here at our house about making good choices regarding how we spend our days. It seems that I hear “I’m bored” or “I’m hungry” much, much too often. Although I am well versed in the proper answers to those complaints, I am weary of hearing both the complaints and my answers. So, I made a poster. On it I listed about 50 activites that the girls can choose throughout the day. Some of those activities are educational, and some are simply play (which in itself is educational).
I introduced the poster to the girls, and C and I read each item on the list. Then, just like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, they each chose one of those activities and got down to business. Happily. Without being asked. I sat, watching them and thought, “Wow. This unschooling thing really could work!” I cannot describe the peaceful feeling that came over me. It was a feeling of coming home to what I know is right for us.
For what seems like months the past three weeks I have been working to create the best possible environment for a classical unschooling life. I have cleaned and organized and strewn my children’s paths with learning opportunities. Finally, I can see the benefits and the possibilities. I can truly see that this vision of classical unschooling can actually be a reality for us.
This is the best of both worlds for us. I can follow through with these days full of give and take, days full of both structure and freedom. I can parent and teach in all the ways that allow us to be true to ourselves.
Say by John Mayer
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
Say what you need to say
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
I’ve futzed with trying to embed this video for hours today. It is apparently just not happening. The words, though, are the most important part for me - even if I do miss that whiskey quality of John Mayer’s voice. You can view the video here.
I am celebrating. I have said some difficult words recently that needed to be said. It feels good to have the courage to speak. It feels better to know that just maybe this time I was actually heard.
It’s back to school time for so many folks, and even we homeschoolers/unschoolers seem to have a renewed spirit. Or maybe it’s just our discussions that are being renewed. All across the blogosphere, moms are posting away about what they are doing, asking others for advice, and supporting other moms (and dads) doing the same things.
The conversations aren’t new, nor are the subjects. It seems we homeschoolers find comfort in shared experiences. I know that is true for me. I’ve been following many discussions, but one in particular has given me a new sense of comfort.
I have struggled with our learning philosophy and our childrens’ individual learning styles. I welcome these struggles, because working through them helps me grow. That growth helps me become a better mom and a better educator.
I sometimes feel, though, that I’m alone out here in this sea of uncertainty. I occasionally feel that I am the only one who questions decisions and plans when it comes to learning. This is especially true for me when I encounter other unschoolers. So much of the time, those unschoolers seem to me to be so certain, so confident, so….unsinkable. That has often left me feeling even more asea.
Finally, I came across this wonderful post by Not June Cleaver. The post is thought provoking, but the comments were even more wonderful. I finally got to see some unschooling moms put some things into print that I thought only *I* felt. I got to see some unschoolers who like me, have an inner-planner that just can’t seem to let go of ALL of the strucure. They too feel the need to lead their children through some areas of their education.
I don’t know if there is a club for not-so-radically-unschooling parents, but if there is, I’d sure like to join. I like the company.
My dear friend, Patience, asked after me a question regarding my last post (on my old blog). I began typing out a reply and realized my thoughts might be better shared as a separate post.
Patience asked, “So how does your mind work then? When you read the words petroleum jelly, what happens?”
I first read her questions before my second cup of coffee, so I had to step back, drink more coffee, and let the questions swirl in my head a bit. I have now probably given it too much thought, but I think I can answer the question fairly well.
I have sort of an inner monologue that begins in my head after reading the words petroleum jelly. May I just add here that I so wish we had a “better” choice of subjects to discuss. I hope the google monsters don’t find me through some strange search because of our discussions of this awful substance. Bless my husband’s heart for sharing his example with me.
So my monologue goes something like this:
Petroleum jelly. That’s the same as Vaseline. Of course Vaseline is just a brand name. Petroleum jelly would be the generic - the actual product. I wonder why I call petroleum jelly Vaseline when I don’t do that for every product. Tissues are tissues - not Kleenex. Petroleum jelly? No. It’s Vaseline.
Somewhere along the way a picture of a container might creep into my head, but for me it is all about the words and what the words mean. It’s not very colorful, nor is it very entertaining. I have to will my brain to form a picture. Otherwise it’s just bland words.
Oddly enough I can picture concepts from beginning to end, but I either see them as completed or a series of tasks that take me from beginning to end. Again, no pictures - more like a mental outline. I’m jealous, I think. I would like to have pictures.
I was chatting with my husband this morning about all kinds of stuff. All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, he started in on a monologue. It went something like this.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this learning style thing and the information you gave me to read. I’ve been paying attention to how I think about things.For instance, yesterday I read the words petroleum jelly. I first got a picture of a Vaseline container with the blue lid. You know, the regular package that you always see. That’s what petroleum jelly is to me. Then I started to break down the words. First I saw petrol and immediately thought of a gas station. Then, leum is enough like linoleum that I pictured a linoleum floor. Of course when I see jelly, I immediately picture a big jar of grape jelly.
All that from seeing petroleum jelly and thinking about the pictures in my head. What’s strange is that I don’t consciously think about creating the pictures, and I can’t really stop them either. It’s like a slide show of images.”
I found this really interesting and bewildering at the same time, because my brain just doesn’t work like that. It is really nice, though, to have his input as I work to prepare C’s learning time.
I read this book with C today. And I had to stop, because I was crying. Leah’s Pony is a lovely story, really, and today it touched my soul profoundly. My eight year old daughter looked at me with concern in her eyes and questioned why I couldn’t go on through my tears. “Do you understand what is happening in the story?”
“Yes,” she said. “The neighbors are buying all of their belongings for not very much money so that they can give them back to Leah’s family.” She understood. But she still did not understand why the story was rendering her mother unable to speak. I’m not sure that I completely understand why it was touching me so deeply today.
Perhaps the story of this girl living through the ugliness of the Great Depression drew a parallel for me. I fear for the future of our planet and the future of the country that I call home.
I’ve been reading again about Permaculture and the hope that comes from simple living in the face of peak oil and global climate change. This is a serious issue, and I know that our way of life must change in order to sustain any life in the future. I also know that currently most Americans are unwilling to make changes in their way of life in such a way that would prevent a serious decline of our quality of life. Perhaps young Leah and her $1 bid for her father’s tractor showed me that even outlandish ideas can be accepted by many when they understand the wisdom and the good behind them.
Perhaps it has been far too long since I have seen the miracles that can come out of community. At times the unpleasant noise from our world fails to uplift and support those who need a hand, instead of joining together harmoniously to care for our earth, and each other.
Perhaps I worry that those unspeakably hard times will come to my children. I look at the hardships of the Great Depression. I have heard the stories of my parents’ childhoods many, many times, and I know that they and their families lived through that time because of their hard work and communities. I fear that our country especially, and the world at large may be headed toward another Depression. I wonder though, and I worry too that this time around our communities aren’t so strong, our survival skills aren’t so tough, our good old know how is in trouble. So I read. And I research. And I simplify. I just wonder though if there will be a community like Leah’s this time, that can surround and protect those who need a helping hand. I know that I hope so. Spiro. Spero. Now, if I only knew the Latin for Simplify.