One Shot Language Classes

So, I'm doing these Language classes for Middle and High School kids at one of our co-ops, and I thought I should share them here.  They're pretty funny, if I do say so myself.  I made them in Power Point, but these could also be printed into a book.  When I'm all done, maybe I'll publish it:)

Perfecting Perfect Punctuation, Part I:  

Semicolons, Apostrophes and Ellipsis -- What are they, and why should you care?

Perfecting Perfect Punctuation, Part II:

How Commas Can Save Lives

I Am Not My Children's Teacher

As a homeschooling mom, I am often referred to as my children's teacher.  Most of the time, it comes from people who only have a public school education as a reference, so I let the term fly - it's the easiest way to describe my position within the framework that they're working in.  When I can, though, I try to explain that I don't consider myself my children's teacher, at all.

The term teacher, unfortunately, often conveys a sense of power over students. In many a school setting, the child's natural ability to learn on their own is taken away from them; instead, they are taught that they can only learn through their teacher.  This is an idea that I find pretty pompous, arrogant, and wrong.  After all, nobody knows everything, and there is something to learn from everyone.

For instance, when a child is learning to walk, we trust them to figure it out themselves.  All we need to do is provide a safe area for them to practice in, and to give them space and time.  We are all born learners, and this natural ability to test and explore will continue, indefinitely, if we are simply given space and time.

If we took a current educational approach, we'd arrange for special walking teachers for our children.  We'd make them sit on the floor and lecture them on the finer points of walking, show them documentary films about walking, or force them to observe our particular style of walking and then make them practice it until they have it right.  Finally, we'd test them on it and give them a grade.  We wouldn't trust them to figure it out on their own - we'd take away that power.

I prefer to think of myself as my children's learning partner, or educational facilitator.  I would be lying if I said I had all the answers for them - and so would anyone else.  Everyone has to find their own answers - that's the way it's always been.

My favorite blogger, Teacher Tom, refers to this type of teacher as a "Natural Teacher." He had this to say about it in a recent post:

"...a natural teacher, I think, is someone who knows that she is teaching fully formed human beings. I will not be your master, nor will I be your servant. Perhaps at times I will be your guide, just as there will be times when you are mine. It's a stance that says, you are competent and respected; that you have the same rights and, indeed, responsibilities as the rest of us. It's an approach toward children that acknowledges that the most important things children are learning (as opposed to mere academics) are things that we adults continue to learn throughout our lives, and that we have no lock on profundity or expertise."

Imagine if Mozart's father hadn't given him space and time to explore music.  Where would we be if Thomas Edison hadn't been allowed to mess around with his experiments all day when he was a kid?  In fact, if you take a close look at just about every famous anybody, they almost always have one thing in common:  they were given time and space to pursue their interests and their passions.  They didn't have people treating them as if they were incapable of figuring it out on their own.

That's not to say that your kid will be the next Mozart if you leave them alone with a piano every day, of course, but it is a reminder to respect your child's own ability to learn, which - most of the time - looks like messing around.

Letting Go

Every little milestone in your child's life is bittersweet.  On the one hand, you don't have to nurse anymore; on the other, you will never nurse this child again.  That period of their life is over, never to return.

You will never be able to carry them in that Baby Bjorn again.

You will never push them in the baby swing again.

They will never say quesadilla as "case-of-dias" again.

You will never carry them again.

Sure, they can get their own drink, walk on their own, swing independently and order their own food at a restaurant without any weird looks, and that's all well and good, but with every step forward, there is the reminder that you cannot go back.

My daughter has a very special baby she received not long before her brother was born.  She named him Jelly (she's always had a knack for naming her guys:  she has a red plaid pig named Rusty, a big pink pig named Squash, a dog named Shovel and a polar bear named Chai, for example).  She immediately decided that Jelly was a boy, despite the fact that he arrived in a very pink outfit.

I vividly remember her 2 year old self mimicking me and her new baby brother; hoisting Jelly up on her hip with a sigh and asking, "How am I going to hold the baby and do the 'puter?"

Jelly has traveled the country with us - even on a flight in which my daughter insisted on wearing him in a sling because he couldn't breathe in her backpack.  Duh, mom!

Although he has a crib of his own, Jelly has always slept in my daughter's bed with her - after all, I co-slept with both of my babies, too.

Then, just a few weeks ago, I went into my daughter's room to kiss her goodnight, and Jelly was tucked gently into his crib for the night for the very first time.

"Jelly's going to try sleeping in his own bed tonight," she explained.

I knew that day would come, of course, and I gave her a reassuring smile while my heart broke a little bit inside.  "I think Jelly will like sleeping in his own bed, and you'll have much more room in your bed for you," I told her confidently.

As I turned out her lights, though, I remembered back to when my babies left the nest of our bed.  How good it felt to have my bed to myself and my husband again... and yet, there was that sadness of knowing that part was over, and we would never go back.  Sure, they might crawl in with us after a nightmare every once in awhile, just as my daughter might bring Jelly back a time or two - to comfort her - but it's not the same.  This period of her life is over.

Then I realized, she's still mimicking me.  She likely felt the same way I did on the first night when I let my babies sleep in their own beds.  She is going through with Jelly what I went through - and am going through still - with her and her brother.  Letting go.

I still feel sad, but comforted, too.  I have no doubt that my daughter will one day have a child of her own, and she will be a wonderful mother; a mother who knows when it's time to let go, and how to do it.

A Reminder

I came across this article on Hands Free Mama today called To Build (or Break) a Child's Spirit, and I simply must share it.  I am the Type A, controlling, anxious, perfectionist mother in the article who is too often criticizing her children instead of building them up - but I have also been the child who was criticized (and many of us were),which led to the voice inside my head that is never happy with me.  It is past time to tell that voice to shut the f*%# up.

It was a brutal realization, but also an inspiration:  "...I will not dwell on yesterday.  Today matters more."

And then I made this, to help me remember better:

Teaching Children Self Control

I came across this excellent and interesting article on ParentingScience.com today that I just had to share.  Enjoy!

A Lesson on Pete Seeger

We lost a very important person yesterday when Pete Seeger passed away.  He was the musical bridge between Woody Guthrie and so many artists, from Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary to Bruce Springsteen and Dan Zanes, who took the folk music that Seeger preserved and passed it on to future generations.  He was a humble champion of the poor and the environment, and a beloved entertainer of children.  He will be sorely missed, indeed.                                                                                                                                 

Though my kids are somewhat familiar with Pete Seeger, I wanted to make sure they had a firm idea of who he was, so we took advantage of all of the information crowding the internet today, and we read Mr. Seeger's obituary in the New York Times (click on all of the links, too!), watched numerous performances of some of his most famous tunes, and listened to him tell the tale of Abiyoyo (we have the book and cd, but you can watch Pete tell the tale himself on Reading Rainbow here).  We also watched the Scholastic video of The Foolish Frog - a tale that Seeger told his own children.  You can listen to The Foolish Frog here.

One of the best things about homeschooling is being able to take advantage of learning opportunities as they present themselves, and today was a perfect example of that.  We also discovered that Mr. Seeger was really the embodiment of our educational and life philosophy - to question authority, to discover the truth for yourselves and to be true to yourself and follow your passions wholeheartedly.  Take a moment to watch Mr. Seeger play the song What Did You Learn in School Today - it sums it all up nicely:)                                                                                                            

A New Year and the Swirling Vortex of Holiday Terror

I doubt I'm the only parent (or person, for that matter) whose head begins to start spinning sometime around Halloween, and whose head doesn't clear until sometime after the new year has begun.  I have long referred to this phenomenon as "the swirling vortex of holiday terror," and though I've worked hard to stop it from engulfing me in its madness, I have been mostly unsuccessful - especially since the birth of my children.

My son had to make this violent cookie.  Boys.

I try to be "present" as the season starts - to appreciate the round of traditions that begin with a Thanksgiving up north, tree-decorating at my mother-in-law's and the tree-lighting in Cedarburg, where I've helped kids write letters to Santa for a decade.  I'd likely be more successful if my daughter's birthday didn't fall smack dab in the midst of all of that - forcing us to combine special holiday moments with a birthday celebration, while simultaneously trying to give them both the measure of attention they deserve.

Then we're on to finding and decorating our tree, the rounds of cookie baking with family and friends, a cookie exchange, the Nutcracker Ballet and our own Solstice tradition, in which we put food out for the "snow angels" (aka, critters) and hang a special lantern to light up the longest night of the year.

The Solstice lantern

All the while, trying to make time to watch the special Christmas movies (such as Charlie Brown Christmas and Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas), listen to the Christmas music and to read the special Christmas books (the titles of which seem to grow each year, but include The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, Carl's Christmas, The Gift of Nothing, Great Joy and Snowmen at Christmas) together next to our tree.  

When Christmas arrives, it's an absolute blur of gatherings and gifts; completely lacking in sleep, but abounding in stress, as we try to cram in whatever we didn't finish, make Christmas miracles for our children and get to every party on time.  It's overwhelming.

By the time I arrive at my birthday, which falls the day before New Year's Eve, I'm exhausted and often sick, but we're still not done:  there's the annual Epiphany play and, finally, my husband's birthday about a week into January (that's right: 3 out of 4 birthdays in our family fall among the holidays - 5 if you include my dad). And though we have all these traditions to mark the season and holiday, I often get to the end and feel that I somehow missed all of it - especially the quiet traditions.  I always feel that I didn't read the stories enough, listen to the music enough or just simply sat and enjoyed our tree enough.

I think we're just too busy.  I think there's just too much.

I envy my friends who hole up in their house and enjoy a long, quiet Christmas by their fireplace.  I don't have a fireplace, but if I did, it would be where I'd spend my Christmas - reading the books, watching the movies and listening to the music while staring at our tree - snuggled up by the fireplace with my family.  It's my dream Christmas - quiet, peaceful and simple.  

I know, I know - first world problems, right?  I shouldn't complain - many people would be envious of our large family to gather with and all of the traditions we have.  Still, I seek to simplify and scale down in this new year; to focus on what really matters so we aren't so overwhelmed.  I suspect that there are many people on that same path; people who are tired by the frantic pace and too much stuff, and I'm hoping that by relating my journey to you, I can help us all.  So, here's to simplicity in 2014!  Happy New Year, everyone.