Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Jennifer is Graduating from High School - Homeschooling From the Rear-View Mirror

Every family has a different story of how they began homeschooling.  We sort of stumbled into it. And, as of this Sunday, we'll be officially finished.

My sister Debbie homeschooled her two youngest kids up until high school. When Jennifer was still a baby, she began sending me "propaganda" about homeschooling and encouraging me that I was basically already homeschooling with the activities we did together.

Two of the more convincing pieces of propaganda:

This YouTube video by Sir Ken Robinson: "RSA Animate: Changing Education Paradigms" https://youtu.be/zDZFcDGpL4U -- it's super interesting to watch, as it's hand-illustrated while he's speaking to a crowd. Very cool format. Thought-provoking.

Also, a book called Dumbing Us Down by John Taylor Gatto. Tons of great quotes, including this one:
“Independent study, community service, adventures and experience, large doses of privacy and solitude, a thousand different apprenticeships — the one-day variety or longer — these are all powerful, cheap, and effective ways to start a real reform of schooling. But no large-scale reform is ever going to work to repair our damaged children and our damaged society until we force open the idea of “school” to include family as the main engine of education. If we use schooling to break children away from parents — and make no mistake, that has been the central function of schools since John Cotton announced it as the purpose of the Bay Colony schools in 1650 and Horace Mann announced it as the purpose of Massachusetts schools in 1850 — we’re going to continue to have the horror show we have right now.”
Brian and I had decided, long before she reached school age, that one of us would always stay home with Jennifer. For her first two and a half years, Brian was at home. Then, I got laid off from my lucrative marketing job for a computer products distributor. We decided we'd both look for work, and whoever found work first would go, while the other parent stayed home.

(Don't tell him this, but I didn't look very hard.)

Brian landed a job with American Honda, and I began my career as a stay-at-home mom, a job for which I will be forever grateful.

I figured, since I'd be home anyway, we might as well just homeschool! Aside from a couple of preschool classes at a local city-run community school, we've done it ourselves since the beginning.

I have always been a rather schizophrenic homeschool mom. I'd swing wildly between extremes. On the one hand, I'd declare a school holidays so we could hang out at the beach or at Disneyland or even just stay home and binge-watch TV (like Little House on the Prairie or Dr Who). Then, just as quickly, I'd absolutely flip out that Jennifer had done nothing but watch television all day. She took the whole thing quite calmly. Whenever I started to get antsy and worry that she wasn't learning enough, she'd say, "Relax, Mom. I'll do a math lesson."

Two great pieces of advice I received on homeschooling -- one was from my friend Tamah: "Doreen, just be sure you do enough schooling so that YOU sleep well at night. Jennifer will be just fine." The other was from a working actor, friend, and Jennifer's drama teacher in a homeschool co-op we loved. Maggie told me: "Let Jennifer follow her passion, and do all you can to support her in that pursuit. For everything else, just make sure she knows enough so that she's not embarrassed in a conversation at a party."

I've always approached Jennifer's education using the same approach that we, as adults, do. We learn things either because we have to, or because we find something fascinating and want to know more about it. Why on earth would I make her memorize facts about something in which she was completely uninterested, then make her vomit the facts back to me, and then move onto the next thing? Instead, we captured snails. We spent four solid hours one day, when she was only six, doing math, performing science experiments, writing poetry, and singing songs -- all using Google and a couple of garden snails.

I will never, ever regret the lazy days we spent together in our jammies; the mornings spent listening to The Mysterious Benedict Society while enjoying a tea party; the entire month we spent in Connecticut caring for my niece as she recovered from a brain injury, without worrying about falling behind on classwork; the year we bought Disney passes and methodically visited every single attraction at the park, using a spreadsheet to keep track; the endless hours spent at the beach, at museums, in local parks and in national parks with family and other homeschoolers.

We were NOT one of those homeschool families where we would rise to an alarm clock, get dressed, recite the pledge of allegiance, and spend hours working on assignments. Instead, we spent our time learning life skills, like how to change a flat tire, and taking field trips to whatever location or event struck our fancy. Jennifer was a late reader, but when she finally caught on, she'd ask to stay up late to finish a chapter of Emily Windsnap or Harry Potter -- and the answer was always a resounding YES. We rarely needed to rise early the next day.

There are so many more things I should, and will, write about homeschooling.

This weekend, Jennifer will graduate with about 18 other teens at the California Homeschool Network's annual EXPO. She is decorating her cap as I write this. She will wear Gryffindor robes. Brian and I will present her with a diploma from Samuel Cole Academy (named after her great grandfather), and all three of us will get to speak briefly to the audience. Jennifer's grandparents are even traveling from Michigan to be here for it!

Jennifer will begin community college in the fall - although she's already been there for a year, taking classes as a concurrently enrolled high school student. I'm very sad to have to give up control over our schedule - I'll have to resist the urge to make her stop studying to come play outside with me.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

What Can I Do?

It's been a couple of days since the most horrific mass shooting on American soil.

Writers who are far more eloquent than I am have put their thoughts into words. So maybe you ought to go read their posts instead of this! Jen Hatmaker, author and Christian speaker, wrote two posts on her Facebook fan page that spoke to my heart. I can't figure out how to post a link to those. Maybe I'll paste them at the bottom of this blog.

My Facebook feed is filled with heartfelt and poignant reactions to this atrocity. It's also filled with all the usual posts from haters and blamers and people trying to make sense out of something so senseless.

Once again, the flags are flying at half-mast. And every time something like this happens, we all think, "What can I do?" It all seems so overwhelming. We all feel so helpless.

And talk is cheap. As followers of Christ, we're called to love. Love. LOVE. Our faith in Christ should express itself in love. And our love should express itself in action.

So many things seem so out of my control in my life right now. This act of terrorism in Orlando sort of magnifies that feeling for me. And as I type that, I'm ashamed to realize that something like this would make me think of writing about ME. Me, me, me. Yet here I sit. Typing away.

I know, I know. God is in control. Always. But there are lots of things going on in my life and in my world that shout of chaos and changes to come:

  • The fact that I'm suddenly finished homeschooling. My prime directive for the past 13 years. Done. What's next?
  • I've been caring for my grand-niece three days a week, for over a year... but that may be coming to an end eventually, or even soon, as she gets older and heads off to pre-school and other adventures.
  • Menopause and other signs of more-than-middle-age have me recognizing that some doors are closing in my life.  The world never was actually my oyster, but now, it's even less so.
  • Don't even get me started on our appalling choices for President. Sophie's Choice...

So, oddly, as I'm feeling less and less in control, I'm finding myself digging in and doing lots of little things lately -- things that I CAN control.

Like this weekend. I went to battle over a bottle of vitamin D that I was supposed to get for free from a local drug store. The manager refused to honor a raincheck I presented to him, so I got all heated up and headed back there on Monday to see the big manager. I was loaded for bear. But I was polite. And he was apologetic. And I got my free vitamins.

The other day, I took on a mission to fix a Facebook problem for a friend who had somehow accidentally ended up with three profiles - one that she had created on purpose, a second she created because she forgot her password or something for the first, and a third that had popped up through a hacker. I think the only reason I offered to help is that it was something I could do.

Today, I made good on a growing desire to begin hanging out with a very beloved elderly lady who belongs to my church. She can't drive anymore, but she only lives ten minutes from me. I drove her to the beach this morning and we had a lovely visit on a bench on the Manhattan Beach pier, watching kids play in the sand below on this June Gloomy day. She rarely gets out any more, and she thanked me repeatedly and profusely. It was humbling. And it made me determined to do it more regularly.

My house is filled with the smell of cast iron pots, lightly coated with Crisco, baking in the oven. I hadn't used them in a while, so they were rusty and in need of re-seasoning. But I can control that, so into the heat they went.

Even though my blood won't make it all the way to Orlando, I'm going to donate blood. Because we all should be doing that, as long as we can, and as often as we can.

So it's a bunch of little things. Does it make a difference? I suppose somehow it does. But it hardly feels like it.

Over the years, I've heard a lot of versions of this great story:

A young man is walking along the ocean and sees a beach on which thousands and thousands of starfish have washed ashore. Further along he sees an old man, walking slowly and stooping often, picking up one starfish after another and tossing each one gently into the ocean. 
“Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?,” he asks. 
“Because the sun is up and the tide is going out and if I don’t throw them further in they will die.” 
“But, old man, don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it! You can’t possibly save them all, you can’t even save one-tenth of them. In fact, even if you work all day, your efforts won’t make any difference at all.” 
The old man listened calmly and then bent down to pick up another starfish and threw it into the sea. “It made a difference to that one.” 
I hope you're doing what you can to make a difference. Look around you. Pay attention. You'll start to see things. Hopefully you'll start to get ideas. Do something. Do anything. Make a difference to that one.