Tidbits

I miss writing.  I am not sure how on earth I can fit it in.  Days blur by.  We homeschool.  We cook and clean.  We tend Grandpa.  We deal with the forest and it's surprises.  I try "to Art" (as my secret brain calls it), but am usually too tired.  So, blog-schmog.

But there are a few things happening that should really be recorded.

Jonah has begun reading.  Really, really reading.  Last year at this time he was agonizing through, "Pat can tap the map.  Tap, Pat, tap!"  One year later, and he is reading a 5th grade chapter book called  Because of Winn-Dixie (which he prounounces WINN-dixie, like Windex).  It is still a struggle.  He still gets stuck on words with b's and d's (bdbdbdbdbdb...wouldn't you?), and we bumble along together slowly, but HE chose the book, and he chooses it again and again every day at reading time.  And he choses every day to try, very, very hard.  I am in awe of him.  And because he loves being read to, he pays me for “extra chapters” in the books I read aloud to him, by reading TO ME for five extra minutes per mom-read chapter.  Deliciously, the author we are currently reading is the master of chapter cliff hangers, always leaving him wanting.

Tessa has begun high school.  It has been a brutal transition.  Tessa was a "casual" student in middle school, not worried or terribly serious.  Very chill.  But she is our first child to hold any interest in College, with its high degree of scholarly expectation.  Her online high school is full of teachers to hold her accountable that don't share her DNA.  She is newly motivated to succeed, and has already been heard to say, "But I'm ALMOST down to a B!!!"  It's uncharted territory for me as a parent.

Ellie is transitioning.  Adulthood is around the very near corner, and she is making plans.  She talks about moving out, and job plans.  She got her covid-belated driver's license today. She suddenly cares about school.  I hear the rustling from within her cocoon.

Adam is thriving in Utah.  He is learning to balance life.  Adam never learned to "hang out with friends" until the last two months of his senior year.  While the sudden joy of that discovery was really a relief to me (isolated and introverted teenagers worry mamas), there was a learning curve that took it's toll on his savings.  He has struck a lovely balance now between work and play, and is expanding his social circle, which was tiny for too long.  He has found a real  love-of-learning about all things Viking, which has expanded to history, archeology, ancient languages and even his own genealogy.  It's a glorious thing to watch, and I have been learning along side him so that I can understand all that he is absorbing.  This week I found myself touring an online Norwegian Viking museum, and attempting tablet weaving.  I failed, but I will keep trying.  I have a goal to make Adam a gift for Christmas; a woven Viking belt, a replica of the one found on the Oseberg Burial Ship.  Yep, I'm geeking out.

Ethan's not very vocal about his world, but work seems good, and he is coping well with lame car disappointments.  Between work and his own personal study, he has piled more skills onto his already broad knowledge of all things mechanical and electrical.  I'm so proud of him.

The sea-sickness Guy was suffering from the wildly rolling waves of his new principal job seems to be subsiding.  He is learning which wheels are truly in need of aid, and which will continue to squeak unappreciative to any amount of oil given.  We are finding a rhythm, which includes some later nights, and my learning an all-new jargon.  There should be an "Orientation for Spouses of New Admins", including a dictionary, program flow charts, and a little training on grief counseling.  The first two months were very hard.  Hard, plus covid.  Everybody is mad at school administrators, as though they knew this was coming and hadn't bothered to plan for it.  "Fair" has lost all meaning in a world where there simply are not answers, where need and demand outnumber available manhours threefold, and where people are screaming to get their never-again "normal" back, and they are screaming it at YOU.  Try stepping into that chaos on your first day.  Hard.  Really hard.

One more thing... I found a new doctor.  It's just the very beginning of what will likely become a long and difficult process.  But I am hopeful that by this time next year, I will show as much improvement in my health as Jonah has in his reading. 

Oh!  And Natalie lost her first two teeth, and one more is starting the dangle-dance.  There is a comfortable, if not slightly sad, predictability in that little detail.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that tooth isn't going to be there come Thanksgiving.  

Oh, Nellie! It's Soap Box Time Again!

Lunch for "Mom!" made by the girls 

I grounded my girls from school.  For two days.  You heard me!  Grounded!  How can I get away with that?  Well, because we homeschool, that's how.  The How is a minor detail though.  What matters here is the Why.  But before I get to that, first you have to muck through the foam from my soap box.  Buckle up, Buttercup.

 Few conversations illicit as many opinions as Homeschooling.  Oh, there's the whole Baby-in-the-bed topic, and the Nursing-a-toddler and Homebirth (guilty on all three counts, 15 counts if you consider me a repeat offender), but those are the topics that fall under the "You-do-what-you-want-with-your-baby,-ya-loonie!" clause, which most folks leave alone.  They figure if they turn a blind eye for a year or two, you'll get over it or at least stop having kids, making it all go away.  But when you Homeschool, you have to either grow a very thick skin, or go underground.  If you say the word "Unschooling" in public, folks imagine that your kids spend their days in fur loin cloths, chest pounding with filthy fists.  Certainly the only reading they must get is from cereal boxes and comic books, and if they are lucky, a little science during Shark Week.  I don't claim to be an Unschooler, but looking at it through the goggles of Public School it might seem that I am.

In order to understand HOW homeschool works in our house, you would have to detach yourself from a few long-held beliefs:

1.  Children must be taught on a daily schedule

2. Children must be taught specific things at specific ages

3.  Children must be taught by an adult

4.  Children must be tested to make sure they are learning

Now, I get it, you might accept that there are indeed a few (very few) exceptions to these rules, but for the most part, even most homeschooling families buy-in to one or more of the above statements.  But humor me for a moment; what if these beliefs you have held since the day you first smelled the aroma of chalk dust mingled with hot black-top and tatter-tots are wrong?  What if the best way for a child to learn is not currently being practiced in public schools?  (Gasp!  Did she really say that??? How dare she!!!).  Now, I am not saying that the way I do things is "the right way" (that's what we homeschoolers say to the rest of the world, but that is a lie.  We totally believe that it IS the right way, for us at least).  So if you can suspend your belief in the "Educational System" for a moment, and hear me out, the school grounding I mentioned earlier will seem a lot less like neglect and a lot more like calculated reasoning with an expectation of high return.

Here are the ideas I ask you to use to temporarily replace those listed above:

1.  Children must be given opportunities to learn mingled with daily life, when ever that best fits into the day and week; learning happens all the time, any time.  

2.  There is no ideal age that should be waited for to learn anything.  End of story.  Yeah, yeah, I know about the studies, but since our current system is ignoring those studies, so must I for a moment.  Indeed, math is apparently best taught to young adults  (hmmm, not 6 year olds?  Imagine!).  What I mean here is inclusive, not exclusive.  If a 6 year old WANTS to learn geometry, he should get to, and not be told to wait till high school!  Desire drives learning.

3.  When adults provide a supportive environment, children become their own teachers most of the time.  They also learn a ton from each other, and from watching your example of self education.  When they are further on in their learning, it is appropriate for them to have mentors, but that is pretty far down the line.

4.  There is no way in the world to quantify what a child who is given free range over his own education has learned.  Give it up.  You can measure information gathered, but not the knowledge and wisdom acquired for the use of that information.

Here are a few other important ideas to help you get my drift:

The problem is that "we" (you know, as in We the People) have it all backwards.  We try like mad to cram knowledge into little heads starting as young as age 3, during what are called the "formative years".  There is so much emphasis on academics that there is little time to teach our children the core values that our society is swiftly and tragically losing a grip on; things like honesty, integrity, the ability to see a need and fill it, excellent work ethic, empathy, true charity, and so on.  It is during the early years when these most important life lessons are taught, or missed.  If we wait until a child is already coming apart at the seams to try to instill values in him, say, age 12 and up, we have pretty much MISSED OUR CHANCE.  It is then that we struggle against the call of media, social pressures and hormone drive, trying to remind the child of the values we wished we had instilled a little better before now. 

So as a homeschooling family, my main focus for my children - my first goal- is to teach Character.  We talk daily about, and do things to work on the following:

- The difference between right and wrong, 

good and bad, true and false

 - The value of work

- The value of play

- How to fill the needs of people younger, smaller, or more helpless

And I am not kidding when I say that I believe these are the skills that will be the most valuable to my children in their lives.  They certainly are in mine.  That is not to say that academics are not of tremendous worth, but academics can be easily learned by an individual with such a strong foundation.  

(Geez, when is she going to get to the part where she grounded her kids from school?)

Right now.

*****

The girls were being FIVE STAR BRATS.  They were squabbling and even hitting, they were yelling and demanding and tantruming (oh, yes.  Evil, I tell you).  So I said...

"Wow.  This is so sad.  Clearly we have been not been focusing enough energy on our core values.  This is certainly not the way I want my children to grow up behaving in the world.  Obviously, you two are not ready for the privilege of school.   It looks like we need to take a break from school and get back to working on Character.  We will spend the day working, and we will work every day until I see that you are really ready for school."

(Okay, I probably didn't sound quite that noble, but that was the gist)

"NO!!!!!!!!!"  they cried!  "We want to do school!!!!" they bellowed.

"No, I am really sorry.  I can't let you do that.  I would not be doing my job well if I let you go out into the world with that kind of attitude.  It stops today."

They cried honest-to-goodness tears.  Oh, and they worked.  I worked right along side them.  They learned the skill of scrubbing out a toilet with a pumice stone.  They learned how to fix the drain stopper, and how to look around the room and notice things like dust on the light fixture, and then take care of it.  They learned how to clean out under a sink and re-paper the shelf.  There was learning going on, for sure, and it went deep.

Sadly, we had to take two days for the girls to get the point, but they got it.  And if they forget, I imagine all I will have to do to remind them will be to ask them if we should take a day off of school for more Character building. 

*****

This is not the end of this post, though (I know, shut up already, right?), because I feel like you need to know about the next day.  They were so excited to get back to school.  "Can I do math mom?"  "Can we do states?"  "Can I read?"  "Will you read us an extra chapter, please?"

And each time I said "sure" you would have thought I had said they could have ice cream for dinner.  Because, you see, they VALUED it.  It became a coveted privilege, not a dreaded expectation.  It doesn't hurt that I allow them to choose what they will study.  As long as they are working on something, it's all good with me.  Am I worried that they are not learning enough?  

The other day Tessa demonstrated that she knows all 50 states by shape, frontwards and backwards.  Its her thing these days.  Ellie figured out how to put a bed together without any instructions, and has been teaching Tessa how to cook french toast, and can recognize the Brazilian flag, among about two dozen others.  

Am I worried?

Only that I will get in the way.

The Grapes of (my) Wrath OR ..... Fifty Dollar Jelly

 

Jonah

 

I have a lot of blogging to do, because I have been spending my time LIVING lately.  We have had a very special few weeks.  So, I while I am getting caught up, please enjoy this very random post that has nothing to do with anything. 

 

One should really do one's homework.

 

Several years ago I plopped down $3.99 on  bare-root grape vine, planted it, and began what would become a love hate relationship with a darn thing.  That first year the grapes were the size of peas. I hadn't realized that I had purchased a champagne grape vine. Oh well, I thought, at least the birds will eat them if the kids don't want them.

 

But the kids did want them, as did the birds.  As I am learning with fruiting plants and trees, each year brings new surprises.  The surprise this year was a bumper crop.  Apparently, squirrels aren't into grapes. 

 

Kathy and I have begun our weekly gardening trade and, unlike last year, this year I am expecting a little work out of the kids.  They happily harvested the grapes and set about plucking them from the stems while I mucked out the chicken coop and Kathy weeded.  They really stuck with it, and had readied a few pounds of grapes for me in no time.  I was going to make jelly

(this is where you may begin laughing.  No, really).

 

(Um, what is Toby doing?

 besides apparently sitting on Tessa's head)

 Lauren

 

 Kaylee

 



Tessa

Ellie

 

Owen

Grapes

 (he he, see how I did that, there?)

A Roman Noble and his lunch

Grapes, looking all sweet and innocent. 

 I've got your number, you evil produce.

A sight rarely seen at my house; children working and getting along.

(Begin flashback music....)

 

When I was a kid we had this amazing concord grape vine that stretched half the yard in the summer.  We harvested a million pounds of grapes from it every year and mom canned about fifty bazillon jars of yummy grape jelly. 

 I remember it so well ... pick 'em, mash 'em, cook 'em, bottle 'em.

  No problem.  It's in my blood.  I am from pioneer stock, see.

 

I sent the boys to the store for pectin, the price of which my pioneer ancestors would have easily spent on a good cow and a suckling pig ($4.20 a box?!), only to later find a box in the cupboard.  Add to that the soda I let the boys buy for their trouble and I was already into this for ten bucks.

 

A hunt of the neighbors' kitchens produced a good old fashioned potato masher, and I set to work cleaning and smashing the grapes (also smashed were about 5 small spiders and a few dozen ants, but for those I used my thumb).  Smash, strain, smash, strain, and a couple of hours later I had a greenish grey, cloudy juice.  Yum.  Look out Welch's... your competition has arrived!

 

Throughout the process I stopped several times to do laundry, cook dinner, nurse, babysit for Ruth's little girl, and deal with Jonah.  Rounding the ten o'clock hour my pioneer spirit had begun to wane.  I carelessly read the recipe for grape jelly and promptly choked on my tongue. SEVEN cups of sugar, it said.  SEVEN!  What kind of crazy inspires a person to make ANYTHING with seven cups of sugar in it?  They were not a pioneer, I will tell you that much! I momentarily pondered reducing the sugar, when a little voice in me whispered, "Don't do it, stupid.  This is a day you will never get back, don't screw it up!"  With a troubled and slightly disgusted look on my face, I began scooping... five, six, seven! Gross.  My juice looked even cloudier now, a definitive troll-snot green. 

 

Then, well, I don't really know what I was thinking.  I ripped open the pectin box like someone ripping off a band-aid  to get the pain over with, and dumped the contents into the pot of snot.  It wasn't until I had done so that my tired little inner voice said, "Nice job, Julia.  Ever heard of reading the directions?" So just for chuckles I read them, like reading over a test you have already failed and realizing what you got wrong.  Oh, my,... "separate pan" it said. "3/4 cup of water", "boil for exactly one minute" it said.  And that bold "exactly", smugly looking up at me from the little paper as though to say, "yup, ya' blew it, sister."

 

And in that very moment the pot of snot boiled over, filling the burner trays with thick, bubbly green slime that promptly caught on fire under the pot full of sterilized canning jars.  Thank goodness our smoke detector was working or not everyone in the neighborhood would know; nothing says "You're a looser" like setting off a smoke alarm with your cooking.  The perfume of charred sugar filled the air, and more than one child came in to inform me of how far the smoke had made it through the house.

 

The fire went out on its own.  In fact, I think it just popped up there to punctuate the ridiculousness of the situation.  I am definitively not a pioneer.  I'm not made of good pioneer stock, like my sister is.  That woman gets up with the roosters and goes to bed with the owls, spending every minute in between making life better for somebody.

 

You may say, "But, Laine, you have chickens!  That is pioneery!"  Yes, but my chickens eat their own eggs for breakfast, which is both annoying and a little creepy, and they are steadily making one of their coop-mates bald. I refuse to make a sweater for a chicken.

 

Meanwhile, back at the disaster which was once my kitchen, a frothing pot of greenish sugar-water waited.  I did the only thing I could do;  threw in some yellow food coloring (don't judge me.  Besides, twern't  nothin' after all that sugar).  I have to recoup the cost of this woe-some day by getting the kids to actually consume this stuff, a feat that will not be accomplished with pea-green jelly.  I poured it into the bottles and sealed them.

 

The directions claim it will take 1-2 weeks for the jelly to set up.  I think that is just a waiting period like for when you buy a gun, so you don't go off and kill someone right away.  If the jelly doesn't set in a week or so, I am much less likely to commit a felony than if I had seen my failure within minutes of filling the jars.

 

So there you have it.  Ten bucks for pectin, another three or four for sugar,
 add to that minimum wage for time spent,
 not including the sweat-shop labor of the children,

 and that is some pretty pricey jelly.
  I should have done my homework,
and left the grapes for the birds.