"Home" Does Not = Recluse

You know that house in the neighborhood where there's always about seventeen bikes strewn about the front lawn, an abandoned lemonade stand by the sidewalk, chalk drawings smothering the driveway, and plastic cups littering the patio table?  That house where the bushes are never trimmed, the windows rarely clean of window crayon... but the door is always open and you can usually smell chocolate chip cookies baking?  Oh, and you can usually see a slew of kids eating those cookies and drinking that lemonade and dropping those bikes on the lawn.

Yep.  You know that house.  You probably have a strong opinion about that house, one way or another.  In Blue Grass Farms, at least in four block radius of the court, that house is my house.  And we like it that way.

The other day I had a family member, once again, play the "socialization card" in his argument against home schooling.  Hmmmm. 

Let's compare:  Our first day of homeschool this year, my kids finished up by 12:00 noon.  By that time, the new neighbor's boys were in their back yard.  Cady and Asher ran out to the fence to introduce themselves, and before I knew it they were at our house playing Foosball, jumping on the trampoline, riding bikes, and having lemonade.  While they were still over, my daughter's friend M came by to join in the raucous.  She stayed on for dinner (a big pot of chicken and rice soup, home made).  She had three bowls... Leaving just enough to have another neighbor and his kids over for soup, too.  Oh, and the single guy across the street stopped over just in time to lap up the last ladleful!

THEN, as the sun was just thinking about drifting off to sleep, another friend stopped next door to help her boyfriend move some of his stuff in, bringing along her two boys... who immediately ran to our tree for climbing and our trampoline!  My kids weren't  "alone" until time for them to drop into bed.

So much for my reclusive home schooled kids turning out to be uni bombers, holed up in a shack plotting against society because they weren't exposed to hundreds of kids in a controlled, scheduled setting from 8:00-3:00, Monday through Friday.  Sorry to disappoint you, disgruntled anti-homeschool family member.  Your argument doesn't make sense.  Want to debate?

Right now, my daughter is sitting next to me with her friend that slept over night last night.  My son is at his Michigan Opera Theatre Children's Chorus rehearsal for Carmina Burana for three hours (oh, yes, it takes more than one kid to put on an opera... there's only 50 kids and many adult performers... including professionals from Cirque de Soleil [shameless plug]).

Yesterday, they had a great day at their homeschool classes.  And yes, they are real classes:  Earth Science, Drama, Medieval History and Literature, Math.  Each class had 6-15 kids.  Nice teacher - student ratio, huh?  And Asher got an enthusiastic sleepover invitation.  It didn't happen to work for last night, but we will plan it for the near future.  The point is, he was INVITED! 

Hmmm, yes I "hmmmm" again.  His last year at public school he was never invited to a thing  by a classmate, and sat alone at lunch almost every day.  Which is a more fertile environment for the growing of a reclusive, angry human being? 

For this child, for my family, for right now (because this family is the only one I am qualified to make these kind of decisions for), I am confident that home is where we need to be. 

Home.. and at rehearsal in Detroit, and at the dance studio, and the community theatre rehearsal, and at the home school group in Warren, and at scouts, and at art class, and at music lessons, and at the neighbor's house, and riding bikes with a mob of kids in the neighborhood... Learning how to be kids with other kids through life, through groups, through lots and lots of free play...  tromping around the neighborhood with kids, thinking of things to do, riding bikes, making up games... THAT's where kids learn how to navigate life.

Home doesn't mean "homebound," it doesn't mean "recluse."  Home is just where we cover the academics... out in the world is where we cover the rest.

How do YOU know?

I have taken a break from the blog, but now I'm back because something that happened today lit a fire under my rear.  Honestly, I just need to vent!

Since my last post, I think I've really taken a slightly more laid back approach to my children's education.  Instead of daily lists and weeks overbooked with outings, we have an "attitude" toward life that encompasses continual learning.  We are preparing for a grocery-budget-denting garden (yes, right here in my suburban back yard), and so have been doing things like planting seeds indoors, hoeing the garden, building a compost bin, and so on as such. 

In light of this "pioneer" attitude (and the fact that Cady and I have started watching Little House on the Prairie), I caved in and took the kids "fishing" at the creek in our neighborhood.  It would have been a miracle had we caught a fish, as I'm fairly sure there were none to be found.  But Cady had fun digging up two dozen worms to use for bait.  Anyhow, as Cady sat on the bank waiting for nibbles and untangling her line from branches, rocks, trash and essentially anything that stuck out in the least bit, her brother began exploring.

An excellent climber, he scaled the bank higher and worked his way across a fallen tree that bridged the running water.  As he sat in the middle of it, he began pointing out smaller tributaries (I didn't imagine they could get smaller that the creek- which was really more like runnoff drainage), a tiny waterfall, dead tree roots, and more.  What a wonderful "educational" experience!

But while I had my back turned to help Cady untangle the lure from a bush on the opposite bank, she said to me, "Mom, there's a lady up there by the fence."

I wrinkled my eyebrows and turned around.  Sure enough, a woman must have come out of the house adjacent to the *public* waterway to watch our goings-on.  I started to wave and say a friendly "hello," when she cut me short. 

"He's going to get hurt you know," she hollered. (How could she KNOW that?!  Amazing.)  "Those trees aren't real stable and neither is that bank!  He's going to fall!" 

"He's a great climber, but thanks," I responded with some semblance of shiny disposition remaining.  She looked down her thumbed-up nose, and shook her disapproving head at me.  I asked Cady, in her rubber boots, to go across and dislodge the wedged fish hook from the bush.  Once she got it, I looked back and the woman was gone.  Asher had scrambled off of his perch and taken the dog to scooter circles on the the perfectly safe, fenced in tennis court in the nicely mowed park.  Lesson learned.

Who did she think she was, shaking her head at me?  I am those children's MOTHER, and am perfectly capable of assessing the danger or lack thereof in a given situation.  Furthermore, who was she to put doubt in Asher's head about his ability to assess his OWN situation?  Did she think he was going to compromise his own life, his own safety?  Kids know a lot more than we think about keeping themselves out of harm's way.  Even a dog, a cat, a fox, a wild boar, will turn back from an unsafe river crossing.  Are we so overbearing that we don't think children are as capable of protecting themselves from harm as a mutt or a swine?

I sure hope not. 

Now, I'm not saying that children will always make the right choices.  But how are their decision-making skills ever going to develop if we are constantly making decisions FOR them? 

You are going to hurt yourself. 
You won't like that sushi. 
You're too shy to be in a play.
If you jump on the couch you're going to fall off, crack your head on the coffee table, and be paralyzed for the rest of your life, and then how do you think I would feel?

I'm not saying we shouldn't have conversations about safety, and I'm all for the helmet rule when riding bicycles. (My daughter once- to my chagrin- observed rather loudly that a family of helmetless "morons" were riding past.)  Or even have conversations about likes, dislikes, choices, etc.  But we shouldn't pigeonhole our kids, or other peoples' kids for that matter.

Now, in the situation over the creek... perhaps a better play-out of that scene would have been as follows:  Woman sees Asher on the log.  She smiles and says "hello" to us all, maybe comments on the weather.  Then she makes an observation, "Hey, see over there on the other bank?"  We all look.  "That branch is splitting away and it doesn't look like it has good footing."  Ahhhhh, then Asher could assess the situation and make a decision about his relationship with that particular bridge.  What a wonderful learning opportunity! He could have checked out the erosion, maybe seen some rotting or weathering, dug deeper into his experience so that next time he would have the knowledge he needed before he shimmied half way across a raging rapids on a rickety bridge.

Instead, she completely squelched my son's curiosity and spoiled his adventure!  (BTW, that "good footing" thing was entirely fictional... she really had no basis for saying he was going to hurt himself.)

But we do this in so many ways.  Have you ever said to your child, "If you eat that cookie you won't be hungry for dinner."  But they are.  "Don't ride your bike in the road, you'll get run over by a car."  They don't, that time.  "If you boss your brother around, he won't want to play with you."  But he does play.  These kinds of warnings end up being lies... at least for that one time that your warning didn't actually come into fruition.  It makes us look like fools, and it makes the kids want to test their theory even more! Kids love to prove their parents wrong.  ("See, I ate all my spaghetti even AFTER the cookie!")  Then when they're teenagers, and we say, "Don't do drugs, they'll get you in trouble and hurt your body," are they going to believe us?

I mean, you can tell them a million times that they could get hit by a car and killed.  That will never be as effective as showing them an animal or perhaps a shoe (or something like that) which has been killed or crushed by a half-ton automobile.  Why?  Because they more they go out in the road and stay uncrushed, the more they are proving your theory wrong.  But you can't argue with real, hard data.

I'm not pretending to have a cornerstone on how to raise kids.  I'm just making these little bursts of discoveries myself, and sharing my bitty breakthroughs with you.  We are not psychics.  (No offense to actual psychics.)  We do not KNOW what's going to happen as a result of our children's actions.  Let's instead be scientists, let's be partners on the educational journey of life.  We can make observations, gather data, and let our budding thinkers draw their own sound conclusions. 

It might help them do just that when it matters most.

I'm Not Delusional

How did his parents raise HIM?

Our home school co-op was cancelled for today because of icy roads.  Bummer.  I guess it's a mixed blessing.  I love seeing all the great new friends I've met there.  I was excited about our super saturated salt crystal experiment for science.  The kids anticipate hanging with their friends all week.  And finally, my son did an amazing job in his article for the mythological newspaper!  BUT (and I always have a big "but"), I desperately needed this down time.  Even if it's just for an hour this morning while I let the kids sleep.  I am showered and dressed... and buried in a blanket with a warm cup of coffee watching the freezing rain pummel the kitty litter  bucket that my daughter used to hold up her icicle "sword in the stone."  Yes, that's us.  Hillbilly back yard!

Anyway, I tried something new this week.  It failed.  That's life, I guess.  I thought I would post up a weekly instead of daily chart, filled more with "ideas" than directions.  Um, no, that doesn't work for my kids.  If they aren't given more direct direction they run wild and end up pummeling each other til near death.  I'm thinking I should video tape for a nature documentary... or Supernanny. 

So back to the bulleted list of must-do's for each day, stuck on my pantry door with poster goo.  The list usually includes things like: practice guitar/violin 20 minutes, read something, write something, Spanish homework, watch "Hercules," draw a picture of Laura's house on the prairie, math one lesson, bake cupcakes, etc.  When I turn them loose they usually end up watching a bunch of "educational" films on Netflix and whining a lot.  I'm so done with whining.

I know I seem wishy-washy.  But I had some great advice from a home school guru friend a while back.  You'll find something that works, then suddenly it doesn't work anymore and you have to change it! 

Listen, I used to be a perfect parent with all the right answers about how to raise children.  Then, I actually HAD children.  I've come to believe that there are no right answers in parenting.  No right answers in education.  No right answers in relationships.  It's not a test, it's more like a novel or a poem, subject to its reader and their understanding of the writer and the characters and based upon their life experiences and their personality and the mood they're in at the time and whether the Chinese they had for dinner is making their stomach gaseous and uncomfortable and so on and so on.  We're all faking our way through the novel, hoping that we get something right because there IS no RIGHT way!

There are moments of happiness and laughter, which we hope outweigh the moments of tears and pain.  There are moments of success and triumph which we hope outweigh the moments of failure.  There are moments of contentedness which we hope outweigh the moments of discontent and want.  There are feelings of togetherness which we only hope outweigh feelings of being alone.  We want our children happy and successful.  Heck, I often feel like I'm still figuring out how to have that for myself.  How do we achieve that happy successful child?  No-one REALLY knows.  And if they have it figured out for the hypothetical child... Well, who actually has a "hypothetical" child?

So, is it going to make my son happy and successful if he is taking guitar lessons instead of band class?  Reads about Mark Zuckerburg in Time Magazine instead of Barack Obama in Junior Scholastic?  Has a small group of friends instead of a friend-pool of six hundred?  Takes break dancing instead of gym class? 

Is it going to make my daughter more content and self-assured if she makes dresses in our kitchen instead of collages in art class?  Reads about the science of dog breeds instead of about tundras and rain forests?  Has a couple of really close friends that she plays with a lot, verses a lot of friends at school?  Builds a snow man instead of playing broom hockey?

You know what?   I don't know.  I only know what feels right at the moment.  Even though I'm exhausted a lot.  Even though my house isn't as clean as it should be.  Even though I've sacrificed a lot of my freedom and quiet time to have my kids at home... I think, right now, it's the right thing.

 But I'm not delusional enough to tell you that I'm SURE it will produce happier and more successful children.  That's up to them.