"I just don't know how you do it!"
I hear this kind of comment not frequently, sometimes as a way of communicating "You're nuts!", and sometimes as a way of posing the question for informational purposes - "How do you do it? "It's enough work to handle the three [or whatever] kids I have, and you have five! And you homeschool them?" And my typical answer is, "We just do it. We've got them, so we just do what we have to do. It works out." When people ask how we homeschool such a crew, my line is that it's not as hard as people think.
And that's mostly true. Someone once asked me where I did school with the kids, and when I appeared a bit confused, she went on, "You know...are they all sitting around a table?" I realized that many people have this idea of a "typical" eight hour-school day, with mom as a typical teacher, instructing several grades all at once, which in truth does sound ghastly, not to mention impossible. No, I could never do that. Homeschooling - or at least our version of it, is quite a bit different, and I've posted about that often enough here. Anyway, that's pretty much true of having this number of children as well. When a pregnant mom of several young children asks me, with something akin to terror in her eyes, how I manage, and seem to do it so well, I know she's thinking that having five of the children she's got sounds impossible. I encourage her with the fact that there's good news. Nay, great news! They get older. They don't always need every single thing done for them. (Sometimes I have to remind them of this, but never mind that at the moment...) They go spend hours in their rooms because they want to. They go to sleep at night in their own beds and stay there. All night. And when it comes to homeschooling them, they can do many things on their own. For that matter, even when they are little and need more attention, that's some of the best - and easiest kind of homeschooling. It just involves lots of reading, looking at caterpillars, and playing. Lots and lots and LOTS of reading and playing.
So it's probably not as hard a prospect as they envision. Also, when they look at me and think, "Wow - she's doing it so well," their vision is perhaps not quite clear. It's a nice compliment, truly, and I do appreciate it when out in public it appears that we're doing some things right. Yay! (And I know that even in actuality, we are doing some things right.) But sometimes the appearance of success and "she-has-it-togetherness" can be misleading, and unfortunately so. What I don't talk about enough are days like today. Tonight I talked to a mom interested in having a number of kids and in homeschooling, and it would probably not have been the most encouraging thing to say to her, "You know, it's all not so hard as you might think... except on days like today, when, frankly, I wanted to lock the kids of my bedroom, crawl under the covers and, stay there until their father got home. We're all wearing smiles now, but an hour ago, tempers were flaring, no one liked each other, and my house looked like a bomb hit it. Hardly any "school" got done because no one would pay attention to me, and I was failing at getting them to obey me...hey, I was pretty much failing at being a good mom, period. My crowning achievement this afternoon was that I presided over everyone surviving it."
It might have scared her off, but if she does have a large family and does decide to homeschool them, it might have actually been good to have been able to retrieve the memory of someone essentially saying, "Sister, we're all just doing the best we can. Sometimes it looks nice, and sometimes it looks pretty ugly. That's normal. You're normal. You're not failing."
I keep a friend's baby a couple days a week, and when she comes to pick him up, she gets to see us at the time of day that is often the most messy and chaotic. Periodically I thank her for seeing us at our most "real," and still choosing to be our friend anyway! I think it would be beneficial if we all got a peek at each other's "real-ness" now and then. Certainly those who saw mine would know that often I am hanging on by a slender thread of sanity some days! And in seeing that, either they would realize that I'm not quite so amazing and feel encouraged...or they would be confirmed in their belief that having and homeschooling five children is in fact an impossibly nutty thing to do.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Perspective...and the Lack Thereof
I recently posted on Facebook about how homeschool kids may lack some perspective. Mine do, anyway. The other day I called up to them that it was time to come downstairs, and one of the older kids called back down inquisitively, "For what?"
Oh, I don't know. To start our day! To do some school - you know, that stuff we (try) to do five days a week. I know we're relaxed about it, but good grief, it does figure into our schedule enough so that I would think they would understand this is a recurring thing. But no, they still tend to act a little surprised when they discover (day after day after day) that once again, we have learning to do. My reaction to this ranges from baffled amusement to annoyance, the latter because I would love for them to understand that most of their peers get up at the same time each morning, get dressed, go the same building, then go the same classes at the same time, every day, pretty much all day. Maybe I'm having a "grass is greener on the other side" moment, because those kids probably complain a fair amount about it, but I wouldn't think they wake up regularly and say, "What? School again? Didn't I just do that yesterday?"
Of course, on the flip side, I am trying to make a statement that what we do here is NOT just "school at home." I'm not after the kids mimicking a typical school experience, so I don't really want to be throwing in their faces all the time the "if you were in school..." line. It might be nice if they had some perspective on their situation, and, if I'm honest, it might be nice if out of that perspective bloomed a sense of gratitude and appreciation for what they do have. And it might be nicer still if that caused them to get dressed, do their chores, and present themselves to me each morning ready to seize the day and learn.
Shhh. Stop laughing. Let me have this moment to dream.
Ok, back to reality...here's what I tend to hear instead,
"Why do we have to start school so early? [at 9:30] Aren't we going to have any time to [read, ride bikes, build with LEGOs, etc, etc] first?"
Upon finding one of my children still in their pajamas at a time in the morning when I would have expected something different..."Why are you not dressed?" Child - "You didn't tell me I had to get dressed." Oh, right - silly me! I thought maybe after nine years of living you might have assumed that's just what we do in the morning.
With dramatic sighs - "What do you treat us like slaves?" This from my six year-old, who does collectively a whole 30 minutes worth of "formal" school each day. I just laughed.
If I start talking about the next subject as we're wrapping up the first subject of the day, "What? Aren't we going to get a break first?" Apparently since we must do school, the ideal schedule is 15 minutes of school, followed by an hour or so of breaks, and so on.
And since we're talking about breaks, this one really cracked me up, "We've had a two-hour break, and you want us just to start right back up instantly?"
A response to being posed arelatively simple math question, "Do you expect me just to say the answer immediately? Well, that's the goal eventually, yes dear.
It never ceases to amaze me that they haven't developed a set a more realistic set of expectations by now. Oh, but what's that you say? Maybe it's the mother who ought to have developed a more realistic perspective and set of expectations after 11 years of having children? I do have to remind myself that perhaps that's true. Perhaps I should expect the kids to act like kids - not to stay there, obviously, and not to get away with doing nothing at all - but it might at least help my attitude to remember that they're supposed to act like children. They can't possibly have a broad perspective on educational styles or any other aspect of life, for one thing, and for another, it's the job of all children to question, to push boundaries, to learn the ropes of life sometimes the hard way. And it's not my job to make sure they know how good they have it, but to gently, lovingly, and firmly guide them through each day. Eventually they'll get themselves dressed each morning without having to be reminded. I don't hold out too much hope that they'll come to accept daily learning and instruction, but it could happen!
In the meantime...[insert the sound of my cracking whip here]!
Oh, I don't know. To start our day! To do some school - you know, that stuff we (try) to do five days a week. I know we're relaxed about it, but good grief, it does figure into our schedule enough so that I would think they would understand this is a recurring thing. But no, they still tend to act a little surprised when they discover (day after day after day) that once again, we have learning to do. My reaction to this ranges from baffled amusement to annoyance, the latter because I would love for them to understand that most of their peers get up at the same time each morning, get dressed, go the same building, then go the same classes at the same time, every day, pretty much all day. Maybe I'm having a "grass is greener on the other side" moment, because those kids probably complain a fair amount about it, but I wouldn't think they wake up regularly and say, "What? School again? Didn't I just do that yesterday?"
Of course, on the flip side, I am trying to make a statement that what we do here is NOT just "school at home." I'm not after the kids mimicking a typical school experience, so I don't really want to be throwing in their faces all the time the "if you were in school..." line. It might be nice if they had some perspective on their situation, and, if I'm honest, it might be nice if out of that perspective bloomed a sense of gratitude and appreciation for what they do have. And it might be nicer still if that caused them to get dressed, do their chores, and present themselves to me each morning ready to seize the day and learn.
Shhh. Stop laughing. Let me have this moment to dream.
Ok, back to reality...here's what I tend to hear instead,
"Why do we have to start school so early? [at 9:30] Aren't we going to have any time to [read, ride bikes, build with LEGOs, etc, etc] first?"
Upon finding one of my children still in their pajamas at a time in the morning when I would have expected something different..."Why are you not dressed?" Child - "You didn't tell me I had to get dressed." Oh, right - silly me! I thought maybe after nine years of living you might have assumed that's just what we do in the morning.
With dramatic sighs - "What do you treat us like slaves?" This from my six year-old, who does collectively a whole 30 minutes worth of "formal" school each day. I just laughed.
If I start talking about the next subject as we're wrapping up the first subject of the day, "What? Aren't we going to get a break first?" Apparently since we must do school, the ideal schedule is 15 minutes of school, followed by an hour or so of breaks, and so on.
And since we're talking about breaks, this one really cracked me up, "We've had a two-hour break, and you want us just to start right back up instantly?"
A response to being posed arelatively simple math question, "Do you expect me just to say the answer immediately? Well, that's the goal eventually, yes dear.
It never ceases to amaze me that they haven't developed a set a more realistic set of expectations by now. Oh, but what's that you say? Maybe it's the mother who ought to have developed a more realistic perspective and set of expectations after 11 years of having children? I do have to remind myself that perhaps that's true. Perhaps I should expect the kids to act like kids - not to stay there, obviously, and not to get away with doing nothing at all - but it might at least help my attitude to remember that they're supposed to act like children. They can't possibly have a broad perspective on educational styles or any other aspect of life, for one thing, and for another, it's the job of all children to question, to push boundaries, to learn the ropes of life sometimes the hard way. And it's not my job to make sure they know how good they have it, but to gently, lovingly, and firmly guide them through each day. Eventually they'll get themselves dressed each morning without having to be reminded. I don't hold out too much hope that they'll come to accept daily learning and instruction, but it could happen!
In the meantime...[insert the sound of my cracking whip here]!
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Play of the Game
I should comment first on my ever so long absence from blogging. Dave was working in Savannah for the past three weeks (three weeks!), so I wasn't doing much else but...well, everything. Perhaps I'll post about our time in his absence, but I may just leave it with this summation - everyone ate relatively good food, we made it to places we were supposed to be (and usually on time), we did a fair amount of schoolwork, and the house wasn't a complete disaster by the time Dave finally came home. So I call that a success. But of course, we're also terribly glad to have him home again!
At any rate, today all three boys had their first flag football games, the two younger ones at our YMCA, and Drew at another nearby branch (for reasons that would take too long to explain and wouldn't particularly enhance this story). We decided that Dave and Aimee would take the younger ones to their games, and Scarlett and I would go with Drew, who actually had a double header. I'll take this moment to mention that I was dreading, just a bit, the idea of having a toddler (have I mentioned that she's walking now? Woo-hoo!), out on a field by myself for two hours, but I discovered that she was content to sit in my lap most of the time. At the end of it, I was just looking at her in grateful awe. For two hours this little miss just sat and looked at books and played with empty water bottles, never once attempting to run off anywhere. As I thought about it, I realized that my last two toddlers, and especially Chase, never once stopped for anything, and I had to spend their entire toddlerhoods chasing...er, following...them and pulling them down off dangerous heights. What fun that was! (I'm not being sarcastic. I really did appreciate their energy and daring, even though, admittedly, it was exhausting.) And what a blessed, beautiful relief that I'm not having to do that with the current toddler!
So I actually enjoyed my two hours watching Drew's games. Part of my enjoyment was supplied by his coach, who is an 18 year-old Y employee and who is one of the most SUPER PSYCHED people I've ever met. I hadn't met him before, because other Y employees had run Drew's previous practices, and this was the coach's first time meeting the team. I was a little taken aback by his hyper intensity at first, but as I sat watching the team with the other parents, we all began to laugh along with his antics, and eventually to appreciate his enthusiasm. Sure, it's probably a little over the top, but he taught the boys, encouraged everyone, made sure they all played the different positions and substituted fairly, and he was a lot of fun all the way around. Drew seemed to enjoy his coaching and the game in general, but occasionally he became frustrated with himself because he wasn't completing some of the flashier and exciting plays that I guessed he had been hoping for. He was also pretty hard on himself for mistakes he made and couldn't really get the perspective I tried to offer him when I assured him that everyone was making mistakes and it wasn't a big deal.
Toward the end of his second game, it was his turn to sit out for a few minutes, and he came to me rather upset. After listening for a minute, I told him (again) that I thought he was doing a good job and playing hard, but that I understood his frustration and that of course he could vent it - when he got home. I encouraged him quietly to take a deep breath and display good sportsmanship and a good attitude on the field, and to continue cheering on his teammates. To his credit, he nodded and took that deep breath. Just about then, one of his teammates got hurt and was escorted off the field in tears. It looked like Drew was going to have to go right back in, and I was glad to see him get up and walk toward the sidelines without hesitation.
But before he walked out on to the field, he stopped and turned to his injured teammate nearby.
He patted him on the shoulder and asked if he was ok. My mother's heart just melted a little and my
knees went a little wobbly. If I had been like his coach I would have bounded (yes, bounded) up and down, shouting, "YES! WAY TO GO! WHAT AN AWESOME PLAY!" But I didn't, of course. First of all, I'm not like that in general. Second, it would have embarrassed the living daylights out of Drew, who had informed me earlier that it was ok to cheer for his team but not for him personally (I think I messed up on that once or twice - oh well.) And third, I think it's best for all involved if good deeds happen with little fanfare. I did tell him afterwards that I was proud of him for it.Even if I had laid the praise on thick, though, I don't think he would have believed that it was worth so much more than the plays he had hoped to make. I think he was probably still a little disappointed with himself. But in my opinion - admittedly biased though it is - it was the best thing I saw happen all afternoon.
Way to go, Drew, for making the play of the game.
At any rate, today all three boys had their first flag football games, the two younger ones at our YMCA, and Drew at another nearby branch (for reasons that would take too long to explain and wouldn't particularly enhance this story). We decided that Dave and Aimee would take the younger ones to their games, and Scarlett and I would go with Drew, who actually had a double header. I'll take this moment to mention that I was dreading, just a bit, the idea of having a toddler (have I mentioned that she's walking now? Woo-hoo!), out on a field by myself for two hours, but I discovered that she was content to sit in my lap most of the time. At the end of it, I was just looking at her in grateful awe. For two hours this little miss just sat and looked at books and played with empty water bottles, never once attempting to run off anywhere. As I thought about it, I realized that my last two toddlers, and especially Chase, never once stopped for anything, and I had to spend their entire toddlerhoods chasing...er, following...them and pulling them down off dangerous heights. What fun that was! (I'm not being sarcastic. I really did appreciate their energy and daring, even though, admittedly, it was exhausting.) And what a blessed, beautiful relief that I'm not having to do that with the current toddler!
So I actually enjoyed my two hours watching Drew's games. Part of my enjoyment was supplied by his coach, who is an 18 year-old Y employee and who is one of the most SUPER PSYCHED people I've ever met. I hadn't met him before, because other Y employees had run Drew's previous practices, and this was the coach's first time meeting the team. I was a little taken aback by his hyper intensity at first, but as I sat watching the team with the other parents, we all began to laugh along with his antics, and eventually to appreciate his enthusiasm. Sure, it's probably a little over the top, but he taught the boys, encouraged everyone, made sure they all played the different positions and substituted fairly, and he was a lot of fun all the way around. Drew seemed to enjoy his coaching and the game in general, but occasionally he became frustrated with himself because he wasn't completing some of the flashier and exciting plays that I guessed he had been hoping for. He was also pretty hard on himself for mistakes he made and couldn't really get the perspective I tried to offer him when I assured him that everyone was making mistakes and it wasn't a big deal.
Toward the end of his second game, it was his turn to sit out for a few minutes, and he came to me rather upset. After listening for a minute, I told him (again) that I thought he was doing a good job and playing hard, but that I understood his frustration and that of course he could vent it - when he got home. I encouraged him quietly to take a deep breath and display good sportsmanship and a good attitude on the field, and to continue cheering on his teammates. To his credit, he nodded and took that deep breath. Just about then, one of his teammates got hurt and was escorted off the field in tears. It looked like Drew was going to have to go right back in, and I was glad to see him get up and walk toward the sidelines without hesitation.
But before he walked out on to the field, he stopped and turned to his injured teammate nearby.
He patted him on the shoulder and asked if he was ok. My mother's heart just melted a little and my
knees went a little wobbly. If I had been like his coach I would have bounded (yes, bounded) up and down, shouting, "YES! WAY TO GO! WHAT AN AWESOME PLAY!" But I didn't, of course. First of all, I'm not like that in general. Second, it would have embarrassed the living daylights out of Drew, who had informed me earlier that it was ok to cheer for his team but not for him personally (I think I messed up on that once or twice - oh well.) And third, I think it's best for all involved if good deeds happen with little fanfare. I did tell him afterwards that I was proud of him for it.Even if I had laid the praise on thick, though, I don't think he would have believed that it was worth so much more than the plays he had hoped to make. I think he was probably still a little disappointed with himself. But in my opinion - admittedly biased though it is - it was the best thing I saw happen all afternoon.
Way to go, Drew, for making the play of the game.
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