The Gentle Answer

Dave just recently returned from being out of town for two weeks. I am a little out of practice with solo parenting - he hasn't had to travel much with his job here, certainly not anywhere near as often as he did when we lived in South Carolina - so the past couple weeks have been a little bumpy. To add to that, Chase (the five year old, for any who might not know) was rather challenging during that time period. Strike that - I believe in gentle, positive parenting, but sometimes you have to call it what it is, and in this case, he was downright awful. I know he missed Dave, for one thing, and for another, he has excellent radar for sensing weakness. He knows that I more vulnerable when I have no backup, when I am tired, when I am overloaded with multiple demand and needs, and he likes to push as many buttons as he can during those times. Okay, okay, fellow gentle parenting friends, I KNOW he's just a child, and I KNOW he's mostly just looking for more care and attention because it is in shorter supply when I'm on my own. I am fully aware of all that. But please understand that some kids are just a little...MORE. (If you have one, you know what I mean.) Some kids are a lot MORE. Some kids really do like to push boundaries for the sake of it sometimes, and Chase is one of those. Also understand that I love him not in spite of it, but for it. I love his spirit, his sense of adventure, and his all-out personality. He never does anything by halves, and that's wonderful.

But during the past two weeks, what he didn't do by halves but instead with every ounce of his energy for every waking moment, was to buck every boundary and fight me whenever possible. He wouldn't eat what was available and when it was available, but only what wasn't allowed and when it wasn't convenient. He wouldn't brush his teeth and fought against taking baths. He wouldn't get in the car when we had to go somewhere, and he would unbuckle while we were on the road, forcing us to stop. He fought with his siblings over each and every scrap of anything. He threatened them with bodily harm when he didn't get his way (and if you think a five year old can't really be threatening, you haven't seen Chase wielding a shovel). He threw things when he was angry. He spit at us and called us names. And then after hours of this, when he had drained what seemed the last of my patience and endurance, and usually at a time when I was most busy, he would want me to hold him or sit with him - suddenly as if I were his very favorite person rather than someone against whom he had waged war. Gentle parenting him during all this was not easy. There's not a softly-spoken, gently-worded way to say, "DO NOT HIT YOUR BROTHER WITH THAT SHOVEL!", although I did try to get to the heart of the matter, to employ positive touch and positive words whenever I could. I tried to give him good, productive, happy things to do, before he got himself into mischief. I tried to make sure I looked him in the eye when he was speaking, so that he knew I was busy, but not too busy to hear him. I tried to remain calm when he did go berserk. But I can't say I was always successful, or that I never raised my voice with him. It wasn't always pretty. There was one night that was particularly dreadful, when he was angry for reasons he wouldn't explain, and was rather violent about it. He threw a book at me, then turned to my bedside table and in dramatic fashion, threw everything off of it, one by one. Thoroughly exhausted and at the end of my rope (dangling by the last little unravelling thread, in fact), I just sat there and watched him as I considered my options. Trying to discuss things with him had already failed. He wasn't in the mood to talk. I decided not to renew any instructions for brushing teeth or getting his pajamas on. What he was doing was so wrong, and I was the parent - I should make that point clear... shouldn't I? But I had enough presence of mind to know know that threatening him, punishing him, or even scolding him would only fuel the anger that was boiling over in him, and widen the gulf that was between us. 

So I waited for him to run out of things to throw, and then as he stood there, fuming, I got up and silently picked everything back up and put it on the table. It felt good because it was the unexpected thing, both for him and for me. It diffused my frustration, and, miraculously, seemed to do the same with his anger. He didn't say a word, either. He climbed into bed, I climbed in next to him, and he snuggled up beside me, for all the world like he hadn't just been throwing things at me. I said I loved him and that I was sorry he was angry - or sad, or frustrated, or whatever it was he was feeling that he couldn't explain and didn't know what to do with. I said I understood what it feels like to be angry, but that we needed to find other ways for him to deal with it, because throwing things generally doesn't help. Also, people generally don't appreciate having things thrown AT them. And, again, I said that I loved him. He didn't say anything, but pretty soon he was snoring. 

Later I thought about how amazing it is when "a gentle answer turns away wrath," and about "traditional parenting," or whatever you want to call it, often doesn't apply that proverb to parenting. After all, if you don't stand your ground and let your kids know that you're in charge, they'll run roughshod all over you. If you let them disobey and disrespect you, why, they'll be ruined forever. And in that light, how can you afford to let gentleness and kindness get in the way of showing them what's what? Obviously, we reject that, but of course, we believe in boundaries and in teaching our children. We believe in allowing them to learn from natural consequences, and sometimes, in imposing consequences that help bring them back within the reasonable boundaries. So as a rule, hitting, throwing, and name-calling is not allowed in our house. But I also don't think that the "gentle answer" in this case in anyway undermined those house rules or my authority as a parent. I don't think he looked at that and thought, "Haha, I got away with that one. Throwing things really IS okay. What else can I get away with?" I always think that the heart is more important than rules - that true discipline of the heart and mind is always better than punishment, which I try to avoid - and so I think that it was vastly more important for him to experience wrath being dispelled than for a broken rule to be punished. It was so much more important for good to happen than for me to "win." It's not about me having the upper hand at all times. It's about a heart and soul learning goodness. 

And you know what - that was a turning point for us. He wasn't suddenly angelic, but he was noticeably calmer and a little more cooperative the next day and from then on out. I don't think it's because he thought he had won something or that I was a pushover - if that point wasn't actually clear, he learned it when I (silently and oh so gently!) locked his bike up for a few days after he purposefully went out and rode it after I had said no. Rather, I think it was because WE won something together, when the unexpected moment of grace, the quiet and unassuming "gentle answer," proved to be stronger than the much louder forces of anger, strife, and frustration - and far more pleasant. 

A Note of Confidence

Here in Ohio, we are required to notifify the school district of our "intent to homeschool," and that intent must be approved by the school board. I hate this and think it is absurd that I, the parent, whose home provides the natural and normal learning environment, must request permission from the governement, whose schools can only offer a substitute for the real thing. But we generally try to follow the law, so we (somewhat grudgingly) go through the notification process, which, to our school district's credit, is quite painless. It is merely the principle of the thing to which I object. At any rate, part of the deal is that at the end of each school year, homeschool families must either submit standardized test scores for each student or a written narrative from a certified teacher, verifying that each student is performing at his or her ability. The latter is cheaper, so that was our choice this year, and we chose a teacher who is a part of our homeschool group, and, coincidentally, also goes to our church. Most importantly, she is a supporter of parents' rights, and wants to help homeschoolers fulfill the letter of the law, without infringing on those rights, and I appreciate that enormously.

So a few weeks ago, I organized the kids' portfolios and typed some reading lists, and took it all to the assesment, which was an informal meet-up with said teacher at a Panera. She took a quick glance at our curriculum summary and reading list, and said, "Wow - it looks like you've found your niche and are in your groove. It's great!" And we spent the time talking about homeschool  philosophy,learning styles, and the fact confidence in homeschooling comes from realizing that it is a lifestlye and as such, is an entirely different animal altogether than the experience in a brick-and-mortar school. And while I still strongly disagree with the fact that I had to do this whole thing at the governement's behest, I really did appreciate the confirmation that what we're doing is not only passable, but is, in fact, a really good thing.

I say this all NOT to toot my own horn. Goodness knows we have our ups and downs, and there are times - times I've posted about here! - in which I feel like I'm just failing my children completely. But underneath it all, we know that our homeschooling journey is a good thing. It will work out. It IS working out. I credit my own experience growing up as a homeschooler with much of that confidence (so thanks, Mom and Dad). The rest of that confidence comes from having five children who are all very different people, and who are all learning and growing faster than I can possibly keep up with, and they've done so whether I've felt "on the ball" or have felt like we've done nothing at all. They're learning whether I've had money for all the curriculum I've wanted to buy (um...let me try to remember the year that happened...) or have barely scraped enough together to get the basics. They're learning NOT because we've tapped into just the right curriculum, NOT because I'm a great teacher or an especially patient person, and NOT because we're just the kind of people homeschooling is "for." Our assessor didn't say that we were "in our groove" because we have it all together and are doing this homeschooling thing perfectly. She said it because the one thing we do know without a doubt is that people are wired to learn, and when they have the freedom to do so, with as little interference as possible, they will...ah...do so!

That didn't come out as smoothly as I had intended. At any rate, we have all our paperwork in order, ready to send in with our notification this year, and, in addition, we have a little extra boost of confidence as we keep marching along in our journey of learning together. And I hope my fellow homeschool warriors will feel some of that same confidence! We can do this. We ARE doing this. Our kids are, at the same time, learning in spite of us AND because of us. So don't dwell on your fears, fret over your perceived shortcomings, or discount the "nothing" days in which your kids don't do a smidgen of "real school" but instead "just" read, play, and let their senses interact with God's creation.

 Also, take comfort in the fact that because I've expressed these high-flown ideals and exhortations, tomorrow is probably going to explode in the humbling, hair-tearing, lock-myself-in-the-closet-to-cry kind of day that typically happens just when you think thing are going pretty well. Ha! But even if it does, we'll still be learning...