Harry Potter, Part Two

Okay, so here's what we think about the Harry Potter books.

First, that there is a good deal of magic that specifically references witches and wizards, although it is highly fantastical and not, in my opinion, likely to be confused with the real thing. A more insidious danger is that because of the fantastical and sometimes comical nature of it, less discerning readers may be lulled into forgetting the seriousness of the real thing. It's not a handbook for witchcraft, so there's no danger that children will accidentally find themselves practicing it, and there is an attempt to differentiate between magic for good and the "Dark Arts" (but yes, of course I know that Christians know that even witchcraft for "good" is still a sin).  So on the one hand, I don't consider this "witchcraft" in the truest sense. But on the other, I would still be uncomfortable with children spending time imagining and acting out the Harry Potter world, which is why those of my children who still like to immerse themselves in fantasy worlds won't be reading it, but why I felt comfortable with my decision to let an older, more mature child do so.

Second, the best thing I got out of reading Harry Potter was that it did make me think about what's really in a name. As I read, I thought, "It really is good storytelling - I wonder what it would be like if the wizardry was removed and replaced with something else less obvious. It would still be a good story. It would something like...I don't know, the Percy Jackson series. Fantasy, beyond-human powers...the magic is just not so overt. I guess." Except is it really all that different, when fantastical powers are called magic, and in another case are pretty much the same thing, just not called the same thing? And what if a thing is called the same thing - a wizard in Harry Potter, versus the wizards in Lord of the Rings? Do different qualities change the meaning enough so that the form is more acceptable in one case but not in the other. And the answer, for me, is...yes and no. One the one hand, it really doesn't matter what something is called. If it is a practice to be avoided, it doesn't matter what it's called and whether it's named or not. So it is highly inconsistent for believers to shun Harry Potter with vehemence, but thoughtlessly allow or even embrace books, movies, and events (sorry, but Halloween? with roots in actual witchcraft and pagan practices?) that contain very similar themes that just don't have the same labels. On the other hand, how a subject matter is treated and presented does make a difference. In the Percy Jackson series, for instance, the worship of false gods isn't being promoted, the "gods" themselves are highly caricatured, and the whole idea of gods and demigods really just serves as a backdrop for a larger story, in which fairly noble character traits are explored and achieved. (Please note - I'm not suggestion that the Percy Jackson books are examples and great literature with only noble themes. It is mostly just a fun fantasy series.)

Now, I'm not a fan of making every story and every character a morality lesson, but the nature of characters in a story does matter to me in evaluating the whole of book or a series of books. And I will say that character is something that bothers me more than the use of the words "witchcraft" and "spells" in the Harry Potter series. There's not much integrity among the main characters. They regularly lie and cheat, usually in "little" ways, but there's hardly any internal struggle to do that which is right and good simply for the sake of goodness itself. There is a stark difference between characters who are "mean" versus ones who are "nice" - eg Draco Malfoy versus pretty much anyone else. Bullying and name-calling is clearly represented as "bad," but even the "good" characters react to this meanness with bitterness and vengefulness, rather than in attempts to combat it with actual truth and goodness. And if they lose tempers and strike out at the bullies, they don't regret their own actions, but rather the fact that ends proved not worth the means. And nearly every adult is virtually useless in this  rather ruthless schoolyard atmosphere. Hardly any of them champion or mete out justice. And in most, if not all, of the situations, the internal struggle in the characters between what it is right and wrong is related to how it affects the success of a particular adventure or quest. That, to me, is the biggest strike against the Harry Potter books.

Is it a collection of well-crafted stories? Yes, I think so. It's intriguing, the characters are interesting and have some depth, and while the first book seems most heavily concentrated with terms of magic and the world of training wizards, subsequent books are more about the journey of the characters through adventure and mystery. Is it worth all the controversy that has surrounded it since its beginning? I don't know. It's important to make good decisions in faith on anything and everything we do, read, watch, and enjoy. Just because something has a particular label doesn't automatically make it worse than other things that may be just slightly watered-down versions of the same thing. On that note, just because "it gets kids to read," or is fun, or is something "everyone" else is reading - or NOT reading, on the flip side - isn't a reason to read, or not read, it. Read it. Don't read it. But use discernment in your choice, as you should in every situation, and then let it be.



PS As to the question of whether it is just the same thing as reading about wizards in books like Lord of the Rings...well, that's just rubbish. It's not even in the same category. The subject of wizards in books like that could fill volumes, of course (and has), but the fact is that books like that are in an entirely different league, in the first place. In the second place, personally, I think wizards like Gandalf are types that represent far more than the label placed on them. And third, it is quite true that magic in Lord of the Rings and others like it, is highly downplayed, and far more attention placed on "ordinary" characters who must act in noble and extraordinary ways. But again, whether one can read and enjoy them as a Christian should still be subject to discernment and decisions that came from faith, not simply from what one is told.

Harry Potter, Part One

Well, we did it. We read Harry Potter.

Some of you are wondering what in the world took so long. Others of you are frowning in disapproval. Yes, I know you are. I know exactly what you're thinking. And it's okay. I wonder if it would appease you just a bit if I assured you that only some of us actually took the plunge and read the series. Others are still not allowed, and won't be for some time yet.

But why would we even break the "No Harry Potter" barrier and bring it into the house at all? Have we started down a slippery slope of compromise? Actually, Aimee and I have just been discussing how we generally have never banned most things outright in our family. Of course, there are obvious rules, and things we wouldn't go anywhere near, but I hope you understand that I'm not talking about those things - more about things that would fall into the "gray" areas. In those areas, we have always adopted the "everything is permissible, but not every everything is beneficial" attitude. In this case, the actual practice of witchcraft is, of course, specifically forbidden, but reading a book series in which witchcraft takes place is a less certain practice. After all, unless Christians restrict themselves to purely Christian books with carefully sanitized stories, they will encounter stories and characters who aren't Christian and who practice things which Christians don't do. There's much that could be said, and which has been said, on that topic, so I don't really need to delve into all that. Suffice it say that we all understand that we consider a number of factors in deciding what we can read, watch, and enjoy, without compromising our values. And we find that there are stories we can appreciate and enjoy, if we are able to pass everything through a mature biblical worldview.

I hardly need to emphasize that Harry Potter, however, has been a particularly controversial book series among Christians, and many have determined that it most certainly crosses a line of appropriate reading for believers. It is, after all, about witches and wizards. "Ah", said others, "but you read the Chronicles and Narnia and The Lord of the Rings, don't you? What's the difference? Ha! Got you there!" And then the first crowd posted blogs and articles about how Harry Potter glorifies witchcraft, and among children at that, and how the wizards or other practitioners in the other series serve a different purpose in those stories, and that any magic displayed is downplayed rather than glorified.

And while we chose to steer clear of Harry Potter (until now), we tried (I hope) to reserve final judgement either way, as we hadn't read it, so couldn't really compare. But of course every time Aimee(in particular asked a friend or librarian for a new fantasy series to read, she heard, "What about Harry Potter?", and she found it exasperating that it seemed to be the only option. As I've mentioned, we've never had a blanket ban on the series, but we've steered clear in general, and the kids have never really expressed a desire to read it. She just wasn't interested in getting into something she knew we had reasons for avoiding. But recently she's heard more about it, and so she asked politely about the possibility of reading the first book. I pondered her request, but didn't have to think too long on it, because she's always had a strong moral compass, and, at thirteen, is gaining more maturity and logical thinking to bolster that compass. I know I can trust her to spot things that oppose a biblical worldview, and to follow the Spirit's leading in how to approach, process, or, if necessary, put aside those things. And she has done just that before, as she's explained that she just didn't feel comfortable watching or reading particular things. And others, she has discussed with me freely. So I trust her judgement in a number of areas already, and I knew that if I gave her permission to read it, but requested that she stop if she just felt it was too much, she would do just that.

So she got it and read it. And then I read it, to see how our thoughts and opinions lined up. We're actually working on the series. We haven't been struck by lightning or tempted to abandon convictions. We haven't felt a book burning has been in order, but neither have we jumped with both feet on the Harry Potter train. For what we have discovered....see Part Two, coming your way shortly. :-)

Here We Go Again...

I wrote my last post on the first of November about one holiday. Now it's the end of November, and I write this evening about another holiday. I know - I do it every year. I don't mean to beat a dead horse here, except that it's far from a dead one. My kids are confronted with this horse repeatedly this time of year, year after year.

Anyway, Scarlett and I were at Kroger Saturday, and there was a man dressed in a Santa costume near the check-out lines. Interesting random note - Scarlett was delighted to see him, just as she was excited by the person in a turkey costume last week. It's just funny, as she seems to be a reserved little person in general, but greets these characters with great gusto, rather than any kind of reservation, and in fact chased the turkey around the very busy store last week. Likewise, she hailed the Santa person loudly, and was going to go after him, but he made his way over to her. And of course, he opened with the typical question, before doling out a candy cane - "Have you been good?' 

I've never launched into a tirade against well-meaning people who ask that question around Christmas (or before - since for heaven's sake, I'm just looking forward to Thanksgiving at this point), but I did say, as I always do, "Of course she's been good," because yes, on one level, she's been quite good. Her existence is good thing. I give her good gifts because she's mine, and I love her, not because she behaves in convenient ways. So I wanted to say, "Do you intend to give her a candy cane or not? Let's just don't do the 'have you been good' dance." But, as I mentioned, I didn't. I did, however, start thinking about the "good" concept as we drove home a few minutes later. I was reminded of the passages in Romans that the kids are studying this year, particularly the memory verses on which Ryan worked very hard (and got a question on in the quiz meet last week!). "As it is written, none is righteous, no not one. No one understands; no one seeks for God." (Romans 3:10-11).

Here we are in the holiday in which many kids are led along by the "have you been good enough?" notion, and my kids are reading, hearing, learning, memorizing passage after passage that tells them in no uncertain terms, "It doesn't matter who you are, or what you do, you are, in fact, NOT good enough." And that's what I love about Bible quizzing. I know I've said it before, but it's one of my favorite things - quizzing gives kids God's Word straight up, no frills, no niceties. And at this particular time of year, it puts in bold terms what is the real and true wonder of Christmas. Because Paul doesn't leave it at that, of course, but spells out over and over again, that we aren't good enough - or too bad - for the the free gift. There's no "magic" here, people, because magic is unreliable. And there's no dancing around all year to see if you can land on the spirit of Christmas. Did you get it right? Gifts. Did you throw a tantrum in the store in October? You skirted on the edge of losing it all - whew. Well, actually, maybe you did! How could you possibly know? Well, there were gifts, so it must have been okay - do the dance again next year and hope it turns out again!

No, here, the gift is completely free and completely available - it comes through one man, Jesus, and it makes all completely set right. Completely. It's done. No questions, no doubts,, no manipulation, no guilt, no condemnation, That's what makes the difference between Jesus and Santa Claus so sharp, and that's why those of us who choose to steer clear of the Santa routine do what we do. Can you enjoy some aspects of the Santa thing and still keep the message of this free gift in Jesus pure? Fine! Have fun! (And you know what? We watch movies like Elf, and sometimes sing Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer.) But when Santa (or any other Christmas tradition) starts overshadowing the truth that Christmas is all about NOT being good enough - and about the free gift that was offered at great cost for no other reason that that God loves us - then I don't have a problem saying that it's not a good thing.

Also, when you're threatening your child in Target to stop throwing a fit or "Santa won't come!"...well, that gets a bit of a rise out of me, too.

A Note from the Fringe Minority

We didn't do any trick or treating last night. In fact, no one in our neighborhood did, as it was postponed until tonight because of the weather.  But we won't be trick-or-treating tonight, either, and while I wasn't going to post about Halloween this year, as I have in years past, I've read a couple of blogs and articles this year that have raised a rather irksome issue concerning Christians and Halloween. They share a theme that takes the issue from merely discussing the question of whether Christians can or can't participate in Halloween activities to insinuating - and in one case, more overtly declaring - that it's actually unChristian to abstain completely from such activities. And that, to me, is  both disturbing and incredibly frustrating.

Now, if you are a friend of mine who has shared an article or blog that you think probably broached this topic, please know that I never for a second thought that you were judging me. I assumed that what you shared was something that touched on an aspect of how your Christian family approaches Halloween, and I didn't assume that you embraced everything in the article, or that, if you did, you were making a pointed attack at my family. Goodness, I've shared plenty of "controversial" articles as food for thought, and I've had to respond to people who were offended by one isolated point the author made, or who were offended by the whole thing and wanted to know why I ascribed to such ideas - and I never intended for anyone to think I took the author's word as gospel. So I wouldn't and didn't assume the same of you, I promise.

That said, I did find this theme disturbing, as I've mentioned. Our family doesn't celebrate Halloween at all. Some people know this about us, and other don't, because we don't make a big deal about it (I don't think). Each year, we have to explain our reasons to the kids, and emphasize that we have good friends who do celebrate, to varying degrees, and that's not our business. If they can do so in faith, then it's perfectly fine. But we can't, and so we won't. We respect the rights of others to do what they are permitted to do within their faith (we're talking about issues not directly addressed in Scripture, of course), and others surely respect our right simply to abstain from something we can't do with a clear conscience, right?

Wrong.

Many of our close friends and family do respect our choices, of course, but a good number of people, including fellow believers, have expressed everything from incredulity to contempt over those choices. We're accustomed to the usual objections that we're robbing the kids of a fun childhood experience. One would hope that at least other believers, given enough time to think through it, would acknowledge that the "fun" factor of any activity is far from a good enough reason to do it. That we're putting the kids in a very small minority of Western children, by keeping them from participating in a popular holiday, is also not even worth defending. And we've heard that Christians don't have to participate in the scary stuff, but that there's no harm in dressing up and collecting candy. Fine. If there's "no harm" in it, then there's no harm in us not participating. It shouldn't really be an issue. But now apparently there's a new argument - although perhaps it isn't new, and I'm only just hearing it. Now, we're hiding our light if we don't trick-or-treat, or at least hand out candy.

What? We don't say a word about the involvement of anyone else, Christian or not. We don't shun our neighbors or friends during the month of October, go door-to-door decrying the evils of the holiday, or even respond at all when people decorate or talk about it. We go out of our way not to make an issue of it. If we did talk about our position, with gentleness and respect, it would just be to explain what we believe, not to condemn anyone else. But we don't do that unless asked. That doesn't seem to be enough, however. It's really too much for us to be "weird" about things and just not do them, and in fact, we're missing an opportunity to be missional.

Dear friends, I don't know if any of you actually believe this, but if you do, I implore you to reconsider. This is a matter of personal conscience, of a desire not to quench the Holy Spirit in our own hearts, about one particular day in the year. It isn't about YOU. If you feel threatened or defensive, then that's something you need to take up with the Lord personally. If you feel Halloween is an opportunity for YOU to "shine your light" in ways you can't at any other time, then great. But condemning (oh, the irony!) those of us in the teeny tiny minority of people who simply stay home and keep their lights off - who simply don't participate in something - is unnecessary and - dare I say it? - wrong. You are insisting that we sin by doing something that we can't do in faith. It might be harmless to you, but unless we can say that we are doing it from a place of faith, from a place of believing that it is truly a good thing that would please God, then it would be sin for us to do it.

We'll remain in that teeny tiny minority, as usual. That's fine. We're in it in almost every other area in life, too, so we're used to it by now! It's usually fine. But this rubbed me just a bit the wrong way.

How Do You...

I was at a La Leche League meeting one evening last week, and we doing a meeting called "How Do You...", in which the mothers discuss how to do common chores and errands that are made more challenging with the arrival of a new baby. One of the "How Do You..." topics is "...take a shower," and as the other mothers were discussing how to find time to do that, someone asked me how I've managed it with my crew, and I mentioned happily that it really is much easier now that all my kids are older.

Yesterday's shower was a great example of just how easy it is, in fact.

I was in the bathroom for maybe a minute, when the first knock sounded on the door.

"I'm in the bathroom," I said automatically. Whatever it is can wait, right? One would think. But it was one of the boys announcing that a package we had been waiting for had arrived. I assured him I would take care of it when I got out.

Thirty seconds later, another knock - "But Chase is trying to open it!"

"Well, I'm taking a shower and I can't deal with it right now, but I'll take care of it as soon as I get out."

Thirty seconds later - "I tried to stop him, and now he's trying to throw something at me!"

"I'm in the BATHROOM! Leave him alone, and I'll take care of everything as soon as I get out!"

Sixty seconds before the next knock, just when I was starting to think they had resolved it without injury. Well, they had, but it was another child, who had come to say that the younger boys had moved on to checking on the toad they had found the day before. They had, it seemed, decided that it was too cold in the habitat they had made for it in the garage, and they were trying to move it inside.

"NO!" I started to say, but then considered the scene that would probably ensue - one child trying to be helpful in preventing the other two from bringing in a big container full of water and an energetic toad eager to escape. So I stated again that I was IN THE SHOWER, and that I would take care of everything and everyone really soon. 

Ten seconds later, a smaller knock, then the door opened. It was Scarlett. "Mommy, you're taking a shower?"

"Yes, but I just need to wash my hair and I'll be right out."

"Okay. I'll count to twenty."

Twenty seconds - how generous! Or more like 15, since some numbers get lost in the counting. Or actually like ten, because then she said urgently, "But I have to go potty!"

So, shower over. See how easy that was?

In Which We Grapple with Controversial Issues

Several years ago, we stumbled across a movie - Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief. I watched it with the older kids, and it was a so-so movie, but an intriguing concept, and so when we discovered that it was based on a book - nay, a whole series! - we were excited.  Now of course, modern children's literature, and Young Adult to an even greater extent, is tricky territory. There are gems here and there, but there is much more drivel, and mixed into both the good and the bad, a myriad of ideas and events that contradict our value system. Or introduce confusion. Or maybe just push boundaries and inspire thought. Often it's hard to tell. In any case, we don't really ban books in our house; in general, I just try to steer the kids toward good writing and storytelling, with values closer to ours than not, and I hope that they will see for themselves the truth of the other kind. I can't possibly read first everything that the older kids in particular find, anyway, and that's really okay. The foundation they have will withstand occasional encounters with concepts that don't line up with our values. In fact, since the world is overflowing with concepts, events, ideas, and choices that don't line up with our values, I would rather the kids encounter some instances of these things while they're with me, than be overwhelmed with it all when they venture out on their own.

At any rate, in this instance, we all embarked on the Percy Jackson books together. And you know what? I'm not ashamed to admit it - I found them intriguing and exciting, and I was just as eager to get to them as the kids. So. We read all the books in the Percy Jackson series, then read the Kane Chronicles (which contain a bit more magic than I would normally like in children's books), and then eagerly awaited and devoured upon release the Heroes of Olympus installments. None of the characters in the books are Christian kids. We get that. Any instance of any kind of faith is of the mythological kind - and a bit of a caricature of mythological Greek, Roman, and Egyptian gods at that. But none of the series has pushed any kind of political or social agenda, nor has it appeared to put down or work against any kind of other worldview. The teenagers are in some ways "typical," but in most others, they seek higher goals and embody more noble character traits than the "typical" teens of our day. In general, if there are character traits and ideals exalted in any of the series, those are of bravery, courage, sacrifice, honor, and friendship. We can certainly deal with that!

So we were excited when the latest installment of the Heroes of Olympus series was just released last week. We had pre-ordered it, and had to enter serious negotiations to determine who was going to read it first. Aimee ended up finishing it first, and it was my turn next. About midway through the book, I read a scene that was unsettling. As I've explained, there have never really been any deep issues, approached from any angle, within the books. But here was a doozy, complete with the popular mantras of our day. I wasn't worried about Aimee having encountered it first - she's grounded and pretty well informed. But I was a little disgruntled at the notion that I was going to have to explain something to the boys that is controversial and yet rather a social darling. Now, I know that some of our friends would celebrate the issue that is touched on here, and they probably envision us having a book-burning while making signs to ward off evil. I have others that would see that issue as a deal breaker and probably question my decision to let the kids continue reading. We can't win.

Fortunately, while we love all our friends, we don't answer to any of you. I know that there's no way to convince those of you on the one side that while we have firm beliefs on this topic, we're not brainwashing the kids into spouting programmed responses. And I know that those on the other side think we're being too lax in monitoring what our kids read, so just by continuing to let them read, we lose a bit of your respect. But as I pondered how to broach this with kids who were eager to read the book, I acknowledged a couple of things - in the first place, banning the book would simply cause confusion, frustration, and a heightened desire to read it; and in the second place, this is something they are going to encounter repeatedly, and in just this form, with the emotionally manipulative wording. And after I finished the book myself, I found that the story itself unwittingly offered a counterargument. It was worth finishing.

So I talked with Drew about what he was going encounter in the book. Naturally, it went like, "Evil, evil, evil, people bashing, brainwashing material, here's what you are to believe, evil, evil, evil." OR...we just talked about the situation the book presented. We talked about how our society views and presents it, and we talked about what the Bible says about it. We talked about how we are all born with natural tendencies , instincts, and desires, but that God calls us to be more than the sum of our biological urges. And ironically, the book ended with that theme as well, as more than one character makes choices contrary to the way he was made and the way he had lived (in the context of this fictional world) for eons. There is more than one great moment like that, reminding me of all the things we really do like about Percy Jackson.

 I said in the beginning that I'm glad for the kids to encounter these kind of opposing values while they're with me, so I guess in one way, I'm glad for this little plot twist. It would have been more fun to read the book without it, but there it was. It remains to be seen how the issue will be handled in the next book, but for now, I think we navigated it as best we could. It would be great if Rick Riordan would just stick to adventure and daring, but I suspect that's too much to ask for. now that we've crossed this bridge.

I wonder if it's also too much to ask for that friends who read this won't try to convince us one way or the other on these kinds of matters. I wonder if I can just post it as an example of how we who believe the Bible to be true dealt with something that contradicts what the Bible teaches us, and of how we can read a really good book and be disappointed in some things, but also find some redeeming qualities in the same. I hope so!

In Which We Wish Ballet Class Was Every Day

As I warned a relative already this morning...I will hurt anyone who says anything remotely negative or sarcastic to this particular child about this particular blog post. Well, maybe "hurt" is too strong a word. Or maybe not. Let's just not risk it, okay? :-)

Anyway, Chase took his first full ballet class yesterday. He had participated in a portion of a class last week, when Scarlett was, for some reason, reluctant to join in, and the teacher eagerly suggested he join on a regular basis as they prepare for a Nutcracker performance in December. So he participated in the whole class yesterday, and he was amazing. I don't necessarily mean that he was some kind of dance prodigy, although he did pick everything up quickly, and he did all the steps with great strength and coordination, which was fun to watch - but what I do mean was that he spent an hour happily listening, cooperating, following instructions, and helping other kids. The teacher immediately had kids following his lead, and he stayed focused on his role the whole time. It was fantastic.

I say this because he has never been the easiest kid to parent, and lately he's been especially challenging. It's been like having a six year-old Jekyll and Hyde in the house - one minute he's perfectly calm and happy, the next minute he's running down the aisle in church (during the service), tormenting his sister, yelling at the top of his lungs, demanding, refusing, insisting, whining, pushing all the buttons he can think of to push...You get the idea. He's been exhausting, quite frankly.

So it was a joy to see him so...grounded for a time. As wild as he appears at times, he really does appreciate order and precision, and I think he really enjoyed that aspect of the class. And, as he pointed out philosophically beforehand, 'If there are no boy dancers, the ballerinas don't have anyone to dance with." A perfectly valid point.

And to any doubters who need any other assurance, I have heard of football players taking ballet classes to help with their balance and coordination. If that doesn't convince you, fine. But if you say anything but something truly encouraging to my lad about this...back to the hurting. Just kidding. Well....

In Which We DO Have Some Warm-Fuzzies, and Alice in Wonderland Becomes Logical

So there are the rather difficult days like the one I described in my previous post...and then there are the "good" homeschool days, like the one we had yesterday. It was a long and busy day, but we did have those "warm-fuzzy" moments, and overall, it was a very productive day at that.

After dropping the older kids off at their Science classes early in the morning, the younger ones and I had our best attempt yet at whiling our time away at the the muffin shop. It was busier, and therefore louder, than usual, so we didn't stand out as drastically. After they ate - and lobbied successfully for juice, and traded muffins and ate some more, and lobbied unsuccessfully for different food, and stood (wrestled and karate-chopped) in line to get some take-home bags for their leftovers, and either ate some more or decided that they didn't want their muffins anymore because a certain little girl had licked the frosting off of one - we pulled out some games I had brought for the occasion.

We played "I Spy ABC Bingo," which is a semi-sneaky way of reviewing letter sounds for certain reluctant six year-old learners. Then we played UNO, which is always a fun way of reviewing numbers, colors, taking turns, and cut-throat competition (the glee with which my kids put down those "draw 4" cards" is disturbing).To an observer, I'm sure this looked like a classic warm-fuzzy homeschooling moment, and we had those kind of compliments. From an insider's view, however, it went a little like this:

"Chase, your turn. No, you can't cheat and take the draw-4 card out of the pile. Ryan, stop complaining. just draw. Scarlett, SIT down. Ryan, go. Ryan, just go, Ryan, darling, it's your turn, Chase, don't get up. Scarlett, SIT down. Please don't stand up in your chair - I'll bring the card pile to you. Chase, lower your voice. Yes, it's your turn. No, it's mine? Okay, I went, now go. No wait - we reversed it? Who did? Scarlett, SIT down. Oh, I don't know - let's just go around this way. Chase, please lower your voice, Scarlett, SIT down!" Etc. But it actually counted as a successful hour or so, and we spent longer there than usual, so we didn't have more time to fill until we picked up the older two. We stopped by the pet store, per our usual, to say hello to the cats up for adoption, and then we went back to the church building where the science classes are held, and we did math in the car while we waited. The older ones emerged after a short while, pleased with the grades they had received on their previously turned-in study guides, and we made our way home.

We had lunch and some time to rest, and the while the younger ones played rather happily together throughout the afternoon, building with Legos and setting up a city with the Little People sets, I sat on my red couch (which always makes me happy to look at, but upon which I rarely get a chance to actually sit) and alternated some planning and paperwork of my own, with doing some school with the older two. The first thing we tackled together was Logic. They groan when I convene them for this purpose, but we almost always have an interesting, if not downright fun, time with it. Yesterday's topic was statements. We discussed self-supporting statements, and their examples were as follows:

Aimee: "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." "I believe that Matt Smith is awesomer [disclaimer: we discussed the fact that "more awesome" is more appropriate, and I know they both know that, so never mind that] than David Tennant. [disclaimer: We didn't need to discuss the fact that while this was a completely valid self-supporting statement, in that we can accept the truth of what she believes on this point, other supporting evidence tells us that her belief is misplaced, as David Tennant is clearly the more awesome of the two.] "It is my opinion that Matt Smith was the best doctor."

Drew: "It is my opinion that this [Logic] is horrible." "I believe that David Tennant is awesomer than Matt Smith." 

We then discussed true statements, and their offerings were of the like: "Tom Baker has curly hair." And yes, another true statement would be, "We have a fixation with British television in our house." We spent a good long while on tautologies and self-contradicting statements. Tautologies offered were, "Thor is the best Avenger, or he isn't," and "Matt Smith was the best doctor, or one of the other actors was." They seemed to understand that point, although one of my children fails to see the truth about which actor best served Doctor Who. Self-contradicting statements proved a bit more of a challenge. One of the kids had a harder time grasping how such statements must completely contradict themselves, and not leave other options open, so we grappled with that for a time, explaining how statements such as "David Tennant's hair is awesome, and David Tennant's hair is not awesome," is not self-contradictory, as it could just be stating that his hair has qualities that would apply to both. Finally we landed on, "Extremis [Iron Man 3] has effect, and Extremis has no effect." We then discussed statements which are true or false by definition, and then we touched on nonsense statements. 

Then I read them a list of statements which they had to identify as true statements, false statements, questions, commands, or nonsense. They were advised by the book to be careful in their judgments, as they indeed were. They were, in fact, getting bored with the ease of the assignment until I read, "The slithy toves did gyre and gimble," at which they both sat up and animatedly declared, "True statement!" I was pleased that they both knew it was a line from the Jabberwocky, and I complimented them on that. I said, "But of course that's a nonsense poem, so..."  "But 'slithy toves' are real in Alice in Wonderland," persisted Aimee. "So it's a true statement in the book." "Well," I faltered. "That's interesting. But I'm not sure..." She got up, and said, "I'll show you! I know exactly where that part is," and ran upstairs to grab the book. A couple minutes later, she came down, with the book open to that exact part, and we read together about Humpty Dumpty explaining to Alice what "toves" were and how they do, in fact, "gyre" and "gimble." So...later we'll talk about source material and how that affects the truth of a statement, but I did concede that within this literary context, "The slithy toves did gyre and gimble" was a true statement. We gave ourselves points for touching on classic literature.

And we shelved for another day a couple of the questions addressed in our Logic lesson, such as who actually best portrayed the doctor on Doctor Who....

....and who is the best Avenger. 

I can be mature enough not to argue with them about how wrong they are on these topics.

One Really Rough Day...

...OR, the post you should read if you want to feel  better about your day...OR...the post you should definitely not read if you are considering homeschooling.

Yesterday was just one of those days. It started out with good intentions, hopes of learning and accomplishing and succeeding, and ended in a big bang of...well, of not many of those things. I made pancakes and tried to get everyone up and moving relatively early (at at time which is probably considered really early for some relaxed homeschoolers, and shamefully late for more structured homeschoolers). I announced to everyone, as I prodded them to get dressed, that we we were going to start the day with math and music, and that we were going to try to get in a good day's worth of school by lunchtime so I could take the younger ones swimming at the Y. One of the kids said, "A whole day's work of school in half a day?" as if he thought this was really going to happen. Another - or maybe it was the same one - observed, "Why does it seem like math and music is all we ever do?" I could have shared my perspective that it seems rather like we don't get in enough of those subjects, but I just said, "Because I'm the boss."

One child started - eventually - on practicing the assigned musical instrument. Another sat down at the table with me to do math. The younger kids played outside for about five minutes, then proceeded to wreak havoc elsewhere in the house.The math lesson quickly went south. At one point the child doing the math exclaimed, "Stop yelling at me!" And I asked how the voice I was using could possibly be thought of as yelling. "Well," returned the child, "it's the voice you use when you're trying not to yell at me." Which is exactly the same thing, of course. At some point during this happy time, Scarlett and Chase pulled leftover Chinese food out of the refrigerator, warmed it up and had a morning snack (most of which ended up all over the table and floor), which I let pass so I wouldn't have to interrupt the math lesson -that, however, only got worse. I dismissed the student to do something else so that we could come back to it later with less frustration and no almost-yelling.

I called in the next child up for math. Usually this child doesn't have many issues at all with this subject, so it should have gone fine, but early on, I began sniffling and my eyes began watering and itching. And then they began to swell. The neighbor had been mowing his grass and cutting weeds, so I'm guessing he stirred something up that caused an allergic reaction (note: I had never had seasonal allergies until I moved to Ohio). "What's wrong with your eyes?" queried the student. "Nothing - keep going."  I mean, I can barely see you because my eyes are almost swollen shut, and I'm sure I must look a fright, but don't let that distract you! But it was a little difficult to focus when the child did have a problem, and all the more so when we heard the sound of something breaking on the tile floor in the other room. "It's okay!" shouted one of the boys. "Scarlett just dropped a light bulb." I went to asses the situation, and sure enough, ,they had ransacked the hall closet and were playing with light bulbs- because why wouldn't that be a good idea? I cleaned it up, then tried to get the math thing going again. But then Scarlett came into the dining room and had an accident. (Now, I know this is the second post in a row in which I've described her having an accident, but I promise she's been potty trained for over a year. An accident is rare.) So I cleaned that up, and she stripped down, but we forgot to get her dressed again. So while I was sniffling and sneezing, trying to help one child divide decimals, and trying to get another one to do what he could of his math lesson, I looked out the window to see that Scarlett and Chase were bouncing on the trampoline...and she was stark naked. I went out to get her, and came back in to check on the progress inside, but it appeared that like the first student, no one remembered a single thing we've ever learned about in math. The second math student was stuck on something really basic, the third didn't know how to do anything on his page, and then the first student came back into the room to say that, oh, by the way - the other non-math assignment was also impossible.

And the area around my eyes had now broken out into hives.

I thought we should probably come back to academics later, so I sent the boys out to clean the deck out back. The day before they had been playing with deer corn - again, why wouldn't that be a good idea? - and it was all over the deck. But they came back in a few minutes later to say that the broom was broken. And indeed, it had been irreparably damaged when they were swatting at a bee. Too bad for me! So - there was still deer corn all over, and I also couldn't clean up the mess in the kitchen...and the dining room...and the living room....and who knows where else. So I calmly put the broom down and  sweetly observed that this was a stupid day. Chase gasped, in a mixture of shock and delight, "You said 'stupid'!" (Ironic, coming from him, as he's the worst offender when it comes to forbidden words.) "Yes, I did," I replied, "and I quit!" Another of the boys remarked that he was glad to quit school, too, and I reminded him that I'm the only one who's allowed to quit. The boss, remember?

At any rate, I told them to get their suits on, and I hastily made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which I had them eat in the car. It actually took us forever to get everything ready for the Y, but we made it, and we had a good hour or so of swimming, which was in fact calming. The only stress during the Y experience was after swimming, when we were getting dressed in respective locker rooms. The boys were being so incredibly loud their locker room that Scarlett and I could hear every word and gleeful shout all the way over in the women's locker room. I contemplated how best to handle the situation, but decided that hollering, "Be quiet or I'm coming in there!" would not be appreciated on any level, so I just got dressed in a hurry and hoped they would do the same. No one kicked us out of the Y, so I guess we got out of there fast enough.

Then we had to stop at the store to get some things for dinner. Taking Chase (in particular) to the store is like taking the Tasmanian devil grocery shopping, and is all kinds of stressful, but we actually got through it without buying anything we didn't want or running shopping carts into strangers. We got home, spent about twenty minutes getting ready for quiz practice and church, then we headed over to church...only to realize about halfway there that we had forgotten the quiz questions for practice. So Dave, who was with us at this point, helped us get things in the church building, and went back for the questions while I set up and began practice on my own. Then he arrived and we had a good time with the kids...but then we realized we had forgotten something else, so Aimee and I had to run back to the house after practice, eating dinner on the run. We got back a few minutes late for church, and everyone went to their classes, except for Chase, who couldn't be persuaded by anything to go to his. Scarlett was really tired and wouldn't go to hers - she wouldn't leave my side at all. So Dave sat out with them while I went to my Bible study - a full thirty minutes late by that point.

And when we got home, we just wanted bedtime to happen. It did, but only after we all dealt with a full-scale preschool meltdown, because when Scarlett had commented in the car that she wanted a "princess ipod," she hadn't, apparently, just mean sometime in the future - she had meant right then and there.

 I wish I could leave you with something wise and wonderful we learned from our struggles...but sometimes the best thing you can say about a day is that you survived it!

PS We did get those math lessons done today. It seems they do remember some things, after all!

In Which We Prove We Aren't "Warm and Fuzzy" Material

Our school year (philosophically, of course, we eschew the notion that there is a stop and start date to our learning, and even that there is need for us to take a long summer break; practically, we acknowledge that there is a school calendar that dictates when most of our activities stop and start - but enough of that) is a busy one this year. Busy for us, that is. I am in introvert, for one thing, and for another, we've never really had an excess of money, so we've never really had to decide if we've been doing too much. We've never done sports for every season, or have been doing too many lessons, or any such things. Sometimes I've felt badly about that, but over the years I've realized that we've been "forced" to have a kind of schedule that, for the most part, some overly busy families wish they could make themselves choose.

But I digress. This year is a relatively busy one for us. One of the ways our schedule has changed is that both Aimee and Drew have science classes early on Monday mornings. Last year, Aimee took one of the classes with a friend, and she just rode along with her friend's family, which was nice of them and rather easy for me. This year Aimee's friend isn't taking the next class, but I still wanted Aimee to do it, and Drew wanted (that's right - his request) to take the one she took last year, so now I have to take them. And of course that means the rest of the crew has to come along. Aimee's friend's family used to go have breakfast and do a little school at a nearby muffin shop during the science classes, and that sounded endearing to my younger kids. "Ooh, we get to go to the muffin place every week?"

Why yes, that sounds delightful and quaint. Very homeschool-ish. Ah, but one of the important facts of life that real homeschool families ought to know is that things never work for your own family in the charming ways they work for other families.

Well ,I know this, but sometimes I ignore it.

So. This past Monday was the first opportunity we had to spend the morning out and about while Aimee and Drew were at science. My plan was that we would have "Math and Muffin" Monday, first at the muffin shop and then perhaps at the library. For starters, I couldn't find the math books, so I was just going to bring along some science for the younger set, but Ryan had been reading it over the weekend (the nerve of him, not waiting until I had scheduled it) and couldn't remember where he had left it, so I just had to throw in some history books. "History and Muffin" Monday, doesn't have the same ring, of course, but darn it, I was going to make this a warm fuzzy homeschooling moment! We dropped off the older kids at science, then headed down the road to the muffin shop. It took us ten minutes to get out of the car for some reason, so I'm sure the other patrons, who might have seen our shenanigans just getting to the door, were already a little worried by the time we walked in. They were mostly older couples enjoying what they had assumed was going to be a quiet breakfast. There were definitely no other energetic kids who have no volume control. When we got in, I tried to direct them straight to the counter, but of course that didn't go according to plan , either.

"Scarlett, LOOK. LOOK, IT'S A TABLE JUST YOUR SIZE! Mom, hey Mom, Mom, HEY MOM, LOOK! It's a table for Scarlett!"

I finally got them to look at the muffin selections. Scarlett just wanted a "baby" muffin, and pointed to a miniature variety. That was easy. The boys couldn't decide. For a very long time, they couldn't decide. I kept having to wave other patrons around us. Even the girl at the counter, worried, I guess, that we might hold up the line, would announce occasionally, "Can I help the next person in line who's ready?" 

One of the boys wanted to know if he could have a bagel. I told him that Mondays are when the muffins, and not the bagels, are half price. Please choose a muffin. After all, there about twenty different varieties! He asked if he could have a muffin and a bagel. I finally just told him I was going to decide for him. After pondering thoughtfully for a (long) while, another one observed that there was a "blueberry coffee cake" muffin, and a "cinnamon coffee cake" kind, but he wanted to know if there was just a regular coffee cake kind. Really? I'm pretty sure he hadn't even known such a thing as coffee cake existed before then, not to mention that there were all kinds of choices I was pretty sure he did know of and would like better,  and he had to have a "regular" coffee cake muffin? I asked the girl at the counter if there was such a muffin, and she said no. He looked at the case dejectedly, declaring that there wasn't a kind of muffin he did want, in that case. I moved forward to the register. I ordered Scarlett's and the one I had picked out for the first boy, and at that the other one piped up, "Fine. I'll have an apple pie muffin." Okay, done.

Finally, after we had secured the long-awaited muffins, we straggled over to a table. They each took about a bite and announced that they were thirsty. Deathly thirsty. No, it couldn't wait at all. The looks from the other patrons indicated that maybe insisting that the boys wait might not be appreciated. We went to the drink cooler. I told them they could share. Share? But one didn't like orange, and the other didn't like cranberry, and fine! I got two different kinds. Juice secured, we went back to finishing our breakfast. I thought maybe that would be a good time to have our homeschool moment. I pulled out the history book. They started talking a little louder, and at this point, I remembered that this is what they do at home, so how in the world did I expect to read aloud quietly in public, when I'm almost shouting by the end of a read-aloud session at home?

So I put it away. New plan. We needed to get out of there relatively quickly, but a glance at the clock indicated the library wasn't going to be open for another thirty minutes. I remembered seeing a pet shop nearby, so I told them we were going to stop there, and that got them to the car with relative speed and quietness. The pet store experience actually went well. We were the only people there, and the girl working there let them pet the cats. Now on the the library.

We reached the library, only to discover that while the library we usually go to opens at 9:30 (I thought, anyway), this branch didn't open until 10:00. It was 9:35. After I wrangled them away from chasing a squirrel around the building, I convinced them to get back into the car to wait, and dang it, we got that history lesson done! At 10:00, we spilled back out of the car and into the just-opened library. I really needed to use the restroom, so I took Scarlett with me. I asked her if she needed to go, and she said no. When I got out, I corralled the boys and we went to the children's section, which at this library is all the way at the other side of the building. As soon as I put our bags down, Scarlett said "I have to go potty!" and Chase added, "Oh,, so do I." Of course. I picked our things up, and Scarlett said, "Never mind! I don't want to go," and was going to make a scene, so I determined I would let them get one thing each and that we would leave in a couple minutes. But about thirty seconds later, Scarlett said, "Oops, I went potty!" Rather loudly. Super duper. We mopped it up, and I tried to ask her to lower her voice every time she mentioned that her clothes were wet. I told the boys to get the books they had in hand, and we walked back toward the entrance to check out. I held Scarlett so things would be a little less obvious - getting rather soaked myself in the process, and wishing more than a little that we had settled for a hum-drum morning at home rather than attempt to create a warm-fuzzy moment.

But hey - guess where we plan to be tomorrow morning? Only we'll bring our own juice. And ditch the books. And maybe spend a lot longer keeping the girl and the cats at the pet store company.

Relighting the Spark

Has it been almost two months since my last post? It hasn't been for lack of material that I haven't posted, or even for lack of time. And I haven't been in the depths of despair, or hanging on by just a thread of sanity. I have, however, been thoroughly burned out. Functioning, living, even enjoying some things...but all without that spark of motivation and satisfaction that makes life truly good. So at the beginning of the day, my mental and physical energies were directed to getting through the day, and at the end, there wasn't anything left for creative expression. Even if there was, I just really wanted to put on the metaphorical blinders and retreat to bed. I didn't want to see the mess and the unfinished projects or spend any time pondering the feeling of flatness that pervaded everything. Sometimes it was more than the "blahs," of course. When you are burned out you also don't have much tolerance for stress. The slightest things tend to fray you even more at the edges, and the bigger things do tend to push you closer to the edge than they would if you had that spark alive.

And there were times of stress, with Dave's frequent travels over the summer and Scarlett's stay in the hospital...and expected expenses and unexpected expenses, and needs and wants, and learning to be done, and things to plan, and things to consider, and things to do - always things to do. So while I wasn't always teetering on the edge of sanity, sometimes I felt like I was drifting pretty close. My overall sense of joy was the first thing to go, of course, followed my ability to make good decisions and to see situations with clarity and perspective, and one of the casualties of this period of burning out was, for a time, our vacation. With everything going on, and all the decisions to be made and all the many, many little and big things needed and wanted (like pencils - for heaven's sake, why can't I even keep pencils stocked?), was it at all wise to try to tuck away large sums of money for a vacation? Because pencils and paper and school books and food and clothes and more and more and more and more.... So I finally told Dave I couldn't handle the stress of trying to work in our annual trip to the beach when I was pondering how to feed and clothe and educate these growing kids, and we cancelled our plans for the beach.

And I cried and cried - it didn't make me feel any better. The kids were lovely - disappointed, but so sweet about letting me know that they weren't disappointed in me. After just a few days, Dave and I quietly begin to reconsider, and to pray about whether it would be acceptable and possible to take our yearly trek to Edisto Island with family after all.

So...here we are. As usual, now that we're here, it hardly seems like a luxury, but pretty close to necessity. A week of rest, of peace, and of family isn't frivolous. It wasn't too much to ask for, and it hasn't been a waste of anything. God provided, and we can enjoy the gift freely, as a good thing. If we have to wait a month or two or longer to get all the school books we need or want so that the kids could spend hours upon hours outside, in sand and water and exercise, identifying all kinds of flora and fauna, watching the grace and beauty of dolphins daily, soaking in the recharging energy of vitamin D, and creating memories with family they rarely see...well, it's hardly a choice, is it? Anyway, I have a feeling that God can provide the mundane things like Latin books and pencils, too.

If that perspective were all that I gained from this trip, all the time and resources would be worth it! As it was, there has been that and so much more. Has the burned out spark been re-lit? Time will tell, of course. We start making our way home tomorrow, and we'll hit the ground running when we finally get back to Ohio. Everything starts back up next week - we've already started school-ish endeavors (pencils or no pencils!), but all the church activities for the school year, co-op, and all other classes and activities start for us. Dave even starts a new job on Monday. There will be no easing back into things for sure! I don't know if I'll bounce back with renewed energy - bear with me, friends and family, if I don't right away! - but I hope so.

A Recap...and a Beginning

So....the past two weeks have been rather interesting. Dave had a lovely four day weekend around the 4th of July, and we were all so excited about it. I had visions of catching up around the house, getting ready for the start of our new school year, and helping the kids finish their 4H projects that were due the following weekend. Instead, Scarlett became very sick, very suddenly on the 3rd, and on the 4th was admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. She and I were there for three days, while Dave and the kids managed at home, and shuttled back and forth to the hospital to help us through our most unexpected stay.

Needless to say, we were absolutely not ready to open the books the following Monday, when I had hoped to do so. Nor had we made any progress on the 4H projects, much less finished them. So last week was devoted entirely to getting those projects done (and not to getting the house in shape, so it was quite the disaster all week). Funny, though - I say we couldn't "start school,:" but actually we did more structured activity all week, finishing those projects with their detailed requirements, than we would have done with other subjects, so I daresay that "counts" as a school week. At any rate, even though Scarlett was still recovering, the house was in such a state that we couldn't eat at any table all week, and Dave had to go to Toronto unexpectedly towards the end of the week, we got the projects done! Saturday morning the kids were interviewed about their projects - Aimee for Creative Writing and Archery, and Drew for Trapping Muskrats (really!) - and everything went well. I doubt we did everything by the book, but I think it was a good experience for everyone (it would have been much better, of course, without the last minute scrambling, but anyway...), and after it was over, we were all able to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

(Drew being interviewed about his project)

And then... to get ready to start school-ish endeavors again. Oh, I know it's July, and it's been crazy around here, so we don't have to start up, and it seems unfair to the kids, etc etc. In the first place, we hardly follow a strenuous schedule, so by "school" I don't at all mean the kids will be chained to desks from 8-3. They will still be able to do whatever summer activities they like. The only difference is that in some of the empty spaces of time, we'll fit in a math lesson or some such structured lesson here and there. And it's just time for that. I know, because the kids have been getting rather to nasty to each other and the household in general hasn't been a very pleasant place. They've been saturated in all the free time they can stand, which means all I've had all I can stand. Pleasant, right? Time to bring out the math books when the kids start throwing punches. Pretty much sums up our philosophy.

Okay, okay - that's only part of it! It's not all negative. As I said in my last post, we don't really think of our school year as having a definite start and stop - it's a bit more fluid than that, and it just feels right to include some structured learning in our days and weeks again. So on Monday, everyone did some math, and then we went to a park with friends, where the kids played - and played and played and played - in a creek much of the afternoon. Yesterday we went to the Creation Museum with long-time friends, followed by a brief excursion to a Tree Tower in a local park. There's no lesson plan for today, but we'll do something. And then I think we'll go to the pool. It is still summer - and with the heat index passing 100 degrees each day, especially so this week!

(Creation Museum with friends)

It's That Time of Year....

It's this time of year when I am reminded that I am required by Ohio law to have a certified teacher assess our school year and affirm that each child is learning and performing according to his or her abilities. Yikes. I always intend, at the beginning of our school year (the line for which blurs with each year that passes - we don't really have a stop and start), to keep records as we go and to keep samples of their work neatly organized, so that this time of year will involve no scrambling to collect a representation of our year. Yeah, well, I used to be much better at that, but in recent years, we've just been too busy living each year. We read like crazy, had plenty of adventures, and amassed quite a collection of papers, loosely grouped into each child's school crate. Really, really, loosely. Maybe I could just take a picture of the crates, and the papers, and the list of fines on our library cards....

Thankfully, I think our assessor would be good something like that! She is very family-oriented, and I love that about her. So when we get together over coffee, instead of poring over the kids' worksheets, she'll ask how I thought our year went - what was good, and what (in my opinion) needed improvement?

Indeed. So let's see.

I think I would have had to try to keep the kids from learning and progressing, for one thing. As to how they measure up with their peers, I really only have the vaguest idea. Grade levels don't mean much to us, except as a guide in deciding which math book to get. Even then, Chase does math from a collection of his siblings, books, so that doesn't even apply to him. And Aimee did not finish her 7th grade grammar book - not by a long shot - but did write a novel (which a writer friend of mine is helping her to edit, and that friend says Aimee's writing is quite good) and read things like Les Miserables, Sense and Sensibility, and Jane Eyre. So does she pass 7th grade? Drew continued to store away trivia from all kinds of topics and subjects, and to read like his life depended on it, although a number of his workbooks remain unfinished. (His spelling book I can just reuse almost in its entirety - we did all his spelling out loud, when we did it at all. And when, from time to time, I clean up the scary jungle that is his room, I always find scientific observations, bits of stories, notes about weaponry and war tactics, etc, etc... and the spelling is always spot-on. So.) 5th grade completed? Ryan read, progressing nicely to short chapter books and into the "Mom, I don't need you to read that to me" phase, tinkered with things, and breezed through his math book. 2nd grade - check. Chase...well, Chase ran around with as little clothing as he could manage, as usual, explored the yard and the neighborhood, figured out passwords for all the electronic devices and how to get to any website he wanted, increased his reading skills (but only on his terms), and surprised us with knowledge we didn't know he had acquired during the year, since he does hardly any "formal" school. (He knows the really important stuff, like if his brother is playing the computer, and his turn ends at 9:30, how much time until Chase's turn if it's currently 9:16? "He has 14 minutes, Mom! And I'm going to count down every one...." It's something, anyway.) Kindergarten, 1st...? We don't even really know, actually.  But the bottom line is that yes, I certainly think they each learned and matured through the year (again - how was this not going to happen?).

In addition to what we did at home, we also enjoyed another year with our co-op, which is relaxed and happy, filled with friends and fun learning - just the way we like it. I saw an email about a registration deadline for next year, and I had a moment of panic, thinking that I might have missed something, because if  something happened that prevented us from participating in co-op, I have no doubt my kids would mutiny. It would be ugly. (Our dear coordinator assured me that I had already secured our spot for net year, by the way - crisis averted.) With co-op we did a few field trips, the kids enjoyed myriad activities with church (I was just thinking the other day about how much I love that we never have to drag the kids to church - it's the idea of missing anything there that inspires dread), and they went on some excursions on their own, as when Aimee readily joined her dad on a relief trip to Oklahoma. Aimee joined a writer's group at the library this year, the boys did basketball and karate, they all joined their friends in starting a 4H group. And of course we were involved in Bible Quizzing, with Aimee this year eligible for the higher levels of competition, and making it to District finals. That's always worth its weight in learning gold, as it involves memorization, Bible knowledge, sportsmanship, and social skills. Ah, the ever important social skills! Did we make sure we didn't miss developing them? Those who don't know my kids may ask, while those who know them would probably laugh hysterically that there is even a question about that. How these kids came from me, their very introverted mother, is sometimes a mystery. In other words, YES, social opportunities and skills - check and check.

But more than the results, the things I can write down as completed - or that I could, if I were keeping records - I am really interested in the process and each child's character as they grow throughout the year. It can't be measured on a test or touted in statistics proving that homeschooling works, but it's the thing that matters most. I know we can't get everything done or read every book there is to read (and neither can any brick and mortar school offer that), but if my kids develop good character and the ability to learn and to think well, then they can go after whatever it is that interests them, on their own time. Of course,  it's often hard to see character results while parenting - it's a lot of repeating the same things over and over - but I can in fact look back over our year and see that they grew in that area. I can see that Aimee was more patient and less likely to act like she wanted to murder the person who wrote her grammar book. Ahem. She worked through problems rather than giving up on them. I can see that Drew's attention span lengthened. The Spring day that he completed an entire Saxon math lesson on his own, without getting up and without skipping problems was  a day of miracles. I can see that Ryan and Chase were a little less likely to interrupt during a read-aloud , although when Dave tries doing read-aloud time, he still says things like, "They won't be quiet long enough for me to read!" and I still say cheerfully, "Oh, that's not a problem. Read louder!" But those times are getting just a little less chaotic. They are getting a little more patient, a little less quick to anger, more diligent, more responsible. They are growing up and maturing. As if I could stop that! But I do hope that Dave and I are paving the way for good growth.

It's such a strange concept, talking about a year as though something has stopped, when in fact, as I mentioned, we may be letting formal learning rest, but we haven't really stopped anything. Even in practical terms, we were in the middle of learning about the Revolutionary War when we realized we needed a break, and in another week or so, we'll just start there again. We didn't feel like we were done with it. We finished some workbooks in other subjects, but most of them we'll just pick up where we left off, if, as with Drew's spelling, we pick them up at all. So I don't feel we can package up a school year and set it aside. I will meet with our assessor soon and talk about our progress, and she'll sign the papers the school board wants to see, because they need to measure and define, stop and start. That's fine. But on we go with our lifestyle of learning - aka, life - that doesn't stop, start, or fit into grade levels. It isn't about expectations or statistics; rather, it's about trust - trust that our Creator made us to learn, to grow, and to fulfill our individual purpose on this earth, trust that he made our minds to explore and to think, and trust that our kids, when placed on a path of truth and given the freedom to learn, will take off without out very much interference from us.

We just have to hang on for the ride!

"Lord, I Need You..." Even when I Don't Remember That I Do

I was sitting on my front porch one morning this past weekend, having my coffee, soaking in the beauty of the day, listening to music, and feeling awash in a perplexing mix of emotions. It had been a full week - full of good, full of bad, full of fun, full of sorrow. We had some family visit, and we enjoyed a couple days away with them, and that was lovely. But there had been frustrations with Dave's job, needs that piled up while resources vanished (suddenly higher taxes, opportunities removed, etc), disappointments, changes, unanswered questions, and then toward the end of the week, the news that a dear, sweet friend delivered her baby daughter early and stillborn. So as I sat on the porch, feeling grateful for my happy children and our life and our home and Dave's job (really, even when it's frustrating), but also processing waves of grief for my friend and her family (and you know, for myself - I would have loved that little girl!), I heard the song "Lord, I Need You" by Matt Maher, and unbidden came the thought, "Especially now."

But as soon as I thought it, I also thought - or perhaps the Lord spoke or gently nudged - that it was grossly inaccurate. It's not as if there is a time when we need him not so specially, and that was a humbling reminder. I asked God to forgive me for my pride in forgetting my utter dependence on Him in times of feeling secure, happy, and safe. Was I any more so than now, when the world seems a little darker and less predictable? Of course not! My means are always paltry compared to His provision. My sense of safety and security always an illusion when based on my circumstances.

And what absolutely NOT profound observations, I know. I myself have been reminded of them countless times...and will undoubtedly forget again. But there it is.

And. incidentally. as grateful as I am for the lessons of a pretty tough week last week, I'm not ashamed to say I would also really be grateful for a happier, more peaceful week!

A Fifth Wheel?

So once upon a time, I had four young children, and there were people who actually asked, "You're done, right? Because the last thing you need is another one." So I wonder what they thought when I announced we were having "another one." What did we need another kid for, anyway?

 Because there's only ONE Scarlett Jane just like this in the whole wide world. What a gift is our petite, girly but tough, funny, stylish, introspective, smart and witty girl! We've only had three years with her, and we can't imagine life without her. Happy Birthday, little miss!

And Then There's My Dad...

I blogged about my mom on Mother's Day, and I'm afraid I have to use the same picture from that post today, on Father's Day. I need access to some more old pictures, I guess! At any rate, same picture, but different parent, as today it is, naturally, about my dad.

I am fairly certain that at the beginning of his parenting journey, he didn't know he was going to be the dad of four daughters, and he certainly had no notion of all that would entail. But I do know that if he ever wanted a son, he never mentioned it, and never seemed anything but happy to be the dad of all daughters, in good times and bad. And he always seemed to have a pretty good time with us at that. He was a pastor since before we could remember, and while that came with its own challenges and meant he was really "on call" 24/7, it also meant he had flexible hours that allowed him to be involved in our days. I always thought that was pretty neat. 

My dad is also a little...um...quirky, which meant that our family was a little different in many ways, and while  during some stages of my life I might have wished we were more like the elusive "everyone else," most of the time I really appreciated our uniqueness. I certainly appreciate it now that my own family is unique in many ways, and being familiar with being the upstream-swimming fish has proven to be useful. I also appreciate that my dad's quirky-ness meant that as we were growing up, we learned to explore the paths off the beaten roads and all the nooks and crannies of buildings we happened to be spending time in for one reason or another. Even now, any path or staircase that presents itself makes me ask, either my kids or even just myself, "I wonder where that goes?" (And often we go find out!) 

My mom is busy and outgoing, and I've already shared how she has used that in neat ways for our family. Some of my sisters are like her, and that serves them well, too. My dad is much more introverted (although most people find him funny and friendly, so he's not completely anti-social!), and I am more like him in that way, so I've always found him to understand things about me that no one else would. So thanks for that, dad! He's a reader, as I am, and we like to share interesting tidbits about things we've read and learned, all of which I've appreciated over the years. And as one of the most knowledgeable people about the Bible that I know, he's also been my go-to person about all things biblical and spiritual. He taught us pretty much everything about the Bible and our faith that I brought into my adulthood, in fact, and he was faithful to give it to us straight. I was talking with a friend just yesterday about how I think tidy Sunday School lessons are quite destructive in giving kids a sanitized view of the Bible, and how grateful I was that growing up, my dad read to us and with us from books like Judges, which could hardly be described as tidy or sanitized. 

In short, I really looked up to my dad throughout my childhood and into my adulthood...and then there came a time when he let me down in a rather big and public way. And it was awful. Now wait! Before you're thinking, "What a nice Father's Day gift! Would her dad like a little lemon juice for that cut?" I'm pretty sure he knows that was a bad time. I think our whole family can be honest about that. In fact, our honesty about that whole time was pretty raw at times, and I think my words now are rather tame! I'll also admit that it's probably just as true that I let him down and wronged him at times during that unhappy era, and I can't even remember if I asked his forgiveness for any of it. If I didn't, I hope he forgives me now.

 At any rate, it's true that in that dark, dark time, I doubted for a time whether anything about anything he ever taught me was really true. Could it be, when it seemed he had turned the whole world on its head? And then, after a little while, I began to claim things I still knew to be true, and I realized that while my Dad wasn't the Way, he had still shown me the Way...and I still believed it and wanted to live it. That was more than a little something! I don't think he knows how that time grew me and stretched me in ways I never would have experienced otherwise. I know he wouldn't want to repeat things, of course, and none of us enjoyed the sadness and pain and everything else that accompanied that time, but out of the ashes grew life. There came joy and certainty in knowing that my faith isn't based on a person, but on something real that I chose, that I would still choose even if those who taught it to me gave it up (they haven't, just so you know). There came freedom in knowing that no one is perfect...and therefore that I don't have to be perfect. There came more grace and more mercy in all this, and all of that has been good. 

On Mother's Day I talked about how my mom is a little crazy because she's this amazing woman who thinks she's not all that special. On this Father's Day, I also have a dad who thinks - or thought - that he failed us, when in reality, the life he gave us growing up was one we (or at least I, but I think I'm not alone) wouldn't have traded to be like "everyone else." In reality, even in the hardest times, he taught us and loved us, and I wouldn't want to have traded him, either. So thanks, Dad, for being different and quirky, introverted and thoughtful, so very knowledgeable and yet so very human (that really has been a gift, whether you think so or not!). Thanks for everything you've taught us and every path we've wandered, and also for all the Magnum P.I and Brisco County, Jr. episodes...because those were just a lot of fun!

And Then We Had a Teenager

Once upon a time, I had a baby - a tiny, beautiful little girl who charmed all who met her.

And today, she becomes a teenager.

I guess I should be shocked this day has come - "How did she grow up so fast?" And yet, Aimee has always  seemed rather grown up. These milestones in her life rarely catch me by surprise, as, mature beyond her years, she always seems more than ready for them. I think it doesn't overwhelm her to be a teenager now, neither with trepidation nor with an abundance of excitement. It's a special birthday, of course, but she's never had a longing to be steeped in teen culture, and I love that she isn't. She's smart and savvy, friendly and outgoing - she can mingle with her peers and enjoy outings designed for their age group. But she also knows she's just a girl, growing into a young woman and making her place in a much larger tapestry. When she does things like volunteer to spend a weekend working in Oklahoma with her dad - leaving her friends, her electronics, her books, her leisure time - I am always so proud of her. And a little in awe (she doesn't get the willingness to make spontaneous decisions about hopping in a van and driving overnight to work all weekend from me!).

I do see some of me in her, of course. She loves good books and she loves to write. I love that as as has grown and matured, we've been able to discuss things like writing and our favorite books on a closer level. These past few months, it's been like having a ready-made book club in the house! We read and discuss young adult dystopian and fantasy novels, sure, but we've also discussed things like Les Miserables and the works of Jane Austen, because Aimee, with her eclectic tastes, is just nifty that way. And it's just nifty to spend time talking and sharing with her, of course. Her arrival into the teen years has brought us closer, rather than driven the too-common and too-sad generational wedge that is supposed to be a hallmark of this time in a child's life. 

Adolescence comes with its challenges, of course, both for her and for us as parents. Aimee isn't immune, and we're not perfect parents. But, just as she takes this thirteenth birthday in stride, we don't fear it or the teen years ahead. Those years and birthdays are just numbers, marking her growth and maturity, rather than her descent into some suspended and mystical state of life in which she has all the fun she can and she finds her way apart from us while we bite our nails in fear. We will encourage her to enjoy her youth, certainly, but we will also "spur her on toward love and good deeds" as she grows into who she was created to be. And we'll enjoy this great person and friend who is emerging out of that tiny baby we once held. 

'

Love you, Aimee Perrine! Happy 13th Birthday!

In Defense of Diagramming

A few days ago, while I was going over the introduction to the Declaration of Independence with one of the kids, and we were trying to memorize it together, we got stuck on some of the more complex phrases. So I got out a pen and paper, thinking that diagramming might be helpful, which sent my young study partner scurrying. Fortunately for him, I soon got too wrapped in my project to call him back, and for the next few hours, in snatches of time while watching two preschoolers, answering questions and filling needs for older kids going to and fro, in and out, and later while making dinner, I worked on diagramming sentences from the Declaration of Independence. I had actually been struggling with anxiety throughout the day, and as I started working, the diagramming proved to be rather calming and therapeutic. Aimee came down at one point and said, "Mom, you know this isn't normal, right?" And later, when I mentioned on Facebook the irony of this being calming, one friend commented, in effect, that there was no way diagramming could be helpful in any regard, since it serves a language that is disorderly.

Well, perhaps it isn't a usual sort of therapy, but that's okay. I think it's perfectly reasonably to challenge myself and give my brain a workout now and then. In this instance, I really did start out helping the kids study the Declaration of Independence, which, for any citizen of any age, is certainly worth reviewing from time to time. So there's my excuse. And I do think diagramming helped immensely in that endeavor, as I think it does serve a purpose in general, despite what my nay-saying children and cynical friends may think. (Note: if you just think the English language is a hopeless cause, there's nothing for you here.)

Firstly, in the instance of the first sentence of the Declaration, diagramming it helped us get down to the bare bones of the sentence. The skeleton of that very lengthy sentence is simply, "respect requires," which is quite telling. The Declaration is stirring and exciting, but it is not the work of wild revolutionaries who just wanted to buck a system for the sake of it. It is a thoughtful and respectful document, describing the proper role of government, and how the current government was overstepping the bounds of that role and violating the principles of liberty. Because these violations formed such "a long train of abuses and usurpations," it was required, in respect to the cause of liberty, that a declaration be made to "dissolve...political bands", and at the same time, it was also in respect to the current leaders in Britain that the reasoning for this dissolution was carefully outline. After all, this was not to be done "for light and transient causes."

Secondly, diagramming a sentence of this length also serves to determine whether the sentence is constructed in a balanced and purposeful way, which can further an understand of the meaning. What describes or modifies what? Is a particular phrase useful in supporting the skeleton of a sentence? Someone else, in regard to my project, mentioned that the first sentence of the Declaration probably would not be tolerated by English teachers these days because of its length and verbosity. That may be true, but what is wonderful about this famous sentence is that each clause and phrase clearly supports another word or phrase in the sentence. It may seem lengthy and winding, but it is actually structured quite well. Hopefully a good English teacher would recognize the difference between a sentence that is long and wordy just for the sake of it, and one that is well crafted. The length shouldn't matter, as long as it can support itself. Good teachers and discriminating readers shouldn't need a diagram to indentify a good sentence, of course, but the beautiful thing about a diagram is that it can offer a visual of what the ear should be able to hear in a well-balanced sentence. I truly love that. Take, for instance, the following sentence: "But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object envinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government and to provide new Guards for their future security." This isn't simply a long train of words. It is beautifully balanced and carefully constructed.

Thirdly, for the most skeptical of critics (i.e. my children), diagramming is an exercise for the mind. It isn't something one will use in practical applications, admittedly, but critical and orderly thinking is, and diagramming demands such thinking. And for a real workout in this kind of exercise, one can try diagramming one of Jane Austen's sentences. My goodness. I have to say that getting to the above points for one of her sentences can get tricky. Often, the bare bones of the sentence does get lost in her incredible verbosity, and some of her sentences are far from balanced. I had to use two pages for the sentence below, and I'm not even sure about some of the phrases. I'm still working on it! But we love Jane Austen anyway.

These papers are rather crinkled, since I had to carry them around with me as I was working on it. Crumpled paper is not very orderly, but I'm not writing this out again, because the sentence is as follows: "Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners, and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for."

I wonder what a modern English teacher would have to say about a sentence like that from a student! But there's the thing about good writing, and perhaps what the detractors would fault the world of English for most - diagramming may provide some rules and order, but even when a collection of words seems to step outside that order and convention, they can still be beautiful and entirely correct. That is rather therapeutic in itself.