It's a Possum!

It's 4:08am and I'm awake. Why am I awake? The dogs were barking like crazy. It wasn't ordinary barking either. It was the way they bark when a stranger comes to the door. So, naturally, my first thought was "someone's in the yard." I stumbled into the kitchen, turned on the porch light, and looked out the window. I couldn't see anything; but, the dogs were still going crazy. I walked back over to the back door and yanked it open hoping to surprise anyone who might be lurking on the other side. There was no one there, just the cat sitting right across the treshold from me, eating the cat food. No wait, the cat looked strange...kind of greasy and shaped funny. I leaned over to reach down and touch her. Then, the cat looked up. I saw sharp, pointy teeth. Being kind of slow on the uptake at 4:00am, I said in amazement and to no one but the possum, "it's a possum." At that, it turned around and lumbered off around the side of the house. It was in no hurry to leave, but then, I'm not sure how fast a possum can run. Now that I think about it I've never seen one that moved very fast.

I think I'll tell the kids there was a marsupial at the back door and see if they can figure out what it was. Perhaps I'll offer some reward to the first kid to hand in a page on what they think it was, why they think so, and some interesting facts about it. Maybe they'll discover why the dang things won't move out of the road even when you're blowing your horn and flashing headlights at them.

Oh man, I'm going back to bed.

Fascination and Phobia

We started the insect collection this week. The first member was a grasshopper that had the misfortune of making his way into the house. I had planned to start next week after a couple of days worth of lessons on invertebrate animals. However, the grasshopper was in the wrong place (my kitchen) at the wrong time. It just so happened that right then I was in no mood to have a grasshopper jumping around my kitchen while I made dinner. So...he was sacrificed in the name of science.

Normally, I don't mind them bringing bugs into the house. T kept a pet, male Hercules Beetle (Dynastes titius) in his room for most of last summer. Did a really good job of keeping him alive, too. Everyone except E grew rather fond of old Baleog. He was a rather cool bug; and I sort of miss him. When I was about T's age I sneaked an entire nest of tent caterpillars into my bedroom. My poor mother almost had a nervous breakdown. They escaped and crawled all over the house. For some reason they preferred to make their way to the ceiling where they hung until my unfortunate mother walked under them, at which point they would drop into her hair causing her to scream and flail about. Then there was the night she awoke with one crawling across her face. I don't think she ever completely forgave me for that one. Anyhow, I've always kind of liked bugs.

What I don't like are spiders. I am a hard core arachnophobe. That is where T and I disagree. He thinks spiders are "very interesting," and has wanted a pet tarantula since he was two - not just any tarantula but one of those giant bird eating ones. Not in my house! He can have all the rhinoceros beetles, caterpillars, grasshoppers, etc. that he wants for pets. I wouldn't even mind a giant, hissing cockroach; but, I draw the line at spiders (even tiny ones and especially giant, bird eating ones.)

Yesterday he found a "really cool looking" spider in the butterfly bush and requested it be added to the bug collection. Of course, I reminded him that spiders were arachnids and not insects. He replied, "I know that. But, we're going to do an arachnid collection, too. Ain't we?" Before I could stop myself, I had formed a mental picture of him trucking a bunch of spiders into my house. Trying hard not to freak out completely, I explained that we certainly would not be doing an arachnid collection, not now, not ever, no way, no how. He was not to be attempting the capture of any arachnid. Crestfallen, he wanted to know how he was going to effectively learn about spiders if we didn't make a collection. That's what science books and the internet are for!

I do love his enthusiasm. And, I have taught him a healthy respect for spiders. But, in the back of my mind I remember my mother flailing about trying to get the caterpillar out of her hair and her words "one day your children are going to do the same thing to you." Caterpillars...I can handle. Spiders dropping into my hair...well, I don't think they make a psychiatric drug strong enough to treat the condition I would be in.

In the Course of One Year...

I watched my 8 year old daughter regain her love of reading and embrace writing. I saw her anger and defiance give way to smiles and a measure of self-discipline (as much as one could expect from an 8 year old.) I'm still waiting for her to spontaneously clean her room.

I watched my 7 year old son regain his self-confidence and curiousity. I listened as he made peace with his fears - fears caused by "the bullies on the bus."

When I first sent them off to kindergarten they were happy, confident, curious, and excited to be going off to school. Within months that changed. They changed. My husband and I not realizing what was going on at school began blaming each other's parenting style. It wasn't until, two months into third grade, our daughter quit reading that we realized public school was detrimental to our children's education. In October 2005, we pulled them out of school.

Over the course of this past year... I felt fear like never before - it was my children's futures I was messing with. Many nights I laid awake wondering how I could ever get K to read 'just for fun' again. I fretted over how I could help T come to terms with all he went through in first grade. I wept over my failures as well as their success. I fielded doubting questions from relatives, friends, neighbors, and nosy strangers. I shared in those same doubts. I tested my limits and fell short too often.

I also made peace with myself. I witnessed that same acceptance from my children. Most importantly, I have seen the desire to learn rekindled. It took almost a year. It was hard. It was worth it.