Homeschool Sick Day: a Few Feverish Thoughts

No school occurred in our house today. We're all sick with this mega-cold & sore throat. Usually we manage to do something educational on sick days; but, not this day. Today we languished on the couch, watched mindless cartoons, and whined about how bad we all felt. Oh, and we ate tomato soup and napped.

It wasn't much different than it would have been had they been in public school; except, I don't have to write a note begging some stranger to forgive me for not sending my sick child to school; and, there are no hours of make up work coming home tomorrow. I never realized how much I resented the fallacious demands public schools made of children and their parents. Think about it. In the real world you simply call in sick and return to work when you feel better. And, a boss that requires his employees to make up the missed work at home would quickly find himself with a personnel deficit. Tonight while discussing an unrelated topic, E told me he was glad we were homeschooling our kids. Me too.

I consider us lucky to live in a country where we have the freedom to choose homeschooling. I'm also glad we live in a state where the homeschooling laws are fairly sensible. The only thing they require that I don't see much use in is the attendance records. I mean, technically homeschooled kids live in their schoolhouses. Of course they're in attendance. Furthermore, attendance doesn't guarantee learning. It would be interesting to know the history behind the NC homeschooling law particularly the part about attendance. Was it done to appease someone or some group? Was it a compromise of some sort? Was it arbitrary? Nevertheless, I can live with the attendance record law. It's a whole lot easier to swallow than a mound of make up work.

The day wasn't a complete washout. K figured out how to swallow a cold capsule without gagging. Trust me, that was a major accomplishment.

If I Ever Consider Quitting

This is a note to myself in the unlikely event that I might one day suffer from an impulse to quit homeschooling & send my children back to public school...

Dear Me,

Do you remember that time when you googled "teacher blogs" & "education blogs?" Remember what you found. You can't remember? Quick, go google it again. Try not to vomit. Perhaps you should go get a bucket just in case.

No matter how inadequate, frustrated, or overwhelmed you feel you will never be that horrible. Put public school out of your mind. Shake it off. Now, go hug your children.


Love,
Me

Of Sheep and Wild Children

The kids have gotten rather wild lately - messy rooms, blowing off schoolwork & chores, fighting, being sneaky. It's cabin fever - too cold to play outside lately & bored, bored, bored. Misbehaving is a quick, efficient way to create a little excitement. Watching Mom's head pop off is lots of fun.

The same scenario happens every year about this time. And...every year E & I have the same "You're Too Permissive vs. You're Too Authoritarian" um... er... discussions while we, yet again, seek to correct the problem. This year I was going to be ready for him. I set about researching discipline on the net. I would have proof that I was right although my method might be slower. I would quote 'the experts!' He would not win this time! I got busy googling.

Three days ago during one of my googles, in which I wandered too far into the internet and became terribly lost, I came across a Presbyterian minister's explanation of the "spare the rod and spoil the child" verse. It said the rod being refered to was actually a shepherd's crook used to guide the sheep back when they strayed too far from the fold & wasn't referring to beating children with a stick. I liked the minister's explanation & shared it with E (who also doesn't believe in beating children.) It was just a harmless, little anecdote, only remotely related to our um...er...debate. I thought he would find it interesting since he likewise had heard the verse used as a justification for corporal punishment while growing up. I had no idea a simple anecdote would be my undoing.

Well, he found it interesting alright. His eyes lit up with a victorious glint as he replied, "Yes, the curved part is hooked around the sheep's neck and he's firmly pulled back in line. It's not for leaning on while you wave to the sheep and say 'come. come.'"

I hate to admit it; but, after several days of Molasses Syndrome & the too public for my comfort Karate Incident, I have relented. E won out. T's room is one satellite reciever lighter; while K's new playstation now sits on E's desk. Their rooms are clean. They didn't argue about bedtime. Order has been restored. I'm happy with the results even though I am still picking the feathers (from the crow I had to eat) out of my teeth.

You're Going to Clean That Up!

Tonight, while bathing R (who loves a bath, but goes hysterical over getting his hair washed) my 41 yr. old husband decided it would be great fun to wash R's hair using his Super Soaker 1200 water cannon. I entered my rather small bathroom to find E spraying jets of water as R deftly used the shower curtain to deflect the water onto every surface in my bathroom. The resultant flood was enough to set my head to spinning 360 degrees (like in The Exorcist, only faster.)

There are times when I am absolutely convinced that I am the only adult in this house.

Test Anxiety

I have test anxiety. I really shouldn't. I know that; but, I do anyway. I remember taking the test every year in grade school. It never stressed me out. It was a piece of cake. I actually thought it was fun! Now my anxiety level is incredibly high even though I am not the one taking the test. Why?

Well, I have more to lose now that my self confidence is on the line. See, the CAT is a tool for measuring how I did this year at homeschooling my kids. It's not a complete picture of what the kids know. It's not even a measure of their intelligence. What it really reveals is how well I covered the material & where my weaknesses are. The kids can't be blamed for not knowing something on the test, not if I didn't teach it to them. It's not K & T's weaknesses that are exposed; but mine. Who likes having their weaknesses exposed? I'd rather not believe I have any weaknesses. I certainly don't want them quantified on paper.

Last year, I had no test anxiety. In fact, I anticipated seeing where the weak spots were. It was our first year homeschooling. They had different teachers before me. T skipped 2nd grade. I expected weak spots & I wasn't disappointed. Although their percentile scores were at the top, there were weak spots clearly illustrated on the bottom half of the report. They both needed work in grammar. T could use a little more phonics instruction. A couple of areas in math needed to be gone over. I appreciated the data. It verified what I already knew from observing them all that year. It let me know what I needed to fix. I looked forward to getting the test scores back.

So, why am I so anxious this year? The answer is somewhat complicated and basically boils down to "I can't blame anyone but me if they do poorly." I don't really expect them to actually do poorly; but, anything less than the scores they got last year would be considered a failure (on my part.)

I was completely unprepared when we pulled them out of school last year. I didn't have any books ordered or anything really. My plan was to simply get them out of the school environment before irreparable damage was done. (K, who had previously loved to read, had quit reading.) They were smart kids. We were desperate. We'd find a way, somehow. I planned the curriculum one week at a time. I searched the internet, trucked to the library, & basically pulled lessons out of thin air. I laid awake at night worrying, but, not at standardized test time. I didn't care if they scored 1% on the CAT. (Well, I'd probably have fainted.) K was reading for fun again & T had his enthusiasm back. I considered that a success. We could catch up the following year if needed.

This year it's a different situation. I have the workbooks. I have the curriculum planned. I have delivered lessons as scheduled. I have the support network in place. I have no excuses. This year the CAT measures whether or not I am a competent homeschooler. This year there is no one but me to blame for those weak spots. I hope there aren't too many of them.

It's the Cookie Monster's Fault!

R & I were watching Sesame Street this morning while waiting around to take E to the dentist when the realization struck me. See, R has a habit of saying "me" instead of "I." Although I correct him constantly he continues to use "me" in place of "I." It's the only object pronoun that he uses incorrectly & it's driven me crazy for about a year now. I've wracked my brain trying to figure out why he kept on saying "me." I was beginning to wonder if a visit with a speech therapist was in order. Today, the reason why he does it finally dawned on me.

R loves Sesame Street as do I. His favorite character is Cookie Monster. He watches Sesame Street for the sole purpose of watching Cookie Monster eat cookies. There's just this one thing about Cookie Monster that I overlooked - he always uses "me" instead of "I." He always has. It's what he does. It's part of who he is. He's supposed to talk that way, bad grammar or not.

This morning, R said something and started his sentence with "me." I corrected him yet again. R, pointing at the blue furry monster hungrily chomping away on a cookie, said, "No. ME love Cookie Monster," at the exact same moment Cookie Monster was saying, "Me love cookies!" R, obviously feeling exonerated, turned to me, crossed his arms, and said, "see!" The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. "It's the Cookie Monster's fault," I yelled causing everyone in the room to jump and look at me as if I were insane.

Was I angry at the producers of Sesame Street for Cookie Monster's poor grammar? Did I write a letter blaming them for generations of poor writers? Did I ban the viewing of Sesame Street at my house? Of course not. Cookie Monster is cool. Today, R and he reminded me of some very important philosophies (ones I had forgotten while trying to be "perfect homeschool mom"): be who you are & don't sweat being perfect & cookies are good for you & it's perfectly o.k. to use "me" as the simple subject when you are either three years old or blue and furry.

Unbelievably Incredible Hyperbole

Last week, K & T learned what hyperbole is. Since then, their writing assignments have been absolutely loaded with it. I distinctly remember teaching them to avoid overusing it in fictional writing and to never use it in nonfiction writing. However, they have taken a shine to it & have incorporated it wherever possible. On the positive side, their writing has become a great deal more interesting to read. Then again, I don't want them writing like so many of today's journalists - much hyperbole & few facts. Oh, I think we're going to have to spend a little more time on this one. I'm thinking a trip to the library for a book of tall tales to compare with Zoobooks or something. Perhaps they'll get the message this time around - try to avoid using hyperbole unless you're writing a tall tale.

The Bribe

It's official. The bribe has been offered and the kids accepted it. Today, E told them that we'd spend a week at Disneyworld/Seaworld if they pulled 99% on the CAT-5 again this year. He gave them the "Work Hard & Study" speech. It's amazing how we can say the exact same thing to them; but, it has way more impact coming from him. Is it a Daddy thing?

Fuzzy Antennae

A moth got in the house last night. R spotted it & unsure whether to be afraid or not asked, "What's that, what's that?" So, I told him it was a moth. "What's a moth, he queried apprehensively. "A moth is just a butterfly that flies at night," I replied. I thought that was an appropriate, feel-good explanation for a butterfly-loving three year old who should have already gone to bed. T, however, felt it was necessary to correct me and piped up with "No, it's not, Mom. Moths and butterflies, although related, are not the same." "Shh, they are the same," I replied desperately hoping T would get the hint. It was bedtime; and, I just wanted R to go to bed! T looked at me as if I were out of my mind and reiterated his statement followed by a list of physical differences as R chimed in with "they not the same" & " moths got fuzzy antenna!" "I know, I know. Alright, they're not the same," I cried in defeat. R, pitying me (with my being so ignorant and all,) took it upon himself to enlighten me as to the differences among the species found within the order Lepidoptera. I spent the next twenty minutes looking at pictures of moths and butterflies with R while he repeatedly reminded me that moths have fuzzy antennae. So, I sat there while he insisted on closely inspecting each photograph for the presence of those infernal fuzzy antennae & identifying each one as either moth or butterfly. He made certain I fully understood which was which before moving on to the next picture. Only after he was satisfied that I was no longer ignorant of the difference between a moth and a butterfly did he grant me a nod of approval and kiss me goodnight.

I stomped off to bed resenting T for getting me into that mess. But, then again, it was I who had emphasized the difference to T back when we were studying insects and while trying to impress upon the kids the magnitude of nature's diversity. Why shouldn't T have looked at me like I was crazy? I had taught him one thing; but there I was telling R something opposite.