Vulnerability....

When I signed my oldest son up for an on-line distance learning program, I didn't imagine all the emotions I'd feel about it. I knew I was relinquishing control, giving up all the good books, allowing someone else to decide what he needed to learn and what he didn't. I was, am, okay with that. It's high school, and he's still at home, so I can still chat with him about what he learns (I am so thankful he does that, chats with me about what he's learning...), and be a part of the shaping of his opinions, the forming of his world view.

It happens, right? We all, eventually, grow up and make our own decisions, sometimes ones that don't coincide neatly with what our parents want. I'm glad, then, that he includes us and that his first taste of An Outside Voice is coming while he still lives at home.

Because after High School comes college, University. And he may or may not live at home for that, depending on where we're living by then, what school he goes to, etc. But he will, without a doubt, be inundated with Different Opinions. Outside Voices. Teachers, professors, telling him What To Believe. Friends. Peers. Roommates and Suite Mates and a whole big college campus full of ideas and opinions coming at him from every which way.

I don't want that to be his first exposure to information that wasn't hand picked by me or his dad. I just don't. If I were still hand-picking all of his curriculum, carefully crafting a structure for building his world view around my world view, it would not be tested, tried, and sure by the time he leaves for college. And when those differing views come at him, fast and furious, we would not be there, his dad and I, to help him sift through what's right, what's wrong, what's in between, and why each one is what it is.

So, when I handed over control of curriculum choosing, signed him up for TTUISD, I was ready for that. I had thought it through, analyzed it, weighed it, sized it up and arrived at my conclusion: This was, is, a good thing. And it is. It has played out much like I thought -- he is beginning, now, in the safety and comfort of our home, to bounce his new ideas off of us, testing them for validity, waiting to see our reaction. Do we like this new idea of his? Are we okay with it? Is he becoming a young man we're proud of?  (he is, and we are).

What I didn't expect, wasn't prepared for, is the vulnerability. Of sending my son out into this world, not just to be hit with differing opinions as solid teachings, but opinions. Not about subject matter, but about his performance as a student. Grades. From someone else. I am finding that to be a scary feeling.

When you've been the only teacher in your child's life, ever, it's nerve wracking. Suddenly, someone else has the deciding vote, "Is he a good student? Is this assignment well done? Did he do, is he doing, a good job??"

Suddenly, because you've always ever been his only teacher, it feels like someone else is not grading just your son, but you. Did you teach him well?

Except, as we near the end of our first semester, I am more scared about how he is being judged than how I am being judged. Insecurity. Vulnerability. Wanting to see him succeed, to hear that his teachers are pleased with his work. Just like I wanted him to be liked on the playground, to make friends, just as we all want our kids to do well.

And now here we are. He has finished 3 of his six courses. He is finishing up 2 more, and will request an extension for the 6th; Art was a bit overwhelming for us. His grades at this point are all As, pending the assignments waiting to be turned in. He has such a high A in Geography that he could get a 69 on the final exam, which is worth 25% of his grade, and still have an A in the course over all. Except that he is required to pass the exam, or it doesn't count.

I'm proud of him, of how hard he's worked so far. Of the job he has done, of the work ethic he has shown.

But my heart is in my throat as he gets ready to take these exams, these first real tests of his; exams that will set his grade for the first semester that will go on a transcript that will one day be sent to colleges as he seeks admittance to their institutions.

I have no reason to think he'll do anything other than awesome, truly. But I am nervous. Insecure. Vulnerable.

Wish us me him luck.

One of the down sides of non-Mom-led schooling....

This school year we embarked on a new adventure: on-line school.  We researched several different options --- Potter's School, K12 Virtual Academy, Kolbe Academy, Connections Academy, and a few others --- before we found, and decided on, TTUISD.  TTUISD is a K through 12th on-line distance learning program run by Texas Tech University; the elementary grades are print-based, not on-line, and middle school is about half & half, while high school offers either one.

TTUISD is different from other on-line programs, in that there are no on-line lectures to attend; no video lectures to watch; no peer interaction. For many, that's a definite negative. However, the other side of that is, there are no due dates, no "you must participate in this lecture at this time" sorts of deadlines. For us, with a fluctuating time difference (we can be as few as 2 hours, or as many as 4 hours, ahead of Texas), internet service that can drop on a whim, and a travel schedule that is random and spontaneous, we saw this lack of deadlines as a plus; in fact, this was the single biggest reason we chose TTUISD over the other programs.

A semester in, I am glad we did. The flexibility has been wonderful.

What's been less than wonderful is the adjustment to a lack of a different kind of flexibility: the ability for Mom to skip any assignment that doesn't make sense, seems pointless, is redundant, etc.  Now, most of the work the boys have been assigned has been good stuff; challenging stuff. The Writer has learned to work Power Point, making several very detailed slide shows for Geography.  He's learned to research, gathering facts from various sources, filling in charts, and then using that information to write summaries and brief essays.

His health class had an extensive project, mandated by the state of Texas, about parenthood/teen parenthood.  At first glance, I felt this was a bit.....unnecessary. But as I read through the questions that his teacher composed to round out the instruction, I was impressed. She didn't just focus on statistics and she gave next to zero commentary on whether a teen ought to avoid pregnancy via abstinence or protected sex; as a Christian, I appreciated, greatly, that the content was not weighted in either direction. Instead, the content of this unit focused on the numerous natural consequences of teen pregnancy; things like budgeting for a baby, determining paternity, paying child support, and even various decisions a parent has to make throughout the life of a child, from newborn to high school graduate, which I think really helped drive home the fact that a baby is a life long thing. A project that I at first wanted him to skip, but proved to be well-written and worthwhile.

Science and math haven't had too many outside projects, though both are well done courses. English, however, has had several. Writing is a big part of his English course, and it's been....interesting. His current project is one I would skip, if it were up to me.  He's read Romeo & Juliet, and over the course of reading it he's answered multiple quizzes to show he understands the plot, understands the language, understands the significance of various quotes in the play, etc. In other words, the unit on Romeo & Juliet was thorough. Very. So the final project for this unit seems redundant and unnecessary:  compile a sound track for the play.

Not only does he have to choose 2 songs to accompany every Act of the play, as well as an introductory song and a concluding song, but he also has to tell where each song fits --- Act, Scene & Lines. Then he has to write an "8 to 10 sentence paragraph" explaining what is happening in this scene in the play, what is happening in the song, and how the song & scene fit together. For every song. He also has to include the lyrics, and make a cover-art for the album.

I understand that the teacher is wanting to make double, triple sure that the students really understand Romeo & Juliet. I understand that she's trying to relate it to something that clicks with most teenagers -- music. I get it; I really do. But my son is not most teenagers, and he does not listen to music much at all.

If we were still actually home schooling, I would have him write me an essay about Romeo & Juliet, showing that he understands the plot, themes, etc. I would not make him tie it to modern music, particularly not with his perfectionist bent.  His father and I have helped him decide on songs, and he is now writing up his required paragraphs. He keeps balking, though, because a line here or there in the song doesn't fit 100% with the story of the chosen scene in the play. He wants the lyrics to be a perfect match; I understand this, I'm the same way.

When I chose what song to play at my wedding, my gift to my husband, I skipped over songs that held sentimental value because they did not *perfectly* describe us. I listened to every single wedding tape I could find at a local bookstore, painstakingly listening to every lyric of every song until I found one that said exactly what I wanted to say. Trouble is, I've lost that tape and have no idea what song I played for my husband, at our wedding. No idea whatsoever.

Now my son is doing the same thing with this play project. He wants the lyrics to be perfect. The problem is, there aren't 12 songs out there written exactly for Romeo & Juliet, so no song is going to fit exactly. They just won't. It's his job to take the song lyrics and the scene and explain how they do fit, not worry about how they don't.

Six songs in, he's getting it, but this is not an easy project for him, at all. I wish I could just let him skip it. I really do. He understands the play, very well. He writes beautifully, so he really doesn't need the writing practice. In fact, he's having to write more poorly than normal, because of the sentence requirement. He likes to write lengthy sentences, and for this assignment he is having to chop them up into smaller ones. His teacher sort of hyper-focuses on whether or not the students meet the technical requirements of any given writing assignment, so while he could write perfectly legitimate and thorough paragraphs for each song, if they are not exactly "8 to 10 sentences" and in one paragraph, he'll lose points. A lot of points. He is pouring as much effort into that sentence count as he is into the content of his paper, which saddens me. Greatly.

If I could, I'd ditch the whole project and not require it. But I can't. I'm only the mom now, not the teacher, which means my job shifts from deciding what he does to ensuring he does his best at whatever he's been assigned, even the mundane and redundant.

A down-side, for sure. Not a big enough con to have us switch programs, but something to be aware of if on-line school is something you are considering.

Progress....

"Slow and steady wins the race...." --- this has become my mantra as I adjust to schooling my youngest, recently diagnosed with a whole laundry list of learning differences. I'm learning to notice and cherish all the little signs of progress, because this is going to be a long road.

Yesterday was one of those days with the ever elusive "progress."

Roughly ten days ago, I started working through All About Spelling (AAS) with The Adventurer, one of the things we're doing as we slowly but surely work towards literacy.  One aspect of AAS is teaching the phonograms; that is, showing a card with a letter on it, and having the child learn (and memorize) the sounds represented by that letter.

As we're learning English, the vowels especially have many sounds, and when we started this, The Adventurer knew 10 phonograms. Out of the 26 letters, and all the sounds those represent, he knew ten. Here we are ten days later and he's moved two more letters (and 5 more sounds) to the mastery section, and almost gained a 3rd letter (with 4 sounds) as well. yay! I'm beyond thrilled with this, but that's not the progress I wanted to share.

Another aspect of AAS is having the child segment words into individual sounds. If you think about segmenting words into syllables, you're almost there. Now take it a step further and think about isolating every individual sound. For example, the word "go" can be segmented into /g/-/o/; the word "dog" into /d/-/o/-/g/.

AAS starts with "2-sound words" --- things like go, do, to, see, be, of, etc. --- and then moves onto "3-sound words." In the beginning, the child is handed two (and then three) little tokens, small plastic discs, one for each sound. The teacher (aka, me) speaks the word, then the child repeats the word followed by each sound of the word. As the child says the individual sounds, he pulls a token down towards himself as a way of putting a physical component to the exercise and really making the idea of "separate sounds" something concrete, tangible.  Later on, letter tiles will replace the tokens and the child will pull the right letters; we're not there yet, though.

Ten or so days ago, when I started this, The Adventurer struggled with separating out the individual sounds even in "2-sound words."  I modeled for him, several times, and we did a series of 5 words per day for two or three days before he was really catching on and able to pull tokens with the separate sounds. Once he got it, though, he really got it. Suddenly we flew through the whole 20 word list, and then the next 20 word list, and he looked at me with his, "This is so boring, Mom...." look that tells me he's really mastered it and it's time to move on. So we did.

Three-sound words were next, and I prepped myself for a slow start, just like we'd had with the two-sound words. It had, after all, taken a week to get to mastery of that, and I wasn't sure he could isolate beginning, middle, ending sound of a word.

But he did.

Right away, first word I gave him. I showed him one example, "pig -- /p/-/i/-/g/, pig" and he took it from there. He was so bored that at first he pulled tokens in the wrong order, going right to left instead of left to right, but I gently reminded him that when we read, we read left to right so he needed to pull the tokens in that order, too. It's a concrete reminder of first/middle/last, so it's important he go in order. Five or so words into it, he was doing that as well.

He blew through the entire 25 word list. Without a single error, hesitation, mistake....just perfectly segmented every word I gave him.

Wow. Progress. These are the moments I cherish.

Let the censoring begin....

In fifteen+ years of parenting, I have never, not once, told any of my children that they were not allowed to read a certain book. Ever. It is just not something I've ever felt I had to do.

Partly because we are pretty liberal with what we allow:  I don't mind make-believe, even of the magical, wizardy sort. Or of the killing bad guys sort. Or really any type of make-believe, at all. Because, well, make believe is exactly that -- made up. Not real. And I think most kids understand that difference, even if they later run around acting out scenes from the make believe.

I know, for instance, that my boys know that pointing a stick and yelling, "Expeliarmus!" at their brothers will not, in fact, cause the brother(s) to drop whatever they are using for a wand. Even when an indulging big brother pretends that the fake spell did, in fact, work, I know that the little brother still knows it is all pretend.

So I don't mind them delving into fantasy, and adventure tales, and worlds of talking cats and half-blood kids who are part Greek gods, and wand-wielding teenagers, and what have you. I don't. Even when sometimes they come to me and report that this wonderful series has a bad word (or three) in it.

But today my oldest was found reading a book that gave me pause. For the first time in my parenting career, ever. He is of an age where make-believe has given way to realism, where the tales he picks up are firmly rooted in reality, giving a version of real life, of what is, not what could maybe be. Suddenly, this makes a difference.

What an uncomfortable place this is for me.

I have a deeply ingrained belief that censorship is wrong. Period. And I've let that color my parenting; I'm the parent who goes out and buys the books from the Banned Books list, who scoffs at those who allow X while prohibiting Y. I'm eating my words a little bit today.

You see, this book that my boy wanted to read -- had, in fact, started to read -- portrays a slice of reality that I just don't think he's ready for. More importantly, what finally pushed me to flat out tell him he's not allowed to read this book just yet, is that he showed me he's not ready for it yet.

As I explained to him the many things about the book that made me uncomfortable, the many things which I knew would also make him uncomfortable, my son portrayed a bit of innocence about these topics.  Okay, a lot of innocence. Innocence that I was touched to see, but that confirmed to me that this book is not the proper book for stripping that innocence away.

I'm not trying to shield him forever. I know that he will, gradually, come to an awareness of all the topics in this book. And I'm okay with that. But I am not okay with handing him this book to strip all of that away at once.

I can't explain all of the whys about this; it comes down to one thing. My gut, which never ever says "you can't read that!", screamed at me this time, loud and clear. When I saw the book in his hand, I was gripped with....something. Not fear, it wasn't that, but a deep-seated discomfort. And that never happens to me. I don't say no to books. Ever.

Until now. Because old enough, mature enough, nearly adult enough -- all of that might be true. But so is still innocent enough; innocent enough that this book would pull back a curtain he's not ready to peek behind. And as his mom, it's my job to keep that curtain closed a little bit longer; to give him permission, in the guise of my prohibition, to not peek yet.

And that's a more comfortable place, for both of us, even though it's a parenting first I never imagined having. 

High School Writing: Six Word Memoirs

My oldest son, The Writer, had an interesting assignment last week --- write not one, but five, six-word memoirs.  His teacher (he is enrolled in an on-line distance learning program for high school) stressed the importance of each sentence telling a story, not just stating a fact.  She used the example of Ernest Hemingway, who once (it is said) answered a challenge by telling the following six-word story:  "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn."  The Writer's teacher asked her students to do the same --- tell a story, tell five stories, in six words each.

My boy rose to the challenge, and earned a grade of 100 for his efforts. In the process, he delighted me as well, and I can't help but share his stories with you. Enjoy!

1. Do school, eat, walk dogs. Repeat. 

2. Architect, explorer, game-maker... On Minecraft. 

3. Moved to Brazil. Learned unique things. 

4. Joined a youth group. Made friends. 

5. Wrote some six word masterpieces today! 

My favorite, of course, is number five. That sums up my boy's humor in one perfect sentence. That he would have that confidence throughout all of his life.....that is my hope and prayer for him.  He writes well. He is a hard worker, unafraid to try new things, to push himself beyond his comfort zone. I love all of this about him, every story so carefully told in the allotted six words.....each one means something to me. My boy, my oldest son, who wrote some six word masterpieces this past week. How I love my boy!

A Little (really exciting) Victory

If you've been reading here very long, you've seen that my 7 year old (who'll be 8 in February) can't read. At all. You'll also know that we're working on it, with guidance from the experts who tell us that he has a laundry list of things standing between him and literacy.  And you'll know that we see that list more like cones to drive around than a wall to scale; in other words, The Chemist and I don't really accept the possibility that The Adventurer might not ever learn to read. He will learn, and we'll help him on every step of the journey from here to literacy, however long it takes. Period.

This past weekend, we had a little, really big, victory in that arena and I just have to share it with you.

On Friday, The Adventurer asked for a book to be read to him over and over and over again. I read it to him once, and The Artist (his 12 yr old brother) read it to him two or three times, and The Adventurer laughed and giggled through every reading.

I noticed while I was reading, which happened to be the third reading of the day, that he was beginning to whisper the dialogue portions under his breath as I read them, anticipating the text just a bit.

Now, pretty much anyone who has ever read to a child, even one as young as three or four years old, knows that kids tend to memorize text when it is repetitive and predictable enough. Most children can, when being read a book like that, fill in the last word or two if the reader pauses and lets them. Think about Green Eggs & Ham --- everyone knows "I do not like them, Sam I Am!" comes at the end of just about every page. Even three and four year olds, once they've heard the book often enough, and they will gleefully say that phrase along with their parent, or instead of, if the parent stops and lets the child fill in the missing words. Nearly every parent on the planet knows this, has experienced it.

The Adventurer has never done that. Not once. In all his nearly eight years, he has never filled in a missing word, never completed the next line, never shouted out with glee "I do not like them, Sam I Am!" when I paused in reading Green Eggs & Ham to him. Never. Not with any book, even the ones that he has been read on a nearly daily basis.

To say that I was excited that he was now whispering the dialogue along with me......yea, that would be an understatement. I was pretty much giddy, but I tried not to show it and just kept reading. The Adventurer has the sort of personality that, if you cheer for him too soon over something he's still unsure of, he'll stop doing it. So, I kept a poker face (more or less) and just finished the story.

But that is not the end. What happened on Saturday is what really excited me. 

We were in the car, heading out for dinner. The Adventurer piped up from the back seat that "if we had a fat cat, and a pet rat, and a mat, and a crazy broom, that would be a recipe for trouble!"  and continued on to explain to his father, The Chemist, that he knows this because of the book from Friday; the back of the book clearly states that if you have a fat cat, a pet rat, a mat and a crazy broom, then you have a recipe for trouble.

I stifled a grin as I listened to him quote this, and then stifled a few laughs as he went on to explain that it really should be a fat and lazy cat, even though the book doesn't say lazy. And definitely it has to be a pet rat, not just an ordinary rat. And a crazy broom, not a normal broom. And then.....then he asked his dad, "Do you want to hear the book, Dad?"

When The Chemist answered, "Sure," The Adventurer went on to quote the story. 

Not summarize. Not just a word here and there. The entire story, the repetitive dialogue of each character (a rat, a bat, a hat, a cat, and a witch). In order. Getting every line right, each time. Beginning to end, with voice inflection and everything, just the way it had been read to him the day before.

I did not stifle that grin, did not even try to. I did hold back the tears, just barely. I did not hold back the praise; confident that he was confident, I said as nonchalantly as I could that I was proud of him, that he did a great  job remembering the story and telling it to Daddy. The Adventurer confessed he skipped a part (he did); I told him that was okay. He moved on to other topics of conversation, and I just kept smiling.

No, he's not reading yet. No, the fact he can memorize a story does not mean he'll be reading next week. But it does mean that the work we're doing is working. A skill that he simply couldn't do in the past, mastered. Progress. Hope. Proof that he can do this. And for that, I couldn't be happier.

Benefits of Homeschooling

Mindy at Grateful for Grace is at it again, this time asking "If you had 5 minutes to sum up the benefits of homeschooling, what would you share?"  Wow. Ummm........

As she didn't have a chance for deep thought before answering, I'm just going to dive in and say what comes to mind.

For me, the biggest benefit is that it allows us the freedom to set our own travel schedule.  We are able to go with The Chemist on business trips; we are able to travel to the US regardless of school season; we are able to vacation in the off-season when prices are lower and people are fewer; we are able to be in charge of our own time rather than handing over those reigns to an institution. This is the single biggest thing that has kept us from using more structured options, and is the biggest factor in which on-line program we chose for our oldest son. Seriously.

I struggled with handing over the educational reigns when we first chose to use an on-line program; it was hard to resign as teacher and become only mom (at least to that son). I was not willing, none of us were, to also hand over control of our schedule. A school does not know our family enough to get to tell me (us) when we can vacation, when we can take a holiday, or that we can or cannot travel with The Chemist when he has long business trips. That flexibility is a benefit we hold tightly; no surprise that it's the first thing that springs to mind for me.

Other benefits.....the ability to meet each child exactly where he is. If we need to spend 18 months on Algebra, because I foolishly jumped from 7th grade math straight into Algebra (skipping over Pre-Algebra), we can.

If a child needs to move through more readers in a month than some of his siblings read in a year, we can do that, too. If one child needs for me to scribe for him (he dictates, I write) because of difficulties with handwriting, I can do that and I don't even need an outside expert to give me permission or authorize it for me.

If we need to stop and spend 6 months on multiplication facts before returning to regular math, we can. If, after that amount of drill, the child is ready to speed through the regular math, we can accelerate our pace and he can speed through.

If another child needs intense remediation to learn to read, we can do that, too (though we did in that case seek out expert help).   Each child, each student, gets exactly what he needs, at exactly the right time and at the right pace. No one is forced to move too quickly, or too slowly, through the study material because there is not a class full of other students who are setting the pace.

There's more, of course. Family togetherness, though I think even non-homeschooling families can have that. Tailoring not only the pace, but the subject matter as well, to the needs of each student. For example, I can skip over books about giant tidal waves when I'm working with a child with major anxiety. Or I can read it to him, as an example of how people survived such an event, in hopes it encourages him. The key factor is, I get to decide, because I know my child best. And even now that some of mine are in on-line programs, with someone else dictating what they read, I can read alongside each one and help them navigate these sometimes muddy waters.

We can tailor not just the subject matter, but also the curriculum, the learning/teaching style. If one student needs a workbook approach, we can do that. If another needs a very hands-on, project based approach, we can do that. Never has that been more true than now with The Adventurer; he is using very few of the curriculum choices that worked for his older brothers, because he learns very differently than they did.

If the boys had all attended public school, The Adventurer would now be expected to learn in whatever manner his teacher used; she would not be able to adapt her teaching style to meet him where he is.  As his mom & homeschool teacher, I can do what she cannot: I can, and have, adapt my teaching methods so that they are exactly the style through which he best learns.

These are the biggies for me, for my family. We remain in control of our schedule; we set the school pace to meet the needs of the student rather than force the student to meet the pace of the school; and we tailor the curriculum & subject matter to meet the learning styles, interest & other needs of the student rather than force a square peg into a round hole. I suppose all three of those fall under the heading of flexibility, in one way or another. What it means to me, though, is that we can give totally individualized, tailor-made tutoring for each individual student. At a fraction of what that would cost us if we were to outsource such a thing.

That's the benefit, for us.  What about you? Which benefits make your list?