Peace is an Uphill Climb

Above anything else, I want my home to be a safe place for our family.  I don't just mean a physically safe place (though I definitely do want that).  I want home to be the place where it is safe to retreat after a colossal failure and to receive the encouragement necessary to go back out and try again.  I want home to be the place where it is safe to share your crazy dreams and secret aspirations.  I want home to be a place where it is safe to cry or laugh, ask questions or sit quietly, all within the framework of knowing that you will always belong here and will always be embraced.

But this kind of environment, this attitude and atmosphere is a tall order!  Peace in the household requires more than simply "live and let live" or "do no harm".  It is not enough to avoid actively hurting or offending others.  Rather, peace takes purposeful, intentional (and often strenuous, self-sacrificing) effort!  Listen to how God's Word talks about peace ...

Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it. Psalms 34:14

Deceit is in the heart of those who devise evil, but those who plan peace have joy.
Proverbs 12:20

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.
Romans 12:18

So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.
Romans 14:19

Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. Hebrews 12:14

And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.
James 3:18

... be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace.
2 Peter 3:14

[emphases mine]

Even as I read this, I am struck by how little of my day is spent intentionally seeking the peace of the household.  And, of course, none of us can do this consistently or perfectly.  So why make a case out of it?

I have found that this concept has been a foundational discussion in getting to the bottom of some of the trickiest struggles amongst the members of our household.  Yes, there are certainly times when someone actually meant to hurt someone, damage their property or say unkind things.  But at least as many times there are things said or done that weren't intentionally wounding and yet everyone nearby can sense that the result was upsetting. 

Rather than asking my children "Were you being unkind?" or "Why did you hurt her?" I realized that it often makes more sense to ask "Were you seeking the peace of the household?" or "Were you living peaceably, as far as it depends on you?"  This isn't meant to "pin" them with blame or to create a "gotcha" moment.  And I don't intend to convey that a failure to seek peace is an equally grievous offense as an intentional desire to wound.  Rather I simply want to reframe the attitudes and goals of interactions in the household.  Our goal as a family isn't to proceed on following our own desires and hoping to avoid conflict, but to actively plan for peace.

"Not thinking" about what you are doing or saying is not an excuse that renders you blameless in the offending of others.  "Not thinking," rather, is an admission that you were not seeking, striving, pursuing and planning for peace.  It may be true that you "didn't intend" to hurt.  But did you "intend" to bless, encourage and build up?

Dear Mama, as you lead your children in considering their hearts, consider your own as well (or perhaps first per Matthew 7:4).  How many times a day do we all fall short in this way?  We have our own agenda in mind and we fail to ...

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:3-4

Are you seeking peace ... or just wanting to get the stupid laundry and school work accomplished?  Are you planning for peace ... or planning to avoid inconvenience and discomfort?  Does this seem unbelievably challenging?  Humanly impossible?  Well, it should!  This is a divine task to which we have been called.  Peace doesn't come cheaply.  Think of what it cost Christ:

For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.
Colossians 1:19-20

He shed his blood to gain peace with us.  And he shed his blood to give us the freedom to purposefully, diligently and actively pursue peace with others.  When you fail to seek peace, go to the cross in front of your children.  And when they fail to seek peace, lead them to the cross with you.  Pray with me as I pray for our household and yours!

May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.
2 Peter 1:2-4

The LORD bless you from Zion! May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life! May you see your children's children! Peace be upon Israel!
Psalms 128:5-6

This post is a part of the Mama Marriage Counselor series.  The next few posts in this series will expand on and flesh out the concept of seeking peace in the details of life at home.

Pruning the Dead Branches

Thought about and searched for this tonight ...

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening: Morning for April 29th

"Thou art my hope in the day of evil." --Jeremiah 17:17 

The path of the Christian is not always bright with sunshine; he has his seasons of darkness and of storm. True, it is written in God's Word, "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace;" and it is a great truth, that religion is calculated to give a man happiness below as well as bliss above; but experience tells us that if the course of the just be "As the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," yet sometimes that light is eclipsed. At certain periods clouds cover the believer's sun, and he walks in darkness and sees no light. There are many who have rejoiced in the presence of God for a season; they have basked in the sunshine in the earlier stages of their Christian career; they have walked along the "green pastures" by the side of the "still waters," but suddenly they find the glorious sky is clouded; instead of the Land of Goshen they have to tread the sandy desert; in the place of sweet waters, they find troubled streams, bitter to their taste, and they say, "Surely, if I were a child of God, this would not happen." Oh! say not so, thou who art walking in darkness. The best of God's saints must drink the wormwood; the dearest of His children must bear the cross. No Christian has enjoyed perpetual prosperity; no believer can always keep his harp from the willows. Perhaps the Lord allotted you at first a smooth and unclouded path, because you were weak and timid. He tempered the wind to the shorn lamb, but now that you are stronger in the spiritual life, you must enter upon the riper and rougher experience of God's full-grown children. We need winds and tempests to exercise our faith, to prune away the dead branches of self-reliance, and to root us more firmly in Christ. The day of evil reveals to us the value of our glorious hope. [emphasis mine]

 Tonight I am giving thanks for pruning.  It's never fun.  It's never easy.  But looking back and seeing some of the things that have been dropped (or ripped away?) from our homeschool as of late, and how much healthier we are, how much more good fruit is coming from those few things we are left to focus on - even from the things in which I play no direct part except observation and delight - I am in awe at the beauty and sovereignty of my God.  Would I ever have made these choices and changes if we weren't under "duress"?  I don't know.  But I see where we are now and I am glad.  I am at peace.  At least tonight.  And so, tonight, I give thanks.

Why DIY?

This is the fourth part in a series based on this cost/benefit analysis.  Here you can find Part 1:Scoping out the Sequence, Part 2: Making the Grade and Part 3: Unscheduling.  Next I want to talk about this "plus" for us in letting go of our math textbooks:

• I get to create the lessons and activities myself.

I've said this before many times, but I want to stress again that this series isn't meant to be an objective argument against the use of textbooks, or textbooks for math.  It is simply an exploration of why that choice has "fallen for me in pleasant places".  So if you read the above "pro" for going without textbooks and you think "Why on earth would anyone want to create things from scratch when they could be purchased already done?" then by all means, purchase them ready-made and don't give it a second thought!

I have a dear friend who is constantly knitting things for her children.  One Christmas she made her boys really cool real-looking "chainmail" with yarn!  She makes baby gifts (several for us!) and all kinds of other wonderful, cozy homemade treasures.  For the longest time I felt intimidated.  I saw all of the things she was doing and I thought to myself, "This is what good, dedicated mothers do - they knit.  Knitting is such an essential homemaking skill and it is frugal and it is such a wonderful, productive kind of busy.  If I was a good mother, I would do this, too."

I did try learning to knit, but I wasn't very good at it (maybe just because I didn't give it much of an effort) and I was disappointed in myself.  I thought, "My friend is so diligent and has so much good will power and self-control.  Why don't I have that?  Why don't I make the time to do this important thing?"  And then you know what I realized?  She doesn't knit because she's convinced it is a morally superior way to nurture her family or because she has the self control to "do hard things".  (She would probably laugh out loud if she knew that's what I was thinking.)  She knits because she likes to knit.  She knits because it quiets her soul.  She knits because that is where she finds peace and relaxation.  She knits for the joy of knitting!

And that, my friends, is why I love to make up my children's math work myself.  Please hear me. When I say "love" that is exactly what I mean.  I don't mean "I feel frugal," I don't mean "I feel diligent" and I don't mean "I feel educationally superior" I mean "I just like doing it".  When the children are in bed and I sit down with a stack of fresh notebook paper and a spreadsheet (just another thing that I love, because I'm a dork like that) it isn't a duty thing.  It just clicks with how I am wired.

The other day, I needed to make an activity for my six year old in sequencing numbers.  She's been working on place value to the hundreds, so I was going to ask her to order these numbers from least to greatest:

102
201
101

But just for fun, I also included

½

This isn't something most first graders would come across in their math books.  But she has been having fun with fractions recently.  At Sunday lunch she was given two cookies.  She carefully bit off half of a cookie and then held them both up together and said "Now I have a mixed number!"  I knew she could handle ordering a fraction in with whole numbers, and she loved it!  It just stirred my soul to get to make those choices myself.

Have you ever bought a used item of furniture or clothing with great plans to pull it apart and remake it just the way you wanted to suit your particular purposes?  And then at some point, did you come to the realization that using the bits and pieces of the pre-made item had actually become more complicated than scrapping it all and starting from scratch?  Well, that's how it was for me with textbooks.  Even after I had made changes in how we did math, I tried using textbook pages (because I still have four half-used consumable textbooks that are sitting on the shelf).  I was surprised at how hard it was to find one page with five problems that fit what each kid most needed to review.  Making the problems myself was just quicker and easier.

And, just to make sure you don't leave this post saying, "She is so good and diligent.  If only I could be a dutiful mother like her" (pardon me while I laugh myself to tears) I want to assure you that it's not all that complicated.  First, it's only five problems a day per kid.  And secondly, remember, I have  a handy spreadsheet (which I did not create myself) that helps me to pick what kind of problems to make.  It might sound intimidating to just make up five math problems.  But what if I said "Write down a three digit subtraction problem that requires borrowing."  You could do that, right?  That's all there is to my job.  It's just that I love doing it!

For me, it was a huge relief to drop slogging through pages of a pre-made textbook and instead much more energizing to make the problems yourself.  So what's the take-away?  The take-away for you is to know how you "tick" and to understand that using that as one of the factors in choosing how to homeschool isn't selfish or lazy - it's just a smart use of limited resources!

For more encouragement on the freedom to choose the method(s) of schooling that works for you, definitely read Teaching from Rest or check out Julie Bogart (founder of Bravewriter) Scoping about the "divide" between structured and unstructured learning.

And just for fun, head on over here and check out Mystie Winkler's page on your Homeschooling Personality Type.  You know what mine says?  Here are some relevant snippets:

The ENFJ ... loves to put together a plan just right for her family. 

• Strengths: mentoring, teaching, relationship-investment activities like read-alouds and family vacations
• Struggles: people-pleasing, her own intensity, anxiety and inner conflict
• Style: whatever she feels allows for the best development of her children; she will prefer an eclectic approach that follows her gut.

I don't believe that personality tests are perfect or that they dictate choices.  But it was pretty fun reading through that list and identifying some of my friends and their gifts and loves and seeing that there is so much variety in how we each are wired and how we homeschool.  That's a good thing, guys!!

I don't knit, but she does.  To each her own!

Unscheduling

This is the third part in a series based on this cost/benefit analysis.  Here you can find Part 1:Scoping out the Sequence and Part 2: Making the Grade.  Next I want to talk about this "plus" for us in letting go of our math textbooks:

• I can school without the parameters of a "school year" or a "work week".

Textbooks are designed to be used by schools and to meet the needs of a school schedule. And so they should be; this is not a criticism.  They generally plan for students to have 32-36 weeks of lessons and to complete lessons five days a week.  They intersperse new material and review material to round out the appropriate amount of assignments needed.  But couldn't a family use a textbook and still choose their own schedule?  Absolutely.  Here are some of the ways I've adapted our various subjects to fit with our own schedule.

• Our on-line History program has 32 topics with 5 "lessons" per topic (4 lessons and a test).  We do the test along with the fourth lesson so that we have four days of history instead of five per week.
• Our Latin textbook has 32 chapters of material, but interspersed along the way are review chapters.  Sometimes we skip the review chapters or sprinkle the review material in with other chapters.  Also, we often don't have a chance to complete all of the activities per chapter since we don't school 5 days a week.
• Our Math textbooks contain 170 lessons each.  In some grade levels, the textbook authors expect you to have a test (in a book you purchase separately) either every 5 or every 10 lessons (presumably every Friday or every other Friday).  I've never used the test materials and we've been skipping over those lessons that are only review with no new material presented.

So yes, you can use textbooks and make them work on most any schedule.  In other words, if I were trying to compile an objective list of reasons why one ought not to use textbooks, this one wouldn't really fit.  And even in a list of my own personal cost/benefit analysis, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was a secondary benefit rather than a driving cause.

See, in my imagination, our school culture would look something like this.  We would be a home where learning was part of the normal activity of the household.  We would study a variety of topics and read a variety of things.  We would wholeheartedly engage with what was in front of us, explore further if we wanted to, read extra, do some more problem solving or spend another day on it if needed.  And, when we had a need or an opportunity for a break, we would take it.  And when we had refreshed ourselves through a break, we would get back to the business of learning whatever was next.

And yes, this is doable with a textbook.  But when (for other reasons as well) we moved to going without the math textbooks, a wonderful benefit was realized in terms of the increased freedom to break when we need to and begin again when we are ready (which, at this point, has mostly included sick-days and broken arms!).  Perhaps, in the final analysis, this "benefit" speaks more to my own personal hang-ups over loose-ends and tidy finishes than to any objective characteristics of textbooks.  But if what we're doing is an individual cost/benefit analysis, personal hang-ups carry weight, too!

Making the Grade

This is the second part in a series based on this cost/benefit analysis.  Here you can find Part 1: Scoping out the Sequence.  Next I want to talk about this "plus" for us in letting go of our math textbooks:

• I can school without the restraints of grade level and (related) comparing my children to other children around the same age.

As I mentioned here, I was stopped dead in my tracks by this quote from Andrew Kern of the CiRCE Institute:

 To what level has my child mastered this skill?  And what is next?  Nothing else matters.

We are only a couple of weeks into this experiment, but already I am thankful for the release of focus on grade level and what each child "should" be doing or "should" have covered at this point.  In some cases, I have been astonished to realize that younger children were perfectly capable of grappling with concepts I intended only for older siblings.

Other times I realized that, though a child had successfully completed problems on a given topic many times, she didn't really understand the concept and I was thankful to have another pass at it as we learned as a family.  In one case, I decided to simply make a note of a concept that I felt she wasn't ready for (though she had completed many such problems in her current and previous math book) and come back to it later.

If we discuss a concept as a group and someone is not developmentally ready to comprehend it, then there isn't really anything that can be done at that point to force them to "get" it.  In fact, (as I have witnessed before) "forcing" the issue is what leads to my strong math thinkers "hating math".  Sure, if you work within the outlines of a grade level, you can control at what age you present the material to a child.  But you still can't control the age at which they master it.  

I can't quite predict how this will play out long-term.  To what extent - especially within the context of our culture - is it realistic to push aside concepts of "grade level" and move forward based on my children's developmental preparedness only?  If one of our students doesn't make it through calculus by age 18 does that mean this approach is flawed ... or that that child wasn't developmentally ready for the material and wouldn't have been ready under any system of instruction?

Perhaps my comfort and confidence with this approach will have a lot to do with whether I perceive my children to be getting "ahead" or "behind".  If this method primarily enables the younger ones to explore and master concepts they normally wouldn't have encountered so "early", then perhaps I will feel confident in our choice ... and less so if it leads to mastering concepts "later".  Hmmm ... that would be ironic, wouldn't it?

Scoping Out the Sequence

Back here I gave a rough outline of my cost/benefit analysis of going without textbooks (at least in math).  Since I've gotten some questions about the the reason behind them, I'd like to do a brief post expanding on each of the items I mentioned as "pros" for us.

• I'm not constrained to a particular scope and sequence (order of topics) and can order them based on learning opportunities, whole-family instruction and the developmental abilities of each child.

I want to stress (again) that there isn't anything wrong with purchasing curriculum with a scope and sequence or following one.  As mothers, our resources are limited.  It is not a cop-out to choose materials that take some of the work off of our plates!  However, at this point in the life of our family, the scope and sequence in our textbooks felt more like a restraint than a help.

As I looked through the children's textbooks (grades 6, 5, 3 and 1), I realized that there was a great deal of overlap in topics - at varying degrees of complexity, but related to the same general ideas.  However, these topics were not presented in the same order in each grade.  My first impulse was to tear all of the pages out of each of the (consumable) books, rearrange them by topic and use binder clips to clip together all of the pages that fell under the same general concept.  The problem with that idea was that since I'd be teaching the topics out of order (according to each individual textbook) and since an Abeka math page is about 25-40% work on the current topic and 60-75% review, the children would potentially be assigned "review" problems for concepts they had not yet learned.

Sure, I could create a system for keeping track of what each kid had already learned and then assign or skip over review problems accordingly.  But if I am going to keep track of those details and have that close of a handle on who needs to review what, the limited options offered on each math page actually become more of a restraint than a boon.  More on this when we talk about ...

• I get to create the lessons and activities myself.

Looking for Answers

Things still feel rough around here.  I still feel like I'm searching for answers.  I've made some progress on the track of practical solutions.  But I also have to admit that practical solutions are, at best, a temporary relief.  But (I should know this by now!) the answers that are of eternal good, that help despite the circumstances are the ones that transcend the circumstances.

Through a series of (super encouraging, life-giving) conversations with my brother and my mom, the Lord led me to 2 Corinthians 4.  I was looking for that "jars of clay" passage and I found more than I bargained for to nourish my soul.  This is what I am thinking on and praying today.


Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.

[Having this ministry.  It's a mercy.  That's a new thought.  And it's a reason not to lose heart.  Interesting.  Help me not to lose heart, Lord.  And to think of this ministry to my family as a mercy.]

But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

[I'm here for the gospel.  It's not my job to train my children to perform academic parlor tricks that make me look like an expert.  It's not my job to convince others that I've found the right or best way to homeschool so that I can gain a following.  It's not even my job to arrange things so that I feel successful.  It's about the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.  Help me, Lord!]

For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake.  For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

[I'm not here to seek my own kingdom.  I'm here to serve my children for the sake of Jesus.  Light of the Knowledge of the Glory of God ... in the face of Jesus Christ ... that sounds like it might be something important to keep in mind.  That sounds like the foundations of a purpose statement for our homeschool.]

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

[Oh, Lord!  Oh, Lord!  That thought both humbles me ... and raises me up.  I am a jar of clay, Lord.  Weak and broken.  And yet ... that isn't an accident?  The fact that you've entrusted these children, this task of proclaiming life-giving truth to real human beings, to someone who is so lowly, so insignificant and so, so frail herself ... that was a part of the plan?  I know what that means - as much as I don't like to admit it.  It means that I should stop holding my breath, stop longing for that day when I'm independent of your mercy, strong enough to cope without grace, too savvy to need to cry out to you in prayer.  I really do want the world to know that the surpassing power belongs to you.  And honestly, Lord, right now, the way you've got it set up, I don't think anyone would mistake me for the source!]

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

[How much suffering can I handle?  How long can I last?  How hard is too hard?  It seems like there must be this delicate balance, Lord.  This tiny margin between "afflicted" and "crushed", between "perplexed" and "despairing".  How could I find that small space?  How would I know how to measure out my own suffering?  How would I know how much my body could handle to have Jesus manifest in it today?  If I am afflicted, Lord, let it be from your hand.  Let no one else strike me down, Lord, but you, whom I trust to work death in me, and yet hold me back from being destroyed.]

Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, "I believed, and so I spoke," we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

[This is the big picture, this eternal, kingdom goal - more grace to more people, more thanksgiving, more glory to God.  That is a big, big thing to be a part of.  That gives purpose and hope beyond what I can accomplish in a day, even in a lifetime.]

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison ....

[Is it overly dramatic, Lord, at age 37 to say that my outer self is wasting away?  Because it does feel like a wasting away.  And yet, if the counterpart to that is my inner self being renewed day by day, then no time is too soon to embrace that pattern.  Momentary.  Light.  Affliction.  Eternal.  Weight.  Glory.  I believe, Lord, but help my unbelief.  Keep me, here, from being crushed.  And then, in eternity, crush me with that eternal weight.  Smother me with your glory. I'll be ready for it.  I'll be desperate for it.]

... as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 

[See, that's just where my struggle is, Lord.  The "seen" is so much easier to "see" than the unseen.  But I suppose you're trying to remind me that how easy something is to see has a lot to do with where I am looking.]

A Very Simple Schedule

At the beginning of the week, I felt a moment of crisis because I knew that I needed to spend more one-on-one time with my new reader and my struggling reader.  The schedule already felt packed and scary and the thought of adding one more thing was daunting (to put it mildly).  Monday evening, I attended Part 2 of the Focus and Align class at the Read Aloud Revival and the beginnings of some ideas began to percolate.  We had two hard, rough days, followed by two good, smooth encouraging days, followed by one more hard, low, rough day (as viewed from my internal perspective, only).  And here, in retrospect, is what I think has settled out to be our new schedule*:

• Breakfast (sometimes while listening to a recorded book or story)
• Morning Chores, Joseph (1) to nap
• Read the Bible
• Talk about Math
• Talk about Language
• Meet one-on-one with Luke (10) and Robyn (6) to practice reading skills
  Emma (9) and Ruth (8) take turns doing things with Henry (4) and Hazel (3)
• Lunch
• Quick Straightening, Hazel (3) and Joseph (1) to naps
• Quiet Work Time (Math 5-A-Days, Latin and some silent reading)
  On Tuesdays this is replaced by "Latin Class" with another family
• Play Outside
• Final Clean-up
• History (on-line course the kids do as a group) while Mama fixes dinner

That's it.  That is all we can do in a day.  And some days we don't accomplish all of that.  If you look closely, you'll probably notice things that aren't included.  I bet your list wouldn't be even a third of the things that are on my mind.  But I'm setting that aside for right now.  Let tomorrow worry about itself.  This is what we can do right now.

* We do school Monday-Thursday.  Fridays are for laundry, housework and maybe projects.

The Next Thing

One of the things that I have recently found to be a crushing burden of homeschool (for me, for now) is the feeling of needing to "finish" something in a given time.  I fear that if I don't finish it, my kids will be "behind".  I fear that if I don't finish it, I will have wasted the money I invested in it.  I fear that if I don't finish it, I'll miss out on that break I was hoping to take when it is all done.

For some (and even for me, in other phases of life) the structure is helpful.  It's nice to have someone else plan out what a year's worth of work includes, how much to review when and what should be included in a day of work or practice.  It feels very tidy to have five days worth of activity and begin again on Monday.  When we are able to get it done, it brings a sense of completion and closure.  But those days are getting much fewer and farther between.

Perhaps I'm less able to accomplish something that would be good to accomplish.  Perhaps the new pressures and constraints of life at this moment are revealing "shoulds" that never should have been "shoulds" and I am now releasing myself from them.  But whatever the case (and in some ways, it really doesn't matter) there is only this: what can we - at this stage, with this present grouping of children and this present, tired mama - accomplish in one day?  That is it.  What has God given us to do on this day?  Let's do it.  Let tomorrow worry about itself.

And what if we get to the end of the day and it wasn't all done?  Then not all of those things were things God meant for us to do today.  Yes, maybe there was time wasted.  Maybe we could have been more efficient.  But on this day, at this moment, whatever the causes, the task is still the same - trust to the Lord what wasn't accomplished and wake up tomorrow to start on the next thing.

As much as possible, I have moved away from organizing our subjects such that they must be done on a daily or weekly schedule in order to "work".  I've tried to avoid setting up things such that if we miss a day we are "behind" and have to try to cram two days worth of work into one (or three into two).  Instead it has worked much better for us if Mama has a general sense of the next thing(s) she'd like to teach or work on with the children.  When we come to school time, we do the next thing.  And if we don't get to it, it is tomorrow's next thing.

Didn't read a chapter of our read aloud book?  It will still be there tomorrow.  Talked about place value but they didn't fully "get" the concept?  Talk about it some more tomorrow; try another approach.  Time to start school but not all the morning chores aren't complete? They can wait until the next slot of time for getting a little work done.  (Or, do a little more housework and some school things can wait until later.)

The only way to make this system a reality has been, as much as possible, to unchain activities from each other so that each piece can move forward (or not!) independently.  Since our math discussion and written practice are no longer directly linked, we can do one without the other, if needed, on any given day.  Since the children's Five-A-Days are all things that we have already covered and they are just reviewing, we can take more time than I expected to work on our current concept without interfering with the Five-A-Day work I picked for them.  Or, conversely, if we didn't get a chance to complete the Five-A-Days, they can wait for the next day and our morning math conversations can keep happening.

This week, my oldest was only able to finish three out of the five problems on his Five-A-Day one afternoon.  Rather than requiring him to "catch up" on those two and do five new ones the next day, I simply took those two problems, added three more and they were his Five-A-Day for the next day.  If we've determined that five problems in a day is what we can manage, then why plan to do seven?  There will always be more good things to discuss and practice.  What do we gain by "doubling up"?  What are we racing against?  More and more, for us, the answer is: nothing!

Note: The two subjects that still "need" to fall into a weekly pattern are History and Latin.  And for now, I'm going to let them stay that way.  I'm not at all convinced that Latin is something all homeschoolers must do, but I have a degree in Latin and, quite frankly, it's something I love to teach.  Plus, our pastor's wife and her two youngest come over on Tuesday afternoons to do Latin with us, which is a big plus in the be-with-people category (perhaps even more for Mama than for the kids!).  We began three years ago with Song School Latin and are now working through the Latin for Children series.  We are on Primer B out of C, so after next year we'll reevaluate what to do next.

Though it is not absolutely essential, our history program works best done in five-lesson-a-week rotations because every five lessons covers one topic.  I absolutely love the Veritas Press History for many reasons.  Content-wise, it covers history, including Church History, map skills and lots of historical context.  Each era of history has its own song which helps the children to have a mental framework for the order and relationship of historical events, as well as some key dates.  Another plus is that it is on-line, very interactive, and the kids can do it on their own (mostly) while I watch and listen from the kitchen as I make dinner.

Do the Next Thing

I just love this poem.  Some sites credit it to Elizabeth Elliot.  Others mention that she shared it as from an anonymous author.  I haven't been able to find out for sure who wrote it, so I'll leave it unattributed for now.  I have had a copy of this poem for quite some time and think of it often.  But recently it seems to have risen to the surface of my soul as a kind of "theme song" of our homeschool (or at least the theme song of my own processing of thoughts about our homeschool).

Do The Next Thing

From an old English parsonage,
Down by the sea,
There came in the twilight,
A message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend,
Deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me,
Teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours
The quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration
 “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment,
Let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity,
Guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows,
Child of the King, 
Trust them with Jesus,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Do it immediately;
Do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence,
Tracing His Hand,
Who placed it before thee with 
Earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence,
Safe 'neath His wing,
Leave all resultings,
“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering)
Be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence,
The rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance
Be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness,
Praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee,
“DO THE NEXT THING."
-Author unknown

Just a random picture that makes me smile.

Why No Textbooks?

(Note: What follows is a discussion of why I am experimenting with not using textbooks, not an argument for why anyone should not use textbooks.  See here also.)

I once read an article in Reader's Digest about how to decide whether to do a task yourself or pay someone to do it.  For example, is it a more economical use of your time to mow the lawn yourself, or to hire someone else to do it?  Part of the calculation had to do with your own income level and/or hourly wage.  If you divide your annual salary by the number of hours you work per year and that figure is larger than the cost per hour to hire someone to mow your lawn, hire out the job because your time is more valuably spent elsewhere.

But, thankfully, that was only a part of the equation.  Another part (I wish I could find the article, because I'm sure there was more) was to consider what you enjoy.  In other words, the personal "perk" you get from performing a task yourself is also a factor in the "value" equation.  If mowing the lawn is something you really enjoy, or you prefer doing it yourself because you are particular about how it is done, or the satisfaction you get from doing it yourself and saving the money is a "plus" in your energy category, then this may outweigh the basic dollars per hour calculation above.

The same is true with mom-energy, even if we don't have an actual paycheck calculation.  Matt has a degree in economics and he is always reminding me of "implicit cost".  In other words, I may be able to find kids' jeans cheaper at a thrift store ... if I don't mind making several trips, if I don't mind weeding through rows of clothes, if can find the sizes I need and if I check them thoroughly for stains.  But if I walk into Kohl's and grab the pairs I need in the sizes I need and walk out ten minutes later, that may be worth the extra (and it might not be that much extra) cost, because time is money.  And stress is costly!

This applies to hundreds of areas of life.  Why do you choose to ... breastfeed or not, use cloth diapers or not, make your own bread or not, paint rooms yourself or not, even (yes, I'm saying it) homeschool or not?  At the end of the day, it isn't a simple right/wrong decision.  And it isn't only a money decision.  It's a broader cost-benefit analysis.  You may not think of it that way consciously, but it is.

One person uses cloth diapers because the things on the "plus" side (whichever things those might be fore her) outweigh the things on the "minus" side.  Reusing something for multiple children gives such a feeling of satisfaction that it outweighs the not-so-bad (to her) job of rinsing dirty diapers.  For another, the the cost of disposables is small (with relation to her household income) and is well worth it compared to the fact that cloth diapers make mommy the only person in the household who is qualified to change and dispose of diapers.

So when I consider going without textbooks, it isn't really a consideration of "right" and "wrong".  It's not even about "good", "better" and "best" (more about that in another post).  It's really about the cost-benefit analysis for our family and, more specifically, for me personally.

Here's a sketch of the "cost" of going without textbooks ...

• No ready-made material on hand (more time and brainpower needed to make things by hand)
• Missing out on the colorful, professional layouts
• More responsibility rests on me to choose (i.e. research and decide on) the scope and sequence (not just within the year, but from one year to another)

But here are (on my balance sheet) are the benefits of dropping textbooks ...

• I'm not constrained to a particular scope and sequence (order of topics) and can order them based on learning opportunities, whole-family instruction and the developmental abilities of each child.
• I can school without the restraints of grade level and (related) comparing my children to other children around the same age.
• I can school without the parameters of a "school year" or a "work week".
• I get to create the lessons and activities myself.
• I'm not bound up by a need to "finish" a purchased curriculum,  or "get  my money's worth"; no need to weed through and pick out which parts of a lesson to do.
• A LOT less time spent explaining work and correcting (and re-correcting) work.
• I have a better handle on the actual, individual progress of each child and I can individualize practice not only to the specific topics each child needs to review, but to the frequency with which each needs to review.
• I don't have to pay for textbooks.  But this almost doesn't count, because there is no doubt that I'll find other ways to spend the money on our homeschooling ... some of them probably made necessary by this approach.

As I read over these, I realize that each one could use some explaining.  Actually, each one could probably use its own blog post.  So for now I'll leave it as it is and come back and retro-link each one as I have a chance to write on it elsewhere. [done!]  As you read over this list, you may realize that some things in the "cost" category would be huge costs for you.  And maybe some of the things in the "benefits" category don't seem like much of a benefit (or would even qualify as a "cost" for you).  This would be one of those areas where knowing yourself and making decisions accordingly will be of great benefit to you and to your family!

Snag a Deal?

If you've been thinking about reading Teaching from Rest, may I kindly suggest the audio files?  No shipping charges and they are read by Sarah Mackenzie herself.  (Yes, she is cheerful and perky, but in a fun, friendly, chatting-at-the-kitchen-table kind of way.)  Also, Classical Academic Press is currently offering a 20% off discount (on all of their materials, actually, including this one).  It's only $8 to begin with.  Calculate in the savings and you could be listening to some really encouraging stuff in moments for less than six and a half bucks.

(Use code CAPTY20 when you check out.  It's only valid through March 31, 2016.)

The Teaching from Rest Companion Files are also no-shipping/downloadable files and also eligible for the 20% discount.

I'm not an affiliate.  I don't get any kickbacks.  CAP didn't ask me to say this.

Textbooks and Training Wheels

I wrote the very first post for this blog (with the same graphic) early one Monday morning before the kids were up.  I had a crazy plan.  I had been talking to my dad and my brother some about it.  And I wanted to start documenting it from the beginning.  So I started the blog.  I meant to talk about the training wheels analogy at some point.  And I meant to talk about why I would think about going without textbooks.  And then life kinda happened.  And this whole journey churned up a lot of other thoughts to process that ended up as blog posts.  So, here I am again, back to the start to finish what I began.  What does this blog have to do with training wheels?

We had our first homebirth with the birth of our fourth baby.  While part of me thought "I wish I had done it this way all along!" another part of me wondered if I really would have been up for that.  Perhaps, in God's providence, it was the right thing for me to have a few babies in the hospital before coming across the idea of homebirth.  I feel the same way about going without textbooks.  I haven't even finally decided if this will work for us.  But I feel pretty sure that it wouldn't have worked for me from the beginning (though I am sure that there are plenty of moms out there who take off sans-textbook from the word go).  I needed time to get my balance, so to speak, and, honestly, to mature a little bit.  That is why I use the analogy of training wheels.  I'm glad I learned to homeschool with textbooks.  Now I'd like to try without and see if we can enjoy and manage the freedom (and risk!).

However, I want to be very clear that I didn't choose that analogy because I wanted to set no-textbooks as superior to or more sophisticated than using textbooks.  I don't even see it as something that all homeschooling moms are or should be working towards.  It was just that on that Monday morning, our new experiment felt to me like taking the training wheels of my bike for the first time.  Exhilarating ... yet terrifying!

So many times as I read through Teaching from Rest, I felt like Sarah Mackenzie had reached into my own brain, scooped out my half-formed thoughts and composed them into eloquent, coherent sentences.  Here's one example that applies to this discussion:

Whether or not you purchase open-and-go curriculum doesn't really matter.  You can pretty much forget all the heated discussions about whether you are caving in to school-at-home if you use traditional workbooks or a straight-from-the-box curriculum.  I know successful homeschooling families who use textbooks and successful homeschooling families who eschew them.  I don't think that's a relevant debate to be having if you want to teach from rest and become happy, content, peaceful and effective homeschooling moms.

If I have one point to argue about using textbooks, it isn't that you should or shouldn't.  It's just that you don't have to.  I don't yet  know which camp I will land in.  As this point, I think it likely we'll use textbooks for some subjects and not for others.  But either way, this experiment has been worth it, because I now know that I can decide based on what works best for us!

Flu and Freedom

After Hazel's surgery, Matt got the flu.  And then he kindly shared it with each of us in turn.  I thought I had the worst of it Saturday, Sunday and Monday.  I was wrong.  Tuesday was so bad I had to ask Matt to stay home from work.  Yesterday I was just barely well enough to be the grown-up in charge.  And it was a wonderful day.  Not in every way.  But in some ways of good, long-term importance.

Sarah Mackenzie, author of Teaching from Rest also has a blog and a podcast.  (See ... that's why I didn't want to read her book.  What kind of normal mother of six children can do those things?  Plus in her blog pictures, she looks perky.  And showered.  Clearly she is in super-woman territory and I don't fit in that category.  But I digress ...).  The same friend who finally convinced me to read Teaching from Rest has also been "pestering" (and I use that term in the nicest possible way) me to check out Sarah's podcast.  There is a members-only side of the site that includes author events, extra resources and what she calls "Master Classes".

So, because I was stuck in bed and needed encouragement even more than I needed physical healing (which is saying a lot) I decided to take the plunge.  After all, I am forever grateful that I finally gave in and read Teaching from Rest.  So the chances were good this friend knows me well enough to know what will bless my soul.  I took a Master Class she recommended (and was also taking) called "Focus and Align" and it was UH-mazing.

Sarah led us through several steps in considering our particular family, our gifts, what works for us and what is important to us.  For example, in one of the exercises, Sarah asked us to imagine that our children were sitting down to a meal with friends some 20 years from now and someone asks "So, you were homeschooled. What was that like?"  What words do I hope will come to mind?  What are the things that I most want my children to remember as their experience of childhood and homeschool?

These activities helped to take me beyond the ground-level focus on "math" and "handwriting" and more towards the goals, practices and atmosphere of my home.  We then used this thinking and exploration to create our family "Rule of Six" - six things that are foundational to our family and which we hope to do every day.  Here is how ours turned out.  (And below it are two other prettier versions from my Sarah Mackenzie-pushing friend that she fancied up for me!)

I completed this activity Tuesday evening.  By Wednesday, when I was on my own again with all the kiddos, somehow, "homeschool" seemed more manageable.  If these were the six most important things to do every day, in big, broad brush strokes, then I could adapt them to something I could do from the bed as well.  In fact, we opened our homeschool day by talking about our new "Rule of Six".  The kids were excited.  Tonight at dinner we talked about what we did yesterday and today that involved each item on the list.  It may seem like a small thing, but it reminded this Mama that good, important and grace-infused things are happening right here, every day.  Even on flu days.

P.S. Our assignment was to make up our own Rule of Six and share it on social media, tagged #RARruleof6.  If you want to see what other folks have come up with, check out that hashtag.  What is so beautiful is that they are all different!  There is not one "expert version".  We are each the experts on our own homes and our own children!

All You Need to Know

While Teaching from Rest (and the companion material) has been inspiring my soul and driving my contemplation of why I am doing what I am doing, Math on the Level has inspired contemplation into the how of our homeschooling.  But then it got more interesting.  There has been a fascinating interplay between the two sources.  And it has been this convergence of ideas that has kept me searching and experimenting!

A long time ago I recognized in myself a propensity to create frustration for myself by stewing over what my children should be able to do.  "She is [x] years old!  She should be able to go upstairs and straighten her room without constant supervision!"  "He is in [x] grade!  He should be able to read at a higher level!"  "She should be able to focus on her work for more than [x] minutes at a time!"  "It should not take a [x]-year-old this long to [complete a given task]!"

But where do all these "shoulds" come from?  If I'm honest with myself, they come from the fact that I decide how well I am doing as a mother by comparing myself to other mothers and their children.  Not only is this a shaky and inaccurate way to determine if I'm doing my job well, it fosters an attitude of competition rather than cooperation.  If your kid does worse, my kid looks better, right?  It's hard not to take satisfaction in your failures if they make me look like I have a leg up. And, as destructive as it can be to friendships to compare myself and my children with others, it is far more destructive to my children.

But what if you aren't comparing your children to other real-life children, just to "theoretical" children or "the average child"?  Isn't there some value, you might ask, in knowing what a "fourth grader" should be able to read or in having clear expectations for a "three year old"?  Well, yes and no.

When I taught in a public school setting, it was necessary for someone (in our case the Virginia Department of Education via the Standards of Learning) to organize material by grade level simply to facilitate the division of labor.  If the third grade teachers and the fourth grade teachers both taught Virginia history and nobody covered Ancient Rome, there would be a problem.  It was also useful to have math and language topics arranged by relative complexity to give teachers a general understanding of what concepts were reasonable to teach to a Kindergartener as compared to a fifth grader.

But what if you remove the division-of-labor factor?  What if you are a homeschool mom?  Or, what if you are a parent teaching your child a skill like putting away the silverware, sitting quietly in church or keeping her attention on a job?  Yes, it is still helpful to know what is reasonable to expect at a given age or stage.  But in another sense, it is somewhat irrelevant.

Let's say, for whatever reason, based on whatever statistical or anecdotal evidence, I'm convinced that my child should be further along in math or reading or should be able to sit still in church better than she does.  How much of an impact should that have on what I do today or tomorrow?  Regardless of where you start out this morning, what you should expect from your child today is one day's worth of progress.

In his conversation with Sarah Mackenzie, Andrew Kern said, "To what level has my child mastered this skill?  And what is next?  Nothing else matters."  I tend to agree.  I need to know where my child is.  And I need to know what the next step is in helping him grow.  And that's it.  Yes, it's OK to have a general concept of what you're aiming for.  And it's OK to observe how your child compares to "the average child" as a part of understanding his strengths and weaknesses.  But when it comes down to today, the task is still the same: make one day's worth of progress on the journey.

Math on the Level has shown me a practical way to do both of those things - know where my child is and decide where to go from here - and with less of a focus on the "should" of other children.  I love it when ideas from different venues harmonize!

Anxiety - the Noble Sin

Sarah Mackenzie says that "rest is the virtue between negligence and anxiety".  In the companion journal to Teaching from Rest she asks the reader to consider whether she tends more towards negligence or anxiety.  Mentally I answered quickly "I tend more towards anxiety!"

On the face of it, who would ever wish to be anxiety-prone?  Who wants to be thought of (or to think of themselves as) stressed out?  However (now be honest with me, or at least with yourself) if given the choice, would you rather be thought of as anxious ... or as negligent?

We live in a society that values productivity and efficiency.  Being stressed is a sign of drive and industry.  Being negligent is just plain unattractive.

When we first moved into our current home and people would come over to visit, I would give them a tour.  Matt came to refer to it as the "apology tour".  I didn't want anyone to think that I lacked vision or purpose, so my comments about every room involved making definite statements about what I didn't like about the room and how I planned to change it.  If I couldn't show off what I had actually done, at least I could let everybody know that I was constantly thinking about what I should be doing.  What was missing was a simple contentment with and gratitude for what the Lord had provided.

I've carried over the same attitude to my mothering.  If my kids aren't where I think they should be, if I haven't included everything in our schedule that I feel we should, if other people are accomplishing things that I'm not, at least I can communicate to people that I am constantly tied up in knots about what I'm not doing.  Doesn't that seem more noble than falling short and being OK with it?  Or, put another way, if I criticize myself first, I preempt any chance for someone else to do it for me.

Of course, I wouldn't describe myself (out loud, at least) as anxiety-prone.  I have much more attractive ways of framing my condition.  I care deeply about my children's upbringing.  I take this job very seriously.  I accept my personal responsibility for these decisions and practices.  After all, who could fault me for caring too much?

So, not only did I have to honestly admit that I am more prone to anxiety, I am actually willing to believe that anxiety is the anecdote to negligence.  Let me rephrase that: I am convinced that describing myself as anxious is the anecdote to being perceived as negligent.  After all, if you aren't stressing over something, you must not care too much about it, right?  Truth be told, I think I somehow manage to be both negligent and anxious at the same time!

Another time I'd like to do a follow-up post to share some insights on anxiety from Sarah Mackenzie's interview with Andrew Kern (another one of the items in the Teaching from Rest Companion files).

Letting Go

My mother has always been a master of illustrations and analogies.  I can still vividly recall dozens of picture images she used to explain spiritual and intangible concepts to us as children and even now that we are adults.  Once a few years ago at a gathering of young moms, she used the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 with five loaves and two fish as an analogy for our job as mothers.  There is no possible way we can accomplish feeding 5,000 hungry people (raising our children to godly adulthood) in our own strength.  Instead we must allow him to use our bread and fish (our gifts and resources) to accomplish his purposes.

Sarah Mackenzie uses this same analogy in Teaching from Rest in Part One: Whose "Well Done" Are You Working For? (Please note: Even if you aren't a homeschool mom, please keep reading.  This has nothing to do with homeschooling - really - and everything to do with being a finite human tasked with kingdom work!)

Just like the disciples, I see this huge throng of people to feed - this seeming impossibility.  The shaping of souls and raising of children, the mopping of floors, washing of dishes, bandaging of scraped knees and hearts and worries, the teaching and admonishing and doling out myself.  It's all too much ... I fall to my knees and I cry out to God.  We're a throng of hungry people in the desert, and I'm supposed to feed them. On an ordinary Monday, I am in need of a miracle of biblical proportions.  

It isn't that I have nothing, exactly.  I have my little basket.  I can read aloud pretty well.  I'm good at organizing things on paper.  I can make a decent pot of chili and I know how to push a vacuum.  I love my children with all of my being and I have a real desire to watch them grow to love and serve Him.  I don't really have any idea how I'm supposed to tackle everything ahead of me in this day, this year, this decade when that's all I've got.  It's just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish. 

Apparently that's all He needs.

As I have contemplated this recently, one thought that came to mind was that the little boy who brought the loaves and the fish had to do something really hard.  Offering his food to the Lord meant letting go of the only thing he had.  He was a hungry person in the desert, too, after all.  He didn't get to hold back on a loaf or two, giving the rest to the Lord for miracle-working.  He had to give it all up.

I don't want to try to read things into this Biblical account that aren't intended to be there.  God doesn't tell us (and if he doesn't, he must have his reasons) how the boy was feeling, if he had much time to contemplate the request or if his parents were there to help him process it all.  The only thing we know is that he gave all his food away, that he (like everyone else) was fed until he had enough and that his letting go was one small part of the unfolding of God's plan.

So what does it look like to "let go"?  Does that mean sitting on the sofa and waiting around for God to work?  Does it mean making no plans or refraining from giving my children any structure or direction?  Does it mean that planning, activity and effort are signs of resistance and rebellion?

I'm still chewing on this thought, still working through what it looks like to trust the Lord with my gifts and resources, to use them to seek first his kingdom and trust that "all these things" will be added unto me.  But one place I have been convicted is my lack of prayer.  (What follows are my own reflections on me.  Apply only as applicable.)

If I'm honest, I have to admit that when I'm up in the morning before the children, I find far more comfort in using a 15 or 20 minute chunk of time to get some laundry started, pay some bills or do something else that gives me a feeling of productivity and a foothold on the day, than I do taking that time to pray.  I don't think that Scripture requires us to pray for 20 minutes every morning or to pray every morning or to pray instead of paying bills or anything specific like that.  However, I do know that my heart usually runs first to "doing" rather than to "trusting".

Sarah Mackenzie writes,

An indispensable part of bringing our basket, prayer puts aside "doing" in favor of "being" and "becoming": being in his presence and becoming more like Him.

It's not that prayer is a twisting of God's arm to enforce the meeting of our desires.  Rather, prayer - handing over my basket to God - is a way for me to acknowledge that it was never mine to begin with and that I'm OK with him using it however he sees fit.  I'll leave you with two more gems from Teaching from Rest ...

Before we attempt to live a day well, teach our children, or tackle our to-dos, first we put the whole thing at his feet.  We beg God to use us to fulfill His purpose, and then we see that every frustration in the day ahead is an answer to that very prayer. [emphasis mine]

We are weary because we forget about grace.  We act as though God showing up is the miracle.  But guess what?  God's showing up is a given.  Grace is a fact.

Why would I not want to start my day by soaking in that truth for a while?

Day 7: Failure or Flexibility?

Because I stayed up (too) late the night before working on the math spreadsheet ... and because the person I was sleeping next to spent the night dealing with fever and chills, I was a tired, tired girl in the morning.  I hadn't made any Five-A-Days for the kids. So, here was the true test.  Our experiment met its first big trial-by-fire.

I do have a tendency to procrastinate.  Sometimes I choose not to work because the work seems overwhelming.  But sometimes I choose "fun" work (like getting a spreadsheet up and running) over less fun work (like writing out Five-A-Day questions).  The night before I was telling myself I'd get up early and do them before the children woke up (which I have done several times over the course of this experiment).  When that didn't happen, I told myself I'd find a time somewhere to fit them in during the morning, since the kids didn't have to do them until the afternoon.

The result was that everybody had Math 5-A-Days, but nobody had any language.  So, was this a failure of the system (or a proof that I don't have the character qualities for a system like this)?  In hindsight, I truly think not.

First, the night before, what I had spent about three hours doing was setting up the review-topics section of the spreadsheet for each individual kid.  Yes, this was fun (for me).  But just because I'm enjoying my work doesn't necessarily prove I'm being lazy, selfish, weak or [insert other pejorative character trait].  This was good work that needed to be done.  And it was one-time kinda work.  Maintaining the spreadsheet on a daily basis will take moments, compared to the hours the initial set-up process took.  (Good thing I enjoy that kinda work, right?)

Secondly, because the math spreadsheet was fully up and running, and the language one wasn't (still isn't) it gave me a great chance to compare the process of making 5-A-Days with and without a fully functional spreadsheet!  Getting math set up was fun and easy - look down the list of topics that need review, pick a few and make questions to fit.  Language, on the other hand, was daunting (and so never got done) because it was more of a mental effort.  Not as much of the planning was laid out for me.

So, in the end, I think Day 7 was a great success.  We did morning school smoothly.  And I had a chance to see what a great resource and tool the spreadsheet is!  Gives me even more motivation to get another (others?) up and functional!!

Staff Development Day

I'll be honest; this has been a tough week.

Monday: Toddler breaks arm at 10 am, day spent visiting doctors, night spent comforting a hurting child.

Tuesday: Spent in a hospital, including handing over my weeping toddler to strangers for my first ever experience of one of my children under general anesthesia.

Wednesday - Thursday: Husband has the flu and is out of commission entirely.

Friday: I'm toast.  And I'm an emotional basket case.  And today is my baby's first birthday.  Cause for thanksgiving and celebration, but also cause for reflecting on the past year which has, without a doubt, been the hardest. year. yet.

So, we did some light chores (regular stuff for a Friday) and now I'm giving myself a day to reflect and process, which I do best through writing.  I've actually been processing through writing for years, but in the form of documents on my computer.  I never felt comfortable blogging because I never felt like I had any "answers".  Now I've realized that what I have to share isn't answers, but questions - the journey, not the endpoint.  And it is such a relief to share.  So maybe I'll get caught up on the blog?

Side note: I don't know how anyone ever managed to homeschool (and stay sane) before Netflix and Amazon Prime Instant Video.