5 Days of Fighting Your Fears

I’m so excited to be joining the blog cruise at the Homeschool Crew. All next week I’ll be blogging about the fears we face as homeschoolers, providing encouragement and answering some of those dreaded questions like “What if I fail?” and “What if I ruin my kid’s life?” From my own fears as a homeschool mom and my experience as a homeschool graduate, I’ll be sharing insights and reflections on these tough questions. It’s going to be a great week of getting vulnerable and gaining victory.

Be sure to join me for a week of inspiration and motivation. Then, check out all of the other awesome bloggers posting on over 60 topics!

Spinning to 100

I’m sitting on the couch, feeding the baby, and listening to the sounds of the kids learning. It’s a fun sound with lots of silliness and laughing. Before sitting down, I’d sent my son to the school room with his sister; his assignment was to get the numbers chart and help her count to 100 (a sneaky way to give him a little practice as well).

Loudly, with their silliest voices, I hear them count off “41, 42, 43, 44…” They pause only long enough to laugh hilariously at themselves. “98, 99, 100!” And then I hear my son holler out, “Mom, can we count the short way? 10, 20, 30?” Of course, I give permission and then listen to their gleeful voices once more. They finish, but they are not done. Now they are counting again from the beginning, only this time they’ve decided to hop as they count. One—and they jump once. Two—and they jump two times. They keep going until they reach 14, and my son announces that he is getting tired; they hop while they count now, sometimes with both feet and sometimes on one foot, and no longer in the school room.

“28, 29, 30, 31…Let’s spin now!” And they whirl around in the living room like little tops, “69, 70, 71…” until they stumble to 100 for the last time, dizzy, exhausted, and beaming ridiculously. I finish with the baby and give them both high-fives, thrilled to have ended our homeschooling morning with such a bang.

Coveting Curriculum

I read a post awhile back that was really convicting. It challenged me to realize that just because I can resist impulse buying doesn’t mean I haven’t coveted. Sometimes, covetousness lurks in our minds and hearts, a desire waiting for the right opportunity to be fulfilled.

And I’ll tell you where I’m most guilty—not in shoes or clothes or bags or even jewelry, though occasionally something might catch my fancy. Truthfully, my greatest temptation is school curriculum. As a matter of fact, let’s broaden that to anything education-related. A new catalog, a sale email, a link in a blog post—suddenly I’m ushered into a realm of utter delight and ecstasy, running my mouse over the virtual image in nothing less than desire and covetousness.

I don’t click “finalize order.” I don’t always “add to cart.” Sometimes, I can even resist the “add to wishlist” button. But I dream. Read more…

 

My Kinesthetic/Hands-on Preschooler

I recently read a post on kinesthetic or hands-on learners that was absolutely intriguing. For one, it totally reminded me of my daughter in every way, but she’s only three and I hesitated to peg her learning style so early. And then I realized how helpful the tips for this learning style can be for any preschooler. Read through this list of traits for kinesthetic learners and tell me you can’t see your preschooler here.

  • They like to move: fidget, tap, wiggle. Bottom-line, they can’t sit still.
  • They can’t “see” anything unless they’ve touched it.
  • They are usually coordinated and do well at sports.
  • They have a dramatic way of expressing themselves.
  • They enjoy getting their hands dirty.
Now, aside from the coordination factor, I’d say that’s a pretty accurate description of many 3-4 year old (with a few exceptions: my son would definitely have been an exception to some of those).

As I did a little more research, though, I loved the ideas that I saw and could immediately see the potential for my preschooler.

  • Memorize facts by movement (hand motions, jumping jacks, etc.)
  • Take plenty of “movement breaks.” Every 10-15 minutes (or even more often depending on your preschooler), provide a wiggle activity or something to encourage movement.
  • Learn with lots of games and tactile activities—let your preschooler touch!
  • One post even suggested replacing the desk chair with an exercise ball (for older kinesthetic learners, don’t know how well that would work with my preschooler…hmmm).

Reading about this learning style really helped me to understand why certain activities were such a success and why others totally bombed, and it was extremely reassuring. The beauty of homeschool is the ability to tailor learning for what fits the kid. If my preschooler would rather match “Daddy” letters to “baby”  letters than drill through a set of cards as the curriculum instructs, I can go with it! She’ll learn more than just letters; she’ll discover that learning is fun.

A Successful Lesson in Failure

“By allowing my child to fail, I was teaching him about success.”

I actually confronted the issue of failure recently with my kindergartener. In our second year of homeschooling, he hadn’t really had to face any degree of failure before.

Then, we started to struggle with addition, and my default-plan of letting my son choose his best papers to show his father wasn’t giving my husband a complete picture of how we were really doing. As I talked over our struggles with my husband, he was a little confused; after all, he saw only success and mastery. I decided I’d better make some changes to my default-plan. And that’s what led to my discovery that I was failing to truly teach about failure.

The next day, my son worked a math sheet and missed several addition problems. Together we talked through the right answers to the problems that I had checked. He reworked the problems with me and then I broke the news to him: “We’re going to show Daddy this page, because he needs to know what we have trouble with as well as what we’re doing well in.” Immediately my son burst into tears. Suddenly, I understood the unintentional lesson I was teaching my son.

Inadvertently, I was teaching him that only success brought reward, that only perfection brought the attention that he wanted. I wasn’t giving my husband the opportunity to praise my son for determination or perseverance; my son was only receiving his daddy’s praise for perfect papers. It wasn’t a lesson either my husband or I had planned to teach, and it definitely wasn’t our view of success. But regardless, my son had already shaped the idea in his head that approval was gained through perfection.

Daddy came home that day, and my son sheepishly showed him the marked-up paper. And the most beautiful lesson unfolded: a lesson of love despite imperfection, a lesson of approval for a best effort, and a lesson of praise for character rather than performance. As I watched my husband and my son interact, I couldn’t help but wonder at how close I came to missing out on this moment.

What if I had chosen to show the paper to my husband without my son’s knowledge? What if I had caved to my son’s tears and decided not to show that paper at all? What if I had continued with our trend of only showing off the best?

My son would probably not have been scarred for life had we not addressed the issue of failure in this way; but then again, he might very well have developed an attitude of success vs. failure that would begin to shape his future.

By allowing my child to fail, I was teaching him about success. (<Tweet This)
It was a valuable lesson for all of us, and not one I would have ever thought to pencil into the curriculum or schedule into my lesson planner.

Room for Improvement

Our start to homeschooling last year began with a rocky start, a long break for re-evaluation, and then a much more successful second attempt.
And this year—well, it hasn’t been without it’s own adjustments. It seems that everyday, I’m tweaking our schedule, our system, and our material. And everyday, I’m closer to where I’d like to be. Of course, there are those days when success comes to a screeching halt and triumph throws a tantrum in my school room floor. But then, I call it a day, re-evalutate (again), and tweak a little bit more.
It’s been in the midst of all that tweaking that I’ve come to appreciate a few of the opportunities that come from the fine-tuning:
1. Involving others in the solution. Sometimes a situation is more than I can handle on my own. That’s a tough reality to accept. But I can’t educate my children by myself. And yet that humbling reality leads to a much richer discovery in the help I receive from others.
My husband has been one of those heroes, coming in to save my day. Discussing the school day with my husband and including any frustrations or challenges I’ve faced allows him to stay connected with the family. And his objective advice on those situations has, on many occasions, been exactly what we all needed.
My mom has also been a huge contributor. Having homeschooled me and my two siblings, she has the perspective and retrospection that I often lack. From her, I get to hear what she found helpful and what she would have done differently.

Other homeschoolers also offer a wealth of wisdom. I interact with internet homeschool groups and even occasionally send questions to my favorite bloggers. Their perspectives and advice have often been revolutionary for me. And the beauty of the internet is that it doesn’t matter that they are homeschooling all the way across the country; they can instantly become my cyber-neighbors.
2. Realizing my own short-comings. I’m not perfect. And facing that fact, that I could be the one at fault and not my student, is extremely helpful in a couple of ways. First, it allows me to be more patient with my children’s short-comings (especially when I see that they’ve inherited those faults from me). Second, it forces me to depend on a Strength outside of myself. For when I am weak, then is God’s strength most evident. Both my children and myself are able to see the Lord answer prayer and become a vital part of our homeschooling day.
 
3. Learning and understanding more than ever before. I’ve heard many times that you learn a subject best when you begin to teach it. Whether that subject is phonics and reading or modern art and poetry, teaching forces you to learn. Like the mother bird digesting the food for her chicks, I must digest every fact before I present it. And that is one thing I want my children to see: that you never outgrow learning.

 
4. Discovering who my children really are. I’ve learned more about my children and their personalities in the last several months of schooling them than ever before, in spite of hours of playing blocks and capturing imaginary bad guys. I see how they react to challenges. I see their response to success. I see what does and does not motivate them. And I see every time their eyes light up with understanding. I’m a part of nearly every moment of discovery, and that does more than just create a special bond. It also prepares me for my role as a parent.
Taking my lessons from the school room, I better understand what will provoke my child to wrath and frustration. I have keener understanding of what motivates and inspires my child. And with that knowledge comes a higher accountability to make the most of the opportunities I have with each child to nurture and admonish in the Lord.
5. Recognizing that homeschooling is not a place or state of being but a process and a journey. It’s not about where we are educating; it’s about how we are educating. It’s about having the opportunity to make those adjustments rather than to helplessly look on while a child stumbles through learning. It’s about the privilege of taking a breather together and facing the challenge once more, united rather than at odds. It’s about having the means to administer the changes that are necessary.
Heading into our second year now, I’m certain we will constantly be making adjustments. But I want to see those adjustments as more than just rescheduling recess or pulling out a new activity. The changes do help my child to learn better, but they also provide an opportunity for me to learn as well.

Learning to Let Go

I mentioned a few weeks back that the pace of the A Beka books we were using seemed to suddenly switch to turbo speed. We’ve been clipping along at such a pleasant pace, and then quite unexpectedly my son and I have found ourselves holding on for dear life.

  • Phonics: covering 2-3 new sounds each week, plus continuing to learn to read two-vowel words
  • Numbers: adding 10 new flashcards every three lessons, adding a new addition family, plus skip counting
Thank goodness we had already tackled skip counting by tens, or I’d really feel lost right now. We’ve tried our best, and my son has worked really hard. But in spite of it all, he made a C for the first time on a graded sheet, which merely told me what my gut has been telling me. We are going too fast.
But that meant that I had a decision to make: slow down and start the year already two weeks behind on the beautiful lesson plans I produced, or continue to allow him to struggle through. After all, he might catch on and get caught back up eventually. And then my mom, having had the experience of homeschooling me, reminded me of the greatest privilege of homeschooling. I don’t have to be controlled by a lesson plan!
Think about it. If you hired a tutor for your child, would that tutor stick rigidly to a lesson plan she had created, or would she work with where your child was having difficulty? The answers obvious, right? Yet, it is sometimes so hard, in the daily grind of home education, to remember this principle—that I am my child’s tutor and that curriculum is merely my tool not my master.
So, we’ve taken these last two weeks of summer completely off (much to my son’s displeasure). For one, we all needed a breather, especially me; and hopefully, the worst of the morning sickness will be over by the time we start back. Second, by starting the year off two weeks behind my planning, I will have officially and dramatically let go of those beautifully typed out plans. There will be no need to force ourselves to “stay on schedule” to the detriment of learning, since we are already “off schedule.”
"Greater Than" lesson

And I say “off schedule” rather tongue-in-cheek. We are on lesson 110 of a kindergarten curriculum; my son is four. He loves learning, which is why we started in the first place, to capitalize on his desire. Up until this last month, he has absolutely devoured everything we’ve tackled and made 100s on every graded sheet. We’re coming to the end of our two-week break, and every day my son has begged to do school with the statement, “But Mom, I LOVE to read!” We’re hardly behind.

Thus, with everything in perspective, I suppose we’re not starting two weeks behind, but rather one year and 110 lessons ahead. With that in mind, I guess I’ve got some wiggle room, don’t you think? How silly of me to even struggle with the decision—to waste an opportunity to learn (and enjoy it) or to protect a piece of paper with clean lines.
I know this won’t be the last time I struggle with the decision to “let go” of the lesson plans, but I do hope that this moment will be a precedent for me to come back to. I want to remember that learning is not a lesson plan, it’s the joy on my son’s face when he understands what he has discovered.