Homeschooling and Feeling Thankful

I think it is easy to go through daily life without truly being thankful we are for what we have in the moment.  Certainly,  I'm among the many who have taken things for granted.  The exception seems to be when we have experienced loss, suffering, pain, or difficult times for a long duration, and then we find ourselves in a situation which brings relief.

Since we started homeschooling through a K12 school, I can honestly say that even on the "worst" of days, I feel thankful and grateful to have the opportunity.  Sure, we get grumpy sometimes, and on occasion there is a difficult lesson that we're all thrilled to just be done with.  For the most part, though, we enjoy life so much more than we did during those two truly miserable years when Reezle attended our local public elementary school. There are no bullies, no revolting odors wafting in from the cafeteria, no morning (with the exception of state testing days) where the kids have to drag themselves out of bed before they're good and rested, and no crammed evenings of stressful rushing through mountains of homework and bath times.

My dad visited yesterday, and we spent most of the day working in the garage.  Because of our amazingly flexible schooling schedule, the kids were able to work ahead this week and had plenty of time to spend with their Papa.  We had a great time, and enjoyed a pizza picnic in the yard under a tree.

Does this count as art class?

After my dad left, the kids and I decided to take a walk through the woods.  On our way there, the school bus (my daughter's previous assigned bus) drove past us.  At that moment, Reezle and I just looked at each other and smiled.  We were grateful.  So grateful.  Having family time is a priceless gift. 

Walking through the woods

We spent the remainder of our blistering hot (I swear, it felt like 100 degrees outside) late afternoon/early evening in the cool woods beneath the shade of the trees, following trails and making our own, hoping to find some cool frogs.  We didn't find frogs, but we found a lot of happiness and reasons to smile and laugh, and fallen trees to play tightrope on.  And I was grateful.  Nothing in this world makes me happier than spending time with my kids and my dad.

Tree walker Reezle

Homeschooling my children has taught me a lot about being grateful in the moment, about their strengths and my own, and proves to all of us on a daily basis that we are capable of accomplishing anything we set our minds to.  Family is so important, especially to young children.  We don't get these precious years back, and I am thankful beyond words that I get to be more of a part of their young years than I would if they were behind the walls of a brick and mortar school.

As an added bonus, we are doing a more independent and family-centered model of the program this year, and they both have the same contact teacher.  She is amazing, someone who truly cares about the families she is working with, and we feel even more fortunate because we have her.  Yes, we have many, many reasons to be thankful.

Recommended links:
http://www.k12.com
http://www.abcya.com

Autism and Expectations

My son is autistic.  He also has a receptive and expressive speech disorder and sensory processing disorder.  This means he has some challenges with social situations, motor development, coordination, communication, understanding, and certain environments (depending on lighting, weather, noise, movement, etc.).  While this sounds like a lot to deal with, and it is for him, it's our normal.  I forget; I don't view him through the lens of any diagnosis unless something requires me to, because it's just not on my radar.  He's just Little G, blue-haired superhero, cat lover, math whiz.  But sometimes, I am reminded.

Reezle, who also has a diagnosis on the autism spectrum, struggled a lot with learning how to pedal a bicycle.  She outgrew her tricycle before ever learning how to pedal it, and we finally bought her a scooter so she could enjoy a ride-on toy until she mastered the art of pedaling.  Though they are two years apart in age, Little G was pedaling like a pro before his sister really got it.  I assumed that riding a bike would always come fairly easy to him.  A big mistake when you're parenting an autistic child is to make assumptions about anything.

By age 7, I was riding a bike with tons of confidence.  This year, I decided, my son was going to learn to ride without training wheels.  I wanted him to have that same confidence, the fun of bike riding that only two wheels can provide.  We could ride on trails, then, I told him.  He liked that idea.  When he got his new green bike, because he finally, just barely outgrew his toddler-size one recently, I told him that I would teach him to ride it without training wheels.  He was stoked.  He was ready.  He was going to do this!

Little G on his new big boy bike

Or, you know, not so much.  I held the back of the bike as we rode around the driveway, becoming quickly aware of the fact that he had absolutely no ability to balance without my assistance.  He's tiny, but that little bike is quite heavy, and it became impossible for me to keep holding him up.  So, on the training wheels went, and we removed the pedals from the previous bike so he can learn to balance.  Little G has decided that he doesn't want to try riding without training wheels until next year.  Fair enough, this is his journey.

I had high expectations because of my own age when I learned to ride a bike without training wheels (I was 6).  Additionally, I recently watched a video of a friend's son, who is days older than Little G, riding like a pro around a bike track without any training wheels.  I immediately thought, hey, this is definitely something 7 year-olds can do, so maybe I'm slacking on the teaching or encouragement here.  But then I remind myself that Little G is not a typical 7 year-old, and it's not a fair comparison.

Little G has his strengths.  He is exceptionally bright, and a very fast, strong runner.  Socially and emotionally he is very young.  That is a point for me to remember as well; he is not the size of a child his age, nor is he socially like children his age.  It's just hard to remember, when I have a 7 year-old doing 4th grade workbooks and speaking with an impressive vocabulary, that he has any limitations.

My outdoor artist

I will keep encouraging him to pursue his talents, and to practice patience where he struggles.  Whether he rides his bike without training wheels doesn't seem to matter much to him, so I need to manage my own expectations.  I never want to underestimate him, but I also don't want to put unreasonable expectations upon him.  But speaking of expectations...

Harvesting some zucchini and tomatoes

Little G has been picking and eating vegetables that he planted in the spring.  "They really grew into food!" he says, every time we go out there.  He says he will be planting even more next year.  He is definitely great at gardening, so I will make sure he has all the room he wants and needs to garden to his heart's content.

Special Needs Kids

From a blog called Bringing The Sunshine, I felt compelled to share the following quote:

"When you’re a mom of a kid with special needs, people tend to put you on a pedestal. They admire you from afar and say things like, “God only gives special children to special people,” while simultaneously thanking their lucky stars that they aren’t you, because they “couldn’t handle it.” We aren’t worthy of the pedestal, and we handle it not because we’re strong, but because it’s the hand we’ve been dealt."

I had an almost identical conversation with my grandmother last week, and several times previous since deciding to homeschool my children.  Others have said similar things to me about how "amazing" it is that I "am able" to handle raising, let alone teaching, a child with autism and a speech disorder.  The universe must have chosen me for this, because surely there was no other parent that could handle this exact child.

I don't believe any of that.  We rise to the occasion as parents.  There are a lot of families out there raising children with various special needs, from autism to down syndrome, premature birth to traumatic brain injuries, and even gifted children who present their own surprising challenges.  We don't belong on pedestals, and we don't want to be on them.  We're not any different from you, we just do things based on the unique needs of our unique families, which is really no different than what anyone else does.  We don't need to be told how difficult our lives are, because most of us believe that the rewards are equal to the extra effort; and while understanding is the message most people intend to convey, it often comes across as pity.  With the exception of a rough day here or there, we don't feel sorry for ourselves.  Now, I realize there are exceptions to this rule, but the majority of special needs parents I've spoken to share similar viewpoints on this.

Sure, raising a child with special needs can be challenging, but raising any child is challenging at times!

Summer Wrap Up

I have no idea where the summer went, but the beginning of the new school year is less than a week away now. I feel at peace about that, and I'm looking forward to a year of new opportunities, experiences, and challenges. Little G can't stop talking about his Math Orange workbook, and it's been very difficult to keep him from starting (and finishing) it before school even starts. I suspect he will be joining his sister in Math Purple (3rd grade) before long. Reezle is certainly capable of working at grade level, and Little G is helping her understand things she gets stuck on.

Little G's K12 teacher called yesterday, and we had a chance to discuss the upcoming school year and G's various diagnoses. She seems very nice, and I think G is finally accepting the fact that his teacher from last year cannot be his teacher this year. He doesn't like change. Mama understands.

I have not spoken to Reezle's new teacher yet, but that should be happening soon. I don't think my little girl is quite as excited as her brother is to start the new school year, but she much prefers K12 to her former school experiences. Once we start planning trips to the museums and other various places, I know she will be more enthusiastic.

Autumn is fast approaching, and it's so nice to have cool evenings instead of 80-degree temperatures through the nights. Mornings come later, the sun sets earlier, and there is a distinct chill in the air after the sun sets each night. I love this time of year, remembering the fun we had over the summer, looking forward to costumes and trick-or-treating, watching leaves turn, and celebrating the kids' birthdays. Before long, we'll be planning our holiday dinners and cooking and baking more. Reezle talks endlessly about the things she wants to bake when the weather is cool enough to use the oven more frequently. She has a real interest in cooking, so I hope she inherited her Daddy's talents and not my, er, lack thereof. Ha!

For now, I am off to enjoy this lovely quiet morning with a cup of coffee and a determination to finish the blanket I'm crocheting for my daughter's birthday. I have all the yarn I need and plenty of free time in the mornings; no excuses!

Scouts

I don't know how I feel about Girl Scouts. I've been debating getting my daughter involved in Scouts for a couple of years now, a consideration which has been more at the forefront of my mind since we began homeschooling last year. I want my children to have as many opportunities to socialize in a healthy environment as they can/want.

I emphasize healthy social opportunities. With this in mind, my feelings on Boy Scouts are much more clear; I don't want my son being part of an organization that openly discriminates against the LGBT community and bans people from leadership positions within the organization based on their orientation. I find it extremely sad that if same-gender couple had a son in Boy Scouts, neither of them could contribute in a leadership role for their son's troop. This goes against the values we are teaching our children (love, acceptance), so I'm not comfortable with his participation in such an organization.

Boy Scouts also takes a firm position on requiring that its participants to follow a religion:

"The Boy Scouts of America maintains that no member can grow into the best kind of citizen without recognizing an obligation to God. In the first part of the Scout Oath or Promise the member declares, ‘On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law.’ The recognition of God as the ruling and leading power in the universe and the grateful acknowledgment of His favors and blessings are necessary to the best type of citizenship and are wholesome precepts in the education of the growing members."

This bothers me as well. We are not religious people in the traditional sense. I consider myself an Agnostic with Buddhist leanings, but this is more a way of life than a "religion", so to speak. The Boy Scouts of America statement is really offensive to me, because it implies that my children, my husband, and I are not capable of being among the best citizens no matter who we are outside of our beliefs. I have no problem at all with what anyone else believes, but I have a very big problem with others telling me what I or my children must believe, or making judgements about my character based on whether or not I share their faith - or one they approve of.

Girl Scouts does appear to be far more inclusive with their policies. They even allowed transgender member Bobby Montoya to participate. Girl Scouts of Colorado spoke out through GLAAD and released the following statement on transgender youth participating in Girl Scouts:

"If a child identifies as a girl and the child's family presents her as a girl, Girl Scouts of Colorado welcomes her as a Girl Scout."

I was super impressed with this. It made me want to run out and buy a box of Girl Scout cookies. If only the Boy Scouts of America could step out of the stone ages and follow suit. It's 2012, folks.

I'm still on the fence as to whether I want my daughter to participate in Girl Scouts. I've heard there are troops with very religious leanings, and those which tend to be very secular. I'm not sure about the local troop, though I do know that they hold meetings in a church and plaster photos of the girls all over a very public Facebook page. I'm not so comfortable with that, so it seems unlikely. Fortunately, K12 offers opportunities for social interaction. We also have soccer, classes through our community arts centers, and various other ways to stay connected. My kids burn out on socializing fairly quickly anyhow, being on the spectrum, so our needs are less than average to begin with.

Cursive Handwriting

It seems a lot of schools are doing away with cursive handwriting. I don't understand why that is. Okay, I do; they think that it's a dinosaur now that we use computers and type everything from our research papers to our social interactions. But there are benefits to learning cursive handwriting, and I believe it's still a good skill to have.

Miss Reezle has some beautiful handwriting, doesn't she? Little G has been practicing a little with some worksheets I've found for him online, and will be learning more this year as a 1st/2nd grader. I remember being in my early elementary years, seeing the cursive letters and feeling like it was some special thing that only the older, cooler kids got to do. Being able to write cursive was like being in an exclusive club or something. Heh. I think my kids feel the same way, and it's fun how being a mom brings back all of those memories from my own childhood.

Rules

As I was wandering around the internet this afternoon, I came across a discussion going on about wearing socks in McDonald's Playplace. A blogger by the name of Kerrie was apparently going all "Mama Bear" on some McDonald's employees over a policy which states that children using the Playplace must wear socks. She muses, "Look, I get that a policy is a policy. I’m just saying it’s stupid. I’m also saying that a lot of policies are stupid and should be challenged. No breastfeeding in certain restaurants, anyone?!"

As someone who very much supports breastfeeding, I just don't understand how anyone can put these two issues in the same category, or even the same area code. Babies need to eat. Breastfeeding is not a public health hazard. By contrast, children do not need to play in Playplace at all, much less barefoot. And barefoot children are a risk. What this blogger fails to realize in her Mama Bear, screw-the-man rant is that this policy protects her children as much as anyone else's. Bare feet are far more likely to be injured on play equipment than bare hands, and America is also an extremely litigious country. While socks don't offer a whole lot of protection, they certainly offer some. Further, even if the rule is "stupid", as she so eloquently put it, it's McDonald's Playplace, for Pete's sake. No one is forcing parents to take their children there, and McDonald's will happily welcome anyone who doesn't care to follow their rules (which are required by the health department) to locate the nearest exit and use it.

Such was the case when, also according to Kerrie's blog, a group of moms went into the Playplace barefoot to prove some point (that they have nothing better to do?) and refused to leave when management asked them to. Kerrie posted a very indignant, "...so the MANAGER CALLED THE POLICE. The police came and KICKED OUT THE MOMS AND KIDS!!!" Um, what would you expect when you blatantly walk into a place and defy the rules? And what is that teaching your children when you ignore the rules, regardless of why they are in place, and mouth off disrespectfully to people who are just trying to keep the peace and do their jobs? What that whole display comes down to is shooting the messenger; the McDonald's franchises don't make those rules, and the weakly-paid targets of this asinine sock harassment certainly don't. Perhaps she expected him to say, "Oh, well, ma'am, you're absolutely right. It is a ridiculous rule. Go ahead and let your children violate health department policy, because allowing them to play in the Playplace barefoot definitely trumps the possibility of fines or even being shut down for non-compliance with state health regulations."

I have a humble suggestion for those who feel the need to take up a cause to go all Mama Bear about it; how about tackling the bullying issue? Advocating for human rights in some way or another? And I mean real rights, like for people with autism or Down Syndrome? How about fighting for marriage equality? Better rights for homeschooling families? There are so many good causes out there to get passionate about. Making an issue out of something as banal as socks in McDonald's Playplace does nothing but create a stereotype about groups of moms hen-pecking about things that don't really matter so that you won't be taken seriously when something actually does.

(Note: While I disagree with this blogger on this particular issue, I can't say she seems like a bad person. In fact, it seems we have some things in common, like homeschooling and attachment parenting! And her blog is cute. I believe issues can be debated without hating each other, so that's my message for the day - don't hate :)

Whole

I'm a bit of a hyper-organized person. This might sound awesome, but sometimes it really isn't. Instead of streamlining my life, it tends to get in the way of things. Take, for example, the fact that I love to write. I love to write about homeschooling, hooping, healthy living, gardening, attachment parenting, meditation, natural medicine, books, and all sorts of things. Problem is, the part of my brain obsessed with categorizing things to the point of insanity would lead me to believe that all of my interests need to be blogged about separately.

After a great deal of thought on this, I've come to realize that all of these things are about us, our life, our interests, and our activities. There is more to life than just homeschooling (though we love it and it is a big part of our lives), more than just exercise or hooping, healthy eating or natural remedies. Life is a whole, comprised of many parts. With that in mind, it seems much more reasonable to have a blog which reflects more parts of the whole. So, there will be some changes to my little blog. I'm kind of excited about this, especially with summer fast approaching basically here.

Speaking of whole, I've decided it is time to clear the garbage out of out cupboards and get back to the whole foods lifestyle I've recently (admittedly, somewhat shamefully, definitely regretfully) parted with in favor of quicker, sweeter, saltier, "convenience" foods. What's not so convenient is feeling like garbage all the time, which I do. My goal is to adopt a completely plant-based diet for myself and my children. My family has a long history of autoimmune diseases. I believe that how we eat is the defining factor in whether those switches get flipped. Since my children are already showing signs of autoimmune disease (my son developed psoriasis at age 4, and my daughter experiences weather-related joint pain), I believe this is not something that can wait.

I will have much more to say on these and many other topics as my blog develops into more of a whole picture of our interests and goals. I'm no expert on the whole foods, plant-based diet - but I'd like to be. Hopefully blogging through my journey will keep me on track, and maybe even help others who are also considering making similar healthy changes.

Thanks for reading along!

Autism

I'd like to tell you that autism is all about gifts and abilities and geniuses people like Einstein and Nicola Tesla and Temple Grandin. I'd like to say that I've never felt like a bad mom because of autism's challenges and the epic patience it sometimes calls for, and that every day is just as simple for us as it is for any family.



But I can't tell you that.

Every day, there is more confirmation for me that I made the right choice for my son with regard to homeschooling. Intellectually, he's ahead of his sister and often helps her study her spelling words or understand a math problem. Emotionally, he's very, very young.

Knee-jerk reactions have to be avoided when you have an autistic child. It's easy to look at a kid who is beating the living hell out of a stuffed toy, growling hateful words about himself because he didn't meet his own perfectionistic criteria or because he heard the words "no" or "wait", and think to yourself, little dude needs a time-out. It's much more difficult to consider what he's actually feeling.

To most people, it looks like he just threw a screaming fit because I put his ketchup too close to his green beans. But Little G feels everything so deeply, every emotion and sensation in his sensory world. At all times, he's making a very effortful and conscious attempt to filter the sensory stimuli most of us don't even notice; our brains have excellent gatekeepers that tell us which sensory input is important and which is not. G does not have this feature, so his world is BRIGHT, LOUD, CLOSE, AND IN CONSTANT MOTION. It's like living life with the volume on everything turned up just to the point where it's really annoying and you can barely function unless it gets turned down. Only, he can't turn it down.

And not only is he dealing with the sensory overload aspect, but also the fact that he feels very deeply, very intensely, every emotion that he experiences. He feels emotion to the point of excess, basically, and it is overwhelming - especially when the emotion is anger or based on some injustice, either perceived or actual.

I get all of this, I do. But I also walk on eggshells somewhat. I love the moments where is personality shines through all the junk he has to cope with daily. Even though it looks like he has no patience, I will argue that he has more than most adults need to cope with daily life. But I find myself frustrated sometimes, and today was one of those days.

There are many books on autism, anger, autism and anger, and so forth. And I think I've read a library's worth of them. I've bought just about every children's book on the topic I could find. The results of trying to deal with this from an anger standpoint have basically yielded no results. Conceptually, he gets it; he just can't seem to implement it. So I'm trying a new approach now. I'm going to introduce my son to mindfulness and meditation. He can't change his feelings, but he can change how he responds. Acceptance, like riding the wave to shore instead of trying to fight through it to the other side, may be the path he needs to try now.

I know he struggles. He's my baby, and knowing how miserable he is so much of the time makes me hurt. I want to fix it. The right tools are out there, to empower him. I just need to find what works.

Thankful

Just recently, I realized how much my children have grown up. There are milestones that seem so big, and I think about them when they occur, but this was something different. I was listening to my son talking a few nights ago. His voice is still very young, and his speech disorder causes him to sound like he's gasping between words a lot of the time. But the content of the conversation really got me. I don't know what it is about that year of Kindergarten, but I swear they go into it like babies and come out of it like kids. Public school, private school, homeschool, it doesn't matter, they're going to grow up at warp speed during that little window between autumn and summer.

Similarly, my daughter has turned into this incredible person who has compassion, wisdom, intellectual and emotional maturity, and talent well beyond her years. I'm honored and humbled being her mom. She has the most beautiful spirit I have ever known in a person, and I am in awe of it. Part of me hopes she never changes, but the other part of me wonders what other precious gifts she has to offer this world as she grows.

This is one of the major reasons I wanted to homeschool my children; I felt as if strangers knew more about them than I did with traditional schooling. I enjoyed the amazing things my daughter brought home in Kindergarten and first grade, but I wanted to be there for the process, too. I wanted to nurture them and watch them grow. And, of course, I did not want their gentle spirits broken by bullies or their thirst for knowledge dampened by boredom.

Yes, this was just a sappy post with some of the thoughts in my mind today. It does a rather poor job of summing up everything I've been thinking about, but it's a general idea. I feel really fortunate to have this experience, and I am thankful for it every day. (Yes, even on the difficult days.)

Numbers

My blogging efforts have been a bit, well, lazy recently. Other things have been occupying my mind, like numbers. Specifically, my daughter's blood glucose numbers.

She's always run on the higher side of normal, and she's always had some possible symptoms of diabetes, but nothing was definitive and it was all sort of random. But we have a rather extreme family history of types 1 and 2 (among other things), so I've always been careful with our food choices.

Last year, when my daughter still attended public school, I began letting her eat school lunches (even whole, organic mamas know when to pick their battles). She assured me she was making healthy choices, but a look at her purchase history told another story. She was buying ice cream, chocolate milk, and making garbage meal choices. Can I blame her? Not really. She's a kid, and she had temptation staring her in the face every day with a lunch account she was free to make her own choices with. She's a kid. But toward the end of the year, she started telling me she had trouble seeing the chalkboard - but only after lunch. She also felt tired, nauseated, or had stomach aches or a "funny feeling" in her throat after lunch.

Some of the tummy troubles were bus anxiety because of bullying issues. The rest, I only recently realized were due to blood sugar. The other night she said, "I feel bad." It is really out of character for her to say that, even when she is very sick, so I started asking a lot of questions. Before long, I grabbed the glucose meter and discovered she was at 197 before even finishing her meal. So I've been testing her a couple of times a day, more if she has symptoms (which are becoming less frequent with limits on carbohydrates and sugars - she's not pleased about missing her beloved PB&J sandwiches, but she's handling this with more patience and a better attitude than I think I would expect from an adult).

We have an appointment with a pediatric endocrinologist, but it's a long wait. The wait is frustrating in a way, but it will allow me to compile a good journal of what is happening with her glucose levels, how it varies with different foods and activity levels, and what symptoms she is experiencing. Hopefully this will reduce additional waiting, since I assume the doctor would ask us to do this and report back with the results after the appointment. So far, her morning fasting numbers are on the higher end of normal, but all of the others have been between 140-200 (random, post-meal, etc.). While it isn't the scary highs that many of the type 1s in my family have experienced, as in so high it doesn't even register on the meter, the wonderful source of parental anxiety known as the University of Google informed me that anything over 140 can cause cellular damage. Almost every reading she has is over 140.

My free time has been spent researching, reading, asking for advice from others in a diabetic forum I joined as far as getting the numbers lower and more stable, and so on. Fortunately, her diet won't need to change much, because she does eat very healthy (for the most part). She's never had fast food (unless you count Subway or the occasional pizza), and we don't keep soda in the house. I'm convinced if she ate the SAD (standard American diet), she'd probably already be a full-blown diabetic on insulin.

But I still feel all of those nagging parental questions. Did I do something to cause this? Could I have done something to prevent it? And the big one, ohmyfreakinggod...what if we have to do insulin!? Insulin scares me. With all of the diabetics in my family, I know how scary insulin can be; and in growing children, how the bar is always moving and doses are always changing and hospital stays are not uncommon when getting things balanced out.

And there comes the lump in my throat. Because my daughter is, I swear to you, the best, sweetest, kindest, most compassionate soul on the planet. She does not deserve this. Me? I'm not that awesome, and I'm all grown-up. I'd take it for her. I just want her to be a care-free kid, where her biggest worries in life right now are how her brother can beat her at math games and how she's gotta conquer that tree climbing fear.

So that's why I have been blogging less. That, and the holidays. And the fact that the weather here has remained unseasonably warm and snow-free until this past week. 'Round here, we take advantage of those opportunities when we're fortunate enough to get them!

New York Times Targets K12, Online Schools In Severely Biased Article

Since we began learning at home as a family, my daughter has had a couple of rough days. Call it a rough week, even. But compared to having her come home with injuries from bullies, having her self-esteem chipped at on a daily basis, and the fact that she started to develop tummy aches about getting on the bus each day when she used to grin ear to ear every morning anticipating the day she would be old enough to ride that bus to school, I'd call our rough week a mere bump in the road. As for my son, he hasn't had one day of learning at home that I could consider rough. He craves knowledge and literally begs me to continue teaching on weekends, a request I am happy to indulge. I can make choices about the children my children associate with. I'm aware of what they are learning and I can always easily slip curriculum-enriching things into our day. We don't have homework in the traditional sense, so our evenings are family time instead of a mad dash to finish a mountain of homework, take baths, throw down some dinner, and get into bed. And academically, they are excelling. The experience has made us all happier.

Homeschooling has been a wonderful option for us, and I can't say enough good things about K12. But apparently, people feel threatened by school choice (or is it the loss of funds for their districts?) and feel the need to attack online schools. A recent New York Times article was a catalyst for some major misconceptions about K12 and similar schools. I, and many others, took great offense to how K12 and the families enrolled in their school were portrayed.

My daughter attended a bricks and mortar school for two arduous years. While I will quickly admit that her classroom teachers were both excellent - even exceptional, I was profoundly unimpressed by everything else. Perhaps most disturbing was having a school system telling me how - and if - I could parent my own child for the great majority of the day, five days a week, while they failed to do even a mediocre job of protecting her or following their own policies. The lack of predictability, reliability, and safety were major concerns. The only thing predictable about sending my child out that door each day was that, at some point, I was going to get a call about some kid doing some thing to my child. Again.

I'm quite certain that having parents regaining control of their children's lives scares some people in this country to their very cores. Independent thinkers? Oh my. People like that are so much more difficult to control and manipulate, and they tend not to believe everything they're told. They ask questions. That could be bad for those who wish to maintain control over the masses.

The New York Times article, Profits and Questions at Online Charter Schools throws out a real golden nugget of revelation with the statement, "Kids mean money." Wow, really? Anyone with a functioning brain above their stem realizes this as fact, but let's examine how this affects people on a personal level. The article attempts to make it sound like this is some kind of proof that K12 has profits over kids in mind, but I challenge any parent in any school district to take a good hard look and tell me if that isn't true for bricks and mortar schools - to a much greater degree. At public school, my child contributed thousands of dollars each year just by existing there. To her personally, that translated into a sub-standard school environment, heavily-used books and materials, and parents contributing a lot of time and money from our own pockets. On the other hand, I enrolled my children in K12, and I had 100 pounds of brand new school supplies delivered to my door. Free. Yes, free. We paid nothing. I had to go buy a bookshelf to dedicate to just the books, CDs, and DVDs alone, and I had to clear an entire cabinet in the kitchen for all of the science materials, paints, clay, and other materials. And comparatively speaking, my children cost taxpayers much less as homeschoolers than they would if they had continued to attend our local public schools.

The article presents another epic failure of an argument with this little gem: "Current and former staff members of K12 Inc. schools say problems begin with intense recruitment efforts that fail to filter out students who are not suited for the program, which requires strong parental commitment and self-motivated students." Here's a newsflash: any form of education requires strong parental commitment. Whether a child is attending a bricks and mortar school, an online school, a private school, or a traditional homeschool, parental involvement is the number one factor in a child's success. Uninvolved parents who do not participate in their child's education can turn the brightest child with the greatest potential for success into an academic failure with zero motivation, and it happens all the time in public schools.

I'm quite tired of parents being painted as morons who are incapable of contributing to their children's academic success. An Agora teacher paints a profoundly biased picture with the statement, "When you have the television and the Xbox and no parental figure at home, sometimes it’s hard to do your schoolwork." First of all, we don't even own a game console. Second, my children have never been left alone in their lives. And finally, K12 kids are assessed regularly. If they are not making it, there is accountability. We are responsible for making sure our children are progressing; there is not the huge disconnect portrayed in the article. Further, they quote a mother, Mrs. Ubiarco, as saying, "I called the teacher the other day to find out what a simple predicate is...She said it’s the verb. I said why don’t they just say that?" To this I say, wow. You needed to call a teacher for that? Try Google. Better yet, that handy little teacher's guide you get with every course might be helpful, too. The New York Times apparently left out all of the many successful examples of K12 students and found a handful of disgruntled teachers, and a few parents who use videogames to babysit their children, don't know how to tell their child to put the iPod away, and manage their time very poorly to represent our online school. Bias much?

Of our attendance requirements, the same Agora teacher who made the Xbox comment said, "Students need simply to log in to be marked present for the day." While it is true that K12 is not sending someone to the door of each and every homeschooled student each day to be sure each child has pencil to paper, the academic progress and assessments speak for themselves. A child who is not "attending" regularly is not going to meet standards, plain and simple.

And then, because you can't have any good, irrational anti-homeschool argument without bringing the topic of "socialization" into it, the deputy superintendent of Memphis City Schools, Irving Hamer, offered the following: “The early development of children requires lots of interaction with other children for purposes of socialization, developing collaboration and teamwork, and self-definition." Fascinating. Children couldn't possibly garner these skills from, say, Scouts, homeschool co-ops, neighborhood children, friends of the family, siblings, K12's field trips and other opportunities for social development, community sports or classes, or anywhere other than public school? I'd like to inquire as to when children are obtaining these wonderful social skills in school; would it be on the playground, the school bus, or in the lunch room? As far as my personal experience tells me, those are basically the only times children are doing any socializing in bricks and mortar schools - and it is largely unsupervised and where most bullying takes place. Ah, but Mr. Hamer's pompous assertions probably shouldn't surprise me, since a quick Google search revealed that he handles people who disagree with his policies by telling them to "go flip burgers". Nice. I think I'll pass on any social advice he proffers, particularly since Mr. Hamer's degree is in education and not child psychology.

The article (yes, it's quite lengthy) goes on to say that schools like K12 have "aggressive recruitment campaigns". I prefer to view them as awareness campaigns, which are rather necessary with anti-homeschool propaganda such as the New York Times article that prompted this blog post. K12 and schools like it do try to provide many informative opportunities for parents who have been brainwashed into believing that they cannot contribute much to their child's education beyond buying school clothes and supplies, and joining the PTA. Parents need to become aware of how much they really mean to their children in terms of learning and education. I cannot begin to count how many times people say to me, upon learning that I homeschool two advanced learners, "I could never do that." My response is always the same, "Yes, you absolutely could." Any parent with the time and desire to teach their child can teach their child. K12 has amazing teacher support. You are never alone. But public schools do everything they can to convince you that homeschooled children will be socially-awkward, poorly educated nitwits who will never go on to college. K12 has students go on to Harvard. But those students were not included in the Times article. I'd laugh at how utterly ridiculous the Times article is, if I didn't know so many people really believe that.

Is K12 perfect? No. But it's lightyears ahead of bricks and mortar schools in every way, in my opinion. Nothing is perfect. This is a relatively new concept and there will be bumps. Overall, I think this is a wonderful thing. There will always be naysayers who don't like change or who are just too uninformed to make any kind of judgment about this type of education. As for the New York Times, I'm not (nor was I ever) sure why people give that rag so much credibility. The reporting is poor and biased, the stories are highly sensationalized, and I wouldn't use that publication to line my cat's litter pan.

Five Months Later

Out of nowhere, five months after my daughter last walked the halls of a bricks and mortar school building, she informs me that one of the two playground monitors at her former school prohibited her from sitting down. My first reaction was what!? "Yeah, sometimes my legs would get tired and my brain would get tired and I just wanted to sit down and think. She would come over and tell me to get up. Sometimes I tried to sit where she couldn't see me, but she was usually right there where the seats were. She never let me sit. Only if we had a headache or something."

While I understand the value of children getting out and getting moving, as mine often do with great enthusiasm, my daughter has a couple of extremely valid reasons for needing a break. One is that she is on the autism spectrum. Though mildly affected, the social and sensory aspects of the diagnosis can become overwhelming in crowds or when the pace is extremely fast. For a child on the autism spectrum, a few short minutes on the playground can be more exhausting than a couple of hours of bike riding or other more solitary, focused play. The second reason is that, like her brother, she also has some issues with mild hypotonia, or low muscle tone. This is a disorder that is not fixed with exercise, and may cause children to tire more easily depending on how and to what extent they are affected.

Some children with her diagnoses will act out with undesirable behaviors, unable to express or even understand their needs in those moments. My daughter understood her social and sensory limitations, opted to take a break to calm down and refocus so she could "calm [her] brain" before going back with her friends, and was prevented from doing this. R did tell me on numerous occasions that she didn't play with certain friends or do the things she wanted on the playground because "everyone just moves too fast". Effectively, the playground monitor was removing the only tool my daughter had to deal with the situation, and she was miserable.

Reezle is slow, methodical, and deliberate in what she does. She contemplates, thinks things through, and is slow to anger or frustration. She has a very good sense of herself and others, as well as how to best soothe herself in overwhelming situations. We have tried our best to help our children find the tools they need to navigate the world successfully. What she wanted was not unreasonable for any child to ask, but especially a first grader dealing with as much "input" as a busy playground (and all of its weather variants) has to offer.

Perhaps I wouldn't have felt my blood boil instantly if there was not already a history with that woman. She stood by as my daughter got pelted in the face with rock snowballs by another student when she was in Kindergarten; Reezle came home with a welt and a scratch about an inch from her eye and no one had done a thing about it. The same child spat on my daughter at lunch, apparently because my daughter just wanted to be friends and the girl did not. Reezle cannot understand why all people can't just be friends and care about one another, and this crushed her. The playground monitors are also the lunch monitors, and again nothing was done. There were other more minor things as well, so I was already not a fan of the woman.

I can say, heartfelt and happily, that removing my children from the bricks-and-mortar public school system was the absolute best parenting decision of my life thus far. There never seems to be a shortage of things to remind me and confirm that. In our homeschool, my children can take a 5-minute recess, or an hour. They can sit when they want, swing, ride a bicycle, or as the seasons change they can make snow angels and build snowmen. Extra layers or fewer, hot cocoa or a cool drink, and a hug from mama when they're done. But I can guarantee no one is going to tell them they can't sit down if they need to.

Five months and I'm still finding reasons to be angry at the way my child was treated. Five months and things are still surfacing that I didn't know. No, there is no way I could have ever tossed my son into that snake pit. And for that matter, I never should have allowed my daughter to be subjected to it, either. There are better ways to socialize, with actual caring supervision, and socialization is about the weakest argument for public schools anyhow.

On a brighter, much more fun note, the number nerd in me is pretty excited about today's date: 11/11/11. Enjoy!

What I Believe (and don't) About Homeschooling

I don't believe that public schools are terrible places, or that the children in them are doomed to lives of misery and bullying. And I don't believe that all or even most homeschooling families are religious freaks, social outcasts, or unsocialized weirdos. Are there some? Well, sure. But it is unfair to judge all homeschooling families based on stereotypes about a few sensationalized situations we hear about in the news or through the grapevine. There are religious freaks, social outcasts, and unsocialized weirdos in schools, too!

I do not believe that public school offers children the socialization they "need". The socialization which children receive at school is largely comprised of things we'd prefer they were not exposed to. And by 'we', I mean most parents, not just homeschoolers. Until the 1840s, compulsory education did not exist in the United States; education was something done in the home and society functioned just fine. In fact, people were quite displeased with the idea of compulsory education! But I don't believe that children should be shielded completely from the outside world; that's just nuts. However, some bits of knowledge can wait.

I do not believe that homeschooling is always the better option. In fact, I think public school is sometimes the better option. Each family needs to assess their individual needs and values and make decisions that are best for their situation.

I do believe that learning about diversity and other cultures is important. I do not believe that public schools, at least where we reside, teach children anything about diversity and other cultures. College will probably be the first place they truly experience this. The most important thing now is to teach tolerance and acceptance of differences. And that will quite likely not be learned in any public school. In fact, I've witnessed quite the opposite.

I do not believe that bullying is some rite of passage that all children must go through, or that children need to go to public school to "learn how to deal with it". Bullying is not a harmless childhood experience, nor is it something that is a critical or healthy part of their development; bullying leads to poor self-esteem, academic failure, drop outs, a lifetime of trust issues, and even suicide. Though a lot of schools talk a good talk about bullying prevention and zero tolerance of such behavior, I've found that lip service is far too frequently as far as it goes. More often than not, schools fail to protect children who are targeted and fail to discipline children who are the perpetrators of bullying. It seems that children are viewed as almost inhuman by schools, with comments such as, "Oh, it's just kid stuff." If adults were subjected to the same treatment by their peers, it would be called stalking, harassment, or abuse, and criminal charges and restraining orders would be ways of dealing with the perpetrators. But when this happens to children, who are far less capable of dealing with these things emotionally and are still developing their sense of who they are in this world, the consequences can be utterly devastating for the victim and schools often dismiss it as child's play.

There are no bullies walking our hallways.

I do believe that all parents are teachers, from the moment their babies come into this world. I also believe that compulsory education and the sheeple mentality it drills into all of us has most parents convinced that they are completely unfit to be teachers. "I couldn't do it," is the most common thing people say to me when I tell them I am homeschooling my children. My response is always, "You absolutely could." It saddens me that parents, who are their children's first and most important teachers, do not see themselves as such. Homeschooling is not a new invention or some wild idea, but a natural continuation of a process already well underway since a child was born. Parents don't have to become teachers to homeschool their children, they already are teachers.

On The State of Things

I don't ask for much for my children from others. I really don't. Aside from his speech therapy, with a therapist I will admit wholeheartedly was amazing, I have provided for all of my son's needs. I taught him sign language when he couldn't speak, created a sensory diet (Google it) to get him from being crippled by something as minor as sleeve length to where he functions well, and, in spite of his autism and having a speech disorder, taught him enough that he is skipping a grade of Math and Language Arts just four weeks into Kindergarten. So, you know, I really don't need much. I got this.

But what would have been nice is if our IEP team, which we've had since G was a baby, would keep us on since (a) we technically are still in the school district because we live here, and (b) it makes sense not to throw a huge wrench into the mix for a situation that is not complicated, and (c) it's really not asking a lot for them to meet with us once each year. But no. Of course not. Because nothing anyone does in this world ever seems to make a bit of sense. Because I am now the enemy of the school district as a homeschooling parent, and they lose money with my children not attending their schools.

As I pore over my interactions with the school district both present and past, I ask myself, what was it I wanted from them that they did not provide? Above and beyond the adherence to their own policies and rules on bullying. Not considering the gym teacher, who lied about my child, then skipped a meeting that was planned and scheduled specifically so she could be there, leaving me no option but to call everyone to reconvene (this was not a popular move on my part). What, exactly, did I hope for?

And then it hit me; it was something I would never have. It was the genuine concern and the family-like atmosphere we had in preschool. It was the desire to have people who truly, honestly cared about my children while my children were in their care for 6+ hours of the day. I know some people might find this absurd, and that's fine. Call me crazy, but I believe that elementary-age - and heck, even older - children need nurturing that goes beyond what is typically offered in school. The fact that those who were most involved with us simply turned their backs in the manner they did proves to me that anything I thought was caring was merely feigned concern proffered up by those who wished nothing more than to appease me so I would not continue to be in their collective faces about their collective failures.

I realize I probably sound angry. I'm not. I'm disappointed. It's more a feeling than something I can put into words. It all makes me sad, suffice it to say that. Sad for my children, sad for the way the world is sometimes, and sad that our world has ventured so far from everything natural and right, replacing it with man-made rules and calling it all good for us as we rapidly deteriorate physically and emotionally as a society.

In which I do some venting...

If you ever want to know EXACTLY where you stand with your school, school district, or special education contacts, simply remove your children from said school district's schools and see what happens. I always felt like I might eventually put my kids back in school at some point. Now I know I won't. This morning sealed it, but this morning was just the final straw.

At the end of last school year, I wrote a sincere thank you letter to R's teacher and e-mailed it. Despite the less than desirable issues with public school, first grade had not been a terrible year because my daughter's experience in the classroom had been positive. At the beginning of last school year, the paperwork to homeschool R was halfway done and she was only in school to bridge the time/attendance gap. Upon learning this, her teacher called me and was very supportive. She said that she understood if I decided to homeschool, and that it would be her (the teacher's) loss because Reezle really added something to the group. The teacher also offered her help if we went that route should any questions arise. As it turned out, she homeschooled her own children for a while. Impressed with the new teacher, we decided to keep R there for first grade.

The teacher and I communicated often by e-mail, so I had no doubt she would receive the letter. But I never heard a word back. As the weeks and months passed by, I wondered if maybe she wasn't logging in over the summer or if perhaps she didn't receive it. I still don't know.

As the start of this school year approached, I wasn't sure if our virtual charter would be contacting our former school or not, so I felt it prudent to make the call myself and talk to the principal. She had become an ally, so I thought, and I felt that we got along well despite a bit of a rocky start. When I told her that R would not be returning, it was clearly a surprise. The call was abruptly ended; there were some awkward well wishes, and the phone was quickly passed off to the school secretary. I can't explain exactly what more I wanted out of that conversation, but suffice it to say it was something more than what I got.

Today I spoke with the director of special education about getting Little G's IEP faxed to his teacher contact through our virtual school. She informed me that she'd mail it to me because a release would be required to fax it, then very unceremoniously informed me that she would no longer be dealing with my son's IEP because he was not attending school in the district. What? Yes, we were dumped, since we are "no longer IN the school district". You know, even though we are.

But you know, I shouldn't care. This county and district have been an epic FAIL at:

* Providing speech services through Early Intervention. They had none, so I taught my son sign language and found and paid for our own speech services until G was of IEP age and the district took over covering the tab.

* Providing occupational therapy. There was a period of time where I showed up for weeks and a therapist did not, so I read a bazillion books on dealing with sensory processing disorder, hypotonia, and motor skills and created a highly-effective sensory diet for him.

* Enforcing their own rules and policies on bullying.

Now, I'm not big on formalities. Okay, maybe I am. But you know, that teacher could have said, "Thanks, I enjoyed working with R, too." The principal could have been less abrupt, since she started at that school when we did and we have worked closely over the past 2 years. I even sent her an e-mail follow-up when the bus stopped here and beeped for Reezle on the first day of school, just to remind her we were enrolled elsewhere, and wished her a good school year at the new school. No response. How long would it have taken to fire back a quick, "Noted. Good luck to you, too!" And the special education director? We've worked together since Gavin was a baby! Her demeanor was perhaps most disappointing of all. You know how someone acts at the very moment they stop pretending to like you? Yeah. That.

The feeling I get is that they are quite pleased to be rid of us. Which, I guess shouldn't surprise me. I was right in everyone's face all the time holding them accountable and expecting them to *gasp* do their jobs. But I realize now that any kindness or concern was fake, and all of the genuine appreciation I had for the things they did manage to do - which I expressed often and via thank you e-mails - was misplaced. And I have to admit, that stings a little. Or a lot. These people walked a difficult road with our family, and while it wasn't always a pleasant journey I did believe the consideration was genuine. Now I know it wasn't.

Whatever. At least I walk away knowing I did the right thing, and acted in a way that I feel good with. But somehow, I'm sure they all feel the same way.

Jack and the Beanstalk

As part of Little G's curriculum, Language Arts includes The Random House Book of Fairy Tales.

First, let me say that I am not a fan of fairy tales, so I wasn't exactly thrilled to have this as part of our curriculum. I get that fairy tales have are supposed to have lessons in them or whatever, and some do. But most of them are depressing at best, weird almost always, and sometimes downright creepy or just plain messed up. Jack and the Beanstalk seems to convey the message that being an idiot and a thief, making poor decisions, and taking unnecessary risks is a good thing. I hadn't heard the story since I was a child, despite the many fe-fi-fo-fum references in pop culture. I've learned my lesson: read all material before presenting it to the kids.

Despite the creepiness of the story and the poor message, Little G liked it. He answered all of the guiding questions very well and obviously has an excellent comprehension of the material. The one part I skipped was having him read it back to me, like I usually do with everything we read. Quite honestly, if I never hear that story again, it will be a good thing.

I'm really looking forward to getting him started on some material he can actually learn something from. He has to be assessed first, so while we wait I am doing what I've been doing right along - supplementing with material that is at his skill level. He enjoys second grade workbooks, and we have several. We read daily, and he is expressing interest in books with chapters now. I have learned that spelling and grammar are strong points for him, and he even helps his big sister when she gets stuck. Likewise, she helps him when reading instructions gets in his way. It's not that he can't, he just doesn't like to. Typical guy thing, and just like his mama! Ha!

We're still experiencing our "problem" of the kids wanting to do lessons at all hours. I'm just going ahead and letting them have their workbooks to do as they will with them. At this point in the early years of their learning years, they are familiar with most of the material. Holding them back would be doing exactly what I criticized public school for doing. It is amazing how much children will learn just because they want to. I think traditional schools ruin that natural curiosity and desire to know in many children. I mean, this is a far cry from last year when R would sit at her desk, following 7 hours of school, and be just totally burnt out and done with it all while we prodded her to continue. Hearing groans and complaints because it is bedtime and we have to put our workbooks back on the shelf is much more positive, in my opinion.

Week Two Wraps Up

As of today, we have completed our second week of homeschool! It was another enjoyable week, and we played with different schedule variations a bit. On Wednesday, Daddy had to work a couple of extra hours, so we used this time to do some extra lessons. On Thursday, we started bright and early in the morning and had most of our lessons finished by 10:15AM due to our jump start from the previous evening. The children were rewarded with a morning movie break for their hard work and great progress, and we wrapped up the remaining work after lunch.

The Math workbook is by far G's favorite, while R gravitates to the handwriting practice workbook. Both of them are doing great in all of their subjects, though G keeps asking me when he is going to start learning something in Math. They're going over shapes and colors, and he had that material mastered prior to preschool. "Mama, when can I learn multiplication?" he asks. We'll get there, little dude, I promise.

Language Arts is a great and challenging curriculum for both of them, and I'm taking some extra time there so they can learn both the Kindergarten and Grade 2 lessons together. The History curriculum also gets my approval, and the Kindergarten material is providing a great refresher course for R. Right now, we are studying the 7 continents and their well-known attributes, and both of my little students can name all of them. If they forget here and there, I can mention an animal or land attribute (i.e. penguins for Antarctica, the Great Wall for Asia, the Sahara Desert for Africa, and so on), and they will remember right away.

The internet, specifically YouTube, is a wonderful homeschool resource to compliment curriculum material. We watched videos about The Great Wall, kangaroos and the Great Barrier Reef, penguins, the Saharah, European castles, and this incredible Grand Canyon flyover:



R and G are learning, actually acquiring new information and retaining it, and being a part of this process is an honor and a gift. This feels right, like the way it is supposed to be. And not only do I enjoy having my family together and being a part of their learning, but I really like the teaching part!

I'm also still enjoying that bus passing right by our home, no stops required. I think I'll enjoy that indefinitely.

Compulsory

Compulsory school attendance. When I think of traditional public school, and my own experience in it, the word compulsory seems very fitting. From Merriam-Webster:

com·pul·so·ry
1. Required by law or a rule; obligatory.
2. Involving or exercising compulsion; coercive.

Starting my children off in a system where, by nature and name, they would be coerced, required and obligated to learn felt wrong.

Let's examine those words a little further. From Dictionary.com:

com·pul·sive
1. Resulting from or relating to an irresistible urge, esp. one that is against one's conscious wishes: "compulsive eating".
2. (of a person) Acting as a result of such an urge.

co·er·cive: Adjective: Relating to or using force or threats: "coercive measures".

My children have learned a lot already, more than is expected at the time they reached the age of compulsory school attendance. But they were never obligated. They were never coerced. They never obtained information in a compulsive manner. Learning was an enjoyable, mostly child-led activity, which was certainly not ruled with an iron fist and done under threat of penalty of law.

Considering what learning means to me and my husband, versus what learning appears to mean (by its very definition) to our public education system, it is clear that we are not all on the same page. My husband and I value education, if perhaps for different reasons than the education system values it. We believe it is important, even necessary, but we also truly enjoy learning. I will assume it is no coincidence that our children also enjoy learning. So, with this in mind, it is no wonder I cringed at the mere thought of introducing our children to a school system that values conformity, unquestioning obedience, and the "banking concept" of education (Google Paulo Friere or Pedagogy of the Oppressed) over the individuality, curiosity, and hands-on experiential learning we had encouraged in our children.

Knowing that we are a different breed, the husband and I, I figured it was probably for the best to encourage our children to be happy little sheeple who did as they were told with a smile and a skip in their step. And while that worked, at least on the surface and as far as the school system was concerned, for our daughter, two things gnawed at me from the edges of my consciousness. One was that my daughter's endless smiles had become a finite resource as she experienced the bullying that is too often dismissed as a rite of passage for school-age children, and I was so not okay with that. I spent nights awake crying, looking at my precious girl as she slept, wondering how long it would be before it ruined her.

The other issue is that my son is the apple who does not fall far from the tree. I will assume that my daughter got her easy-going, accepting manner from her dad, but my son is all me. What my daughter will accept and let roll off her back, my son will fight with ardent determination until justice is achieved. Nothing else in the world matters until that goal is met. And that, as I am sorely aware, is not a good fit with the public education system. Add to that the fact that my son has a diagnosis of autism and a speech disorder, both of which are exacerbated by stress, and the possible scenarios literally kept me awake at night until my husband and I agreed that homeschooling was the best option.

Public education clearly works for many children. I'm not saying that all parents should immediately remove their children from the public school system and homeschool them. This blog is about my own feelings, my own family, and what I feel works best for us. What I am saying is that we should stop accepting bullying as a rite of passage, examine the definitions of words like compulsory, and realize that children are individuals and act accordingly instead of determinedly trying to pound square pegs into round holes.

School starts Monday. I no longer dread my children starting school. I am enjoying autumn for the first time in years without a knot in my middle about what unpleasantness lurks in the halls of the elementary school and how many calls I will get about bullying incidents, injuries, or other issues. Or worse, the calls I won't get.

I will not harbor feelings of bitterness as months pass by without a single call from the head classroom parent for any of the activities or parties because she has already called her friends to participate. Nor will I have to endure more questions from my children as to why Sally and Joey's mommies are there all the time and I am not. I will be there for all of it. I will be mom, and mom is teacher by default.

Mama, Will I Need a Backpack?

When I first thought about what homeschooling meant for us, I wasn't thinking about backpacks. My daughter already had one, because I prepare early and hers broke at the end of last school year. My son still has one in perfect condition from preschool. But would we even need them?

Initially, I figured road trips to grandma's house would be about the most use our backpacks would be getting as a homeschooling family, but I realized I wasn't really thinking outside of the box. Almost my entire experience with education has consisted of bricks and mortar schools, with the exception of having completed a couple of my college classes via online courses after I moved 50 miles away from campus. With my online courses, there was little to no need for a backpack. But homeschooling elementary students is a bit different. Nothing says we have to hold "class" at the kitchen table. We could throw our lessons into backpacks and head to the library for a change of pace. We might decide that having an outdoor art lesson at the park followed by a picnic lunch is a great way to spend the first half of our day. The possibilities are pretty much limitless.

Similarly limitless is our virtual academy's capacity to impress me with what they offer students. I went through approximately 1 1/2 of our 4 boxes of school curriculum and supplies, and I literally got butterflies of excitement about all that we will be doing this year.


I'm loving, absolutely loving the fact that I can actually look forward to this school year. Have I mentioned that yet?