Oct 7, 2008
And that's why I homeschool.
Really. It is. Of course, there's more to the story than that.
We've begun the history cycle over again this year and are returning to Ancient History. The kids are excited. They love the ancients. Lillie is a little bit miffed that she has to go so deep and begin with actually learning something about the roots of civilization, which involves a little bit of anthropology to begin with. But John gets to the meat right off. He's there, man, in the Fertile Crescent. Digging into maps and irrigation and goddess worship ... the whole deal. The Bronze Age.
I was vacuuming as he was doing some of his work. Well, I began vacuuming and then discovered that the beater bar was completely clogged. So I sat down to pull all the golden retriever fur, thread and other assorted mess out of the bar. It's a tedious task, but rewarding in the end. John wandered in as he completed his history assignment, "Mom, you know what I've always wondered? How come the Chinese always worshiped dragons but no one else did?" Caught up as I was in the spools of fur and thread, I had no answer for him, but immediately wandered down mental roads of future research possibilities. "Hmm, I don't know, John. That's a great question. We should look into that." He went to get some water and ask the same question of his sister, who replied, "I don't know. Maybe they had a few leftover dinosaurs there and that's how it started."
That's when I wished I'd had a tape recorder in the room. They had the most fabulous conversation about dinosaurs, and how some went extinct, how some might have been left, and become worship objects. They discovered fire in the process and fire breathing dragons came into being. They had forgotten I was in the other room, because I was out of sight pulling fuzz out of the vacuum cleaner. I can't remember it all or write it down and if I ask them about it, they'll look at me like I'm slightly nuts because it's a fairly normal conversation between the two of them. And it is.
And that's one of the reasons I homeschool. I love hearing and sparking those conversations. They are wonderful.
Jun 15, 2008
For some reason these threats cause me to laugh uncontrollably …
“Shut your mouth, or I’ll kick you so hard you’ll be wearing your ass for a hat.”
“If you don’t do XXX, I rip your arm off and beat you with the wet end.”
They just make me giggle in the beginning because of their unreasonableness and then laugh out loud because I imagine a cartoon of actualness and the silliness begins to escalate in my head.
The wearing of an ass for a hat has been causing me no end of laughter for weeks now. Whether a human behind or a donkey, it matters not. I just laugh and laugh and laugh.
Most threats have the end result of making me laugh … because there is very little that most people can do to enforce the threat, other than wishful thinking. So I end up laughing. It usually gets me in trouble.
May 19, 2008
The kids study history in sequential fashion and I supplement their curriculum with packets from Jackdaws. Jackdaws are replicas of original documents from a particular period in history that are organized around a particular subject. Right now J is working his way through a packet called California Gold Rush and is about the gold rush of 1848-1849. Today he asked to go outside and play, I responded by asking him, “How’s your gold mining going?” refering to his studies of the gold rush.
He replied, “My nose is clear, thank you. Now can I go outside?”
We all fell out laughing …
May 11, 2008
"We can't wear that* out in public."
"Mom said. Because she's a pessimist."
*"That" being a wrist cuff encircled with bullets. Mom can't abide it, because she's actually a pacifist and came to tears laughing in the front seat upon hearing the above exchange.
Mar 7, 2008
Some days I love having older children that I can talk to and reason with; engage in political, historical, economical, etc. conversation ... Other days I miss holding the little squigglers on my lap.
Some days I know how to respond to my daughter when she rejects me. Other days I want my curly sue to throw her arms around my neck again.
Some days I delight in the man my son is becoming. Other days I miss the smiling happy toddler he once was.
Some days I can handle being a mother. Other days I want to turn in my resignation.