By 7:30 this morning, I knew delay of game was inevitable. My fantasy of an 8:30 a.m. start faded quickly as my younger and I read yet another chapter of his current favorite Avi book, one of the beloved Poppy series. My older had a late night, I mused, and he'd be a more enthused about learning after more sleep. And, after all, our schedule was light this week. Not to mention, a benefit of homeschooling is NOT being ready for the all-too-early bus.
I hit the shower by 8:00, sealing the certainty that our start would be at least a half-hour late. I woke my older after my shower, we ate breakfast together, and still we dallied. Coaxing the boys through teeth-brushing, bed-making, and dressing brought us to 9:30, although my Facebook visit probably influenced our speed for the worse.
Our start was anticlimactic, at best. No special breakfast, opening words, wishes for the new year or the like. My older helped picked a quote for our homeschool (Thoreau Academy, not that we needed a name after four years of homeschooling.). The Thoreau selection: "If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours." After deciding on that, we moved on to geometry, Latin, handwriting, and more.
No extra innings and the rain held off -- the boys move fairly quickly through their lists, with whining kept to a minimum and limited to the younger son. To him, the best part of our opening day was the delay itself. Through a snuggle and a story, he found happiness in the common hours of our first day back to homeschooling. Sounds like success to me.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Hair
Last March, I started growing my hair out, a process I generally despise. It's awkward, messy, annoying, and, come summer, hot. Too short to put up but too long to be on the neck when the temperature soars. Yuck.
Why bother? When, in her mid-thirties, my mother cut her hair, , she explained that she was too old for long hair, that long hair was for younger women. I digested this bit of adult-lore, grew mine out (painfully) only to cut it off a few years later, tired of all that, well, hair. I repeated the process in college, this time after a socially crippling perm-- think brunette Bozo.
After the birth of my older son, each haircut found me with less and less of the stuff. It reached its shortest at the start of 2008, right before I started the growing process for a third time. Why'd I bother if it's such a pain? Partially, it was a last-ditch attempt to save my marriage. "Grow out your hair," and, "Dress up more often," were the only concrete ideas I brought out of marriage counseling. Despite knowing neither would save the day, I tried both. And I liked the results. Sure, the hair was hot on my neck last summer, and barrettes did little to tame growing out layers that threatened to turn me part Yeti, but I liked messing with the stuff and the progress visible in the mirror. Besides, between growing hair, encouraging the holes in my ears to once again accept earrings, and trying some more feminine duds, I felt, well, attractive.
There. I said it. I'm enjoying some of the societal trappings of femininity. Skirts, dangly earrings, long hair, clothes that suggest a woman is wearing them. Girl stuff, or, more correctly, women stuff. No high heels or make-up, mind you. Comfort trumps fashion for me, and it likely always will. But the hair? I like it!
Why bother? When, in her mid-thirties, my mother cut her hair, , she explained that she was too old for long hair, that long hair was for younger women. I digested this bit of adult-lore, grew mine out (painfully) only to cut it off a few years later, tired of all that, well, hair. I repeated the process in college, this time after a socially crippling perm-- think brunette Bozo.
After the birth of my older son, each haircut found me with less and less of the stuff. It reached its shortest at the start of 2008, right before I started the growing process for a third time. Why'd I bother if it's such a pain? Partially, it was a last-ditch attempt to save my marriage. "Grow out your hair," and, "Dress up more often," were the only concrete ideas I brought out of marriage counseling. Despite knowing neither would save the day, I tried both. And I liked the results. Sure, the hair was hot on my neck last summer, and barrettes did little to tame growing out layers that threatened to turn me part Yeti, but I liked messing with the stuff and the progress visible in the mirror. Besides, between growing hair, encouraging the holes in my ears to once again accept earrings, and trying some more feminine duds, I felt, well, attractive.
There. I said it. I'm enjoying some of the societal trappings of femininity. Skirts, dangly earrings, long hair, clothes that suggest a woman is wearing them. Girl stuff, or, more correctly, women stuff. No high heels or make-up, mind you. Comfort trumps fashion for me, and it likely always will. But the hair? I like it!
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Best Laid (Lesson) Plans
I'm definitely conflicted this time of year. Despite 16 years having passed since fall meant a return to school, fall means a fresh start. New notebooks, paper, and binders. Anticipation, both enthused and anxious about new classes. And, notably, unlike the rest of life, a beginning with a definite ending in sight.
About this time every year, I find myself surrounded by scrawled lists of curriculum plans and piles of books. I've planned in notebooks, on calenders, on computer-generated planner pages, and in my head, all with moderate initial success that diminished come October or so, where recording what we actually did took the place of planning what we would do. That's fine for my younger guy, since he generally takes us further than I would have planned, but with my older at age 12 (7th grade age), it's really not enough for either of us. I need to know that a course will get finished in the span of our school year. He needs a path to follow with signposts telling him how far he's been and how far there is to go. He needs me to make a plan.
So here I am, surrounded by the papers and the books, slowly scheduling out Geometry, Latin, Biology, and more. I'm trying out some scheduling software this time around, Homeschool Tracker Plus, and (as I was warned) the learning curve has been fairly steep. It allows homeschoolers to share lesson plans with others, which can be quite the time saver, but I'm not sure that time savings will be evident this year, given the amount of work I've put in learning how to make the program work best for me and my family. I'm not one to schedule down to the hour, and that seems to be one of the program's strengths. Right now, my favorite feature is the library function. With a swipe of my neutered Cue Cat (bar code reader turned ISBN reader), I can catalogue my books. Using the resource function, I can sort these by course as well. Hooray! It's too soon to tell if this software will meet my needs, but the latent librarian in me is deeply satisfied.
About this time every year, I find myself surrounded by scrawled lists of curriculum plans and piles of books. I've planned in notebooks, on calenders, on computer-generated planner pages, and in my head, all with moderate initial success that diminished come October or so, where recording what we actually did took the place of planning what we would do. That's fine for my younger guy, since he generally takes us further than I would have planned, but with my older at age 12 (7th grade age), it's really not enough for either of us. I need to know that a course will get finished in the span of our school year. He needs a path to follow with signposts telling him how far he's been and how far there is to go. He needs me to make a plan.
So here I am, surrounded by the papers and the books, slowly scheduling out Geometry, Latin, Biology, and more. I'm trying out some scheduling software this time around, Homeschool Tracker Plus, and (as I was warned) the learning curve has been fairly steep. It allows homeschoolers to share lesson plans with others, which can be quite the time saver, but I'm not sure that time savings will be evident this year, given the amount of work I've put in learning how to make the program work best for me and my family. I'm not one to schedule down to the hour, and that seems to be one of the program's strengths. Right now, my favorite feature is the library function. With a swipe of my neutered Cue Cat (bar code reader turned ISBN reader), I can catalogue my books. Using the resource function, I can sort these by course as well. Hooray! It's too soon to tell if this software will meet my needs, but the latent librarian in me is deeply satisfied.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Musings as the Decade Changes
I'm just days from 40 and mighty pleased about it. Really. Reaching 30 was pretty pleasing as well. I had a beautiful three-year-old, a fulfilling career at half-time status, and best of all, I finally had an excuse. Turning 30 gave me the excuse I'd been looking for since the age of 12, at which point I was beginning to realize that I didn't spin in the same direction as most of the kids around me. Age 18 and 21 didn't find me any closer to the norm, but I found plenty of others whirling with the universe in their own pattern. At 30, though, I felt free. Free to not know the names of the latest songs and their performers (never had anyway), free to continue to be puzzled by fashion trends, free to be, basically, out of it. Whew.
As 40 approaches, my rhythm no longer feels out of sync with the world but rather in sync with the beat of my heart and the song of my soul. I still can't list popular music groups or identify TV and music stars, and my wardrobe is defintely not up-to-date, but I know myself more deeply than I did at 30. In the past decade, I've nursed a child to age 4, embraced the world of homeschooling, left two faiths and found one to call home. I've found strength in mind and body through martial arts, brought compassion and knowledge to new mothers, and reveled in the friendship of others. I've fought for a crumbling marriage that was not to be saved yet retained my dignity and sense of humor. Most importantly, I've loved, laughed and learned with two free-thinking, bright, generally kind sons, the delights of my life. I'm reaching 40 and feeling fine.
As 40 approaches, my rhythm no longer feels out of sync with the world but rather in sync with the beat of my heart and the song of my soul. I still can't list popular music groups or identify TV and music stars, and my wardrobe is defintely not up-to-date, but I know myself more deeply than I did at 30. In the past decade, I've nursed a child to age 4, embraced the world of homeschooling, left two faiths and found one to call home. I've found strength in mind and body through martial arts, brought compassion and knowledge to new mothers, and reveled in the friendship of others. I've fought for a crumbling marriage that was not to be saved yet retained my dignity and sense of humor. Most importantly, I've loved, laughed and learned with two free-thinking, bright, generally kind sons, the delights of my life. I'm reaching 40 and feeling fine.
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