Captain Me Planet

A strange thing happened at the produce market today.  Well, it’s not really a market.  It’s a decrepit old home, run by what I now feel is a decrepit old man, sitting in an decrepit old garage, selling his wares.  His wares being ‘maters, corn, ‘ok-ry, melons and only South Carolina peaches, thankyouverymuch, because you know, he explained, they ain’t a peach worth eatin’ in all of Georgia. 

And we’re the Peach State.  Go figure.

(small aside:  there is truth in this statement.  As my parents hail from the regions of Spartanburg and Greenville, SC, they know this fact, and have taught me thusly.  The small City of Gaffney produces more, and more delicious peaches, alone, than all of Georgia.  And damn, if for 3 days, they were all I could eat while vomiting up everything else in this first trimester.  Don’t ask about the resulting poop.)

So I’m in his musty garage, picking out choice produce, when he says, you must be a student.  Ahaaa, I think.  Flattery will indeed, get you everywhere.  Being 35, this felt good.  But being that he is 87, I have to question his eyesight.  Or his motivation.  He must be having a slow ‘mater day.   

Naaaaw, now, he says, when I tell him not only am I not a student, but I have 3 children of my own.  I left out the one-on-the-way part.  I dunno.  Didn’t seem he was one with which to share.  So whar you sent them youngins a’school?  He questions.  Oh, I don’t, I say smiling.  Surely a man of his age and experience understands a good, moral, home education.  Hell, there probably wasn’t even a school in all of this county when he was a boy.  I homeschool.

Selecting a ripe melon, I await the accolades.  And I hear wha’d you say you do to those chil-ren?  You what-school them?  I repeat myself.  More clearly.  While looking right at his rheumy eyes.   

And he says, and I don’t paraphrase,  THAT’S CHILD ABUSE!!!  CHILD ABUSE I TELL YA!!! 

I am, I must say, slightly taken aback.  I start to say something.  I don’t know what, but it doesn’t matter, because he is OFF.  OFF I TELL YA!!!! OFF!!!!

Them kids these days!  They need to be in the world, I tell ya!  If they’s drugs, then they oughta larn to get along with drugs.  Makes they own choices.  Stand up.  If they’s guns, same thing.  You gonna cripple’em.  Make’em pansies.  Now, I’ll go along through age 6, but THAT’S IT.  I tell ya, more than that, and they’s gonna be bonafide misfits.  MISFITS.  I know.  I seen it.  It’s bad.  I tell ya, it’s BAD.  

I thought he was done.  I was wrong.

And you know what? (I did not, apparently) They wasn’t nuttin to read when I was a comin’ up.  Nut-tin.  No newspapers, no magazines.  Nuttin but a boys magazine called GRIT.  Ever hear a’ GRIT? (I had not)  Ask yo’ folks, they know.  They know GRIT.  Nothing to read I tell ya.  You know how many books was in all a’Bartow County when I was a boy? (I did not) Twelve hunderd.  Twelve hunderd I tell ya.  And I read’em all by the time I was 7.  Had my name in all them cards.  You probably don’t even know what I’m talking ’bout, all gone and computerified everthing and all.  (I did, too)  I signed my name in all twelve hunderd of those books.   An’ schoolin’ only went through ‘leventh grade.  But I got me an excellent ed-ja-cation.  (I’m sure.)

I was stuck in ok-ry, and trying to pick some without worms.  Or brown slimy parts.

But ya know the best book eva ta read?  THE BIBLE.  Yep.  I read that book 10 times afore I was 7.  (He was a busy reading, boy, I tell ya)  Best book eva.  An’ GREAT stories.  Good lessons.  (I couldn’t disagree there, but I did entertain for about a millisecond asking him what kind of schools he thought Jesus went to.  I refrained.) 

So I finished up, while he prattled on.  Counted my produce, and declared my purchase worth $20.25.  I had a twenty, and he insisted on throwing in the quarter, as opposed to my digging through my bag.  I left with him shaking a finger at me GET THEM CHILREN IN PUBLIC SCHOOL, I TELL YA!!!

Right.  I’m right on that, I TELL YA.  Right on it.  

 

We’ve lived in Texas, Georgia, Tennessee, and South Carolina.  And are now returning to Georgia.  Now of these lovely southern states, which, do you suppose, has the most backwards requirements for schooling at home?

Yes, that would be Georgia.  Who knew?  

It seems in the fair land of Scarlett, O’Hara, I must submit monthly attendance forms, showing that I comply with teaching my children 180 days a year.  At least 4.5 hours per day.  And my fabulous local school superintendant will file these on my children, and keep me out of jail, or from fines for truancy.   Should these be later than the 10th of each month, he or she can call on me and verify that I am, indeed, being true to my children’s education.  And are they freaking kidding me?  Don’t all parents teach 24/7?  If you’re children go to school, they learn there, and then come home and you teach and influence them some more.  It has to be one of the 3 "R"s to count? 

If that’s what needs to be kept up with the most, other than, say, quality of character, morals, or a common  sense of courtesy and decency, maybe this explains the quite often found current state of children and their behaviour.  They ought to be asking, if they really care, for parents to submit forms on the number of lies told, or ugly backtalking spewed, and consequences received.  But then again, I don’t want to be communicating on any level, for any reason, with any state official over the state of my children’s development.  It was just a pot shot at what’s getting emphasized, and what’s not.

Blech.  Blah.  (me sticking tongue out, and considering the finger) NUNYA.  (as in none of your business) 

I had no idea we’d been so free to do whatever we have wanted to.  What else is necessary out there?  What states are even more stringent?  Tell me.  I don’t want to go there.

I have this sick fantasy of non-compliance, wherein I am possibly large with child (not that we’re planning), and my other children are clinging to me, as the Sheriff hauls me in for not sending in my attendance forms by the 10th.  I see photographers.  TV.  Primetime network coverage.  Interviews.  The HSLDA sweeping in on our behalf, and ground breaking legislation from the trial wherein I kick the state’s ass and reming them that our teaching our children is NUNYA! 

But.  And big BUT.  That would take an awful lot of energy.  And I’ll be challenged to just get those damn forms in on time.  So I’ll do it.  I’ll do it begrudgingly, but by-gum, it’ll get done.  

So we can keep doing what we feel is our right, and not a privilege, as some legislators apparently feel.  Send your children to school, if you choose.  Private, public, magnet, charter, whatever.  Or do it at home.  I just think anyone else ought to regulate what that choice is.  Even though, I know, at it’s origins, maybe, these laws were enacted to protect children who’s parents may not be able to, or choose to, place any importance on their future education.  I doubt these laws would really help that, afterall, though.

Doesn’t it often seem the very laws intended to protect one group, often become a hinderance for others, and have no positive effect on the original group to begin with? 

I happen to think it’s much more than that.  Something along the lines of control, and often NEA quoted opinions of parents’ lack of qualifications to teach at home, you know, because they didn’t major in childhood education and learn how to teach politically correct nursery rhymes to 22 children at once, and surely that being a parent to a child gives no qualification to being able to raise them the best you see fit, but regardless, I have to live with it.

I’ll do it.  I’ll send in the forms.  I’ll register with my local superintendant,  but I won’t like it.  And I’ll huff and puff all the way to the mailbox. 

Maybe I’ll send a little note with each attendance form.  Just to keep him up to date with what we’re doing, of course. 

I just posted a cartoon.  It basically makes fun of many public school atmospheres out there.  And since we homeschool, and get so many critical questions about whether or not we’re doing the right thing, what about socialization, aren’t we over-insulating, my first reaction was ha!  this is hysterical.  And I posted it up tout suite, at about 4 this morning, when I couldn’t sleep. 

I have a dear dear lifelong friend.  Whose heart is as honestly desiring the best for her children, as any I’ve ever met.  Who longs to raise her girls unto the Lord.  And whose children go to public school, in a small town south of Atlanta, GA.  Friend, I will keep your anonymnity, but I’d like to quote you here.

You KNOW I love you, and I KNOW your heart and that you do not sit in judgement of people who don’t homeschool.  But, cartoons like the one posted … are very hurtful.  Yes, it’s true, a lot of terrible things go on in public/private schools.  But, a lot of terrible things go on at home, in families, too (and at church and the grocery store and at the office and basically everywhere in life).  I have a very close friend whose family homeschooled and her father also slept with her from the time she was 11.  The truth is most of us want to protect our children…most of us are doing the best we can, praying and making decisions accordingly…seeing something like that comic implies that some of us are intentionally putting our children in harm’s way with no regard for them.  which, as you and I both know is NOT true in most situations.  Things like that just give fuel to the judgemental, "we are right and you are wrong" group of people out there.

I think she may be right.  The cartoon is a (sometimes) truth in jest, yes, but just may be more harsh than I intended to be, and add to that judgmental fire which I have no desire to fuel. 

Thoughts like that pop into my head.  Primarily as a response to the dubious questioning we often get, for our choice. But maybe should be screened a bit more carefully.  What my friend says is true.  Most parents are doing their very best.  And their best, and where and what they’re led to do, just may not look like our household. 

I asked the Colonel about it.  I set him up.  Hey, look at this (show the cartoon).  He chuckled.  And then I showed him my friend’s email.   And he poured his coffee.  Thunk on it.  Added sugar and cream.  Stirred.  And said I don’t think that’s very Christ-like (the cartoon, not my friend’s email).  Now, I’m not quite as tender as my sweet husband, and sometimes I get perverse pleasure out of being controversial and hard-headed, but he might be right.  And if he’s not, I respect his gut on things enough to acknowlege I may have been hasty.

And even all that aside, and if I polled a thousand people who all said it was funny, and not hurtful in any way, shape or form, any thing I would or could ever due that would be hurtful to my friend, I am sorry for.   Her feelings count more than me trying to figure out if I was right or wrong to ever post in the first place. 

I love you, friend, and I am sorry if that silly cartoon caused any hurt.   Thanks for pointing out another perspective.

Fellow homeschooler Holly posted this.  And I LOVE IT.  I can’t seem to figure out how to make it not bleed over, but I think you’ll get the point.  The 2 nearly lost words are "daughter’s", and "experience".

Before some parents of children in public or private schools get riled, I know this is not every child’s experience.  But if you are not aware, it is the sad experience of many. 

 

We teach at home for many, many reasons.  To be able to cater to each child’s learning styles.  To have a really flexible family schedule to get to really be a family.  To sleep in when I feel like it. Camp out in the backyard on a Sunday night, with their Dad.  To avoid after school activities rush hour (that makes me cranky).  And because I hate tons of worksheets. 

But very primarily, because we dearly desire the children to be able to be children, while they are children. 

And in our society, that’s tough request.  Girls and boys are growing up, being exposed, earlier and faster than ever before.  And at home, our children are free of the pressures of this going on around them (yup, it’s a bubble, and we love it).  We can incubate them.  Guide them.  Protect them from too much, too soon.  

Specifically when it comes to S-E-X.  

And things, sexual in nature.   

We protect from certain media images.  Video games.  Manga books.  Even some PG movies.  From the mall, for Pete’s sake, where a ginormous woman with ginormous breasts all pushed up in black satin leers at us from the wall outside Victoria’s Secret.  For us, and I won’t cite references here, we believe the studies that suggest all kinds of detrimental effects on children from too much media.  Specifically, too much sexually charged media.

So.  Yesterday, for the first time, at 10 and a half, our oldest child learned about the nitty gritty specifics of just how he got some of my characteristics, and some of his Dad’s. 

And, he was horrified.  Actually shuddered.  Said he couldn’t get it out of his head, the images!  And we all had a good laugh together, as the Colonel and I explained, earnestly, that we had the exact same reaction, the first time we heard this bit of info. 

He didn’t have a lot of questions.  Yet.  As I think he’d like to try to forget the entire affair.  And I wish that the subject didn’t even need come up for another 2 years or so.  Till he was actually beginning to experience adolescence.  And would begin to not have quite the blessed childish perspective on it, that he did yesterday.

That’s not really afforded us.

In our society, we’ve waited about as long as we can, if we want to be the first to share, the way we want to share, the details of sex, and just how we feel God wishes we handle it.  At 10 and a half, most kids are already figuring out, or have been told.  Or worse, think they’ve figured it out, and want to spread the word.  He has friends that have older siblings.  Sure, parents tell their children to maybe not share such intimate info with buddies, but do our children always do what their asked?  He has a friend who’s 18 year old sister is pregnant.  And not married.  We’ve told him babies come from marriage, and love, and the Lord.  So now what?  We have other friends, who divorced, and then decided to have another baby together.  Explain that one, when Private One just said, they can’t help if God wanted to give them another baby.  It just happens.

And he’s asked questions.

How come I have Dad’s cowlick, when I was in your belly?

Does the Dad cut his finger just a bit and rub it in the umbilical cord right as they cut it?

Or does he do a dance over you, like a rooster?

Did he hug me reeeeaaaaaal tight, right after I was born?  Or hug your belly when I was in there? 

So yesterday, it was suddenly heavy on our spirits, after toying around with the idea for more than a year.  He thought he was in trouble, when we had him alone with us upstairs.  I think he’d rather have been in trouble!  

But I feel so grateful.  Like we’ve won something.  Reached a goal.  As he gains on 11, he has remained innocent of this knowledge.  Been a little boy, without the burden of carrying more adult info than necessary, when he was a little boy.  Now, he’s beginning to transition, and we had the blessing and privilege of being the ones to talk with him.  Share our perspective.  Make sure the real facts were covered.   Laugh with him when he was grossed out.  Hey, you break down the facts like that, and really, it is not very pretty.  Even though he doesn’t believe us now, we were able to tell him he will feel differently.  Boy, will he ever.

He said it’d be easier, and less disgusting, to just cut his finger in the delivery room.   

Yeah.  He says that now.  Just he wait and see. 

In the meantime, I’m just so amazed at how quickly that time is coming.  No baby boy here, any more.

We consider ourselves unschoolers.  Because I can’t stick to a schedule more than 3 days in a row.  Because our oldest hates workbooks.  Because we all like to sleep late when we feel like it.  Because we like to do what seems  best for that day.  Because there is no boxed curriculum that really fits all of us, and it is too expensive to buy per child.  Per interest.  Per phase. 

And, because, I love the idea of child interest led learning.  

Private Girly wants to knit a scarf?  We get Knitting for Dummies (me, not her).  Private Youngest wants to make a car out of a cardboard box and blocks?  Here’s the duct tape.  We need to build our math chops?  Hey, get some construction paper, a marker and make a life size board game, with the prize of a buck to the one who makes it to the end fastest (each right answer gets a child one construction paper block further ahead).

But Private Oldest is giving me gray hair.  If left to his own devices, it’d be  media, media, some Gameboy, a little more media, and a couple of hours on my computer, surfing the Lego site.  He cannot be left strictly to his own child led interests.

He reads voraciously.  He loves to build with Legos.  Writes stories.  Plays hard outside.  Has just earned his second belt in Karate.  He has other interests.  He just prefers to, if he were able, to either watch, or participate in and watch, something on a screen.  A computer screen, TV screen, video screen.  He’ll play with an old cell phone or digital watch for half and hour.  He is the child that will literally watch the test pattern.  Once, when I told them they could not watch cartoons because it was just too noisy, he said, fine, I’ll turn off the sound.  Right, that’ll last long, thought stupid me.  I told him to cut it out after 45 minutes.  45 minutes of soundless cartoons.

So around here, largely due to our media monger, we’re SemiSchoolers.  A routine helps.  Waking them up by 8:30 most days helps them fall asleep sooner in the evening.  Having lunch within the same 45 minutes period of time daily gives them something to count on and serves as the transition time in our day, from Mom-directed, to self directed. Giving them specific tasks to accomplish, including lessons, leaves less time to want to gorge on media. 

Is there a typical day?  Yeah.  First of all, I had these children, sacrificed my bikini worthy belly for them, and they make a big mess.  So I put’em to work. Arise, get your own room ready for the day, if it’s a wreck, and come down for breakfast.  Help me with breakfast.  They’re big enough.  Brush those teeth we’re spending a fortune to straighten, and come back to give me a hand.

Basic laundry sorting.  Bringing it down to the mudroom.  What needs vacumming, spit shined.  Is the dishwasher emptied and ready to receive the first of probably 3 loads for the day?  Do sheets need cleaning, or towels cycled, and is there toilet paper in each bathroom?  And has the dog been fed this week?  Are the gerbils still alive?  Next month, I’m thinking baseboards.  Muwaa haaaa haaaa haaaaaaaaaaaa.

And then I consult a loosely laid out set of lesson plans.  Instead of Mon., Tues., Wed. and so on, I just label them, 1., 2., 3. etc.  That way, if something comes up, like we go see the great grandparents, or work all day in the yard, I don’t feel like we’re behind.  I hate feeling behind.  So this way, we’re not.  We just stopped at lesson 3, and can pick up at 4 when we’re back to lessons.  However long it takes, like if the children visit their grandparents in Atlanta, or Texas, for the week.  And if lesson 4 ends up taking 3 days, because they really get into it, then we’re still unschooling.  With a plan.  See?  No guilt. But no hard agenda.  Semischooling.  Is this word in the Urban Dictionary?  I need to get credit.

It also helps me stay atop of math progress, and carve out time to make sure I work with Girly and her reading.  It keeps me disciplined, just enough, but not too much.  And then we have lunch, and they get free time.  Or we run errands.  And it’s only 4 hours til time to gear up for dinner, baths, etc.  Know what else?  They bicker less.  Probably because they have less time to get bored, and pick pick pick.  Which seems to be the past time of choice when they’re bored.  Which drives me to drink.  And it’s a bit awkward when I break out the Pinot at 2 pm.

What am I communicating, rambling on about?  We shift and change when the needs of the children shift and change.  At one time, more structure wasn’t needed.  Now, it is.  And this is the beauty of schooling at home.  I can appraise what’s going on, and add, delete or shape what the children need.  No teacher with 25 or 30 other children can assess so intimately what I am blessed to assess.  Is it constant?  Exhausting?  Confusing?  Nerve racking?  Intimidating?  Yes.  All of the above.  

But between the gifts God has given us, and His absolute love for our children, and their well-being, we’ll figure it out.  They are not alone.  Even if I’m occasionally completely imcompetent.   Or, more accurately, often completely incompetent.  In the end, we, as their parents, know them better than anyone, trained professional, or not.  And I’m grateful for the chance to use this knowledge.