Consistent, Constant, Redundant Lip Service

Today, for once, and I'm grateful to say that it's becoming more and more the case even after just 2.75 weeks, Eva very willingly participated in her memory work.  She promptly repeated all of the new information several times over without complaining and seemed to beam when I praised her good efforts.  (Usually, if her I tell her she's done an amazing job, she runs away angry.  Go figure.)

I broke down and bought a dry-erase board this week and she took great pleasure in writing the numbers as we skip counted threes and fours.  In short, homeschooling today was a delight. 

Chaos and unruliness reigned supreme most of the rest of the day, though.  Sully has mastered the whine/complain/cry.  It's the "annoy Mama to the max" trifecta.  And although he's so good at it he really doesn't need the practice, practice it he did.  All.  Day.  Long.  He was in bed last night at 9 and up at 7.  Why a deficit in sleep of two hours should so adversely effect a little person, I don't know, but the end result was hardly enjoyable.  Fortunately, he took a nap.  Unfortunately, he woke up from it doubly whiny and cranky.  Daddy couldn't get home soon enough.

Admittedly, I took a lot on myself today.  We just got back from vacation on Sunday, and as many of you know, getting back from vacation almost requires another vacation in and of itself because there's so much to do.  There is a mountain of laundry to get through and, although I usually clean the house from top to bottom BEFORE going on vacation, it just didn't happen this time, so I was compelled to clean it today.  I thought I'd be able to stop my compulsion after cleaning most of the upstairs.  Not so.  Dinner came and went and I would not be stopped.  I had to vacuum the downstairs and mop it.  It feels good to have the house so clean and tidy, but I'm always more easily irritated when I'm focused on a task and I get interrupted by one of my little charges.

The title of today's entry doesn't just allude to Sully's tyranny, it extends also to my dear, sweet Eva.  Lately, whenever she's in trouble for something, has to endure the consequences of her actions, and is rightly upset about these consequences, she has the audacity to say something like, "If you would have just let me not eat my vegetables, I wouldn't be so upset!"  Or, "If you would have got me a toy at the store, I wouldn't be so sad!"  You get the idea.  She's upset, she blames me, and now she's being vocal about it.  I liked it so much better without the narrative about why I'm the one always directly responsible for her misery. 

It occurred to me today that, as one of her parents, I will often be the source of her misery, even if, in reality, her behavior is the reason for it.  I can remember being fiercely angry and upset with my own mother and knowing, deep down, I deserved whatever punishment was meted out.  I wasn't mature enough to move through the emotion of it as a teen, I can barely expect my five year old to do it.  But what I dread with a kind of a horror movie level of terror is what will come from her mouth when she is a teen! 




At least I have a constant barrage of beautious pictures to soothe my wounded heart.  This is a portrait of Ariel and King Triton.  And just in case you were wondering, Ariel's wearing her "special, underwater bra." 

I am daily reminded that children are a special kind of refining fire sent to us by our dear Savior.  (I partake of LARGE slices of humble pie almost hourly.)  I shudder to think that I need four of these blessings (And a chronic illness, to boot!)  to achieve the kind of refinement He seeks in me!  Father God, give me the strength as I know only you can!  I'm gonna need it.

Teaching Like a Ninja

That's right.  I karate (pronounced "kah-RAH-tay") chop my children into submissively learning from me every day.  Not really.  But what I have found with Eva in just this short week's (I actually started teaching here at home on Tuesday, so I do have an almost full week under my belt.) foray into homeschooling is that she learns best when she doesn't know it's coming.   I have to be stealthy, fast and more than a bit sly to get her to actually participate.  Memory work is best learned when a game is involved.  Bribery of any kind is an effective tool when teaching reading (taffy) or her timeline (punching holes in paper, making muffins or cookies, art projects, etc.).  Oddly enough, I don't mind this "popcorn" style of teaching all that much.  It seems to coincide quite nicely with our lives at the moment and I'm sure, when she's older and has a much longer attention span, it will look different.

We got some valuable memory work in by having her answer my questions and if she answered them she got to run across the playroom at the futon, full tilt, and crash into it.  Behavior not usually condone by myself, mind you, but I'm pretty desperate at this point.  The boys enjoyed this very much, as well.

The idealist in me had greatly desired for more idyllic moments in the morning.  The boys would sit quietly in the living room, soaking up letters and numbers while Sesame Street soothed them into a semi-laconic state, thereby making it easier, of course, for me to mold their minds at a later date.  Satisfied that the boys were nearing a coma, I would then sit next to Eva at a small table, in a corner of the house illumined by the gentle, yet mentally invigorating, morning sun, and we would cheerfully review memory work, practice some writing, and then decide if we felt like reviewing reading or doing a little math.  These tasks, all the while, would each be met with a cheerful heart and willing attitude that made life worth living --a veritable banquet of joy and delight, if you will. 

In fact, most mornings this week went something like this:

"Eva, what do you want for breakfast?  Granola?  Let's chop-chop so we can do some school work."

"Nothing!  I'm not hungry.  (A few minutes of introspection.) I'M THIRSTY!"

"Well, I'd be happy to get you something to drink as soon as you ask me nicely and you NEED to eat so you may choose between granola and toast with a banana. If you don't choose now, I will choose for you."

"FINE! I'll have granola.  I'm THIRSTY!"

(This is the part where I start to sound like a broken record. So I'll just cut to the good part.)

Cut to actual "school time":

"Okay, Eva, let's practice our reading."

"Why?!?  I don't want to!  I already know a lot!  I don't need to know that!"



Well, at least she LOOKS like she's ready to read.


"Well, honey, reading is pretty foundational.  (I'm mentally cringing at myself for using a big word she doesn't know.  This is where I backtrack and try to bring it back to her level.)  I mean, we need to be able to read to learn and we're ALWAYS learning, even if you think you know a lot already.  Mommy and Daddy are still learning things and we're much, much (sob) older than you."

"Well, I don't want to!"

"Okay, well, if you do what I ask you may have some taffy at the end of the lesson."

Lots of impressive nodding and agreement follow.  The lesson, however, is still fraught with tension and more opposition than I'd like and, if I try to do it in the morning instead of after I've tucked the boys away for quiet time, imagine their feisty little bodies whirling, flying and cavorting around us like wild monkeys.  It makes for quality learning time, let me tell ya.   

I opted to save the reading for the beginning of quiet time for the sake of my sanity and this is how our little lesson went:

"Okay, Eva, let's start here... 'man, can, fan...'

She makes it to the beginning of the next line which starts with "map" and says, "Man."  She's done this quite a few times in the last week and I'm sure I did it, too, when I was learning to read.  It's much easier to guess than do the work.  I just wish I could share with her that funny saying for the word "assume."  Another time, perhaps....

I look at her, clearly frustrated at this classic blunder and tell her to look at ALL the letters in the word and sound them out.  This is when she tells me she wishes she didn't have to do this part to be able to read a book.  I, then, in what I consider to be a moment of sheer teaching genius (It doesn't take much for me to feel that way at this stage of the game, keep in mind.), tell her that learning how to sound out these little words is very important if she wants to read a book someday.  I explain that it would be much like trying to drive a car that had no wheels.  (This makes her giggle.)  "You need the wheels to be able to drive the car, right?" I ask her.  She nods and giggles some more and, encouraged greatly, I continue, "Learning these words is like putting the wheels on your reading car.  Once you get them on there, you can read books!"  She seems satisfied with this explanation and continues our lesson happily for another full 30 seconds.  Reminders of taffy were the only thing keeping this boat afloat.

This example is nothing like the tantrum I was met with on Wednesday that led to a good portion of Eva's morning being spent in the bathroom for some lengthy time-outs where crying and all manner of screaming ensued.  I was worried the neighbors were going to call the cops and I nearly called the local school district to see how quickly I could get her started.  It's a good thing I'm almost embarrassingly persistent (Or is it stubborn?) when it comes to doing something I believe in.

I can picture myself trying to teach only Eva.  I can see myself with her as the only child and me suffering through these sessions with the patience of a grizzly bear.  I thank God that I have more than one child.  That I have 3.3 reasons to have my patience tried, stretched and grown deeper and wider everyday.  If not for them, this would not be happening.  It seems strange to me that it should work that way, but the fact of the matter is, I wouldn't appreciate alone time with each of my beautiful blessings if not for the times when I have them all together.  It just wouldn't be possible. 

As much as I quake in my boots at the thought of being a mother to four children and, not just their mother, but the person responsible for their education (That should be true even if your kids are in public school!), I know that God has given me and my husband charge over them not just for their health, safety and betterment, but for our personal and spiritual growth as well.  I might be the conduit for their learning, but I KNOW, without a doubt, they are the conduit for mine and I praise God for that.

The First Day

(I told myself that when Eva started school I would start a public blog about it and our crazy family life.  I'm going to do my best to keep up.  I might post daily.  I might post weekly.  But I'll need to vent, so stay tuned...)

Today was Eva's first day of Classical Conversations (http://www.classicalconversations.com/).  So for me, even though she wasn't getting on a school bus and even though she wasn't out of my sight for more than 30 seconds at a time, it was a momentous occasion that marks the beginning of our efforts to officially educate her --homeschool style!

Yep, that's her school face.

The day was a bit trepidatious for a number of reasons.   First, I felt like I was running late.  (Turns out, EVERYONE was running late the first day.  Phew.)  Second, last Thursday was supposed to be her first day, but it was foiled by all the rain and flooding we got from Lee and today was oddly reminiscent of this time last week, especially when we noticed, as we were leaving, that a tree had fallen across the street and onto our elderly neighbor's car.  Instant detour! Fun times.  Third, I was terrified I would hate it.  I still have my doubts about my ability to teach Eva anything of lasting educational value (By the grace of God alone...) and I was worried I would feel intimidated by the obvious genius mothers surrounded by their gaggles of mini-geniuses. 

I needn't have worried.  We're all in this together and that was what drew me to CC in the first place (Well, that, and it's an AMAZING program!) and what will probably be what keeps me coming back year after year.  I'm not alone!  I'm surrounded by Godly women who are not only incredibly friendly, open and helpful, but who also have the same fears and desires for their own children. 

The day started with all of the kids of all different ages and grade levels in one room.  We prayed; would normally sing the national anthem, but the flag was missing for some odd reason; would do review, if there were any (there, of course, wasn't any this week); and one family does a presentation.  It's only a five minute stint (Praise the Lord for that!) and I've already convinced Eva that when it's our turn, we'll talk about living on the creek and show pictures of the differnt kinds of wildlife we frequently see in our backyard.  This week, a sweet boy of about the age of eight, who from where I was sitting seemed very brave and not at all uncomfortable in front of a large group, showed us all of the fun things he had constructed with Legos, Kinex and other such playsets.  It was quite remarkable and he was obviously very into his hobby. 

Then, we all dispersed into our separate classes.  The great thing about CC is that the moms get to stay with their kids.  It's harder, of course, when you have multiple children at different grade levels and you have to divide your time, but for me, right now, I get to sit in Eva's class of 4 and 5 year olds and it is a HOOT!  Those kids are super funny without even trying to be.  It was probably the most fun I've had in 2 and 1/2 hours in a LONG time.  The best part is that Eva LOVED it!  I had thought she would and was relieved I wasn't wrong.  And, as suspected, she wants to go back everyday.  I had to break it to her gently that most days of the week she'd be learning with me as her teacher.  I know.  I'd cry, too.  That is sad news, indeed.

After class time, we all headed to the cafeteria for lunch and that's when it got REALLY chaotic.  Imagine a room not quite large enough for all of the people who need to use it, jammed with moms who, typically, have at least two to three children with them each and many of them under the age of 10.  It was just nuts!  The noise volume alone was mind numbing!  Quinn could have benefited greatly from a booster seat, a situation I fully intend to remedy the next time we're there.  I think there was just so much going on that he was on stimulation overload.  It was all he could do to look at what he was eating, let alone stay in his seat.  Sully was having similar problems and Eva, who is usually quite focused at meal times, was under the table at one point, clearly fascinated by the boy who had lured her there with promises of magic tricks.  (He did not deliver.)

Then, after lunch, we let the wild minions run free in the gym.  Normally, they'd be playing outside on the playground equipment, but with the weather being what it was, everyone was stuck inside and it, too, was a scene from my worst nightmare.  Quinn kept chasing after balls that belonged to older children and would become completely furious when they would run away with the one he was currently enamored with.  Sully was just a loose cannon is his own right and Eva was upset because she hadn't immediately found some pals to play with.  I let this insanity continue for about exactly 10 minutes, at which point I rounded up my posse and heade for the car, thoroughly worn out. 

Don't get me wrong, the morning was invigorating and exciting, but lunch and playtime were enough to send even the healthiest, fittest, and most unpregnant of mothers running for her minivan for a break.  Currently everyone is upstairs, not napping necessarily (I cannot believe they aren't tired enough to sleep!), but being relatively quiet and waiting patiently for Mommy to call an end to their quiet time imprisonment. 

I think I can officially call Eva's first day of school a success.  Tomorrow is another story entirely!