What I Can Control

Ian told me yesterday that he's decided he wants to major in "everything."

This is from a kid who last year hated school. Every day when I'd pick him up from school, there'd be some sadness or anger. He didn't think he knew anything. He believed he was just plain stupid. He hated all his teachers (as did I) he hated school, people, life in general. I wondered if he took after some of the members of my family who struggle with depression and bi-polar and drug and alcohol abuse and aren't diagnosed until they're in jail or homeless or something equally depressing.

But now I think he's going to become a Renaiisance Man. You know, the kind of man that is well read yet can also wield a sword (or at least an Air Soft Gun.) The kind of man who can talk about all subjects without sounding like a blowhard.

My point is that with homeschooling I'm beginning to see the old Ian. The one that as a child read book after book after book and when I'd try to skip pages because it was late at night and all I really wanted to do was go to bed or at the very least zone out in front of the TV,  he'd say, "No Mommy, that's not how it works."

He's right. That's not how it works. That's not how public education should work. Some people are very anti-public education for various reasons, but I've always supported it. I've always believed in it. Not anymore. I think it works for the kids who don't make waves. The kids who follow the rules. The kids who never raise their hand, never skip class, never question anything anyone asks of them.

When they get to college they stand quietly in the Financial Aid line, even when it snakes out the door. They sign all the forms without reading. They don't question why they have to take English when they plan on begin a mathmetician.

These are good kids. I like having them in class. I enjoy talking with them. They are nice. They are sweet. And let's face it, they're fairly pedestrian, but that's okay. They make up most of America and we probably couldn't survive without them.

But Ian always questioned. When he was in second grade and brought home his spelling list with ten new words that he had to write three times, he said, "Why do I have to write them three times if I can write them right once?"

Good point. Why?

That should have been my first clue that Ian would not survive the numbing, dull-mindedness of public school (not all public schools - I'm talking about the ones where we live). I should have taken him out of school then, but I really, really believed in public schools (after all, I was a teacher in one).

It's been a hard lesson the last few years here in Colorado. I've lost my faith in public education. I've lost my confidence in teachers (myself included). Do we really know what we're talking about? What's the point of writing an essay about a subject randomly chosen from a list of subjects? What are we teaching?

Sometimes I think we need to go back to the old models of apprenticeship...seriously. We teach them to read and write and then we send them to someone to teach them a skill. We talk about skills all the time in education, but what skills are we teaching them? We talk about "critical thinking," what does that mean? And how do we know we've taught it and how are they going to use it?

What I think we need to teach our kids, our own kids in particular, are how to have confidence in whatever they do. We need to teach them to explore, we need to teach them to experience, we need to teach them to be unafraid.

And most of all we need to teach them that they can major in Everything.

Way Too Much Time

I have decided that yes, you can spend too much time with your children. They probably think the same.

I know parents who when their children graduate they are inconsolable. They can't imagine their household without Jen or Bob or whomever. When my oldest boy Jordan, who is now 22, graduated from high school, I was counting the days down until he left for college. Not that I put it on the calendar in big red marker (okay, it was on the calendar, but in blue ink) but I was looking forward to the fact that it would be one less thing I'd have to take care of.

There are three boys in my household and I include my husband in this formula. So when Jordan left, it meant only two people to take care of. I was kind of sad but in retrospect, not really. This was the period in Jordan's life that he answered in grunts, thought his hands were glued to texting on the phone and wondered why he had to help clean up the kitchen, after all, he didn't cook dinner (i.e. make the mess). Of course, this is the same kid that one night at dinner I mentioned that we needed to call the butcher to get our pig butchered and he turned to me and said, "We have a pig?"

Thus, I wasn't heartbroken that he was leaving. When certain mothers cornered me in the post office and told me that they cried their eyes out when there sons/daughters left home I really realized that, once again, Mother-of-the-Year was beyond my grasp. I also thought these particular mothers should probably get a job or maybe paint the bathroom.

I know, I know, all you "together" moms are aghast that I haven't taught the males in my family to be more self-sufficient, but trust me, it hasn't been for lack of trying. However, I believe, after 27 years of marriage and two male children, that the male species is genetically incapable of certain acts. Such as thoroughly cleaning a bathroom or putting a cup in the dishwasher or shutting a cupboard door or letting the dogs out in the morning.

So what does this have to do with homeschooling and the title of this episode?

I optimistically think that Ian will be my saving grace. He will be the male child that will become the perfect husband role model and it will be all because of my expert training. Never mind that just this minute, rather than moving the chair out of his doorway, he climbed over it...seriously, he just did.

I will take more time, more patience, more understanding, more knowledge and develop a funny, kind, sensitive man that sees that a diaper needs changing without his wife telling him. He will see that the garbage needs to be delivered to the can rather than walking around it. He will get rid of the gunk in the bottom of the sink after doing dishes. He will make the bed and put all the decorative pillows on it. He will put the butter away. He will lift the top of the dirty clothes hamper and put his underwear in it, rather than on it.

That's all I have to do.  I've got seven more months to teach Ian these few things.

Think I can?

Supplemental Activities - Part II

In Ian's homeschooling log, I have to take attendance, by the hour and enter it. You have to have over 1,000 hours in order to qualify for a free trip to the Bahamas ( I just made that up). Anyway, besides all the subjects there is a column marked "Supplemental Activites."

For those that are really, really bored and desperate and therefore have been reading my Blog, you'll know that part of this is Ian going to our next-door neighbor's Skip's place and creating "things" out of other "things."

I'm wondering if the following qualifies as "Supplemental Activity."

In Granby, all the kids (let me be more specific - all the BOYS who are around 13) have what are called "Air Soft Wars."

For those of you who live in more elite communities and aren't familiar with this, Air Soft Wars are "Wars" undertaken by "Boys" with Air-Soft Guns. These are guns that you can buy online at various websites. The website we bought ours from stated, at the top, in flashing letters, "Are you ready to begin shooting?" and then continued, "Now is the time to practice shooting...." For what, I wonder?  For the invasion of foreigners? For the invasion of wild mammals? However, this did not stop me from buying a gun for Ian that came with 5,000 pellets AND a small pistol for "those times when this is the gun you need." Do you know that on this website I can buy a real gun, all I have to do is click on the box that states, "I am over 18." It seems to me that there is a void somewhere in this process. Seriously, I could lie and click and they'd send me a really, really big gun as long as I have a credit card.

This is how Air Soft Wars work in Granby. All the kids with Air Soft Guns (which is about 127) gather at the old gravel pit with the old mobile homes with all the doors ripped off and have wars. Most of these wars take place after dark and the kids have adapted their guns to this by duct taping flashlights to their guns.

Air Soft pellets are not soft - this is false advertising. One time Ian showed me how to shoot his gun and I aimed at the door of the shed where the pigs safely sleep at night and accidentally shot one of our pigs in the rear. The pigs were about 20 feet away - who knew guns could be so unpredictable.

So why did I buy him this? Peer Pressure - pure and simple. All his friends had one and since he's homeschooled I felt guilty for the time he lost not socializing, even though I'm pretty sure shooting at each other does not qualify for socializing, so I bought one. I got online, I clicked on the 18 and over, gave them my credit card number and bought not one, but two barrels of air soft pellets - one in orange and one in green.

When it arrived and Ian frantically ripped open the box my husband says, "I can't believe you bought him this, you hate guns." I do, I hate guns. I don't like hunting, even though I was raised around hunting and believe that good hunters have a role in our ecosystem, guns still scare me. I don't think I'm sensible enough to be around one but I am sensible enough to know I shouldn't be around one.

How am I going to feel when Ian shoots someone in the eye (remember the movie "The Christmas Story" and "you'll shoot your eye out?") or vice versa?

When I'm sitting in the emergency room with either my son or another I'll feel guilty about this also. Let's face it, when you're a parent, guilt is a prerequisite.

So I guess I've answered my own question - Air Soft Wars are probably not a "Supplemental Activity." 

Although sitting in the Emergency Room might qualify for one.

The Terrible Reality of Being with a 13 Year Old Boy All Day

Here's the reality of being a homeschool mom to a 13 year old boy who only wishes to skateboard; you occasionally wish the floor in his bedroom would mysteriously open up and he would disappear into an abyss and he could only come back into the Now World if he promises to only say nice things.

So far my son: hates me, I disappoint him, I don't understand, and by far my favorite - LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

I hired a nice young man as a tutor for math because, as you know, I have never seen the need for math (little did I know I'd be homeschooling...they should tell you this in high school, then maybe you'd pay attention.)I thought a tutor would be great. Apparently not. Apparently only the stupid kids have tutors. I reminded him that his brother has a tutor in college for Economics. I reveled in my own days as a tutor and as a college student who needed a tutor for Spanish. I made up a story that his dad also needed a tutor in math. I explained that a tutor was to make him even better, after all, he's already been bumped up one level. His reply..."I'm not going and you can't make me."  Can't I? I'm not sure anymore.

Before I homeschooled my son I was quite secure in my role as a college teacher and most-of-the-time good mom (I will admit, I will not make "Mother-of-the-Year."), but I thought I knew my son. Not true.

I thought I knew my son after I read the book "Raising Your Spirited Child." I checked away at the personality tests and believed I now knew how to change what I viewed as negative behaviors into positive ones. All I had to do, according to the book, was merely change my word usage, then all would be bliss and we'd all get along and no one would ever slam a door in my house and yell, "I hate you." For example, rather than use the word "stubborn" you use the word "tenacious."

It doesn't work. No matter what words I use I'm still frustrated with my bright, humorous and lively son. He's still recalcitrant and obnoxious and rude and spoiled and self-centered.

So then, like all good parents I go back over all the parenting mistakes I've made (remember - I'll never make "mother-of-the-year.") and feel sad and guilty and depressed and wonder how long it'll be before he starts using drugs just to get away from me. Probably much sooner than before since he's stuck at home with me now.

But you know, I'm not giving up. I believe that a good education is the key to equality and I believe that I'm doing a better job than the schools around here. I'm going to keep telling him he has to redo things until they are of a higher quality. I'm going to keep asking him to think. I'm going to remind him not to be rude to me or his dad or his friends.

No matter how many times he storms out of the room or throws himself onto his bed in frustration, I will be there. No matter how many times I wish I could have someone else do this, it's too hard, I don't know what I'm doing and what did I do in another life to deserve this...I will be there because I do know that even when I don't change the words, he's still smart and funny and inventive.

And he's stuck with me, come hell or high water.

Being Social - Part Two

On Friday night, Ian and a bunch of friends, went to the local high school football game. The team hasn't won a game in two years, even after they dropped down into a lower division, but going to the game is not about the game, but rather about running up and down the sidelines, buying really, really good chili at the snack stand, talking about girls (but never "to" girls) and generally wearing yourself out in the too-soon-fall temperatures here in the Rockies.

Mike and I called Ian about every hour to see how he was doing. All is great, bye Mom, I gotta go.

Then he called and I knew something was wrong. Mike went down to pick him up and learned, on the ride home, how some kid picked a fight with him and had him down on the ground and was about to punch him in the face before Ian's much larger friend, Caleb, pushed him off.

This is the so-called social experience that homeschoolers miss when they don't attend public schools.

The pushing, the shoving, the cussing, all of that that for the most part, teachers "miss" or say that it's all part of the school experience and they might as well learn how to deal with it now.

Why do they have to learn to deal with it?

My response to this is that Ian should have kicked the kid in the nuts and ran as fast as he could.

My second response, since I'm familiar with the kid, is to feel sorry for  "J." I know his dad is currently in jail, his mom is long gone, he lives with various families or an uncle when he can. I know how and where "J" is going to be a few years from now, so I have a great deal of empathy for him. But I still want Ian to kick him in the nuts and then run.

I don't recall the kind of bullying that seems to be a theme in our schools when I was that age. I don't remember conferences and books on bullying, not even when I was a high school teacher. I don't remember fist-fights among the males and I never, ever heard of girls fighting (well, besides my sister and I). I wonder if our kids today are mimicking what they see on TV, or that's how their parents act or they don't have positive role models or...what?

I would like to keep Ian sheltered from all of this. I would like for Ian to never experience fear or insecurity or unhappiness. I would like for Ian to always have plenty of great friends.

Ian is at the Skate park right now, which is a fairly safe place in that it's right next to the police station and the library. Kids wander back and forth between the library and you can often see various members of our small police force hanging out there, parking their cars, talking with the kids and being visible. That's not to say everything is perfect there, but being in  a small town, I know (and so does Ian) the "bad kids." I can count them on my hand and I know about their families and yes, I know where they'll be (but for the grace of God) in a few years.

But that doesn't mean I didn't cry Friday night after we finally got Ian settled in and talked to and off to sleep.

I was angry that Ian had to see that. I was mad at "J" for making me have to confront this all-too-common problem.

How do we teach our kids to have empathy when they are faced with ugliness?
How do we teach our kids to not hate someone who is hateful to them?
How do we teach our kids to be kind when most people are not?
How do we teach our kids to not be fearful when so many things are frightening?

Being Social

I've been getting daily emails on how I'm supposed to sign in to the Parent's Lounge so I can share my experiences with other parents. Apparently I have not been following my own assignments, although I've been very diligent with Ian's.

So I scrolled down the list of first line comments and was struck by this thought (be forewarned, this is not a kind thought) How do these people find the time to chat online? Don't they have jobs? Don't they have to halfway clean their house? Don't they have spouses and dogs and cats and laundry and appointments and a husband who is always forgetting his phone and needs me to bring it down to work to him?

I'm also getting emails alerting me to the fact that I've been added as a friend to someone's Facebook. I think that if I wanted to be this person's friend, I wouldn't need an email alert. I also think that if I wanted to be this person's friend, I'd call them.

This concerns me. Again, how do these people find the time to keep updating their Facebook (never mind the time it takes to upload photos)?

Ian wants a Facebook account. He also wants an email. I'd rather Ian hung out with friends at the Skatepark or on the ski hill or biking  or any variety of activities he can do which doesn't allow others, who don't even know him, to access his friendship.

I want him to get and even lose friends the old-fashioned way. Face to Face. Conversation to Conversation. I'm not sure the cyberspace network is a good thing. I think it isolates people and fills voids that should be filled other ways. I think it takes time away from your spouse (especially if you're online complaining about your spouse.) Ian says all the kids do it and he's probably right.

It's all rather ironic since we're homeschooling online and the whole online schooling has opened up a myriad of opportunities for people everywhere, but I still think friends and relationships should be built face-to-face.

Words are capable of creating and changing and directing and persuading, but I also believe that a few, short words typed out in a burst of emotion cannot be taken back like they can when you're talking and touching and looking and talking even more.

So for now I think we'll stick to just online schooling and I'll drop him off at the skatepark and when I pick him up and he tells me he's mad at JD I can talk to him, knowing full well that tomorrow he and JD will still be friends.