the days are . . . shiny

for this Muslim-Lebanese-American-Mama-wife-writer-photographer-homeschooler as she juggles one big guy and two little ones.

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loving and leaving montessori (part 3)

Or is this Part 4? I don’t know.

We’ve finally slipped back into a schedule. What with all the ear infections and other illnesses raging in little bodies, we’ve been lucky if our day resembles anything more than the tattered end of a dirty binky. But we have made it, thank God!

I can only believe this shift is positively affecting Noah in his adjustment to not being in school. He loved the challenges Montessori was offering him. I’m sad to say he spends a good hour or more watching Dora or some other semi-educational preschool TV program daily. I wish it could be otherwise, but he’s able to deal with TV screens now, and there’s my sanity to consider. So, when Gabriel naps, Noah has his own enjoyable rest sanctuary under a blanket on the couch. I get to do things like type this blog. Mostly, I’ve been pulling our finances together and working on my writing. (Have you visited The Spire?)

Back to why I believe this is positively affecting Noah: Today, he was able to play with his friends from Montessori during the GymPlay we attend Wednesday mornings. We have a regular playdate Wednesday and Friday, but today he stepped outside of that and engaged one of the girls who was extremely fond of him when he attended BMS. (Every time we saw her, she would shout, “NOAH!” with unadulterated glee. They were so involved the other kids at GymPlay disappeared. They kept going off together to have kid conversations, the girl’s mother and I wondering what they were talking about and how it could possibly make any sense to them since we can’t make heads or tails of what they tell us.

Noah tells me he wants to go to Montessori again. He doesn’t tell me every day, and if he returned (which he won’t-they’re already replaced him and we don’t want to send him anywhere five days a week), he would have to attend every day. I know he wouldn’t like that. We are still open to the YMCA two afternoons per week. We’re keeping it in mind for next Fall. Perhaps.

A large influence Montessori has had on us is with use of independent learning. We now have a “work period” each day where Noah and I engage one another in letter writing, telling time, shapes/sizes/colors and sequencing, handwriting, and more. There is also a period where Noah chooses and performs “work” on his own. We have several small activities that he can do, including drawing and writing his name (which he does backwards and often upside down). Most of all, I recognize Noah’s ability to meet his own needs. This morning, he got out a stepladder, pulled the cookie contained out of it’s hiding place in the microwave, and fed himself and Gabriel each a cookie. The cookies are now hidden elsewhere.

A sample day:

8 Breakfast, coffee, cleanup

9 free play downstairs

9:30 upstairs to the Work Room for letter writing, reading, name practice and open work

10 snack and continued work

11:30 lunch

12 free play downstairs

1 Gabriel’s nap, snack for Noah and 20 minutes computer time (Reader Rabbit)

1:30 Dora or other preschool programs on TV until G wakes up while I make calls, work on writing, pay bills, etc.

2:30 everyone fights with each other

3:30 leave for swimming lesson (M/W) or do some other physical activity

4:00 boys play while I tackle dinner

5:00 Nathan comes home, boys enter the witching hours

5:30 dinner, boys play with Nathan

6:30 upstairs for bath/bedtime

This Friday: a picture. Photos are LONG overdue.

the social homeschooler

Noah is only preschool age. Preschool, in my book, is not required. Mostly, it’s just convenient. I could go on about what it is meant to do (prepare children to conform to a lifetime of school expectations), but what I want to talk about here is, since deciding to remove Noah from preschool,  I’ve come across an enormous amount of concern with regards to his success as a person if we should choose to homeschool him. The concern has come from friends and family and is very real. I don’t think it should be slighted. I don’t want to go into some sermon on how studies show homeschooled children to be better equipped in various areas of life than traditionally schooled children. I want to address the fears that intelligent, caring and wonderful people (teachers, friends, family, strangers) have tossed my way.

1. Will we homeschool Noah for the high school years?

I don’t know. How could I possibly know. One day at a time, and if we get to that point and things are going well and he wants to be schooled at home for the high school years, I don’t see why not. There are libraries and websites with huge amounts of information to tap into for this sort of thing. Also, public schools are often required to share their curriculum and resources with home learners. So, sure, there’s no reason why we can’t. By the time Noah reaches high school, I expect that homeschooling during those years will no longer be considered terribly unusual.

2. How will Noah learn to function on a schedule if he’s not in school?

A valid question, especially given that one main reason we decided to pull the plug on Montessori was that Noah was so desperately overwhelmed by the looming school period that he was unable to enjoy or control himself during the mornings.

Well, here’s my answer. There’s no reason Noah can’t learn to arrive on time, or get dressed in the morning, or be prepared to go out. He learns all that without needing to do it every day. I don’t see any need to force him into a stressful situation on a daily basis when he’s only 3, 4 or 5 (or any other time in his childhood). Still, we have quite a weekly routine. It’s the same routine we used pre-Gabriel, and we seem to have fallen back into it.

Monday: Baking, cooking, cleaning at home.

Tuesday: AM appointment, lunch at home, public library, laundry.

Wednesday: Wonderlab, Barnes and Noble story hour, or gym for open play. (choose 1 or 2)

Thursday: Spanish at the Banneker Center (AM), LEARN at Banneker (PM). (LEARN is the local homeschooling community.)

Friday: Playdate with 3 other little boys (AM), Jummah or Parent’s Day Out at the YMCA. (Jummah is difficult because G misses his nap if we go and Noah is still young to follow instructions to stay quiet.)

Dinner together every night, bath every other night, stories at bedtime, in bed by 7:30.

Weekend!

The schedule is flexible, but there are at least 2 items per week that always happen at the same time. Some days are busier than others. We don’t always do everything. Sometimes we choose to pursue a different activity. In January, we will begin a swim class for Noah. I’ll also by starting a class at the YMCA, God willing.

3. How will Noah learn to be social?

This usually comes more as a warning. From Noah’s teacher it was politically expressed as, “The problem for many homeschooled children is that they spend so much time with their parents they don’t learn how to socialize with people of other groups.” From others, less politic, we hear, “He’ll have to learn to function in uncomfortable situations sometime.” We agree. Still, I’m surprised when I meet a stranger at the library or some other place and their shoulders creep up, they fold their arms across their chest, and they eyeball Noah as if he’s deviant or handicapped following my, “We’d like to homeschool.”

Here’s the thing (not that I need to defend my son, but I am the mom and I have a right to get all maternal): Noah’s not stupid or weird. He has difficulty processing a lot of activity (sound, motion, smells). This means he doesn’t tune it out automatically. His shields are down, if you will. We pulled him out of school so we can teach him to put them up. It’s like back pain. A lot of times, it can be prevented with exercise, but you need a safe place to do those exercises, and a coach to help you through it. School was not that place for Noah despite the astounding awesomeness of his teachers.

Let me take this further: What is your phobia? Everybody has one. Maybe it’s more of a tic or a pet peeve. For me, it’s mouth noises. Seriously. People chewing gum? I could shoot them. People talking with a dry mouth? Makes my skin crawl. For others, it’s heights. I also take issue with small spaces. Would you lock me in a small, dark closet for three hours every day to help me learn how to deal with my claustrophobia? Would you make a person afraid of heights stand at the edge of a cliff and stare into an abyss? Would you smack your gum loudly in someone’s ear for an hour if you knew the sound made them shiver and cry? Only if you were a real jerk.

Well, I wouldn’t leave Noah for three hours in a room with 30+ other milling, noisy bodies and expect him to suddenly “get it” or just deal with it. Unlike an adult, he doesn’t have a voice in his head that can tell him, “You don’t need to be afraid of this. It won’t hurt you. Just take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.” We tell him that. When he’s heard it enough, we’ll start to see him bring the wisdom into the group situations he’s regularly (yes, regularly) exposed to. That’s the primary step.

Along with giving him tools to deal with an overwhelming situation, we offer him plenty of opportunity to grow socially. Homeschooled children (again, the term is relative since preschool is unnecessary–and I will have to dedicate a post to what I mean by it at this age) have the unique opportunity to socialize more than traditionally schooled children. For example, one reason we liked Montessori is that Noah was placed in a group of his peers ranging from ages 3-6. There was no artificial environment of children only his age. I say artificial because when in “real” life will he work only with people that share the year of his birth?

Children outside the school setting can interact with children of their age group, children above and below their age group, and adults. They can perform these interactions in a class setting (yes, homeschoolers have classes with other homschoolers), in a play setting, individually, in other groups, via volunteering, through Science, Biography or other fairs, on sport or other teams, or working at a job (as age permits).

Basically, he can learn to conform without going to school. I realize “conform” is a loaded term, but I’m trying to get across that Noah can learn to socialize acceptably–according to the standards/expectations of our society–without sitting at a desk for hours every day in a classroom where he has to ask permission to use the bathroom or is chastised for not standing in line when his very young body is telling him to go, go, go in order to stay healthy and, ultimately, safe. (At Montessori he could go to the bathroom whenever needed, but couldn’t relieve the intense energy he feels as much as he needed.) In short, Noah (or any other child) can learn to be acceptably social, have conversations, attend large or small meetings, defer or take charge, without public schooling. People did it for years before public schooling came about. People do it now. Noah will likely learn it without help, but we’ll help him anyway because that’s our job as parents.

It’s funny; I knew a post in defense of homeschooling would come. I knew it would happen with the issue of socialization. Still, I’m surprised to be writing it now, as our journey is just beginning.

This isn’t aimed at anyone in particular. As I mentioned, we’ve been hearing these concerns from numerous sources–people we don’t even know. And we’ve been finding strangers who share our desire to homeschool. Our group is growing every day. It seems we homeschoolers travel similar circuits, and we’ve all weighed these same concerns that those who haven’t yet considered homeschooling or who find it reprehensible are bringing us.

our big announcement for the year

We have decided to withdraw Noah from preschool. This decision has been and will continue to be difficult for all of us. It was not due to a failing of the school. In fact, the attention and time they’ve paid Noah and our family has made it possible for us to understand that Montessori is not for everyone. That, while Noah is learning and growing, he is not thriving in the Montessori classroom the way he should. It’s affecting him at home. It’s affecting us all. His needs at this time are different than what Montessori is designed to offer. As parents, Nathan and I must find a different way to meet those needs.

These last few months have provided us a window into Noah’s inner life. We’re able to get a much clearer picture of how he’s dealing with the traumatic treatment of his split head. Every day he acts out getting or giving staples. He lingers on the morbid. He needs to vocalize his fears and experiment with behavior that is normal for his age group, but unacceptable in the peaceful Montessori environment.

It’s all happening very quickly. Our family is faced with a number of choices right now regarding the best way to transition Noah out of the school. He doesn’t understand what it means to not be in school. He’s both excited and concerned. At school, he’s had more bad days than good. I don’t know that we’ll find a new school setting for him. We may get our home set up in a way that’s better for him, and my homeschooling friends have congratulated me on this decision and invited me to start a casual coop with them. I think Noah would love that.

But he does have ties to the school. He knows the students there. While he hasn’t made any true friends, he has bonded with his head teacher. Montessori does not approach students with a nurturing attitude. It is very stand-offish, encouraging children to do for themselves, but this teacher has been very dedicated to Noah. Without her, we wouldn’t have had the resources we do now. We wouldn’t have known what roads Noah needs to travel before he can be ready for something like Montessori.

Probably the hardest part of this for all of us is giving up the idea of Noah as a Montessori student. We’d hoped, even against the hope of homeschool, that he’d see this through sixth grade. We love the tools offered. We love that Noah loves Montessori. But we can’t watch him come home at least three days out of five sad because he’s had a bad day. Too often, he visits with the principal. That leaves him full of angst about returning.

I wonder how much angst he will have when he finally realizes Montessori won’t be his school anymore. Like the chair he once claimed at Panera, moved away from, then blew up over because it was claimed by someone else–the school will still be there; the students will still be there; Noah will not be there. How do you explain to your children when life moves on without them?

He is just a child. A resilient, curious, loving and engaging little boy who will find new interests even as he struggles with a new routine. Still, I approach this change with great trepidation. I’m feeling small and scared while I know, know, know this is the best thing we can do right now. There will be other schools or other lessons if and when we need them, God willing.

I’ll write more on the pros and cons (we made a list), how and why we’ve come to this decision, and the process as it unfolds. Now, I’m going to stay positive and eat soup. It’s a brisk Fall day, and we have a birthday party later. Happy thoughts, friends. Think them with me.

book review: the well trained mind (part 1)

In a rare act of bloggy presence, Nathan has agreed to help me with this review. I’ll be doing the first part–a general overview of The Well-Trained Mind, what it’s good for, what it’s not, reader-friendliness, and so forth. Nathan will take a look at the way the writers, a mother and daughter team, present the Well-Trained Mind curriculum.

My fabulous MIL presented me with the recent anniversary edition of The Well Trained Mind. She has trouble not buying books. I have trouble discouraging her impulsiveness. We are both voracious readers. Together, we could rule the world! Ahahahahaha!

Hmm. Did I just type that out loud?

This book got me really excited. I actually began converting my guest room into a school room as I was reading it. I couldn’t wait to sit Noah down and give him reading lessons. If you know Noah, you’ll be happy to know I never did that. He only accepts that style of instruction from his dad, and I very well may have set him back a year on reading if I’d tried it.

Back to the book: This mother-daughter duo knows how to motivate, and their confidence in this home teaching method comes on strong. The mother, Jessie Wise, begins the book by telling readers the story of how she ended up homeschooling. It’s a story I’ve been hearing a lot lately from various homeschooling parents. One that, refreshingly, has nothing to do with religion.* Basically, Jessie took an interest in her children’s education before they started school. The result was her kids were bored and understimulated in their learning environment and the teachers got touchy about it. So, Jessie and her husband reorganized their lives in order to put their children’s education first and started teaching them at home.

What this translated to was the “trivium,” which the Well-Trained Mind curriculum is built on. I think Nathan will say more on that, so here’s just an overview. The trivium builds on itself in three stages; grammar, logic and rhetoric. Education begins in the kindergarten years (although there is work to be done with your preschooler), and aids the child in learning how to, in a nutshell, think before acting. And that’s what I hear people who want to homeschool getting excited about. They want their kids to be able to think critically, analyze, understand, comprehend, get it, grok it before they take their information anywhere and do anything with it. If only our pundits felt the same way.

While we still like unschooling (the child-driven method) for home learning, we will absolutely be using this text in our homeschooling future. It is replete with home education resources. Even if used for the sole purpose of suggested reading lists, it will be worth its weight in knowledge.

If you plan to, or are already, teaching at home, I strongly recommend reading this book. If you are looking for a complete curriculum that will tell you what to do and how to do it all the way through high school, buy this book. If you live in a two-story house, buy two copies. Keep one upstairs and one downstairs and never be without it. This book, aside from increasing your physical strength through repeat lifting, will empower you with the ability to empower your children. It will be a source of constant reassurance.

Nathan and I found this book to be prescriptive. For me, it is also invaluable. As I was looking through the topics to cover, I came to recognize and horrifying lack of materials covered in my own education. I kept marveling that you could fit so much into a child’s brain. Since the second author, Susan Wise Bauer, was raised on this curriculum, I found myself critically assessing her writing. I came away confident that this method could work.

To do this, you need to be organized, which I am not. But, as I said in my opening, this book has inspired me to get organized. You also need to be ready to put in 100% and push through even when you want to claw your eyes out. I can get behind those tasks.

To end, I want to say that Jessie Wise was an educator and is now and education consultant. She was a teacher BEFORE she decided to homeschool. She knew what she was doing and her reasons were sound. *I said before that I found it refreshing she didn’t choose to homeschool for religious reasons. I made my statement because I get really annoyed that the only published resources are those dedicated to Christians. I’m always looking for something I can read without constant mental revision. With that said, this book is clearly aimed at Christian parents with regards to teaching content, but learning about all faiths is a crucial part of the curriculum, so a lot of what a Muslim parent would bring to education is already there or can be easily added.

Finally, this book should be in every educator’s library.

cannot brain today

I have the impressive ability (perhaps super power?) to humiliate myself. This power has grown weaker over time. Yesterday, the stars must have been in alignment because the Force was strong with me.

This week has been (and will continue to me) frakking insane. Monday was playdate-Noahschool-Eidshopping-Noahpickup-homedinner-crazycrazycrazy. Yesterday was picnicprep-Noahschool-familypicprep-Noahpickup-familyphoto-picnicprep-picnic-yearbookpics-hometobed. While we have a respite this morning, Noah has spent it in tantrums. I have spent it in a sleepy daze, with waves of embarrassment crashing over me.

Noah’s class picnic was a chance for parents and teachers and kids to co-mingle outside the school. I brought mjadara and spinach rolls. Both were vegan, so I stopped to tell Noah’s vegan assistant teacher. He introduced me to his significant other. Boy she was pretty.

Suddenly, I realized how tall they both were. A tall, handsome couple, towering over me in their youth and good looks. Would they let me take their picture, I wanted to ask. I was struck shy. Happy humans handsome in their own security do that to me. They were shining down on my like some sort of Greek sculptures (one with a mustache). I am all of 5″5′ (or very close to it). I am average by American standards. I’m not a speck of dust unless you look at me on a universal scale, but I found that I felt overwhelmingly small.

As they stood there smiling their made-for-TV smiles, I perceived myself to be growing smaller. Smaller. smaller. The darkness around them began to grown. They became stars that shine through from twilight till dawn. I was a bumpy, brown meteor. Smaller. smaller.

I was saying something. Probably not terribly interesting. I stopped mid sentence. “I’m sorry,” I told them. My head swam in the sea of their awesomeness. Okay, they’re probably only a couple years younger than me, but I began to feel like I was faking my own pleasant youth. I’m sorry, I’d said. And then , “My social is broken.”

My social is broken? WTH? Did I just say that out loud?

And they stood there smiling and nodding. Completely understanding in movement even if their eyes betrayed their confusion. Or was it amusement?

They did not laugh at me. Nice people. That’s what they were. People who volunteer in the community, take care of the environment, mentor children into loving and thoughtful tweens, teens and adults. And affectionate toward each other. Dear Lord. Proper, caring, and kind. They let me walk away. I went saying, “I’m just gonna go before I . . .” and I moved my arms like I was digging a hole. Maybe they will still let me take their picture?

My social is broken.

I cannot brain today. I have the dumb.

In the car, I told Nathan and laughed until I cried. He laughed with me–and possibly at me. But if he laughed at me, it was an affectionate laugh. I’m glad he’s not very tall. He’s also average. Nathan is understanding and kind. Sometimes, his social breaks too.

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