tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230800392024-03-07T06:14:42.401-08:00Anecdotal EvidenceIt is hard to shuck the mantle of institutional education and recognize that human beings are hardwired to learn, to allow oneself to dance free of the constraints of institutional thinking, and to truly grasp that most things worth attaining cannot be measured by any test. Here is anecdotal evidence that learning happens.Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-15317000903728661482009-05-10T04:55:00.000-07:002009-05-11T18:30:23.804-07:00Mother's Day Message: Twisted<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This morning I am considering how Mother's Day began as a day for mothers to oppose war--so, as Julia Ward Howe wrote, "Our husbands shall not come to us reeking with carnage…Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience."--and became a tool of commerce as the florist and other industries taught us to honor our mothers by spending money on flowers, cards, candy, jewelry and more.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Show Mom You Love Her</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Show Mom You Love Her" is not a bad recommendation, but, shouldn't the activity occur more than once a year? Do you have to buy a card, or flowers, or anything, in order to show love toward your Mum? Does an annual response to mass-marketing really honor the woman who gave you life? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When my children were young, I incorporated Mr. Rogers' "Many Ways" song into their upbringing. "There are many ways to say I love you. There are many ways to say I care about you...." Mr. Rogers would sing examples of actions that say "I love you," and I adapted the song to reflect my values, to teach my children how they could show love to me- and others, in the everyday. "There's the picking up your room so I don't break my toes when I come in to kiss you good-night way to say 'I love you'...." and "...the speaking kindly to me way to say to say 'I care about you'..."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I also gave my girls an object lesson in the cycle of giving and receiving. Setting two clear plastic cups on the table, I told them, "one is your cup and one is mine," then I put colorful glass "jewels" --borrowed from our Mancala game--into the cups, about half in each. Taking jewels from "my" cup and putting them one by one into "your" cup, I talked about each bit of glass as I placed it into the new container. "When I cook dinner for you, I am giving you a gift, a jewel, a treasure." I included other examples, like, "when I set up a play date with your friend...take you to the beach...help you find your book...drive you to the library so you can pick up your book on hold...take care of you when you are sick..." and so on.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After a dozen or so examples, my cup of jewels was wiped out. "Now look! My cup is empty. I have nothing left to give you. So when you need to go somewhere, want me to fix your toy that broke, need a bandage on your knee...I don't have a jewel to give you."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After letting that sink in a little, I gave them the rest of the picture. Taking some jewels from "your" cup, I started placing them into "my" cup, one by one, with the explanation, "But you can give me jewels, too! When you come up and give me a big hug, that is a gift, a jewel, a treasure. When you do your chores conscientiously, without my having to check up on you, then you are putting a jewel in my cup. I gave further examples until the cups were again about even in the number of jewels.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Now, since you gave jewels back to me, I have some to give to you, when you need something, or when I just feel like giving you one. It is a cycle of love, me giving to you, you giving to me."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This lesson made a big impression on my daughters, one that they remember even today. My 5'8" ninteen-year-old still comes to sit on my lap now and then. My almost-as-tall-as-her-sister younger daughter, at sixteen, still tips her head so I can plant a good-night kiss on her forehead. They sometimes pick a vase full of flowers for "no particular reason," and they often have dinner ready when I come home, because they know it is a jewel that fills my cup in the cycle of love.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >The Hallmark Power Drain</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The concerted effort to turn Mother's Day from a day of conscientious observation--a day of protest, even--into a Hallmark holiday, where a card and a gift "That Says 'I Love You'", has drained away the power of the original intention. The co-opting has stripped women's power from the holiday, sublimating that to the passive receipt of trinkets. This power, women's power to protest, to speak loudly, to stand firmly, to say, "Arise, all women who have hearts!" is potent, and has the potential to instigate much positive change. Is it wise to let the marketeers erase this vital energy from the observation that motherhood can be </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >and is </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">far more powerful than the sticky-sweet notion of a Shoebox Greeting?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Show your mother that you love her--today and throughout the year. But also, bring back the original intention. Take a moment to reclaim that power today, if only to read Julia Ward Howe's </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother%27s_Day_Proclamation">Mother's Day Proclamation</a>," which includes, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means Whereby the great human family can live in peace, Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, But of God." Amen!<br /></span></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-20403114350736513712008-07-28T09:17:00.000-07:002008-08-09T05:41:47.863-07:00Much of a Yarn<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Someone once said that, "education is what you get when you did not get what you want," and I have enjoyed using that bit of wit numerous times--particularly in reference to the times I received an education instead of what I had initially sought.<br /><br />This weekend, two of my <a href="http://www.ship7916.org/">Sea Scouts</a> and I met Steve Alexander to take our largest boat--a US Yachts 27--on her first cruise in 6 years. Except for the past month while we struggled to make her engine work, his boat had been on dry land all that time.<br /><br />The weather was gorgeous for sailing, with a nice breeze...but we could not raise sails because the halyards had not been put back. Cap'n Alexander showed us how to fasten the "small stuff" that was a placeholder to the sheet, so we could use the thinner line to pull the thicker line into place in the pulley at the top of the mast, but we could not get the line through the pulley at the top of the mast.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OFAT18Xo_vZLx1UPGRGcf5OkRScAPJkighL_f5LBFYGNh-h37NMSA2uc1jDaFoIGo2u0dYJ9q9ExGBU9L11v2Dy_FmqiaA17C5LA5hyLcX50rkNj1vGzjar_e4k1hJNmOnmdbg/s1600-h/100_4622.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228104923935800306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OFAT18Xo_vZLx1UPGRGcf5OkRScAPJkighL_f5LBFYGNh-h37NMSA2uc1jDaFoIGo2u0dYJ9q9ExGBU9L11v2Dy_FmqiaA17C5LA5hyLcX50rkNj1vGzjar_e4k1hJNmOnmdbg/s200/100_4622.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We decided to take Amanda Grace out anyway, to put the engine through its paces, but </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3R5P80CCei2-xKk63Q5oeb5QIYawy1pmxa6D-9W0Qqdo2HMgaq5QQ9FOvjx3bUFwNmjH8pvAR-qrX8bG9eZUiuPf0UTDvh6Vk2KPY7VHqVYgyFO8aeGMaMSj6YDXH3T47ExGZ1w/s1600-h/100_4623.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">discovered in preparation that the thimble had been cut off the end of the anchor rode and the anchor wouldn't have worked without it. So, thanks to Cap'n Alexander's patient tutelage and skill, Caitlin and Rebecca learned some marlinespike. They also cleaned out the anchor locker, and laid the rode in neatly.<br /><br />The Volvo Penta diesel engine started and sounded beautiful for a "one-lunger." Cap'n Alexander reviewed proper procedure for helm commands and responses, then we cast off with Rebecca at the wheel. Out in the main channel, Rebecca gave her half throttle, and in about a minute the engine </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJNrbvGB0hMcrl_3aidmAPBMWH1YJzbV46ANppDVMlxMov7Nykysqdp90h_PCCzo_-DrF-x0illSC8-IqtqerfIWD0LQR76EGJhx_edFKXIhbmEulvguh-jlVYzKMxacwrHFpAw/s1600-h/100_4632.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">temperature alarm went off. Even though Mr. Schmoker cleared the clog in the salt water cooling system, there is apparently not enough water coming through. So, the Cap'n shut her down, turned the boat about, and we sailed back under Bimini power. A three-minute tour. Upon reaching our row in the dock, he turned us deftly, and then we used the boat hook and other boats' bows to crawl back to our slip.<br /><br />The scouts and I did not get what we wanted--a glorious experience with sails raised and full in the wind--but we got a whole lot more. More experience we can use in future, and more to make a better story. Let's face it, if all had been uneventful, this post would read "we had a nice shakedown sail," and that wouldn't be much of a yarn, would it?</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-49514515434794839652008-06-28T08:51:00.000-07:002008-08-09T05:41:21.974-07:00The Good Stuff Off the Spoon<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love the markdown section at the back of the grocery store. I never know what I might find, and, often, when there is something good, it is very inexpensive—as in cheap enough that I will buy it, even if my kids and I don’t really need it. This is how I came home with a $1.00 squeeze bottle of crème de coco one day this spring. My kids and I are on a tight budget, and we didn’t need this treat, but I was pretty sure my children—now 18 and 15 years-old—had never tasted it, and, for the price, I thought it worth introducing.<br /><br />It was a beautiful day, and I was in good spirits, chatting and joking with the cashier, appreciating the puffy clouds in the sky as I headed into the parking lot with my grocery-laden cart, and enjoying a quick, bumpy ride on the shopping cart as it rolled toward my car, which was strategically parked next to the “cart corral,” so I could have a longer coast, and easily stash the gravity-powered vehicle at ride’s end.<br /><br />Whenever the opportunity presents itself I hop onto the back of a grocery shopping cart and ride it in the parking lot, unmindful of enviously gawking kids and adults. I seek and appreciate the little thrill that makes me smile. Whether in the mark-down section, at the register, or in the parking lot, I look for the lagniappe in every day, and find it in everyday opportunities and actions.<br /><br />When I arrived home, my younger daughter, Laurel, came into the kitchen to help put away the groceries. As expected, she was curious about my bargain purchase. “Get a spoon,” I instructed as I opened the seal on the bottle. I squirted a pile of Crème de Coco onto her spoon, and onto another for myself. Doubtful eyebrow raised, Laurel lifted the spoon to her mouth, tasted, and smiled. It felt sinfully indulgent to be eating this sweet, creamy, high-fat treat before lunch, standing there at the kitchen counter, licking our utensils, with Laurel noting that, “Sometimes, you just have to eat the good stuff off the spoon.”<br /><br />There are a lot of sad and angry people upon this earth. Many have survived terrible childhoods, and physical or psychic wounds. In our individual ways, we are all walking wounded, and how we choose to respond to that determines our level of happiness. I have often said that people need to know that happiness is mostly attitude and intention, that it takes the same amount of energy to be happy as it does to be miserable. I am no stranger to abuse, loss, injury, or challenge, and those who know me best say that I have experienced more than my fair share of these. However, by a path of many turns, I have come to a place where I have largely forgiven those who have hurt me, and recognized the self-empowerment that comes with choosing to use those experiences to make myself better and not allowing them to make me bitter. I recognize that a person always fashions his or her own life, unconsciously or consciously--and I choose the latter. I keep my mind and heart open to possibilities, thoughts, and experiences. I look life square in the eye, embrace the whole of it, am responsive to whatever it brings while avoiding the trap of victim and martyr roles, push beyond fear, and strive to hold onto trust in even the darkest hours. I embrace and savor the boundless goodness of life, consider it an adventure, and have a tendency to find and make fun and magic wherever I go. These are characteristics I wish for my children to gain from homeschooling, far above academic success.<br /><br />As we stood in the kitchen with spoons poised, Laurel’s comment told me that over the years, my daughter had absorbed the lesson conveyed through my example of keeping oneself open to the possibilities, embracing joy and finding pleasure. Laurel understood the crème de coco moment and the concept at hand, the significance the value of spending a dollar on something needed only for its surprise luxury, and the importance of sharing a decadent moment eating the good stuff off the spoon.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-77628318721317829702008-02-28T09:00:00.000-08:002008-08-09T05:40:30.257-07:00Where Experts Fear to Tread<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I collect quotes wherever I encounter insightful or amusing phrases. When I find a passage that is both insightful and amusing, I am doubly pleased. Therefore, I felt lucky when this gem came in an email: "Not being an expert on anything, I rush in where experts fear to tread." My immediate response was a gut recognition. I, jack-of-all-trades, or, as some of my more charitable friends say, "Renaissance woman," could relate. My delight with his concept caused me to ask the author, Robert Desmarais Sullivan, for permission to quote him, and he graciously agreed.<br /><br />While my initial reaction to those words included a giggle, there is more to Sullivan's quote than meets the eye. Something deeper, perhaps even dangerous, is wrapped beneath its flippancy. That blithe remark flies in the face of expertise, and even questions the value of it. In our society, credentials validate one's experience or opinion, and experts have these; the titles and degrees to prove their claim of expertise.<br /><br />The dangerous little quote also begs the question, "where do experts fear to tread?" I believe it is in the places where they feel they are not experts. You are either an expert, or you do not "go there”; your opinion and experience do not count or matter. If experts hold the trademark on a particular topic or issue, then who are the rest of us to tamper with that propriety? If we dare to question, to rush in, we are often discounted. Pointing out that "she is no expert," is a facile way to discount everything about a person, to minify her as a person, in one swift cut.<br /><br />At a recent social gathering, I had a conversation with an intellectual property attorney named Bob. He said that in his experience, most people who own a trademark, URL, or other intellectual property believe their right to ownership is much greater than the reality. My reflexive response to Bob's observation was, "That makes them feel better, feel more powerful." It seems that tendency to over-extended ownership pertains to wider intellectual "property," as well.<br /><br />Many experts seem to believe they have a lock on expertise beyond what they actually have. As a homeschooler, I have seen this attitude expressed by doctors, teachers, counselors, school administrators, and others who presume that their expertise extends to homeschooling, to the point that they may even be certain that they are experts on my children’s needs and lives.<br /><br />Unfortunately, these are often people who know little about homeschooling, and may be set against it for some misconception they hold.<br /><br />My second favorite thing to do—after homeschooling my kids—is to help other homeschoolers empower themselves, even though I lack an expert’s credentials. I am not a lawyer, but I can read the law, and so can anyone who has reasonable intelligence and interest. In eleven years as a registered homeschool parent, I have learned a great deal about my state’s Home Instruction statute, asserted myself and rallied others when my county asked for more than the legal requirement, and helped numerous parents find their courage to do the same.<br /><br />When I began homeschooling in 1995, I was afraid that "they" would "come after" me, because I filed under an option that was not used by anyone I knew at the time. I was sure—for some nebulous reason—that I would be targeted and persecuted. Of course, as for the vast majority of us, that never came to pass.<br /><br />Still, four years into official homeschooling, the county asked me to provide copies of the tables of contents from the books we would be using. Because the request was beyond what the law requires, I declined with a simple, civil letter that stated, "I have read the Home Instruction statute, and believe that I have met the legal requirements with the materials I have already provided.<br /><br />However, if you will state the wording of the law, which requires that I provide the tables of contents, I will be happy to comply." A few days later, I received the so-called "approval" letter, and the county has not asked me for anything beyond law since. I encouraged my fellow homeschoolers to question the “experts” when the experts cross the line, and this attitude has spread. It is now common for seasoned homeschoolers in Virginia to advise frightened newbies to write the "show me" letter.<br /><br />As I was wrapping up the original version of this article, I came across another pertinent quote, from Steve Kurtz of </span><a href="http://www.critical-art.net/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Critical Art Ensemble</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, who said, “Amateurs can fully exercise their rights to free speech. They can function as watchdogs to a certain degree. They can keep an eye on what is in the public's interest. Experts are incredibly beholden to whoever's doing the investing."<br /><br />Kurtz’s words struck a strong chord, and brought to mind the situation in June of 2005, when a national organization concerned with homeschooling knew that the Prince William County school division in Virginia had an extra-legal regulation on the books, but did nothing, because they didn’t know- or, it seems, care that local families were being harassed. When confronted with their lack of action, the organization’s representative indicated that the group had been hesitant to correct problem due to their fear of what might happen if they “opened up” the homeschool regulation. But I, "not being an expert on anything,” rushed in “where experts fear to tread,” spearheading a grassroots coalition that worked with the school board to resolve the erroneous regulation.<br /><br />Unfortunately, this accomplishment also involved standing up to the national organization, which took issue with the idea of a local group of amateur moms who dared to initiate change in the school division’s regulations without prior consent from the organization’s experts. The result was that I not only questioned the school division’s regulations, going where the “experts” feared to tread, but also questioned the experts’ involvement and their planned course of action.<br /><br />The situation was complicated and challenging, but my fellow coalition members and I were committed to riding it out, and the end result was a local homeschool regulation that does not stray beyond state law. This kind of personal action empowers individuals to stick up for themselves, and makes us each the authority of our own lives, rather than relegating it to the domain of "experts." We need to be our own experts. Doing so makes us stronger, better, more courageous people who feel good about ourselves- and about what we do. Through homeschooling, I am raising my kids to be the experts of their own lives, and, in the process, doing the same for myself. Perhaps I am also creating a place where experts fear to tread.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-80070887918570279202007-10-28T21:01:00.000-07:002008-08-09T05:37:46.545-07:00Homeschooling to Counter the Culture of Consumption<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I came across a Washington Post article titled "</span><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/08/26/AR2007082601182.html?wpisrc=newsletter"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Spending More for a Little Solace</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">," which explains reasons that people buy "features they do not need and may never use," the bells and whistles on their DVD player, SUV, digital camera, etc. As a parent who taught her children consumer awareness from their toddler years on, and who views mainstream American culture as largely driven by Madison Avenue, a passage jumped out at me. It noted that interviews with children and parents show that "low-income parents do not splurge because they fail to understand the importance of delayed gratification or because they are impulsive," but because "they are acutely sensitive to how certain consumer products influence their children's 'search for dignity.'" The researcher said that, even among famlies that were extremely poor, every 8-year-old boy in her sample "had a Game Boy or Nintendo." This is because "parents, especially poor parents, tend to buy products they cannot afford because they are acutely focused on whether their children are fitting into peer groups." The parents "were choosing their child's psychological desires over their own material needs.'" That is a sad indictment on mainstream cultural identity in the US, and it gives good reason to resist assimilation.<br /><br />Because consumer awareness has been a consistent part of my children's home education, Caitlin (17) and Laurel (14) are keenly aware of the psychological effect of advertising, as well as the lack of real value in most things heavily advertised. As a result, they are not materialistic; they don't feel the need to have whatever product is "in." Instead, when making consumer choices they follow their own hearts, and even then, they tend to set aside instant gratification, often spending time researching the product and reading reviews online before making the decision to spend.<br /><br />Unbeholden to Madison Avenue's commands to "Collect 'Em All!" and "Get the New Improved!," the kind of things my children buy reflect a different set of values. The goods they desire are thoughtfully chosen books, music, and movies--all things that enrich them on well beyond the temporary rush of obtaining something new, and on levels deeper than the simple brief amusement from items bearing little "</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Play_value"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">play value</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">."<br /><br />Although many of the myths about homeschooling have been dispelled in recent years, our educational choice is still considered by many to be a "fringe" activity, practiced by oddballs from either end of the extremist spectrum. While I will continue working to clear those stereotypes in my own way, I also embrace the oddity of my educational choice, feeling comfortable being outside the mainstream, and so do my children. While Caitlin and Laurel are still sometimes looked at askance because of their unique educational paths, homeschooling has given them something of infinite value. Their desires are their own.</span><a href="http://www.synergyfield.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-70313435442720625182007-01-28T22:01:00.000-08:002008-08-09T05:39:18.400-07:00Stranger Danger? Maybe<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I did not teach my children “never talk to strangers,” that all-too-common line that makes every unknown person a danger. Nor did I teach- or model for them the idea that every stranger is “just a friend you have not met.” I am certain that if we never talked to strangers, we would never meet potential new friends, but I temper that with commonsense caution.<br /><br />When my then-3-year-old daughter and I were at the local shopping mall, we spotted a man who had the most unusual walking stick, hand-carved with a snake undulating up its length, and embedded with semi-precious stones. We were both fascinated and curious, so I stopped him for a chat. The "stranger" told us that he had carved the stick himself, and collected the stones while on rock hound vacations with his family when the kids were young. We learned that his entire family had been into gem hunting and cutting, and that common interest was the center of their leisure time and a source of many happy memories. My daughter and I expressed appreciation for his work of art, and I thanked him for taking the time to share his story.<br /><br />As my little girl and I continued on our walk around the mall, we passed by the little county police booth off the food court. A staffer saw my daughter and came out to offer her a McGruff the Crime Dog pencil and a coloring book, and proceeded to tell her she should "never talk to strangers!" and I almost burst out laughing.<br /><br />According to personal safety expert and author </span><a href="https://www.gavindebecker.com/index.cfm"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Gavin De Becker </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, the police rep was more likely a danger—by virtue that she approached my daughter—than the man with the remarkable stick, whom we chose to approach. Of course, I used both of those encounters as examples of being open to approaching new people, and being cautious about those who approach us.<br /><br />The majority of perps are not strangers; they know their victims, and gradually encroach, planning out every step, wooing the kids with friendship, attention, and special treatment. I know this from experience. Yes, it happened to me, and because of that, I have taught my children to trust their instincts, to worry about personal safety first, and “being nice” second.<br />Through example and careful words throughout their lives, I have let my children know that you can't recognize a perp by looking at him (I say "him" because most offenders are male), and that they have the right to say “NO!” to anyone whose presence or behavior makes them feel uncomfortable. This was reinforced by their taking the </span><a href="http://radkids.org/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">radKIDS</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and </span><a href="http://www.rad-systems.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">RAD</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> self-defense courses, which provide interactive, physical lessons in defending bodily integrity.<br /><br />My children’s “lessons” in self-protection have been learned slowly over time, gently, and as appropriate. For instance, they have long known that adults have no business asking them for assistance, that adults should ask other adults for help. I have told my daughters that, if anyone approaches in a car, they are to walk in the opposite direction from the way the car is heading, and go to an area where there are a lot of people. They know that if they are lost or in trouble, they should seek assistance from someone—preferably a woman—working nearby, and they should not look for a security guard, because, statistically, most of them are ill-trained at best, and may be dangerous themselves.<br /><br />I am glad that my daughters know that predators exist, and proud that my girls know they can stand up for themselves when need be. I am also pleased that they understand that strangers do not necessarily represent danger, that they are comfortable in a variety of situations. It is immensely satisfying to know that my children’s lives will be uncolored by the taint of abuse, that they are free to be who they are, to live confidently in the world and enjoy it.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1162525199828108102006-11-02T18:26:00.000-08:002006-11-02T19:45:09.056-08:00History Buffs<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Much unlike either of their parents, my daughters are history buffs. Caitlín especially likes the Oregon Trail, Colonial and Medieval periods. Laurel's favorites are the Colonial, Revolutionary, and Civil War eras, but she also likes the medieval period. Browsing some old e-mails tonight, I found this one of interest: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >9-25-01 </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Out of curiosity, a few weeks ago I gave Caitlín an oral "test" on the history SOLs for 6th grade (which are rather lofty, and highly unlikely to be achieved in a public school setting). She already knew everything included--except for the terms "speakeasy" and "fascism." When I asked Caitlín if she could explain the influx of immigrants, the reasons they came, the hardships they faced, and their relationship to the rise of industrialism, she floored me! She has a very clear understanding of it all. Her knowledge was across the board, from the end of WWII through the Civil Rights movement. And nobody "taught" her a thing; she learned it because she found the books interesting. Caitlín didn't study history in chronological order, but bounced around, starting with 1847 on the Oregon Trail, then to 1777, forward to 1912 aboard the Titanic, and when the "Royal Diaries" came out, she went all the way back to 57 BCE, to Cleopatra's youth.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We don't do tons of hands-on activities for history. Caitlín sometimes will want to try a recipe or activity found in one of the books, but most of our "real life" history studies focus on the Colonial and Revolutionary periods, as there is a wealth of historical sites in our area. But she is asking for help finding historical sites of other time periods, such as the Victorian or Great Depression.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My daughters' enjoyment of history has far surpassed what I wrote just over 5 years ago--to places I could not have imagined at that time. I will post more about that soon.</span><br /></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1158629545470973392006-09-15T18:30:00.000-07:002006-10-01T19:41:48.066-07:00Memorials<div><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >My good friend, Linda, recently visited the DC area and wanted to go to the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/vive/">Vietnam Veterans Memorial</a>. I agreed to be her chauffer and tour guide, although I had never been to the Wall, afraid I would break down under the heavy emotional impact. The black granite wall starts out as a sliver, with just a few names. The list grows as the wall becomes higher, and the visitor walks deeper into the "hole." The polished stone reflects visitors' images, so they are juxtaposed with the etched <a href="http://thewall-usa.com/">names of the dead</a>, reminding us that these are not just names, they are people, like us.<br /><br />As we walked along the Wall, with the list of names overwhelmingly tall, I randomly read names, wondering who these people were, unable to imagine. My mind made a connection between this memorial and the Piscataway Indians' autumnal Feast of the Dead ceremonies, where ancestors are remembered, their names said aloud by descendents. Sometimes, they are names that have not been said since the last ceremony, or even in decades. As participants call each ancestral name, they tie a piece of cloth to the cedar tree in the middle of the circle. Speakers will sometimes make a brief statement about their ancestor, about who the person was, or how the descendent feels connected to the person who went before.<br /><br />Despite the weight of those seemingly endless names etched upon the Wall, I held myself together well, even as we passed several little altars--the photos, medals, flags and other offerings to the dead. Then we came to a particular shrine, a zipper bag with a flag in it and some photos, a child's scribbled drawing, and a note that read something like, "Dear Dad, I graduated from college and wore your wings. I am married now, and have two children. This is my husband, Scott, and our daughters...[forgot their names]. I never met you, but I think about you often. You were only 22, and you did not come back..." That did it. Linda and I read it, looked at each other briefly, but intently, and I turned away as my eyes teared up. It took all I had to keep from breaking down as we walked slowly, silently back out of the hole, watching the list of names wane as we reached the top edge of that black mirror.<br /><br />From there, Linda and I bypassed the pompous <a href="http://www.wwiimemorial.com/">National WW II Memorial</a> on the way to the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/kwvm/home.htm">Korean War Veterans Memorial</a>, where the pale cast-aluminum soldiers were like scattered ghosts frozen mid-stride. The black granite wall there bears the etched images of American soldiers who served, likenesses taken from a multitude of photographs, their wraith-like faces straining the polished surface of the stone as if they were pressing through thin fabric. They seem to be in effort to lift themselves from it, as if they want to come forth to speak. I wondered aloud, considering when the Iraq War Veterans Memorial would be built, and how many dead would be honored there--and where would they put it? DC is running out of room for memorials to those killed in our wars.<br /><br />The last memorial we visited was the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/fdrm/">Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial</a>, my favorite. I like its relative informality, the individual rooms, the human touch, human scale, the varied use of water, and, of course, the quotes about social responsibility. I pointed out one of the best </span><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >to Linda</span><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >, "I have seen war...I have seen blood running from the wounded. I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mothers and wives. I hate war."</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1157327990209573952006-09-03T16:49:00.000-07:002006-09-03T17:11:16.960-07:00Tagged and Answering a Few Homeschool Questions<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1) ONE HOMESCHOOLING BOOK YOU HAVE ENJOYED</span><br /><span class="sans" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0761522557/ref=nosim/vhea-20"><span style="font-style: italic;">Homeschoolers' Success Stories : 15 Adults and 12 Young People Share the Impact That Homeschooling Has Made on Their Lives</span></a>, by Linda Dobson, because it </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">offers an exciting and encouraging picture of the possibile paths and futures of today's homeschoolers. These young people have created hand-made lives; they are carving their own niches in the world. Reading their stories reinforces the hope that homeschooling my children will feed their uniqueness and enable them to make their own, custom, satisfying paths in life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2) ONE RESOURCE YOU WOULDN’T BE WITHOUT</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Internet. It is a dictionary, library, encyclopedia, foreign language course, history resource, bookstore, music store, community portal and grassroots organizing tool all rolled into one.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3) ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BOUGHT</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Books and curricular materials for which my children had not expressed prior interest, as most of them were shunted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4) ONE RESOURCE YOU ENJOYED LAST YEAR.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tickets to "</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Le Nozze di Figaro</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">" at George Mason University.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">5) ONE RESOURCE YOU WILL BE USING NEXT YEAR</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tickets to "</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Carmen</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">" at <a href="http://www.gmu.edu/cfa/calendar/vaopera/">George Mason University</a>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6) ONE RESOURCE YOU WOULD LIKE TO BUY</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Season tickets for theatre, opera, or symphony.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">7) ONE RESOURCE YOU WISH EXISTED</span><br />History- or theatre based mathematics, to make it more interesting for my children.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">8) ONE HOMESCHOOLING CATALOGUE YOU ENJOY READING</span><br /><a href="http://www.fun-books.com/">FUN Books</a>, of course!<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">9) ONE HOMESCHOOLING WEBSITE YOU USE REGULARLY</span><br /><a href="http://www.VaHomeschoolers.org">VaHomeschoolers.org</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10) TAG 5 PEOPLE</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://unclimber.blogspot.html/">Marjorie</a>, <a href="http://lifewithoutschool.typepad.com/">Robin</a>, <a href="http://throwingmarshmallows.homeschooljournal.net/">Stephanie</a>, <a href="http://caffeinatedjive.blogspot.com/">Missy</a>, <a href="http://radchristianunschooler.homeschooljournal.net/">Susan</a><br /> </span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1148865776993905262006-05-28T18:22:00.000-07:002006-05-28T18:22:57.006-07:00Crucial Elements<div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="entry" id="entry-8801875">I was lucky to have an unconventional youth, during which short periods of my life were defined largely by who I was and what interested me. These were my halcyon days, upon which I still look with pleasure. Some time ago, I made a brief list of the elements that were crucial to these idyllic periods: <div class="entry-content"><div class="entry-body"> <ul><li>learning by following my heart and by doing</li><li>feeling accepted and welcomed</li><li>engaged in meaningful work</li><li>peaceful surroundings</li><li>having my private space</li><li>a strong sense of self</li><li>feeling loved</li><li>participating in enjoyable physical activities</li><li>enjoying a healthful lifestyle</li><li>feeling in love with life</li><li>feeling safe</li><li>knowing I make a difference</li></ul> <p>Looking at this list now, I see that my daughters are far luckier than I was; their unconventional youth affords them great sweeping expanses of life defined by who they are and what interests them.</p> <p>Recently I have concluded that fun and magic are crucial elements in the design of my life today. They are nearly as essential to me as air and water. Without fun and magic, it would not be my life. </p> <p>My children have repeatedly demonstrated that they are much more perceptive than most people give kids credit for. They pick up on nuances, read between lines, hear between words, scrutinize the examples we set. Scanning our lives for ideas, traits, thoughts, and ways of being that they can welcome or reject, they reflect who we are by being who they are, not our little dittos. I wonder what this revelation, about the essentialness of fun and magic, will signify. How it will affect my children's view of their own lives, and how much of their lives will they look back upon with pleasure?</p> </div></div></div>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1143461875939426032006-04-27T16:17:00.000-07:002006-05-03T13:42:30.823-07:00Driving Lessons, NOT<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My oldest is 16 now, and not interested in learning to drive, although I am sure she knows a lot about it from being exposed to it through conversations and observations. It will be interesting to see how my early reader comes into being a driver. The funny thing is this kid is very emotionally mature and responsible for her age, so she would be one of the better young drivers. In fact, I see her wanting to wait as an indication of her maturity. </span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1143421705518017382006-03-30T12:48:00.000-08:002006-03-30T22:01:29.310-08:00Summer Reading Programs<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A few years ago my older daughter, Caitlin was "in 6th grade," but reading mostly young adult books, as she had outgrown most in the youth section. Since she was reading "teen" books, she felt she should be able to participate in the teen level summer reading program sponsored by the library. The teen program offers prizes for a much lower number of books than does the level for younger children, because the young adult (YA) books are longer reads. I think they offered a prize for every 5 books, and the "little kid's" program did so for every 10, or maybe 20.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When Caitlin asked if she could participate in the teen reading program, the librarian told her "no," because she was not yet "in high school." Cait decided she would no longer participate in the reading program. "I read because I enjoy it," she told me, "and I don't need any prizes as incentives."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The next time we went to the library, another librarian spoke to us about the summer reading program, expressing disgust at the kids who were obviously signed on only for the prizes. She said it was easy to discern their motive, as they often chose books based on their brevity--such as poetry anthologies or books of jokes. The librarian was dismayed that these kids did not seem to want to read for the pleasure of it, but were only interested in jumping as low as possible through the hoops to get the goodies.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then the same librarian asked my daughter if she had signed up for the summer reading program, and when Cait explained why she had not--that she thought it unfair that she was reading YA books and had to read so many of those to get a prize in the little kid's program--the librarian told her she should "pick short, easy to read books, like poetry anthologies and joke books." I hardly knew what to say. Cait was thoroughly disgusted and simply walked away. I think I said something like, "Caitlin seems to think that is not a viable option," and also walked away. We have not felt the need to revisit the summer reading program topic since.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1142984243108378042006-03-25T15:33:00.000-08:002006-03-25T12:15:43.266-08:00Chortling Paramedics<div><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >My daughter e-mailed me the most recent culmination of her life without school: a Power Point trailer for the fictitious movie, "Chortling Paramedics." The words on the screen are a warning. "When you're in trouble...don't call for help...because you might not get it...if your town has been taken over by <span style="font-style: italic;">Chortling Paramedics</span>!"<br /><br />It has been interesting to see the evolution behind the product. Caitlin, now age 16, started her e-zine after watching me produce the <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VaHomeschoolersAnnounce/">VaHomeschoolers biweekly Updates</a> for a couple of years, and the <a href="http://www.homeedmag.com/wlcm_hemnewsltr.html">HEM Online Newsletter</a> for the past couple of years. Needing content for her e-zine, "The Talisman," Cait began to write some book and movie reviews. In preparing those, she researched other reviews, to obtain a clear sense of what made a quality review, and adopted those elements into her pieces. Her research also took her to authors' sites, and movie sites, where she could pick up the year of release, exact spelling of stars' names, etc. She has apparently read numerous reviews, and has a great film literacy--well beyond that of her movie-challenged mother.<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >Many of the movie sites include trailers, which Cait and her younger sister, Laurel, have watched, discovering the elements that production houses use to pique viewers' curiosity. They learned Power Point from their lifelong friends, who came over for an afternoon a couple of weeks ago. Each of my kids has produced multiple Power Point slide shows, and her first fictional movie trailer. </span><span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:100%;" >Production of Caitlin's trailer included learning how to download clip art, sounds, and animations. She learned how to recolor images, white out aspects she did not like, and took Laurel's advice on using a filled-in text box to mask the icon made by a sound clip. Cait also made the movie rating box from scratch, modeled after those she has seen online and at the theater.<br /><br />I am unable to see where my children will end up, but I can tell they are on a course that incorporates literature, writing, and creativity. It is exciting, a pleasure, and an honor, to be on this journey with them. I would not have it any other way. Chortling Paramedics...who could have imagined?<br /></span></div>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141774563110366042006-03-21T10:43:00.000-08:002006-03-22T14:02:32.426-08:00Off the Specified Route<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A couple of weeks ago, my friend, Kathy, drove me and another friend to a workshop about an hour away. Kathy did not worry much about finding the venue location, as her car has an onboard navigation system. It talks. A soft, pleasant female voice gives commands like, "prepare to turn left ahead."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">However, Kathy has mixed feelings about her guide. The contraption does not appreciate it when the driver chooses her own route. "You are off the specified route," the voice will admonish. Then it will direct the driver to, "Make a 'U' turn as soon as possible," in an attempt to correct what it deems an error. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Kathy decided to ignore the onboard computer and take her own route, but the machine could not comprehend this deviation. It responded with repeated warnings about the importance of the specified route, and admonitions to turn back.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> We all laughed, but I probably laughed the loudest, as I saw a deeper meaning in the computer's messages. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I noted that the computer's directions were much like those I had encountered from other experts, human experts. How many times I have been admonished for being "off the specified route!" Heaven forbid I should take the scenic route on a whim, make a side trip out of necessity, or visit a byway to satisfy my curiosity.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If I were to map my education, it would not be a linear "specified route." It would look more like a </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.washington.edu/burkemuseum/spidermyth/myths/orbweb.html#">cobweb</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, (</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.straightdope.com/mailbag/mcobweb.html">made by arachnids in the Theridiidae family</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">) with threads weaving left and right, up and down, at every angle, and with points connected to points in a seemingly random fashion. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I like my cobweb of learning, and following a "specified route" does not interest me. My children would say the same, only they have had the whole of their lives to build their webs. It is a marvelous pleasure to watch them take shape.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141360012961364652006-03-12T19:57:00.000-08:002006-03-22T04:27:36.346-08:00A Byproduct of Public School<div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </div> <div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">As I noted before, the idea of a person being a "<a href="http://anecdoticalevidence.blogspot.com/2006/02/interfering-with-life.html">product of the public school system</a>" is one that makes me shudder. I attended 9 years of public school (plus 1 year of private school, and two years unschooling), but have never considered myself a product of the school sytem. Perhaps, though, I am a byproduct of public school.<br /><br /></div> <div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </div> <div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </div> <div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">A member of my statewide discussion list, <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VAEclecticHS/">VaEclecticHS</a>, noted that in school she became "tired of being the weird one," and she tried "very hard to 'look stupid'" in order to avoid complete alienation, so she could have some friends.<br /><br />She was not alone. I did the same thing, to some degree. In one high school class, the teacher offered a dollar to whomever won the pop quiz of the day--which consisted of questions regarding any number of subjects. It was sort of like a simple version of Jeopardy. I usually won the buck, but quickly realized that I could not keep winning without being not just unpopular (which I didn't really care about), but becoming a target for aggressive acts. This is an example of "learning outside the curriculum."<br /><br />Another thought expressed during the same discussion was that, in school, it is "near impossible to be accepted...and do what is right for yourself." In my experience, that seems true. While I was in school, I walked on that edge many times. Fortunately, for the most part, <a href="http://anecdoticalevidence.blogspot.com/2006/03/pivotal-point.html">I did what was right for myself</a>, even though it meant withstanding disapproval from teachers, administrators, and fellow students.<br /><br />I am consistently drawn to people who are <a href="http://www.synergyfield.com/authenticity.asp">authentic</a>. They somehow tend to also be the more colorful, more outspoken, more odd, more peculiar. The wierd ones. I love the weird ones, the people who refuse to pretend they are "stupid" or act like anything else they are not. Thank goodness for homeschooling, as it allows us all to be ourselves, in our own unique, weird ways. I am proud to be one of the <a href="http://www.vahomeschoolers.org/Weirdos.pdf">Official Weirdos</a>.</div>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141750538425446852006-03-07T18:50:00.000-08:002006-03-07T15:52:44.486-08:00Authority Figures<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The March issue of the </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.homeedmag.com/wlcm_hemnewsltr.html">HEM Online Newsletter</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> includes one of my essays, which came about through recent conversations with several of my gal pals. Although the topics and mix of pals varied, a common element wove its way through these conversations. The mulling of that element and those conversations resulted in "</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.synergyfield.com/authority.asp">A Homeschooler's Changing Perspective on Authority Figures</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">."</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141670597186837112006-03-06T01:42:00.000-08:002006-03-07T15:58:11.666-08:00Life Without School<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My friend started a blog called "</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://lifewithoutschool.typepad.com/">Life Without School</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">," which was actually the inspiration for Anecdotal Evidence. My friend's blog offers a lot more than this one does. Unlike myself--whose blog went up with a single wave of enthusiasm and interest, my friend has put a lot of time and thought into creating a meaningful and well-planned site. Life Without School provides a smorgasbord of writers, intended to give visitors "a real-life living breathing panorama of what Life Without School can mean," and she made it "live" just this morning. Hey, look! She started it with my "</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://lifewithoutschool.typepad.com/lifewithoutschool/2006/03/crucial_element.html">Crucial Elements</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">" post.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141306493804541282006-03-05T09:01:00.000-08:002006-03-05T06:15:32.430-08:00Homeschool Teen Reviews<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My eldest daughter, </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Caitlín</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >, is a writer in her own right. Almost 16 years-old, she is skilled far beyond the level I had attained at that age. This is due to both nature and nurture; she has the brains and the inclination, and has grown up in an environment that provides excellent support for her endeavors.</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >One of Cait's more recent endeavors has been creating the </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><a href="http://groups.google.com/group/HS-Teen-Reviews">HomeschoolTeenReviews</a></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > discussion list. My daughter has been aware of e-mail discussion lists for almost as long as she can remember, and has a good understanding of their potential value. </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >As with my own discussion lists, Caitlín's was born out of the desire to create something that would satisfy her, but it has also served many others. The description of her list states that it is "</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >for homeschooled teens to post their reviews of books and movies, in order to share their favorites and read recommendations from others." </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My daughter has learned a lot through creating and managing her list. </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Caitlín</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > has had practice setting boundaries with people she has never met, risked being "unpopular" for sticking to her boundaries, worked on making her message positive, discovered how to deal with the host if there are problems, and explored ways to make HS-Teen-Reviews a more active list.<br /><br />In addition, Cait's list has given her an outlet for her prolific reviews. She has over 11 pages of book and movie reviews lined up to post over time. The first time I read one of them, I was incredulous that this girl, who formerly "hated" writing, had </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >created a thoughtful, well-crafted review. I noted that it was written in a professional format, and asked how she came up with that. "I read other reviews online and decided which elements I would like to include."<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Raising this writer did not involve compulsory study of grammar, sentence diagrams, or long lists of spelling words to study or define. </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >My daughter has simply been exposed to plenty of good writing, engaged in a variety of conversations, received assistance in finding answers to her questions, and supported in whatever project she chooses to take on. </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Caitlín became a writer by living a</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > writer's life.</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141263380131791722006-03-02T23:23:00.000-08:002006-03-05T05:33:38.063-08:00A Pivotal Point<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A thought expressed on my statewide e-mail list, </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VAEclecticHS/">VaEclecticHS</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, was that, in school, it is "near impossible to be accepted...and do what is right for yourself." In my experience, that seems true. While I was in school, I walked on that edge many times. Fortunately, for the most part, I did what was right for myself, even though it meant withstanding disapproval from teachers, administrators, and fellow students.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was a goody two-shoes in the elementary years, but in middle school I began to recognize that the sytem had some serious flaws, and I started to take action contrary to it. It was a gender issue that awakened my consciousness: being denied the education I wanted--solely on the basis of my gender--was an offense that fired my anger and resolve.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The incident began at the end of 6th grade, when choosing classes for the following year. I signed up for Wood Shop, after the woman who was staffing the sign-up had answered my question, telling me that girls were indeed allowed to take this class. I turned in my forms and skipped away, my heart light with pleasure at the thought of learning some of those things that, in my family, were relegated to the privileged and powerful world of men and boys. How excited I was, imagining myself using those tools to build useful, durable things in which I could take pride!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, picture a 12-year-old girl's face, when she receives her class assignments the morning of her first day of middle school. She unfolds the paper with anticipation, only to discover that, rather than the Wood Shop she longed for, she has been assigned to Home Economics.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Looking back, I see that as a pivotal point in my life. The searing injustice I felt at that moment was not just a reaction to the school system's pushing me aside, but also to a larger sense of being relegated to a second class, within my family--where the boys had a measure of privilege and status that was denied to the girls--and within the larger world. At twelve years old, I well knew the sting of descrimination, and I determined it was time to stand up and fight.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With steady support from my mother, I resisted the school system's attempt to sweepm me under the rug of the Home Ec. class. The authorities tried various methods to keep me in line: force, manipulation, intimidation, lies, and distraction. My mother's guidance was perfect. She acted as council, but empowered me with the responsibility of taking action. To each of the school's attempts, I responded firmly and calmly, until they had run out of excuses and tactics, conceded that they lost, and let me into the class. They lost the battle to keep a girl from learning what she desired to learn, and I won the ability to determine for myself what I would learn--at least for one period of the school day, for one half of the school year.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">By the time I had won my case, the quarter was 1/2 over, so I entered Wood Shop at a disadvantage. Still, my interest and enthusiasm garnered me a "B" for the grading period, and I made an "A" for the second quarter. Although I suspect it was partly due to the shop teacher's admonition before I came into his class, my fellow classmates were polite, and seemed to accept my presence. They even indicated respect for what I had done, and for what I created in class.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, I made my little mark in history, being the first girl to enroll in Wood Shop at that school. Through this experience, I learned something of the importance of being oneself, of speaking up, and of holding out for what one wants. I discovered that, with support and determination, I could stare down The System and change it for the better. It is remarkable what one can learn from life when meeting it head on.<br /><br />To read my articles, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">visit my Web site, <a href="http://www.synergyfield.com/">Synergy Field</a>.<br /><br /></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141159038631525902006-02-28T22:06:00.000-08:002006-03-02T10:02:15.670-08:00Interfering With Life<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The phrase, "I am a product of the ___ (name of district) public schools," is one that evokes my </span><sigh style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">shudder every time I hear or read it. The statement calls to mind the 12-step programs: "My name is ____ and I am a product of the public schools."<br /><br />The <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/">Free Dictionary</a> defines "product" as "something produced by human or mechanical effort or by a natural process," or "A direct result; a consequence." To state that one is a product of the public school system is to negate all that makes one something other than a factory-formed product. Although I spent about nine of my formative years in public school, I do not consider myself a "product" of the system or of school in general. In my mind, it is largely the time and learning I spent <span style="font-style: italic;">out </span>of school, and even in resistance to school, that made me who I am. Were I to be only what the school produced, I would be a sorry specimen, indeed.<br /><br />During the last two years of my public education, I often stated--in a joking tone, although I meant it sincerely--that "school interferes with my life." I was able to make this declaration only because I had experienced two years of life without school.</sigh><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> It was unschooling, actually, although it was considered "truancy" in that time and place.</span><br /><sigh style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br />M</sigh><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">any times in my school "career" (as they seem to call it now), I had little or </span><sigh style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">no interest in the subject at hand or the educational method used. I was completely turned off by rote memorization, history presented as a series of wars, busywork, and the lack of any visible connection between the curriculum and real life. Some of my teachers and classes were great, a few were awful, and most were so-so. Where I had great teachers, I put my energy into learning, and </sigh><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I declined to invest </span><sigh style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">where the material or instructor was boring.<br /><br />Observing the system, I learned how to work around it. My most effective response was to not show up. In my last two years of high school, I skipped nearly as often as I went to class. I showed up for first period, to be accounted for on the master roll call that went to the main office, then chose which classes I would attend that day, based on factors such as my interest in the subject, what was happening in class, and whether it was a day too beautiful to neglect taking a boat out on the river. I asked classmates for the homework assignments, completed those and turned them in on time, crammed for- and aced the tests, and kept a B average without totally ruining my young life. Amazingly, nobody in the system noticed. The only time I encountered any trouble was when a girl named Sharon finked on me for skipping, apparently because she was jealous that she did not have the guts to come along. I caught a lot of flak from my dad that night, but it was worth it; my afternoon on the river had given me much pleasure.<br /><br /></sigh><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">During my junior and senior years, it was the time out of school that kept me sane. Given my resistance, I would certainly be expelled from today's schools, and, for me, that would be a good thing. Indeed, it would probably have been good back in the '70's, and expulsion might have occurred, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">had </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">anyone been paying attention.<br /></span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141052731829350472006-02-27T16:02:00.000-08:002006-02-27T13:40:33.766-08:00A Level Playing Field?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The News Leader's editorial board's piece, "</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.newsleader.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060225/OPINION01/602250304&SearchID=73236867284662">A level playing field</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">," </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">includes no facts to support its position regarding homeschool legislation. The bill in question does not affect accountability; all homeschooling parents must continue to show annual evidence of adequate progress for each child.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The editorial expresses a complaint about Virginia “groaning under the onerous demands” of NCLB and government bureaucracy, while asserting that homeschoolers should be held to the same standards. In the name of “fair” the authors would justify one abuse with another and believe that the sum of two wrongs equals a right. I have to wonder about the reason for this </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">punitive mindset, and whether the writers would extend this punishing "level" to private schools, as well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In arguing that homeschoolers should be held to the same standard as public education, the editorial board forgets that homeschooling is not public education; it is private education. Homeschool parents are generally parents, not teachers. We are not seeking to qualify as “teachers,” as we are responsible only for our own children, not thirty children who belong to </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">others. One of the “legion” of reasons to homeschool is the ability to provide a custom education for our children, rather than forcing them to follow a standardized program. We implement this customization through the curriculum and down to the pedagogy. One cannot level the field when public schools and home education are not only played out on different pieces of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">ground, but engaged in two different sports.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Submitted as a letter to the editor.)<br /><br />For more articles, visit my Web site, <a href="http://www.SynergyField.com">Synergy Field</a><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23080039.post-1141011903237864052006-02-26T19:44:00.000-08:002006-03-02T20:25:52.380-08:00Anecdotal Evidence<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:";font-size:100%;" >"How do you know they are learning?" people ask, referring to my homeschooled children. Their inquiries are well meaning, and yet, in the box. They have been taught that learning is measured by standardized testing, and that education is something bestowed, or “done to” by others.<br /><br />It is hard to shuck the mantle of institutional education and recognize that human beings are hardwired to learn, to allow oneself to dance free of the constraints of institutional thinking, and to truly grasp that most things worth attaining cannot be measured by any test. My intention here is to provide anecdotal evidence of natural learning.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To read my articles, </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">visit my Web site, <a href="http://www.synergyfield.com/">Synergy Field</a>.</span>Shayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445411532993818739noreply@blogger.com1