Planning School

I've been trying to decide what to teach my son next year.  There are so many things to learn, and so many ways to teach them.  It's a difficult decision.  Today it occurred to me that I'm going about the thing all wrong.

I'm seeking, as usual, a good match between his interests, his learning style, and what he needs to know to fulfill state standards.

What I should be assessing are areas of strength and weakness, and areas that require growth and change.

This was a difficult year.  The first semester was spent unschooling, as much as anyone in a highly regulated state can do that.  By the end of the semester, he realized that self-directed learning wasn't really getting him anywhere, and asked for books.  I happily complied.  He excelled at first, but after a month or so, his enthusiasm waned, and so did his character.  He became lazy, deceptive, and occasionally defiant.  These issues were much more easily treated when he was younger; compounded by approaching teen-hood, they fixed themselves firmly as a part of his personality.

I don't know how far any curriculum can go toward goals that are more character-oriented than standards driven, but I need to try to pursue strategies that will encourage the character growth as well as the knowledge.

As a reminder to myself, these are areas I need to focus on in the coming year:

• Partnership learning - he and I need to work together in one subject area, not so much as authority and subordinate, but as partners.  Goal: relationship building through shared experience.
• Independent work - he needs to be able to read and comprehend lessons without my intervention in at least one subject area.  Goal: building confidence and self-reliance.
• Planning and strategizing - he needs to better plan and prioritize his work.  Goal: base his expectations on a realistic understanding of the work involved.
• Honesty/integrity - he needs to mean what he says with intention to fulfill his word.
• Social skills - he needs to catch up a bit in terms of social maturity. 
• Get my husband involved - Tween needs to have more of a connection and mentorship with his strong Christian father.  He also needs the pressure to excel that closer interaction with his dad will build. Not sure how to implement this one, given my husband's erratic schedule.

Often, when I type things like this, I feel like I've set my Christianity aside.  Please understand that these thoughts presuppose God's guidance and help.  The ultimate goal is always to become conformed more to the image of Christ, for him and for me.

Talkative

I figured out why my kids talk so much and so early.  Not sure why it didn't occur to me before.

Now that I have a toddler, I spend a lot of time with others who also have them.  And I've noticed that I differ from other moms in one important way:  I talk to my kid.  A lot.  A way lot!

Most moms talk to their babies, but after some observation, I'm convinced that I go overboard.  One mom tells her son to sit.  I tell my daughter to climb carefully into the green chair.  Another mom tells her little girl that it's time to go.  I explain where we're going, how we'll get there, and what we'll do when we arrive.

Obviously, my kids think it's very normal to verbalize every little thing, and perhaps they even think it's important to include as much detail as possible.  They also probably have some genetic tendency to run at the mouth, and would have obtained that from both sides, as my husband is verbose even by my standards.

Perhaps you think it sounds quaint - all the descriptions we trade with each other, all the little baby-talk conversations we have.  Maybe you wonder if it prepares them for a life of literary interest or even a vocation in writing.

I haven't raised one to adulthood yet, but I can assure you of one outcome:  parental insanity.  When you teach your child to talk about absolutely anything, that's exactly what you'll get.  Teen stays up late into the night telling me all about the girl at school who stole her pencil; Tween talks all the livelong day about everything and nothing.  Toddler, in her endearing baby accent, talks about what Toddler wants, what Toddler doesn't want, how Toddler feels, and more about what Toddler wants.  And she talks to her toys.  And sings.  Constantly.  By the time the evening rolls around, my ears are ready for a break.  Who am I kidding?  By the time noon rolls around!

The truly ironic thing is that I value peace and quiet very highly.  I rarely work with music on; I can't converse with the TV playing in the background.  My favorite moment of the day is that half-second at bedtime just after I turn out the light when all the world is dark and silent.

Why, oh why, did I start down this road of teaching my kids to talk by example?

I Want To Be A Dad

It was raining when I picked up my daughter from school this afternoon.  Her high school shares its building with a Head Start program.  We arrived early, just as many of the Head Start kids were dismissed.  One by one, big burly fathers appeared at the door.  From my observations, dads don't talk much.  They come, pick up their kids, and go.  One carried an adorable pink backpack and raced his little girl through the rain.  Her ruffled coat flapped open as she ran to the car, where he opened her door for her and tossed the pack onto the seat.  Another dad stomped through the rain while sharing an umbrella with his son, who took no notice of the umbrella at all.  He was all about the puddles.

A few moms came, too.  The scenes look very different when a mom leaves the building.  She's got her son's hand firmly gripped in her own - safety first, you know.  Her child carries his own backpack and his coat is safely zipped up to his throat.  She looks busy and purposeful, as does the child she escorts.  She has a lot to say as they walk: Did you eat all your lunch?  Do you have your homework in your bag?  Don't get your shoes wet!

At our home, Mom oversees schoolwork and chores.  Bedtime and wake time are regulated by Mom, as well.  Dad is in charge of entertaining the kids while dinner is being made and cleaned up.  While this job is primarily focused on the Toddler, his influence quickly spills over to the Tween and Teen, as well.  Dad is the Wii master, the about-to-be-defeated Undefeated Wrestling Champion, the silly-voiced narrator.  When Mom announces bedtime, three voices rise in dissent:  Teen's, Tween's, and Dad's.  I don't complain about the lack of help in the kitchen.  Dad has a very stressful job and needs the evening to detox and regroup.  I enjoy training the kids and running the home (to an extent).  But I envy the liberty.  It would be nice to be seen as the playful parent, and not the insistent one, now and then.

Every once in a while, I'd like to be the dad.

Random Acts of Concert

I love all of my children, but my teen and toddler are definitely at more lovable stages than my tween.  Tweens are not as cuddly and charming as very small children, nor are they as companionable as teens.  Parenting a tween is very hard work for me (...she said, having never parented a defiant, rebellious child to adulthood).  Tweens are physically, socially, and emotionally awkward, and they test all fronts at all times.

It is rare to find a point of agreement between my tween and I.  He is over-the-top goofy except when he's brownnosing me or being sulky and sullen.  Sometimes it seems that everything he does grates on my last nerve.  Luckily, I seem to have lots of last nerves!

Once in a while, though, something strange occurs - and I think you will agree with my definition of strange here.  One of us will begin to invent a jingle about some mundane happening.  A jazzy tune will accompany a lyric about losing yet another pencil, for example.  The pencil song develops a bit, and then the other of us jumps in.  First we do a little echo.  Then we alternate lines or verses.  Finally we throw a little harmony, a little embellishment in the mix.

Sometimes a lost pencil becomes a full-fledged musical, complete with choreography and the Big Ending.

We laugh, pat each other on the back, hum another bar or two.  Then it's back to struggle and strain.

Sometimes it scares me that this child, who lives to drive me insane, is so like me.  Though he's in the driver's seat on this journey, he sure can make the trip fun!

And now you know my tween is a boy.  So goes the anonymity.