June marks the the end of our first homeschooling term. We’ve been taking plennnty of breaks in between; mostly because of fields trips, extra classes  and playdates. Those have been good interruptions, depending on whether you see them as punctuations in the whole composition that is homeschooling, or as part of the script.

We did manage to get several hands-on projects done- mainly those related to machines (pulleys, gears and levers) and chemistry (Noeo).   Our presentations for the World Studies Club has been sketchy to say the least- tepees, buffalo skin (brown paper) paintings, boats, and an art piece that was related to a certain land form. I should put those pictures on the blog, and I will soon enough. The children like to see them all nice and neat on the page.

But I intend to makes some changes. It was our trip to Singapore that prompted me to re-look at the stuff that we’ve been doing- mainly my scrambling to cover everything under the sun that’s to be covered, from fractions to birdwatching, from  sourcing for videos on the Yom Kippur war to marking copywork, which my 10 yr old, incidentally still does.

Changes? Well, for a start, to expand the way we have been learning/teaching so that, like a helix, it grows and bends in all directions instead of remaining flat.  So, away with the stacks of workbooks and filling in the blanks and worksheets. Well, away with most of them. And to get back on discussions, experiments, getting our hands dirty in the dirt, and fun.

How did we end up towing this textbook-workbook line, I ask myself? I started off homeschooling on a hope and a prayer that we would revel in discovery-based learning.  Why didn’t that happen for us the first half of the year? I think busyness has a large part to do with this: it’s so much easier to hand a workbook over to the child and let her “sort it out on her own”, than to sit down with her and to talk over the stories or history behind it.  So much easier, to assess a child based on marks – “Hey! You got 4 out of 10 right!”- than to ask her why she thinks a certain way about, say,  Saburo ( Paterson’s Master Pupeeter) and the decisions he makes.

At the same time,  I’m not a purist when it comes to learning: I don’t believe that any approach has got it all down pat.  Like most things in life, parents have to evaluate the approaches,e.g. classical and Charlotte Mason, and see how it fits the family and children.  Then, of course, that’s the part about integrating our cultural identity with whatever materials we’re using, as most of our sources come from the West – and by that, I mean , the U.S.

I suppose it’s distractions that I have to be aware of as a homeschooling mom, so that my energy doesn’t diffuse into a million directions.  And so, this comes back to priorities, and keeping a sense of focus on what’s important for the present ; and in Buber’s words,  being ” I and Thou”- present to the person before me.

Next week, my English classes begin again. I look forward to having the whole bunch descend upon our home each Friday morning. Also, there’s the monthly classes with the teens beginning July, and , God -willing, another weekly class for another age group.  I’m also a little apprehensive because it sounds like there’s more juggling of commitments to be done. Still,  it’s not really an option for us at this point, not to have me work. At least, that’s what I think, though Adrian, blessed man, begs to differ. We’re going to be 40 next year, by the way, and our journey together has been one that testifies to God’s goodness and grace. We are very different people, that’s why this has been such an eventful and love-filled experience- this oneness that was and is God’s idea, and will always be His to the very end.

It’s good that God allows us to make u-turns. In a way, this is repentance- a turning away from old habits and getting my feet (and eyes and heart) back on the path.

I’m not sure what’s in store the rest of the year.  But I do know that God is good. Even when that phrase gets killed by the flippancy caused by over-repetition…again.  And I do know that He is Almighty. Even when the Word seems dull in comparison to titillating new ideas and philosophies.

So, I look forward to the second half of the year because by treading into it, I will be holding something new in my hands- mine (more or less) to shape and reshape. And because He will be there , there will be that meaningful, and  sometimes painful, spiritual journey of knowing the Father better.

Happy 2nd half of 2010!

Joy, dd9, wrote this piece for a writing assignment early this year.  I thought she had given some nifty descriptions of the situation, writing from a first person’s point of view. Well, enjoy!

”

The Terrible Plague of London

I wasn’t going to celebrate my birthday in 1665. My mind rang with the same thing : It has arrived! The great plague has arrived! It’s evening and as I went to bed, the rumble of wheels trundle into my mind’s ear. Another 20 people have made a pathway into the sky, leaving us alone. Till now, my family is still safe from the jaws of death.

“Kirsten! Listen carefully now. I want you to cover yourself and go to Gwyneth’s bakery and take home 2 loaves of bread. Hurry! ”

I scurried along to the bakery, wishing that someone would draw the curtains between life and death, wishing that Mother hadn’t sent me on this gruesome paved errand. My nose picked up a strong scent of sulfur which caused my feet to lose control and topple me flat against a child, still healthy (thank God).

A few minutes later, I was in the shop. I flung the coins into a bowl of …what was that liquid anyway? Vinegar! Uggh! I scuttled to eavesdrop on a conversation between two men. Mother says it’s evil to eavesdrop but I think I won’t hear badly of myself, since the lecture is about the plague.

“Yes Kerl, indeed! The doctors…”

“Their funny costume…yes, Frederich, go on.”

“Yes…no…yes…and the leather bird mask is filled with herbs.”

Kerl added to his friend’s speech. “And the medicine does a fat lot of good as well as burning herbs and bonfires.”

That was all the information I needed for inquisitive 10 year old Jesheka, one year older than I was.

When I reached the door of dread, my father was bending over to burn several herbs. I let out a cry , recognizing that some fellow in my house had the plague.

“Lewis!” I cried.

“Nay girl,” said father, “T’is Angus.”

Angus , my brother in all but blood. I heard a brush scraping on our door. Angus’ parents had been swept away by the dark curtain of death and since then, Angus stayed with us. Lewis was Angus’ twin brother, but unlike him, had no delight in animals.

Soon, the doctor came. He was wearing the odd costume the two men had described,

‘Are you a real man, or a hawk?” asked Jesheka.

T’was rude of Jesheka but that jolly old doctor smiled and said, “Hawk.”

That kind soul brought laughter back into our family.

The doctor, or Linkenel, stayed with us for a week and no black spots appeared on Angus.

“He lives!” croaked poor Linkenel, “He (hiccup) lives!”

Soon,  Angus , Jesheka and I were able to play in Angus’ room. Lewis called us babies but that really does not matter. The room of waiting burst open into a spring bud. “

A sheaf of wind. The Waterhorse Suite. Children’s voices playing. Quiet.

I live for such days!!

We’re done with the pre-Christmas flurry of carolling, gatherings, performances and gifts. Is Christmas ever complete without these? I suppose so. Several Christmases back, all we could manage were home-made gifts for each other and a Christmas tree the size of an upturned shoe-box. And snippets of carols from here and there.
It was a very quiet Christmas at home then.

This year was another thing altogether. It’s interesting how the same tradition, celebrated differently at different times, can be as profoundly meaningful. This year, we’ve been carolling -twice- and gone for two parties, attended a ballet performance (in which Dd8 danced) , drank endless rounds of non-alcoholic beverages at two mini-school reunions and picnicked at a park with a handful of little kids and their moms. We’ve not had much time to reflect on the meaning of Christmas, I’m afraid, or rather, I’ve not spent the Advent season guiding my kids in daily slotted meditative thoughts of why we celebrate Christmas.
Should I feel guilty? I do, a little. However, I wouldn’t have done it differently though. So have I become shallow and callous in my treatment of Christmas?

I’d like to think that the frenzied rounds of meeting various people who have affected my life at various stages, have been good for my family. It’s as if to say, ” Look, here are my friends and people I’ve met along the way. Sure, we’ve disagreed and made up, left for faraway shores and reunited, bumped into each other here and there. Here they are. Isn’t it wonderful how diverse God has made us. What do you think?” Laughter. Belch, belch, sing, dance- “Hark the Herald angels sing”.

Now we’re getting ready to go home to see the folks. Dad-in-law all alone in his house with his orchard of cili-padi, curry leaves and lime plants. Grandaunts all alone in their once-was-homes with their tv sets and blue-red plastic stringed lazy-chairs. Mom and dad growing old with brother who’s not little any more. All that is Christmas.

We treat the remembering of God’s Word made flesh callously when we ascribe it the religious paegentry of self-righteous pious works be it grand shows of good deeds, mega-productions to “save souls” and the closetting of ourselves from those closest to us. If we forget those whose love we have received, whose lives moved us to try to be better people, then, we have forgotten how He gave up the crowd for the individual- Peter’s sick mother, the woman with the alabaster jar, the lady by the well, the children impatient to sit on his lap. We have forgotten how quietly He came.

And so, we are going home. Blessed Christmas everyone.

We adopted a dog several weeks ago. She’s a mixed-breed with some retriever and German Shepherd genes plus, I suspect, a hint of terrier thrown in what with her incessant digging and poking into holes. We’ve spent quite a bit on deworming medicines, Frontline (anti-tick spray/application), dog food and dog food. So caught up were we with the euphoria of finally owning a mutt, that the first few weeks were spent on the porch doing all kinds of pooch-centred activities like playing football, fetch ( alternating between the owner and dog) and obedience training. My husband finally decided to restore some sanity to our home and recall us back to the human world: he laid out some rules about the a dog’s proper place in the family ( to serve and not to be served) and firmly stated that we were not to pamper our canine family member.

As a result of that extensive series of lectures, Joy came up with a manual for dog-lovers- written in HB pencil on a folded piece of white A4 paper. The manual goes like this:

“  How to discipline your dog

I have a dog that chewed up my slipper. Your dog might do the same, but always remember to smack your dog. Don’t just overlook it because if you do, your dog will keep on chewing. When you smack , it’s okay to slap on the muzzle gently but firmly. You must still make sure your dog still knows that you love it by patting it and feeding it.

Pampering dogs

Our dog is not allowed in the house. Whether your dog is allowed in or not, that doesn’t matter. Just this: you have to walk your dog once or twice a day or more. Your dog would have liked wet food sometimes, but ifit has a sensitive tummy, do not give it too much wet food. Your dog must also understand that if it is bad, it must be punished.

Strays

If you see a stray and if it is gentle, you may want to keep it. If it has mange, you may want to handle it with proper equipment. Ticks, fleas and lice are very normal for strays. If the dog doesn’t have mange, but ticks, you just bring it to the vet.

Ideas

I, however, like most people, do not like to punish dogs. I never wanted to smack my dog, My dad did it. You, must also smack it(your dog) to discipline your dog. I would also ask that if you would not gotoo far into pampering. I would think it wise not to buy diapers, clothes or beds. Your dog hates these. Your dog would also dislike permed fur, dyed hair and ribbons. I do not want dogs to be upset or confused. You alone may think that your dog likes these things. But, your dog is only trying to please you by keeping quiet.  ”

It looks like the dog will grow up to be a sensible companion and family pet under the tutelage of my able 8 yr old.

The first one is a model of the cell of an animal.

We also had fun dyeing a cloth purple by using grapeskins.

We experimented with different kinds of arrow heads. Of course, we wished we had the real ones, but our construction paper heads did work- some better than others.

We did a mini-unit on China, focusing on inventions. Joy helped carve Chinese characters for “person”, “forest” and “big” on pencil erasers. Then, we dipped a cotton bud  into black calligraphy ink and painted them on the “printing blocks”. We also made paper by using torn-up magazines, water, bits of foil and thread. I haven’t got a picture of that though.

Joy made some paper-dolls and presented a story to the family. Grace decided that it was easier to use her “baby” as a minor character . I thought they were lovely!

We’ve   been formally homeschooling for almost half a year now. That’s not a long time in comparison. I must qualify that statement though. for we’ve not stopped homeschooling our children from the time they were born.
From the time when they were weeks out of the womb, we sang, talked and read to them. We showed them sunsets, leaves and spectacular creatures like spiders and lizards. We took them for walks in the park and occasional vacations by the sea. They played peek-a-boo and hide-and-seek with their maternal grandparents and listened to their paternal grandfather’s lectures about what little children should and shouldn’t be doing.
In short, we live  as a family, doing things and being what we loved to be most- together, enjoying each other. That is what homeschooling is about after all – the putting aside of things that tear asunder: tight schedules, unrealistic expectations, external pressures to perform and to keep up.Hence, homeschooling for us has been that deliberate “no” to these destructive forces, and a “YES!” to the life we have been called to live.
It has not been that long a journey, and yet it begun from the time we became a family.

In the weeks ahead, I will be putting up some pictures of the learning activities and projects that we have done for this first half of the year. The rest of the pictures of our homeschool, I’m delighted to tell, are too voluminous to be placed in this space.

This is the choice I make.
To
spread sun and
fields over tiled roofs,
crumple
glass panes into
dandelions,
unfold plumes and
strengthen roots,

trace eternity in
tiny wet footprints.

“It was the brightest day in August. The sun was a golden orb that was about to set and the late evening breezes swept me along the forest path. My map, compass, laptop and food supplies were tucked tightly in my bag. They weighed like twenty rocks but my heart was light. I was sure I was going to find the fake coins today.
Ahead of me was a clump of trees, arching like guards at the doors of the Deep Forest. I went ahead with the dying sunshine behind my back.”

Joy continued the rest of the story and came up with , what I thought was a first rate adventure. (As you read this, remember that no alterations were made to her ideas and corrections were confined to grammar.)

” I knew I had had to find that relic. But I also felt a cold, sweaty fear, even thought my German shepherd, Toby, was with me. The reason I was afraid was because the whole, forest seemed to come alive. The trees ‘ arms crawled towards me. I was terrified.
I could see silhouettes of the tress looming towards me. I could hear the sound of squirrels, mice and rats scuffling. I could feel the dried branches cracking under my feet. And I could also taste the wet drizzle on my tongue. My dog, Toby, was also getting tense. The hairs on his neck stood up. Tension was piling up. I as afraid we were lost. It was too dark to see my compass.
I walked closer to where I thought was the way out. Then I saw a cave. There was a stone outside the cave. On the stone as carved the name, Chee Weng Giap. I was relieved. We were not lost.
As I went into the cave, I saw the sharp spikes and deep holes. “WE had better be careful here, Toby,” I told my dog. As we carefully entered the cave, I smelt the pungency of the rats’ urine and dung. I could hear the deep groaning of the rats which had fallen into the holes. I grabbed the wall where I almost fell into the hole. The walls felt rough. I tasted the dripping from the leaking ceiling.
I could not find anything . Then, I saw a small wooden, chest. I went over and I lifted the lid. And I saw the gold coins.. Fake, they were, but very beautiful. They were a glittering gold, but they did not have rust at all. They smelt old, but when I touched them. They were smooth.
Then I put the relic in my backpack. Just as I was about to leave the room, the ceiling began to crumble. The walls fell down all around me. Toby started to pull me. “Harder, harder, “ I cried to Toby. He pulled and I pushed. Then, at last, we made it out of the cave! I was overjoyed. But the relic, was it safe? I checked. Good, it was.
Then I went home at last to rest. Toby and I were safe. And the relic was safe too. I was so glad. I had found the lost treasure.”

She, along with the rest of her classmates, wrote this unaided. I collected their compositions, checked them and conferred with the children as to how they could work on their writing skills. I’ll be putting up a website/blog of the children’s work later on.