Homeschool Final Judgement

Rest assured that although this blog's entries have slowed down, the same has not occurred for the Freeman family.  It's been so long since I've logged on I didn't even know Blogger had a new format - I'm trying to figure it out, hoping it's less complicated than the Lego toys my girls have grown desperately attached to.  

We finished our homeschool experiment in May.  My go to response when people ask how it went is that I loved it for a year but am thrilled the girls are starting back to school (tomorrow!).   It fit a need for our family and gave us the opportunity to do some really neat things like traveling (although we didn't do as much as I hoped), behind the scenes tour of the dolphin habitat which included feeding the dolphins and giving them their commands to swim and jump, visiting some museums, getting a tour of the Bellagio and have a private performance of the water fountains, loads of arts and crafts and science experiments and so on.  Regarding academics, I think the girls learned as much or more than they would have in school and the flexibility to speed up an assignment if it was easy or slow it down if they struggled was ideal.  Of course with an extra long summer, I'm sure they've forgotten half of what they learned so I am in no way fooling myself into thinking this year will be easy for them.  

The last thing I LOVED about homeschooling was the relative lack of stress or anxiety.  If a kid is sick, no big deal, just take a day off or let them sleep in and work on something later in the day.  If you can't get to your homework because of the double header soccer game followed by three birthday parties, you can do it the following day.  We didn't blow off work (not often anyway) but we could get to it on our time.  I was a happy camper.  Neither of my girls received unexcused tardies or a letter home threatening their promotion due to missed school days.

Having said all that, it was a hard, challenging  year.  The time commitment is great, even when the school day is only four hours and the afternoons are filled with driving the kids to art, spanish, swimming and soccer.  I learned a lot about how my girls learn and when that learning process is so different than your own, it's a struggle.  Some days they would pop up and do their math and other days it fell apart into tears before their seats were warm.  We are all like that, good days and bad, but it's hard to watch it day in and out without missing the forest through the trees.  I'd get so focused on getting this one math sheet done that I'd forget the goal wasn't that sheet but an overall understanding of a concept.  Additionally, I found it hard to balance being their mom and being their teacher.  I'd want to console and reason with them as their mom but as their teacher I felt like I had to crack down more.  Other homeschooling moms make this look much easier than it was for me but I am who I am.  At the end of the day, I'm glad we did it, I doubt we'll do it again but I can totally understand families who embrace this lifestyle.  

The Flood

It seems like since mid-January we haven't had a regular week of school. There have been visitors, colds, trips to the beach and a general malaise that has interrupted our schedule consistently. But I was sure that would turn around this past week. Sam just turned 6 and celebrated with her first slumber party (just two kids), Spring is around the corner and the weather is great, and all the visitors, people and sicknesses alike, have left town. It’s a peaceful Tuesday morning, usually a day Sarah would teach but she’s taking one more day off to make sure Baby O is all better, and I decide we should do our morning schooling downstairs instead of upstairs in the school room.

As it turns out, it was a Very. Bad. Choice. Had we gone upstairs at 8:30am we would have noticed the girls’ toilet overflowing but as it was, we didn’t notice it until 10:30 when the water started pouring out of the ceiling in the family room. It came first out of the ceiling fan and then out of a smoke detector about 10 feet away. The fire alarms went off and the girls ran off screaming in excitement. I remember starting at the fan and the water pouring out and thinking “this is really happening? Really? Maybe it’s a dream…no, it’s not a dream.”

I grabbed the file in the kitchen cabinet that has all of our receipts and found the plumber’s number.

“Blaine, it’s Erin Freeman, you came to my house a few months ago. Water is pouring out of my ceiling! What do I do?” I yelled over the sound of the screeching fire alarms.

“You have to turn off the water. Go outside”

“I know where it is but not what to do! Oh my god, oh my god.” I ran outside and opened the lid to the water meter. “Okay, what do I do?”

“There should be two overlapping valves with smaller holes in them. Turn the top valve so that the two holes are aligned. That will turn the water off.”

“Okay, I see it. Kids, out of the street! I can’t turn it. It won’t move! Clockwise or counterclockwise?” The panic was setting in as the water was still pouring out of my ceiling.

“Not sure, either way.”

“Oh my god, water is everywhere in the house and I can’t turn this. What do I do?”

“Go get a wrench and a screw driver and I’ll walk you through how to make a tool to turn it off.”

I ran in the house, grabbed a few tools, including pliars, and ran back out. I tried the pliars first and it worked, it finally turned.

“Okay Blaine, that worked.”

“The water that is in the ceiling is going to keep pouring out for awhile, I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

My poor girls, they thought this was the most exciting thing in the world and all I could think was how much money this was going to cost us and would we still be able to sell the house and build a new one.

“This is not funny girls! We may not get to move to the beach now.” I was freaking out and that seemed to shut them up temporarily.

After calling Jim at work I figured out how to turn off the smoke alarms – it’s actually quite simple, you just climb a frickin ladder and yank them out. The decibel level dropped dramatically as did my blood pressure. I threw every towel we owned on the floor, moved the couch out of the way, put a few pots under the waterfalls and waited for Blaine.

I was thinking burst pipes so I was quite relieved to learn it was an overflowing toilet, a relatively quick fix other than for the damage caused. I called our insurance company and within an hour my doorbell was ringing. First came the disaster clean up company followed by the industrial strength cleaning company who bagged and tagged anything and everything that got wet, including kids shoes, clothes, couch cushions, rugs, pillows and so on. I felt like I was in that scene in E.T. the movie where various government agencies descend upon the house in hasmat gear and set up a major quarantine area lest the alien was toxic or something. People just kept showing up in gloves and masks and talking in code. The girls and I walked around in a zone watching the various goings on.

The final workers didn’t leave until 8pm that night. They had ripped out the carpet, vanity, sink, tile and wainscoting upstairs. They tore out the drywall and took down the ceiling fan and pendant light downstairs. They installed 3 large blowers to suck out all the humidity, which were quite loud and smelly. We made a decision to leave town, back the beach we went. So much for getting in a regular week of schooling.

News Flash

So, as it turns out, Sam is quite the character. Whether she marches to the beat of her own drummer or if she falls somewhere on the "there's something wrong with her but not sure what it's called" scale, is unclear. She's highly intelligent but a bit peculiar. Today's bang-my-head, roll my eye, wonder if we need to go on a modified diet to control behavior moment was as follows:

Sam - Mom, what's a lentil?

Me - a lentil? It's a bean.

Sam - So would it hurt if you put it in your eye?

Me - Um, yes, it would.

Sam - So beans are just for eating?

Me - (shaking head) Yes, hun. Just. For. Eating.

Ten minutes later:

Ryan - Mom, Sam never remembers to make her bed! I have to do it!

Sam - (yelling, red faced, eyes bugging out, stomping her foot) I do too remember Wyan! I just don't do it!!!

Seriously, no joke. Kids are crazy or else we are. But I love 'em.

You'd think I learn. Every year it seems I'm faced with the challenge of what to do when my kids change their mind about their Santa gift. This year Sam scoured the American Girl catalog and decided, back in late October, that she really wanted the girl sized and doll sized matching sleeping bags. As a dutiful mom, I ordered them and had them sent to Grandear's house to await our and Santa's arrival. Well imagine my anger, I mean surprise, when her letter to Santa didn't mention this at all. She wanted an American Girl doll bed, a new computer (a play one) and something illegible. When we went to see Santa and he asked what she wanted she said the bed. She's going to be pretty pissed when she doesn't get the flipping bed! Part of me wants to prompt her and say "what about the sleeping bags honey, those were swell?" in hopes that she'll light up and say "Oh yes, mommy, that's it!" but most likely she'll say "oh no, that's all wrong" and then where would I be? At least this way we can hope the craziness of Christmas morning will dull her disappointment.

I mean, seriously, if I could run out and buy her the bed, I probably would, but there's no American Girl store within 200 miles of me and the thought of what that store would look like a few days before Christmas is enough to send me drinking now (it's just 6:44am). That store is crack for 5-10 year old girls. Trade dressing like a homeless person for dressing like your doll, instead of paying hundreds of dollars for drugs, you pay hundreds of dollars to outfit and pierce your doll's ears (yes, actually pierce them!), trade eating out of dumpsters for having tea with strangers and their matching dolls while servers actually serve and talk to the dolls. It's insane. Even so, I would probably do it if I could. But I can't. She's getting the sleeping bags and she'll love it damn it.

Merry Christmas :)

Pet Peeve

For those of you who aren't from the South or don't have good Southern friends to teach you the rules, whatever you say before or after "bless their heart" is totally acceptable since you're giving your blessing simultaneously. For instance, it is totally acceptable to say "bless her heart, my friend Susan is a whore" or even, "Donna, bless her heart, is effing bonkers". As such, Sam, bless her heart, is driving me crazy with all her probing into Santa and Elf magic. Why does the elf show up in a box if it can fly, Mom? No idea, Sam. Does Santa have kids? Why not? Are the elves his kids? Who fills Santa's stocking when he's out filling all the other kids' stockings? Mrs. Claus? I offer up, hopefully. No, can't be because then who'd fill hers? Oh, I figured out the elf thing mom. What elf thing? Why they show up in a box. Probably so you don't pick them up right away and take away their magic, the box protects them and comes with the book so you know what to do. (I'm more impressed with this logic than annoyed). Why do they sell the boxes at stores though, Mommy?

But seriously, why do they sell the Elf on the Shelf boxes at kids' stores? And why do these stores have giant displays that say Stocking Stuffers Here? Whenever I see these signs I cringe, please don't read it, please don't read it, why did your teachers teach you to read I lament. You don't have to say "Stocking Stuffers Here", we can figure it out on our own Mr./Mrs. Store Manager. I have no idea how to explain why there were so many Elf on the Shelf boxes to be sold when I have told the girls ours showed up unexpectedly one day, probably a gift from Santa. Yikes. And in the same vein, why do all kids Christmas shows have an underlying theme of "is Santa real?" Really, do we have to introduce this concept to kids? My girls hear this and say "why would little Johnny not think Santa was real?" and I half smile and shrug and my shoulders and say "I have no idea, what a silly show." They're going to catch on and I'm going to have cartoons to blame.

Oh Joy!

Ryan is in a phase (please God, let it be a phase) where mommy can do no right. I really thought (hoped) the mommy could do no wrong phase would last a bit longer but apparently not. It's gotten to the point of ridiculous and if I laugh at her outrage, which I would be immensely justified in doing, it only makes it worse.

Case in point #1
We are waiting in a crowded line to get on a gondola ride. It's hot out and it's been a long day and everyone is thirsty. We really just want to get out of line and go home but we've paid the $64 so we're determined to stick it out. I argued that it's a sunk cost and shouldn't be relevant in our decision making as to whether we wait or not but macroeconomic theory is lost on my kids. Anyway, as we're waiting there, Ryan walks into me from the back as she's talking to her friend and not paying attention. She drops some trinket in her hand and trips. I bend down to see if she's okay and I get "Ma-ahm! Gosh, why did you do that?! Why are you standing there!" You mean standing where I have been for 10 minutes straight? She's indignant as if I purposefully backed into her and made her trip for the hell of it. She gives me the dirtiest look a seven year old can muster (they can be pretty dirty) and then ignores me.

Case in point #2
We're practicing soccer out in the front yard and I kick the ball to her. If she doesn't move, which she doesn't, the trajectory of the ball will be about 3 feet to her right. She watches it sail by and yells "that is the Worst. Kick. Ever!" She stomps off to get the ball, shaking her head in disbelief. Love you too baby!

Case in point #3
After eating two bowls of her favorite cereal daily for three days, the cereal is gone, empty, trash bound, finito, no mas. Of course, she asks for it in the morning and immediately goes into a tirade about how I should have bought more, should have known she would devour it like a lion who hasn't eaten in a week, and should run out to the store this minute to buy more. In the end she settles for a waffle but gives me the stinkeye all morning.

Parenthood is so rewarding! (Love you Ryan)

Home School's Official Start

Day One – August 29, 2011

It was decided over the summer that all four girls would spend the first week together with Mrs. Brewer and both moms. The thinking was that the moms could learn how to teach and read lesson plans from Mrs. Brewer before going it alone and that the girls could ease into it with their friends nearby. Truth be told, it was probably a lot of “what the hell have we done and let’s stick together for awhile to figure it out.” In any event, that’s the way it worked. Day one was spent at the Stunkels.

Ryan and Sam woke up and quickly dressed in their pre-chosen, first day of school clothes and Olivia Stunkel woke up early, proclaiming “it feels like Christmas morning!” Wende and I wished we felt the same. In fact, I had anxiety dreams the night before, the most vivid of which had Mrs. Brewer showing up in tears announcing that all the material was wrong and she was going to teach from the top of her head. I was in the hallway calling schools to see if we could get the kids enrolled. I’m happy to report that although there were no presents under the tree, it was much closer to a holiday than a disaster.

Tricky-Sticky

“This is where it’s gonna get tricky-sticky” Mrs. Brewer says, “having to teach the kindergartners while the second graders also need instruction.”

I think my jaw just dropped, oh boy, isn’t that the whole point? Haven’t we (and by we I mean you, Mrs. Brewer) been figuring out how that’s going to happen for the past 4 months? Are we really just addressing this obvious question on day one of school? Of course I’m thinking this not actually saying it and in the time it took me to think those two selfish thoughts, Mrs. Brewer got the older girls reading a book in the hallway while she started teaching Sam and Georgia about taller, shorter, above, over, below and under. Oh, and she’s doing all of this with her 4 month old baby attached to her hip and saying things like “can you capitalize that L? Please and thank you.” I’m still sitting on the couch trying to pick my jaw up off the floor.

At our first break, a whole 70 minutes into the day, Georgia looks up and says “now that was fun!” I think she maybe thought we were done for the day (or year?) as there was a certain finality to it such as you hear when exiting a roller-coaster ride. Wende caught a note being passed between Olivia and Ryan that went like this (I am not accountable for spelling):

-Want to play after school?
-Mabey.
-If your mom says okay and my dad says yes, do u want to play teins?
-Sure.

I just love that they’re passing notes in home school. Really, how cute is that? It was a ripped off corner of paper, both sides being used. Wende and I got a chuckle out of that. Sam signed her name as Samantha, Sammie, Sam and Sammy as she saw fit. Mrs. Brewer was impressed.

We started the day with a 5 minute journal exercise where the kids had to write, as best they could, ‘I want to learn about…’ and then finish the sentence. Sam wrote “I wt to lon a” and then she drew a picture of a tennis racket. It was awesome. Ryan wanted to learn about outer space and animals and people. By the time our day ended we had covered math (a timed test and some review), reading assessments for all four girls, phonics, spelling and social studies (a packet entitled “All About Me”). It was a successful day, only 205 more to go!