I guess I’m more of a Blogger girl at heart and don’t have a lot to say about our homeschooling experiences thus far, so I’ll just cover any homeschooling moments of note in my family blog at Shaunarumbling from now on. I’ll leave this one online in case I decide to use it later.
Tomorrow, September 30, is Smithsonian Magazine’s Museum Day. Print out a form here to receive two free admissions to a participating venue in your area.
We went to a nearby school’s playground late this afternoon, and it was still filled with kids long after school was out. Zuzu takes a little while to warm up to strangers, so I was surprised when she bounded over to a group of girls hoping to make some new friends. She returned to where I was walking with the baby shortly afterward and said the girls told her she couldn’t go on the monkey bars with them because they were “doing something.” She got on a different piece of equipment, and a boy tried his best to make her fall off, which I discovered after watching several other kids must be part of the appeal of this particular see-saw balance beam thing. She hung on as if in a rodeo and thought it was fun, even though the boy trying to unseat her didn’t seem to have her amusement in mind. I felt bad for her as I thought back to some of the rejection and bullying I experienced as a child. I was not only the class runt, but wore glasses and was a brainy nerd; the “city” kids in our middle-of-nowhere Kansas town of 1200 also thought they were somehow more enlightened and cooler than us farm kids, which I knew at the time was ridiculous but still gave them one more reason to pick on me. Still, these moments didn’t phase Zuzu much at all and she just went to another part of the playground to play by herself.
I don’t want to be overprotective and am not for the most part, but it was hard for me to restrain my Mama Bear instincts to try and make someone play with her. And trying to make someone do anything goes against my nature. Once, on a church playground after service, some junior-high-age boys suddenly got into a heated argument, and two boys started hitting and kicking at another one. I don’t know who started it or what it was about, but there were younger kids on the playground too and without even thinking I rushed over to the boys and demanded that they stop fighting. My shouting momentarily distracted them and drew the attention of a couple of men talking in the distance, who came over and had to physically break up the fight. I was shaking and felt sick to my stomach because I’m usually quiet and more passive. (A former boss even made me go to assertiveness training once.)
I talked to my daughter on the way home about her enthusiasm for wanting to play with the other kids, and I encouraged her to try again next time. Mean kids and adults are unavoidable, and I want her to learn how to handle that and to even try to see them the way God does. I get the feeling she already does this more easily than I do.
Some sources attribute this essay to Victor Buono, but I believe Dan Valentine is the correct author. I have so many problems with it I don’t even know where to begin. My main beef is that I think it’s ludicrous for any parent to “bequeath” their children to the world and trust that the world will treat them right. (Plus I think it’s poorly written and schmaltzy.)
World-
I bequeath to you today one little girl in a crisp dress… with two blue eyes… and a happy laugh that ripples all day long… and a batch of light brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you’ll treat her well.
She’s slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning and skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again will she be completely mine. Prim and proud, she’ll wave a young and independent hand this morning, and say good-bye, and walk with little lady steps to the nearby school house.
Gone will be the chattering little girl who lived only for play, the delightful little child who roamed the yard like a proud princess with nary a care in her little world. Now she will learn to stand in lines… and wait by the alphabet for her name to be called. She will learn to tune her little girl ears for the sound of school bells and for deadlines… She will learn to giggle and gossip… and to look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little boy across the aisle sticks out his tongue. Now she will learn to be jealous… and now she will learn how it is to feel hurt inside… and now she will learn how not to cry.
No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch steps on a summer day and watch while an ant scurries across a crack in the sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the dawn to kiss lilac blossoms in the morning dew. Now she will worry about “important things”… like grades… and what dresses to wear… and whose best friend is whose. Now she will worry about the little boy who pulls her hair at recess time… and staying after school… and which little girls like which little boys.
And the magic of books and knowledge will soon take the place of the magic of her blocks and dolls. And she’ll find new heroes. For five full years I’ve been her sage and Santa Claus… her pal and playmate… her parent and friend. Now (alas) she’ll learn to share her worship and adoration with her teachers (which is only right). No longer will her parents be the smartest and the greatest in the world.
Today, when the first school bell rings, she’ll learn how it is to be a member of a group… with all its privileges and, of course, its disadvantages, too. She’ll learn in time that proper young ladies don’t laugh out loud… or keep frogs in pickle jars in the bedroom… or watch ants scurry across the cracks in a summer sidewalk. Today, she’ll begin to learn that all who smile at her are not her friends. That “the group” can be a demanding mistress… and I’ll stand on the porch and watch her start out on the long, long journey to becoming a woman.
So, World, I bequeath to you today one little girl in a crisp dress, with two blue eyes, and a happy laugh that ripples all day long, and a patch of of light brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you’ll treat her well.
I checked out Karen Andreola’s Pocketful of Pinecones through Interlibrary Loan after seeing several rave reviews about it, a fictional account of Charlotte Mason’s philosophy in practice. Well…I’m disappointed to be checking it back in to the library unfinished. I’ve tried several times and really want to like it, but I just can’t get interested enough to keep reading. I added several of the recommended books to my Amazon Wish List and found the Supplement section very helpful, so I don’t regret giving it a look. It’s silly that I feel guilty for being bored by it, but I do. Ms. Andreola clearly knows a lot about Miss Mason, and I enjoyed reading more about her personal experiences in the book’s Afterword even though I didn’t care much for the fictional character Carol’s dry journal entries.
[This is my entry to win a camera in the "Capture the Educational Moment" Contest sponsored by Spunky and Academic Superstore.]
Without question my daughter’s preferred method of learning is through play. Whether she’s considering the vast frontiers of space while dressed as an astronaut or thinking about fire safety as she sounds the siren in a retired firetruck, her mind is most engaged when she has something tactile on hand to spark her imagination. We play bingo and Go Fish (or as she sometimes calls it, Goldfish) to learn phonics, and counting bears and other manipulatives make math fun.
[This is a cross post from my main blog, Shaunarumbling.]
Yesterday after our lessons we visited the Greeley History Museum and played at the park. The museum is small but gives a good overview of local history and prominent local people. My favorite local legend is certainly Kate Slaughterback, better known as Rattlesnake Kate. In October 1928 with her toddler in tow, she went out to retrieve some wounded ducks that had been shot by nearby hunters and found a huge group of rattlers. She killed several with her .22 and then started whacking the snakes with a No Hunting sign. Killing 140 of them earned her a new nickname, and she used some of the skins to make a snappy flapper dress. We saw Kate’s house at Centennial Village at the Potato Day Festival, and we saw the rattlesnake skin dress at the museum yesterday (as did our visiting Flat Stanley).
We went letterboxing for the first time yesterday, and Zuzu wants to find more! I’m going to print out directions and clues for several different cities in this area, and we’ll add letterboxing to some of the field trips and nature walks we have planned. Family Fun had a good introduction to letterboxing in a recent issue.
I think I’m more of a relaxed, eclectic homeschooler than an unschooler, but this unschooling meme from PHAT Mommy’s blog looks fun to answer.
1) ONE FIELD TRIP YOUR CHILD LEARNED A LOT FROM
We always learn something when we use our annual membership to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. I have a lot of other field trips planned for the coming months. I consider library visits to be valuable field trips as well.
2) THE GAME/TOY THAT’S GIVEN YOU THE MOST EDUCATION MILEAGE
magnetic letters and numbers
3) ORDINARY HOUSEHOLD ITEM THAT’S GIVEN YOU THE MOST EDUCATION MILEAGE
Do crayons count?
4) NAME THREE MAGAZINES/BOOKS ON YOUR COFFEE TABLE
We don’t own a coffee table, but some of the ones in our house are Family Fun, Wondertime, Reason, and The Plain Truth.
5) ONE SKILL YOUR CHILD LEARNED FROM GROCERY SHOPPING
My first impulse was to say whining! But I also remember teaching Zuzu about colors and shapes from early on while grocery shopping, as well as counting.
6) ONE RESOURCE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT BUYING, BUT THEN REALIZED YOUR CHILD COULD LEARN THAT INFORMATION JUST BY LIVING LIFE
I have yet to purchase a math curriculum and appreciate Ruth Beechick’s advice for using everyday manipulatives and teaching math concepts in real life.
7) AMOUNT OF MONEY YOU’VE SAVED BY NOT PURCHASING CURRICULUM
I’m not sure, but I did get pulled into a booth at a convention this summer. When the saleswoman found out I was a newbie, her eyes lit up and she tried to convince me to spend $700 on their complete kindergarten curriculum. Um, no thanks.
We have a houseguest–Flat Stanley–for the next several weeks, then he’ll travel to the next family and another flat traveler will come for a visit. Here’s Stanley atop the Denver Museum of Nature and Science with the Denver skyline and Rocky Mountains in the distance. 
