Over 30,000 hours of my life have been spent teaching. Entering a classroom of any kind doesn't make me nervous. It makes me excited. But I am scared to death to teach my two kids. The problem is of all of the people I have taught, these ones matter the most. And I don't want to screw it up.
We will be on the road for most of the year not staying in any one place for very long. This means we home school. Or, as I'm beginning to learn the lingo, road-school.
I have a neighbor who has arguably the most genius kids I know. She home schooled for years and her kids are wicked smart and incredibly kind. So when I told her about my fears of teaching she offered to loan me some of her materials. I brought a little bag over to her house. She filled it to overflowing and then gave me a ride home with all of these amazing materials.
I read "The Well Trained Mind" in a night. I was going to be the Mary-Poppins-esq mother teacher that the book described. I would be firm as they memorized Tennyson and always require the very best work. My children would be the kind of kids they have in that book. I could see my son as he would "leap off the sofa and runs to you, book in hand shouting 'We've got to make a page for this in my notebook!' "While I was lost in my little fantasy Sam came in and plead "Mom could you please sign my planner." Somehow for the past two months I haven't even opened up the planner and put my name in it. I'm pretty sure people like me shouldn't home school. Heck, we probably shouldn't have kids.
My kids routinely read crap and do so begrudgingly. I have never augmented their education with anything beyond half facts that I think I heard on NPR. The closest I've come to Latin was the pig verity that Jared and I used to talk over their heads. Most days I'm just grateful if the reading book didn't get peanut butter on it.
I have to consciously make a space in my brain for the possibility that I will do okay at this. There are amazing resources out there. I'm sort of clinging to them right now. I spent the weekend making spreadsheets and schedules and marking sections of books. And...oh yeah...I signed the planner.
Kids are demanding. Not because of the demands they give (which are generally focused on making sandwiches and buying legos) but because of the demands that flow out of the knock-you-out-drag-you-down love we feel for them. We want to be perfect for them. Mentally we may know we can't but try telling that to your heart. It will just laugh at you and send you back to your spreadsheet.
We will be on the road for most of the year not staying in any one place for very long. This means we home school. Or, as I'm beginning to learn the lingo, road-school.
I have a neighbor who has arguably the most genius kids I know. She home schooled for years and her kids are wicked smart and incredibly kind. So when I told her about my fears of teaching she offered to loan me some of her materials. I brought a little bag over to her house. She filled it to overflowing and then gave me a ride home with all of these amazing materials. I read "The Well Trained Mind" in a night. I was going to be the Mary-Poppins-esq mother teacher that the book described. I would be firm as they memorized Tennyson and always require the very best work. My children would be the kind of kids they have in that book. I could see my son as he would "leap off the sofa and runs to you, book in hand shouting 'We've got to make a page for this in my notebook!' "While I was lost in my little fantasy Sam came in and plead "Mom could you please sign my planner." Somehow for the past two months I haven't even opened up the planner and put my name in it. I'm pretty sure people like me shouldn't home school. Heck, we probably shouldn't have kids.
My kids routinely read crap and do so begrudgingly. I have never augmented their education with anything beyond half facts that I think I heard on NPR. The closest I've come to Latin was the pig verity that Jared and I used to talk over their heads. Most days I'm just grateful if the reading book didn't get peanut butter on it.I have to consciously make a space in my brain for the possibility that I will do okay at this. There are amazing resources out there. I'm sort of clinging to them right now. I spent the weekend making spreadsheets and schedules and marking sections of books. And...oh yeah...I signed the planner.
Kids are demanding. Not because of the demands they give (which are generally focused on making sandwiches and buying legos) but because of the demands that flow out of the knock-you-out-drag-you-down love we feel for them. We want to be perfect for them. Mentally we may know we can't but try telling that to your heart. It will just laugh at you and send you back to your spreadsheet.
I love this. I love your vision of Mary Poppins home school and the reality check. It made me laugh. I remember that I had to read Homer's Odyssey on my 3-week trip to China to adopt my brother. I don't remember if I finished the book or not, but the trip changed my life. Oh, and I did name a daughter Penelope, but that was because my husband apparently finished the book-- and remembered the characters' names.
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