Homeschooling Week 1

This last week has been one full of change, adventure, and quite frankly *fun*. But to explain the *why* of it all, I'll back up and tell you what has been going on...


For the past several months I have watched over Jacob's progress in kindergarten closely. I noticed a few months ago that he has the same difficulties that Matt had at his age: namely a complete and utter disreguard for reading. (Which, as an avid reader, sends up the flashing lights & loud sirens of doom, ringing in my ears.) It was such a concern for me, that I contacted a lady who works for the Alpine School District to have him and Matt tested for learning disabilities.

They tested brilliantly. So then: what was going on???

Two Fridays ago, I sat at the work table waiting for stations to start up. The kids were taking a spelling test, and they were just reviewing the words (in case any kids had missed hearing them). I listened in, and kept thinking, 'Jacob knows that one. And that one, oh-- that one too!' Nice thoughts, you know? I hadn't heard about the spelling test ahead of time, so I was relieved that even though we hadn't practiced, he would be prepared. Those 'nice thoughts' left when I looked over at my son. His eyes were looking up at the ceiling, out the window, at the walls-- everywhere, really. He looked so BORED. Poor thing.

The kids handed in their papers to me, and I took a look at Jacob's. Almost every word was wrong. Wrong!

Later that day while driving home from school, I ask the question: What did you do at school today? And I get the same answer I have gotten for two weeks straight: 'Nothing'.

'Nothing'.

At first I thought it was funny-- a 'pretend answer'. But that day, I asked some pretty pointed questions like, 'Is school boring?' and 'What are you learning?' And then I asked myself a pretty important question: "Is having free time for myself worth my son having a bad education?" Because, honestly, that is THE question. The *ALL IMPORTANT* one. My husband makes enough money that I don't have to work outside the home. I have homeschooled our two older children. I know how it goes. And, at this point, I have a test result that tells me Jacob is smart.

Monday morning looms. And Jacob-- sweet, brilliant, *honest* Jacob says: Mom, can I homeschool? And I say 'Yes'.


So that's how we got to this point. I know what to do. It isn't a big deal. We fill out a form, get it notarized, and mail it off. We return the book from the Take Home Reading Program (a HUGE disapointment-- I'll write about it another time), and also the school library book. We go to museums, do some chores, read together on the couch, and play Memory. We make Mac 'n Cheese, drink some juice, and play math games. We learn a new way to write time, make a number chart that goes until 130, and we are in the process of making a calendar. We learn about King Arthur, and read silly stories and poetry. We walk around a lake with surrounding wetlands. We walk (just a foot in) on the ice that has formed on the lake. We go to the park, the library (American Fork library is better), and check out the Provo City Library. We learn that flowers change color if put in water with food coloring in it for several days.

We have fun.

CTR

It is 4pm on a Monday afternoon. I'm taking my daughter, Winter, and the daughter of a friend of mine to Wal-Mart to get some bread and some fabric. The bread, because-- so far-- Jacob only eats the Wal-Mart brand of wheat bread (he doesn't believe in branching out), and the fabric, because we are making a quilt. My friend just had some surgery done on her foot, and as is tradition in our family, we make a quilt for those who have had surgery/ hospital time. This time, we are engaging the assistance of my friend's daughter to make it.

Back to the 4pm:

We pull into the parking lot, and I aim for the parking aisle with the flag pole. (Landmarks and patterns of parking are SUCH a good thing when I park in a giant lot. It can be worse than trying to find your car in the parking lot at LegoLand, because there are none of those handy 'You parked in the _____ zone' signs.) Anyways, I spy a parking place up ahead on the left, but I can't get to it just yet as there is a car ahead of me. There is another car that looks like it may turn into the aisle, so I flip my turn signal on. As the car in front of me leaves, and I pull forward, the driver-- a woman as I can now see-- shakes her head at me, and makes a quick turn into the spot.

Really?!

I feel all sorts of things: anger, frustration, and a strong desire to just park right behind her, turn off my engine, and claim I'm having 'car trouble' and I just *can't* get it to start up again.

But I don't. I've got two young ladies in the car, and they are watching me. And-- to be honest-- I wouldn't do that anyways. (I also didn't think of it until five minutes ago). But hours later I'm still feeling frustration over the tendancy of people to take what they want, and stomp on people. And then SMILE. As if they've won some sort of highly prized 'Anti-Humanitarian Award'.

The parking place isn't a big deal. Winter helped me find another one that was closer anyways. (Thank you Winter!) I couldn't help but think as I drove away from the area that on my car are the letters CTR. Choose the Right. And as such, I do strive to do that. It isn't easy. It isn't a collection of letters that mean I will always win-- because 'Right' doesn't. Even 'right' loses sometimes in this world. But CTR isn't just a guideline for how to play the game of life. It is also a way to live-- even when you lose.