Planning American History....Let's Go There!

This is the year I've been waiting for, folks: High School American History! And we are fortunate to live in Pennsylvania. Which means, we are but a day trip or overnight from historic sites of the earliest settlements, Native peoples, French & Indian War; all through the Revolution and early colonial life; slavery and the Civil War;and woman suffragists. Best still, I have a trustworthy car, a GPS, and a student who is eager to hit the road.

For those of you who remember, I have lamented for years HoneyGirl's distaste over my historical geekiness. No matter where we traveled or what I tried, she could never get beyond herself to embrace what happened before. But over the last few months, a light has sparked in her. She's somewhat interested in current events and politics, and has been asking lots of questions re: immigration, taxation, etc.

What did I do to fan the flame? I filled my netflix queue with every historical movie and/or history channel epidsode that I could find on any topic she was interested in. I filled a basket full of books, even some children's non-fiction, on related topics and set it in the open. I took the time to find the answers to her questions with her.

Best of all, I asked for her help in planning field trips for the coming year. Honey has never been strong in geography, so we laid out maps. We placed a yellow circumference at 150 miles; and a green at 300 miles. Then, we started plotting out potential field trips sites.

Our first trip will be the last weekend of this month, to visit George Washington's Mount Vernon. We are going to take the less congested route through PA and south, and will get a nice drive through of Gettysburg on the way. We'll be spending the afternoon in Historic Leesburg and meet some online friends to boot.

Other trips will be Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Washington, DC., Alice Paul's home in Mt Laurel, NJ, and Ellis Island. Some will be planned large scale with the co-op; some with friends, and some with just us. I love her interests and excitement in planning, for she is thinking already to the essays she might right about the trips, giving the background as well as her experience/ feelings.

I will do my best to keep you all posted. And please, do share any small gems of sites with us...we are ready to hit the road!

To thine own Family Be True...

Have you ever been questioned about your parenting decisions by those who don't know you well? Of course you have, if you homeschool. Perfect strangers seem to feel justified in warning any of us about the lack of socialization and question our academic competence.

I bring this up because recently, our family has approved a choice of our soon-to-be sixteen year old that is going to most certainly stir up questions. You see, HoneyGirl has been fascinated with tattoos since she was in single digits. She's done research reports on the history of tattoo around the world for geography. She is constantly sketching tattoo artwork. She's visited studios to learn about the equipment. For a while, she was so obsessed that she planned on becoming a tattoo artist.

And since she was ten years old, she has asked to get a small tattoo of a bear paw, for our dog Bear when she turned sixteen years old. The years have moved on, and our old dog Bear struggles with arthritic hips which HoneyGirl dutifully massages each night. The time is here for us to make a real decision about this, as her 16th birthday is two months away.

King Bee and I had little to discuss, surprisingly. HOney is a girl wise beyond her years, and this tattoo is not a whim, nor meaningless to her. I'm sure I'd feel differently if she was talking about a large back piece or cobwebs across her face. But a little one-inch diameter mememto of her beloved pet is so true to her, my wild child.

The part that I am questioning, however, is how I react to those around me who are going to gasp in horror. How could we ever consider such a thing? I can hear the complaints now, about her permanantely marking her body and the long term judgment she will get for having a (insert quotation fingers) "a tattoo!"

There is a deeper issue here, which I would love to delve into with her. Those folks who are so hung up on a mark on the outside are those who are often so worried about perception. "What will people think?" is a common concern.

I love that my daughter couldn't give a hoot if someone thinks her tribute to a beloved pet is a dark mark on her character. She laughs, as one mom who scoffed at her idea a few weeks ago has a daughter who lost her virginity on the first date with a new beau. Others have teens who sneak out drinking and partying regularly.
Yet my daughter, who chooses to take part in none of that , might be judged a "bad girl" for a small tattoo?

Honey is in a way, fascinated about this. She is plannign to track reactions, and write about them from a sociological/ psychological perspective. Her knowledge of the history will give her ample background to discuss prisoner or sailor tattoos of old.

Moreover, she suspects, the issues some have come from the permanence and lack of secrecy. If there is a stigma to tattooing, you can't hide that you are willing to go against the grain when you have one. I think she may be onto something there.
It will be interesting to discuss and research.

And my decided response, "To thine own family be true." And then I'll show them our upcoming family portrait of each of us, sporting our then exposed tattoos for the camera! :)

Summer Solstice Greetings!

An email from a long-time blogging friend jolted my memory earlier this week. I knew I had put blogging on the back burner, but hadn't realized I'd been so neglectful. If this was a garden, I should not be able to see for the weeds!

Life over the last months has been a bustle of activity, both real and mental. Honeygirl has slain the Jabberwocky that was freshman year, and we all did the futterwakken dance in celebration. She did quite well, and has grown so much in confidence and maturity. She's making great choices, to start training with a "Couch to 5K" program and join a Senior Girl Scout troop. She's begun really nuturing her friendships as well.

Buzz finished up his second semester at community college. He has been learning some life lessons as well, albeit the hard way. Through sheer mule-headed resistence to all suggestions, he continued on the road of "done, but not well," which unfortunately does not work with Honors Statistics. As such, he has been put on probation with the honors program and lost his scholarship until his GPA is a 3.0 again.

We've had some real glimmers of hope, however, this summer. He landed an excellent job working construction, and is pledged to pay for his next semester himself for his folly. He's been much more pleasant to me, and we've been having lots of fun conversations about all sorts of things. He's lost a lot of that antagonistic needling, and the home life is so much better for us all. We're all so happy about the changes.

I, however, have been literally all over the place. In late April, I was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. The diagnosis was certainly a wake up call, although I am quite disgusted with myself that I needed to let my health/weight go so long that it came to this. I've spent many an hour in self-loathing, at my lazy, excuse-making habits that find me 50 lbs heavier than a former athlete would like to be.

I've been really proactive making changes, first in my food choices and increasing my physical activity. I've lost 12 pounds, and I am starting to reach that point where I WANT to move and get out there! My blood sugar is under control with diet and meds, and there is great promise that with continued diligence, I won't need meds at all within a year or so.

This whole health scare, has thrown me into a mental journey of questioning. I am on the right road to getting my health back. My family life is humming more smoothly than it has in years. The co-op has teachers in place and families registered, so I have a few weeks of little piddly work before the late summer planning.

HoneyGirl took a plane ALONE to Florida to visit family friends, and has been gone sicne last Tuesday. I logged some long office days, then some much needed chore days. But there has been a lot of silence and quiet. For the first time in a long time, I have been taking the time to explore my own wishes and dreams.

I realize that Honey & I are both on similar journeys now. She is pondering and researching for her first career after homeschool, as I am considering and weighing options for myself after years of homeschooling my children.

I love the co-op, and am very good at it. But I am realizing more and more that there is no true way for it to be lucrative enough. Ideally, I could find a way to work a high paying part-time job and have Tuesdays off, and I would be in heaven. I still have a few years to find something that will be enough to fill in the financial hole left by a part-time, albeit successful, business.

A key change is that I'm ready to admit that I want/need to make real money again. The joy I would have in a real salary, to work towards paying off our mortgage and securing our retirement. It sounds so silly, but I have missed that financial pay-off all these years at home. One thing at a time...I am learning.

I suppose that is an awful lot to have kept me busy these past months. Tomorrow I head to the airport to retrieve my girl, and we have five weeks of unplanned summer ahead before we begin educating her for her sophmore year. And I plan to squeeze every last bit of fun out of it!!!!

Juxtaposition....

The second day of the IEP process was better. The psychologist is just so supportive, and gave her a wonderful pep talk before beginning again. Honey, while still uncomfotable with being so vulnerable about her disabilities, is now trusting that the trial will be worth it in the end. And so we press on, for more sessions next week. Her perserverence amazes me for one so young, as she said, "Sometimes I am just going to have to step up and take on really difficult things, because in the end I am only helping myself. "

My DH arrived home late afternoon from another stint out-of-state. It was wonderful to just sit down together over a meal and really catch up on everything. It was only the three of us, so Honey was able to share her trials of the week and have his full attention. His encouragement and praise on her hard work and attitude was exactly the prescription she needed. She hugged and kissed us both, and went off to play on her computer.

The timing was perfect as Scout flew in, wanting to talk. He and a few of his cronies have decided that they want to drop out of the honors program. "The reality is that it's just a lot of hard work and it's just bringing down our GPA's, and the professors are idiots."

Both DH and I looked at each other. It was one of those wonderful moments where we did not need to discuss our views privately before a decision. We took turns outlining all the reasons that was NOT an option. His GPA is not suffering because the course work is too great, but because doing the work is interferring with fun. Dropping out of the honors program at the community college will not reflect positively when he tries to apply to transfer schools.

DH pointed out all the ways in which his focus on poor choices (procrastinating, partying, girlfriends, and general screwing around) could have been tempered toward greater success. He countered that a bunch of his buddies were dropping out, and he wanted to hang out with them more. DH did raise his voice here, as choosing to be a follower, especially one making poor choices, is something we don't abide. "You're not going to drop out just so you have more time to play Guitar Hero with a bunch of num-nuts."

A bigger and continuing issue is his arrogance in calling all these professors idiots. He's criticized the assignemtns, the readings, the lectures, the course work, and the grading. DH pointed out that he is again transferring the same attitude that he had toward me as teacher onto them. I enjoyed the colorful imagery he provided of a bunch of self-important piss ants disrespecting someone with far more experience and education, I must say.

I pointed out that he may have no idea what he will gain from each class until years later, and that the work only becomes more challenging as he moves forward. Moreover, why does he feel entitled to have it easy? Scout was not happy, and not in full agreement of our opinions. Still, he accepted our position without further argument.

When we were again alone, my DH and I shared a wonderful moment. The juxtaposition of having one brilliantly gifted child who feel justified to squander opportunities away, and one learning challenged child who is willing to do anything to simply have the possibility of the same opportunity. After all these years, he was able to see the unfairness of it all, and understand how this truth affected all of our interactions. Years of anger and blame melted away.

And I can tell you, it felt like Christmas.

"Flayed and Rawly Exposed"

The above is HoneyGirl's description of her first day of testing by the school psychologist.

We finally have decided that it is time for HoneyGirl to have an official IEP done and on record with the school district regarding her dyslexia and processing issues. It was a difficult choice, but we are looking ahead to college and have learned that there are many accomodations that can be made to help her succeed (untimed tests, typed essay exams instead of handwritten,etc.) Still, we both knew the process would not be fun.

The days leading up were very emotional for us both. Honey was going to have to fight years worth of tactics trying to mask her issues from others and suddenly be open and forthright about her challenges. More than that, she needs to fight the demons of doubt.

For somewhere deep inside, she has held this lingering fear that maybe she is just stupid. Deep-rooted, low-functioning, Forrest Gump dumb. She's never voiced this before. I claim with confidence that her fears are wrong, but the pained fear in her eyes makes me just hold her and let her cry it out. I cry too, wondering if I made a mistake in following advice to not have her IEP testing "officially" done when she was too young to understand and suffer this pain.

After a good cry, we had a good chat and dispelled a great many of her fears. We discussed cognitive processing, discerning and analytical thought and higher level ideas. We then discussed her challenges, and she was able to recognize the differences. Luckily, we know enough truly "dumb" people, and I had her laughing at the odd coincedence that most of them have dated her brother. :)

Honey went for her first session yesterday. The school psychologist is a lovely young woman with a very gentle nature. Honey tested for 3.5 hours while I sat in the hall grading papers. She had done all she could for the day, had a full on tension headache and was emotionally drained. She was tested on math skills, grammar, and reading comprehension, which she was comfortable with and expected. She was also tested on memory skills, rapid recall, and note taking. She had to write essays in a blue book, with no use of scratch paper to organize her thoughts.

As we walked down the hall to leave and I asked how she was feeling, she replied "Flayed and rawly exposed," and the tears streamed down her face. The frustration was overwhelming her. I brought her home, fed her and let her take a much needed, two-hour nap.

We chatted outside, then, and those fears again resurfaced. I admitted that I would be challenged to write an essay with no scatch paper or notes, without the computer, as would many I know. She was a bit relieved at that, but feels somewhat defeated. I do know that if I would allow it, she would quit the process right now and forget about any sort of college experience.

I, too, have all sorts of doubts. Not that she doesn't have the dyslexia that was diagnosed early on, but what if there are other sorts of issues that are also present? All these years, I could have been helping her learn about and develop for those as well. What if we discover that I have hindered her, without meaning too? I , too, feel flayed and rawly exposed as her parent/teacher.

We are going to see this through. As hard as it is to see her feel so vulnerable now, I also believe that having that accurate assessment on paper, from a professional, is going to help her more in the end by clearing up her self-doubt. Whether she chooses to go on to college or not, she will at least know that she has this done and can get any services she needs for greater success.

Keep us in your prayers these next two weeks...I think it's going to be an emotional rollercoaster.

Struggling with the Big Stuff...

Life has been difficult lately, and I've been pretty uncomfortable. Of course, I am one who likes to mull and maneuver to a good place instead of allowing the stream of gripes and ponderings flow like a faucet. I wasn't even sure if I was going to blog about it, but I wonder too, if some of you have been suffering discomfort over some of the same issues.

My DH truly hates his new job. We both know that he should be thankful that he was able to find one in this economy without taking a pay cut, but it is SO miserable, as the salaried employees are exploited terribly, and he is spending 12 hour days digging in ditches as a foreman. Not a good situation for a man who needs back surgery. He's looking, but the construction industry is so depressed.

In the meanwhile, he struggles through, but is in pain and grumpy. This too, gives me a bit of guilt, for while my co-op is successful, it is far from lucrative. I worry that if he is not able to find another position, I have to consider the reality that I might be forced to work full-time outside the home if his body fails.

Feeling entirely frustrated, I am doing something that I absolutely love for the first time in my life. I am VERY good at it, and the work is fulfilling. I know I now have three years to develop and branch this into something that has greater income potential, so that I can contribute more so he has more options.

The words "three years," I have also realized, can make my heart stop for a second. It hit me the other week that Reagan will be graduated in three years. This first year of high school has been true joy, and she and I are in such a great place. I am impressed with the young woman she is becoming every day. We have reached a new level of closeness, as she is at the place where she is spreading her wings but choosing to share everything with me, her closest confidant as well as mother. I am excited for her future, something she explores and wants to discuss all the time.

Yet it is a daunting task to every day take "me" out of the discussions. She speaks of careers and travel and possible relocation with such a spark in her eyes. I love that she has gained such confidence and independence. I smile and make positive suggestions, all the while holding back that little voice that wants to scream "NNNnnnooooooo! Don't leave me!!!"

I naively assumed that she would move on with her life and be near enough to visit often. I pictured helping each other in our gardens and weekend barbeques together. I forgot that while I was raising this independent young woman, she would obviously have other ideas.

But reality has a funny way of slapping me with the information that her plans and mine might not remain the same. I've realized that I, too, need to reevaluate my own plans. I need to continue giving her what she needs at this stage of her life, which is impartial support (not co-dependency!)

It's hard then, to take a deep look at your life at this stage. I'm having to step out of my wonderful comfort zone and analyze everything. I'm not liking some of the things I see in myself. I need to redirect energy into my health and hobbies and friendships. I need to seek my own joys , and give myself the skills to do so as I have taught her to do!

With all that whirling around in my head, I am more than a little impatient with, well, other people's bullshit. I'm especially struggling with a certain type of hypocrisy--and the recent flood of tactless, compassionless behavior stirred in my country. Even worse is the parroting of such hateful statements, especially regarding health care reform. Many Republican politicians are acting like tantrum throwing toddlers, and many folks I know are behaving just as childishly. (And I am a Republican , though did not vote that way in the national election)


I'm finding it hard to politely ignore such ridiculous hypocrisy any longer. Everyone of these women is a death or divorce away from needing such a program to continue their own health care. My mother lived and died this as part of the working poor that owned modest property after the divorce, and was therefore ineligible for care that would have diagnosed her easily treatable uterine cancer.

Can someone explain to me how folks can select their compassion? How can one of faith campaign for unborn children with fervor, but decide that health care for that same child, once outside the womb, is someone else's problem? How can their daily talk be peppered with references to God's intervenion to the most trivial aspects of life (Jesus had a parking spot right in front for me, answering my prayers!) yet refuse to see that for once, our government is doing something that will help people because it is the RIGHT thing to do, and maybe God had some influence in making that come to pass. (using their arguments.) 'Nuff said.

I am fully aware that with all the big stuff I am trying to figure out, I have no time for such nonsense. I only hope that I can find a way to lasso my tongue. For now, I am choosing to just walk away from those folks and focus on the positive things. I got enough right in my own house to handle !

Surgical Schedule for Avid Bibliophile

I'm not quite sure who first said "I never met a book I didn't like," but the quote certainly speaks to my soul. Books have always been like treasured friends to me. But at some point I crossed from saving special books to rescuing anything with a binding. I was homeschooling, and somehow convinced myself that I needed to have as many tomes in my basement library that I could, if asked by the public system, become a neighborhood branch.

In the last year or so, all this book collecting has become cumbersome. There are other things we can do with the space that is much more family friendly than simply housing shelf upon shelf of seldom read books. I desparately wanted a roomy sewing/craft space and a place where my teens can entertain friends.

I was emotionally ready to purge last spring, or so I thought. I realized we were talking well over three thousand books when I stopped taking a tally. The first go round was simple, really, as I had so many books that I had never liked enough to read or continue reading in the first place. I readily gathered up around a thousand and hauled them in multiple trips to donation that summer.

Over the fall, I tried at various points to gather up at least a box load a month, but I had lost my steam. It was easy for me to procrastinate, as I couldn't begin setting up my sewing area until the boys moved out their dust covered weight set. As the months went by, I began to waver in my commitment to trim the shelves. I made great use of Paperback. swap, but realize this is only trading books-not purging.

But in the last month, the boys have gotten moving. The weights were out. My DH broke down his former office, and the desk went up to Scout's bedroom (much more suitable for a college student). Before I knew it I was able to set up a sewing table and parts of my craft storage. King Bee moved his drafting table out, and is working on the weekends to sort and purge the remaining belongings of his office so that I can move in my remaining items: curriculum and books to keep.

Accepting that this purging is more than an ethereal dream has given me a feeling similar to when I've faced surgery. I know that it is something that must be done, but I am dreading it. I spent ten minutes looking at the various shelves before heading upstairs to the least traumatic of literary categories: the cookbooks. (I purged 34 and can now fit my bread machine in their former shelf space, thank you very much)

This is more than just getting rid of a lot of tomes that collect dust with fervor. There are memories tied up in my connections with certain stories. There are certain authors whose entire collection line my shelves, even if I have only read half. I've got two shelves of beautiful, leather bound Harvard classics editions of titles you couldn't pay me to stomach again, but that I couldn't resist at a used book sale .

I realized that I need to step back and analyze my relationship with books as a whole, and in parts. There are many facets to my addiction, I think. I can readily admit to my admiration of a shelf lined with gilt-paged tomes. Libraries have always been one of my favorite places. We were quite poor and faced many struggles after my father left us. But when I spent time surrounded by books, I always felt better. And though I might not ever read many of those books again, being surrounded by them has given me comfort.

As a young family, books were one of the few luxuries we could afford, especially at yard-sale prices. I hoped to instill a love of reading in my children. Having overflowing shelves helped do that, for a time. I am thrilled that they grew to love our storytime, but my children have never developed an attachment to more than a select crate-full each.

I will always enjoy the literary trips books provide me. I cannot afford to travel through place as my mind fancies, nor can I travel through time. Yet with books, I can do both, and often. I will continue forever to be an avid reader, but I need to develop a new attitude about my need to keep every book, as if it were a photograph. I have begun keeping a book journal, which seems to help greatly with this issue.

I am scheduling my next biblio-surgical procedure then, going through the four eight-foot bookcases filled with children's books. The goal is to selective reduce the collection into one bookcase. There are some that hold too many memories, some that are antiques, and some classics that I will use again and again in my teaching. I will certainly keep those that I dream of sharing with grandchildren one day!

The second bibli-otomy will defintiely be the wall shelves filled with all those classics of mine. I will never read "Old Man and the Sea" or "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" or "Grapes of Wrath"again. I don't need to keep every translation of "The Iliad" ever produced. I can purge those, as well as a huge stack of Thackeray, Bronte, and Austen. I know that if I ever have the need for them again, I can easily hop in the car to a library anywhere.

I am hoping that by the time these two areas are complete, I will have gotten addicted to the process as a middle-aged Hollywood Starlet becomes addicted to plastic surgery. That is when I will face the biggest procedure, the curricu-lotomy. This is one huge cabinet and two other shelves of items related to homeschooling.

I have admited before that I have suffered from the "Field of Dreams" philosophy toward curriculum---"If I buy it, they will learn." I don't recommend it. I've gained little more than full shelves, empty coffers, and frustrated kids! I sold off a lot of elementary items at a local curriculum sale two years ago and made a nice penny. This June, I shall do that same with what remains. By this point, I am fairly certain on what will and won't work with Honey, and what items I might use for any classes I teach. I certainly won't mind turning those items into cash again this June.

At the end, I hope to have a lovely sewing area, pared down shelves, and an awesome media room for Honey to enjoy throughout high school. And quite possibly, a whole lot of real memories created with the folks who come to craft and share movies with us!