Successes, Little and Ginormo-humongous.

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Preparation 

Daylight breaks in a gap between the curtains and the coffee isn't piping anymore. It's my cue, finishing up with grades. This is when I tidy the schoolroom a little. I gather the paintbrushes and cardstock we'll need later, write a summary of her activities on the dry-erase Monday-Friday calendar posted above her desk, and transfer today's print-outs from the filing cabinet to her work tray. This is when I pull up any relevant websites we'll use today: dictionary.com, a Grammar Girl article, an image, historical maps, video clips. I take a minute to brush through each of her textbooks, just so the information is fresh in my head. Then I plan the day for Matthew. 

Preschool Time 

The shower hisses to start a few rooms away and dishes echo into the kitchen sink after breakfast. Matthew and I meet in the school room, Scarlett usually trailing in a thin, bopping ponytail behind us, and we do "circle time" activities at the calendar; singing, spinning, pointing and clapping. After that, we have a phonics lesson about letter blends at the start of words, or word families that rhyme. He helps me to spell special words at the board with magnet letters and a dry erase marker and chants, earning candycorn with his lunch for tough ones that he gets on the first try. Then, he gets to illustrate each of the words, which is always his favorite part - one that lasts for as long as I'll allow it to before I need the board for Mary's grammar lesson. Today he's watching a leap frog video on complex words, because that's what we've been practicing to spell lately. Aside from joining us later to do crafts, listening to a story, and touching on math for a bit, he's free to play. Usually though, he likes to hover near, crafting at his desk or on the floor while I work with his sister. 

Morning Work 

Mary starts the day, sometimes with a clear lack of enthusiasm, by typing. I forgive her shortness of patience when it's an issue because it's early. "Fingers poised above home keys the whole time," I remind her, trying hard not to be a neuisance. Failing. We move onto reading, and that's more successful, a little less like stepping lightly around chipped glass. The Giver is a book that she picked out from the library on her own - one of my favorites growing up, and required reading for fifth grade. It's a great place to start because both of us know and love this story, which means that we can pull more from the text than what's in black and white. I read most of it, but we alternate the narrative, discussing occurrences at the end. Intermittently, I clear up parts of conversation that make her hesitate and squint. As always, she reads with a beautiful inflection in her tone, giving life to narration the way a third grade teacher would to a library class - and I enjoy it so much. Being read to is a joy no matter what age you are, I think. The babies seem to agree. Though he only comments on small parts that are easy to understand, Matthew listens. And because of that, so does Scarlett. 

If it's Monday, Mary has vocabulary to work on. This week her focus word is "patriarch", but there's vocabulary woven into every one of her subjects. Plus, we'll take the time to tack any new words that we come across in our studies on a decorated slip of paper to a wall in the schoolroom once we've had the chance to look it up. Otherwise, there are just a few cursive tracing exercises to complete within her morning work binder. At least, that's what the default routine is, but I've left morning-work activities open ended in the schedule so that we can take this time to learn about other things unrelated to the curriculum if there's an opportunity. For instance, on September 11th, we watched a documentary. The next day, after she bombarded me with a ton of terrific questions about Al Qaeda, we took the following morning to look over a Ven diagram, the top half of which compared Muslims to Christians; the bottom half of which compared extremist Muslims to extremist Christians. Over the next few weeks, we'll be following the presidential interviews and debates. 

Then we get down to brass tax. 

The Daily Grind, Part 1. (Grammar/Spelling/Editing/Writing) 

Mary hates grammar most, which makes sense because growing up, I loved it. She and I are polar opposites in regard to any school-related interest. (Save for reading, but that's only really become an enjoyable obligation to her in recent weeks. A MAJOR homeschool success, as far as I'm concerned.) So knowing this, we knock grammar out of the way first thing.

There are pitfalls to this. Last week, in a fit of bravery, she threw her worksheet about past participles of irregular verbs onto the floor and after refusing to pick it up, resigned herself to dish-duty for the day and half a week of grounding. Nothing triggered it, she wasn't even struggling to provide the answers. But this is the merry-go-round that we're on. 

Let me digress here for a minute just to point out that most of our days are spent skating, without a hiccup, from one subject into the next. It's just that there's a point in almost any given day, where she has to challenge my authority, brazenly, regardless of the consistent consequence. We get past it every time, returning to our work with an attitude for the rest of the day that's both pleasant and cooperative, but not before she has to be punished. It's discouraging - more to me than to her, I'm sure. Last week, when she threw her paper to the floor, I went so far as to ask her (genuinely, so that she had an "out" of the situation) if there were anything that I could do at that point to earn her cooperation before I was forced to dole out another consequence, and she told me no. Adding that she didn't even care if I grounded her. When moments like this occur, I have to stop teaching because we've hit a wall. When she refuses to learn, no amount of preaching or prying from me is going to make it happen until she decides herself, to want it. This is the biggest difference between teaching a classroom full of students and teaching a single one. If three kids in a classroom are refusing to learn, there are still a majority who are going to hear what you say, and respond. If the single student in a homeschool setting refuses to cooperate, you can't even continue to talk. 

Like it or not, she's in control of the situation from this point. She also loses the opportunity to communicate with me until it can happen respectfully. This takes time from our day obviously, which is a testing scenario, but it's the only strategy I've found to be effective. 

Nevertheless, it is effective. So once that's over, and she's taken a break to collect her thoughts over a few retroactive chores, we get back to work. 

Grammar is not always a struggle. There's a lot of work involved and it's not only difficult to make exciting (because there are no less than three lengthy worksheets a day to complete), it's also a subject that I think's been neglected in her recent years of public schooling. Despite that, more and more often, she works with a diligence here that makes me proud. One really great thing that we get out of there being so much practice involved, is that for most of the week, her work is independent. This frees time for me to work on math or Reading Eggs with Matthew. Scarlett takes this time to color next to us, or pretend that she's a part of the lesson. Sometimes it's a challenge to focus when she's being such a daggone cutie, but after that it's off for a nap, so we eat up all the time that we have with her around and try to enjoy it as much as we can. 

After grammar, there's writing. This takes a level of effort that she doesn't like to give up to me easily, but it's creative, too, so there's a degree of fun to it. She's fought me on this one a time or two or twelve, but her writing has already begun to sprout by leaps and bounds. Seriously, a little guidance and the girl's aptitude has just taken off. Time and again, this is where I see homeschooling pay off. Still, finishing feels good. Spelling is next, and if it's a Tuesday, she'll have an editing worksheet to complete after that, while there will be other subjects she won't have that day. 

Lunch and Reading 

This is usually where we'd take a break to get some lunch. Yesterday, as I sometimes do, I took the opportunity while we were all around the table eating, to read aloud. Mary couldn't choose between two really great chapter books at the library last week (The Giver and Number the Stars. I mean, wow!), so it felt good to forge ahead in the one we're on now so that we'll have time enough to get to the second before they're returned. Subjects after this are all major ones; fact-based more than skill or practice, almost always accompanied by some sort of project. And this is where we shine. 

Part 2. (Math/Science/History) 

While Mary works on her math program (which is done independently on the computer unless a given lesson is particularly challenging - as has been the case now that we're into more complicated division), I clean up the house, then read Matthew a story and take him outside. More often than not, this is when his friend from a few houses down knocks on the door, asking to play.  We pile pillows from the patio furniture in the grass under the shade of our tree, and I read a few of the books that they've picked out together. I give them each a turn to say what they're DYING to say about each illustration after I've read the page, before I turn to the next, lifting a finger to my lips so everyone can hear. This part of the day is, without a question, one of my favorite rituals. It ends with each of them saying thanks, helping to put back the books and the pillows, tackling me with a hug to the leg, and then scampering off into the yard. 

While Matthew's playing, I tend to the baby and check on Mary. When she's ready to switch subjects, I try to do it balancing a grab-happy toddler on my hip. This part of the day can be a little tricky to navigate because the baby's not even a little tired and Matthew's at his rowdiest, joined now by sometimes as many as three neighborhood friends who all want refreshments at mismatched intervals. Sometimes though, Matthew just wants to play at a friends' house which is OH MY GOSH, AWESOME. Still, the baby is a factor and dinner-prep is closing in. The good news is, we're over any behavior hurtles by this time of day, so in comparison, the skies are clear and the sailing is pretty smooth. 

If the assignment Mary has for history or science is one that she needs to work on independently, I'll drive the kids up the street to our neighborhood park. Having a minute to breathe easy for a while on a park bench while the kids contentedly wear themselves out independent of me, is pricelessly therapeutic. Even if I use the time outdoors with them to burn a little of my own pent-up energy, it's a nice recharge before getting back to the grind. 

Back at the house, we do some kind of hands-on activity. Something messy. And we have fun. Last week, while Mary dug further into the rich history of ancient middle east, Matthew learned a corresponding bible story about Joseph and the colorful coat, which takes place in the same historical setting. To tie the two of their lessons together, I had Mary do a short research paper on the history of famine - and then bake cookies!

Our activity was to cut "gingerbread men" out of homemade sugar cookies that Mary was to bake, and decorate them with a "coat" made of colorful icing and sprinkles that, like Joseph's coat, would shimmer in the sun. Most of what we learned about famine from the research project was too gruesome for Matthew to be taught, but with cookie crumbles falling into our lap, we discussed with him what famine was, exactly, and answered A LOT of his questions about it. I've noticed that the two of them are starting to learn a lot from each other's separate assignments; Matthew gets to participate in most of Mary's projects and watch the videos that I gather for her lessons - while explaining concepts to Matthew and answering his questions about what we're doing helps Mary to internalize the information she's just taken in. 

Last was physics because we ran out of time before making it to mechanics. Atoms! This subject is one of my favorites because it's not only pretty easy to make interesting, Matthew can memorize almost the same level of information that Mary can - even if he doesn't fully comprehend it all right now. We learned that size-wise, the nucleus of an atom is akin to a marble in a football stadium. We learned that the most accurate way to visualize the insane density of an atom would be to imagine somehow stuffing every single car that has ever been created into a 1 foot square box. Then we watched a funny music video parody about atoms (people in costumes, holding electrons) combining to make different chemical compounds - calling out the elements we recognize right away from their abbreviation on the costume. After that, we made our own lithium atom out of painted Styrofoam spheres and drinking straws that today, we'll display on a cardboard square decorated to look like the lithium square on our periodic table. We also memorized this song from last week, just because it's awesome. Yeah... Come on, come on and meet the elements... 

I can't even begin to pretend that homeschooling isn't the most difficult thing I've ever tried to do alone. I've battled with my daughter like never before; I've cried to my mother over the phone in hair-pulling desperation for answers to conflict; I've even stood, without much of a defense, against my husband's encouragement to maybe consider that we stop. I have had support, but as a whole, it's been a lonely, alienating struggle. 

Today I stand, not far from those occurrences, charged with a current of sudden, unmistakable sureness that she is learning to learn again. Maybe for the first time. At the heart of all this confusion, mostly derived from trying to settle into a routine before either of us were on the same page, it's always been convincing her to take a self-propelled interest in learning that has been key. That's always been the drive behind wanting so badly to do this, even when it was tough. And it's paying off - finally and bountifully. 

She isn't just working harder, absorbing the information and retaining the information, but beginning to enjoy the pursuit of it. The research. The editing. The refinement of presentation. The pride in craftsmanship. Finally believing that in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun - or at least, less of a necessity to compare your life to a fart. 

Something she does with alarming frequency, by the way. Alarming. 

By the second week of the school year, Matthew began to fight me on every planned activity I offered - right down to holiday crafts - when he saw how much his big sister did it. And for a while, I thought that irreparable damage was being done. And that's just gone now. Sure, he's still a four-year-old. He still needs a little tug from time to time, reminding him not to do handstands off of his school desk, but he takes pride in a job well done - which requires doing a job in the first place. And we're there again. And I love it. 

Plus, I mean.. They're working together. Brother and sister, side by side. Laughing, learning, all that mushy, gushy, feel-good momma stuff. I love that even more.