guesswork

Here's the thing: I don't know what I'm doing. Parenting, educating, all of it: I really don't know what I'm doing.

Here's the other thing: no one else does either. That is not to say that we're all utterly clueless, but we are all of us, to some extent or another, making it up as we go along. We're guessing.

This is what I keep coming back to when I think about choosing homeschooling and selecting curriculae and what I will and will not do with our children. We're all guessing and none of us have flawless foresight. I am making my best, most informed guesses, but guesses they most assuredly are. And that's fine. That's just normal.

It's comforting to think we "know". I know that Ontario public schools are, generally speaking, pretty great places to be. I know that there are scores of devoted, enthusiastic teachers out there in those schools. I also know that many are hampered and restricted by ministerial guidelines and that staffing cuts for budgetary reasons have left many schools with insufficient staff to supervise kids closely enough to deal with bullying and social issues. Maybe my kids would get fabulous teachers and have no social issues, or maybe they'd get a burnt out teacher and be tortured by bullying classmates. Maybe I'll be a fantastic home educator and my children will blossom in ways they wouldn't in a school environment, or maybe I, too, will end up burnt out and we'll all be miserable. 

Who knows. I sure don't.

We're guessing. Making deeply, painfully thought-out choices with as much information as possible, but we're guessing. I take my comfort in knowing that whatever we choose from one day or year to the next is still guessing.

So when it comes to computer and IT literacy, I'm merely making informed guesses. I recently read a blog post written by an unschooling mother who argues in favour of immersing children in technology, lest they resemble the uncomfortable octogenarians she references at the beginning of the post who cannot parse the phrase "Just Google it."

I can't say I agree (and I'm intentionally not linking to her post since I have no interest in beginning some sort of blogging flame war).

Her argument that this is the necessary language of the future is absolutely correct. Social media skills, technological literacy and an ability to learn and adapt to new interfaces will be invaluable as we and our children move through the coming years. With that in mind, I should definitely be handing my three year old a tablet, shouldn't I?

Arguable. But it is likewise arguable that there other skills my children also need to learn. Emotional literacy and empathy, the joy and appreciation of physical movement, mental math (she argues everyone carries a calculator on their phone all the time: true enough, but I've been known to forget my phone at home or forget to charge it; at least I can still add up my purchases without it). And then there's the importance of narrative, not only for telling a story but for grasping timeline and cause-and-effect, as well as the arts and cooking, not to mention the value of physical activity for health and wellness purposes. While all these skills and technology are by no means mutually exclusive, I also know that there are only so many hours in the day. And I know that shiny, new, exciting devices are extremely alluring. Maintaining variety in the spirit of moderation in all things is vital and a skill I - quite reasonably - do not expect my children to have fully developed at the tender ages of three and six years old.

So no, my children don't have much exposure to using technology themselves. They don't have a tablet, the closest to a computer game they've ever gotten is our six year old typing on a word processor, my phone has no child-friendly apps. They are almost entirely media-free, with movies largely limited to very rare occasions or when we are all down with a virus. And it isn't fear - which is the argument often made opposing our choice - that motivates us: it's priorities. There are, quite simply, other things that I want my children to learn first. Because if I am able to engender in my children a love of discovery and learning, a joy in new challenges and problem-solving without defeatism or fear, then I am confident they will embrace technology in all its avatars with aplomb.

But of course I don't know. After all, we're all just guessing.

a deep breath of calm

My girlies cuddled up on the couch together Saturday morning. Entirely spent after a long week away from each other each day, they took some time to reconnect, curled up under a blanket quietly watching The Littlest Hobo (any Canadian readers will likely remember the Hobo: it's actually the only television the girls watch). Still and calm. Sisterly love.

Peanut had a fun week. She enjoyed herself, learned things, got to know more of the other children from the congregation, sang songs, played games...a fun time all-around. But as lovely as it was for her, it came at a cost. Thursday night was pretty dreadful; Friday afternoon at daycamp had multiple meltdowns. If a typical Waldorf day can be thought of in terms of gentle breathing, daycamp is the equivalent to a week of hyperventilation. No down-time, no self-direction, no eating (my goodness, this kid can't eat a bite when there is any distraction) and almost no hydration (ibid) left our high-spirited and sensitive little soul a little exhausted and rather out of sorts. And once again, it serves for us a confirmation that our decision is valid, that homeschooling is the wise choice for our Peanut, at least for the foreseeable future.

Yesterday was our day of calm, a bit of Sabbath-taking, reconnecting as a family, as a sisterly pair. We didn't leave the house and just focused on finding our breath.

Today, more Sabbath. We're opting to skip church this morning, instead having a late breakfast and a leisurely walk to the nearby farmer's market. We'll pick up some seasonal veggies, have a little lunch of some pretty epic samosas one of the vendors makes, enjoy the sunshine and generally take it easy. Another calm, deep breath.

homeschooling and sibling love

Just like last summer, Peanut is spending a week at a daycamp offered by our church. She's excited, she has two of her favourite church friends who will be with her all week, and she remembers having a great time last year. We're excited with her.

 Being down one child for the majority of each day is certainly strange. Bubby will get to enjoy some long walks alone with Jon or myself as we pick up her sister. She has unfettered access to the toys - no older sister "helpfully" directing her play - and lots of free cuddle time. The freedom seems to have gone to her head a bit: our normally pretty weird Bubby is now completely out to lunch. It's a whole lot of fun, honestly, watching just how strange she can really be. I think it will prove to be a very fun week for all.

Peanut's absence has got me thinking about school, though, and about one of the benefits of homeschooling that is infrequently discussed. How wonderful that our children who - as much as they may fight and argue, push and shove and hit and scream all-to-frequently - truly adore each other can spend their days together. Not only that, though, but Peanut has not yet learned to avoid younger children, to fear being perceived as a "baby" by virtue of playing with someone younger than she. This is a beautiful thing. Frequently she will come home from the park and remark to me about a new little friend she has made, telling me that the little girl or boy was very nice, or very cute, or very sweet, "just a little baby" while also telling me what fun she had playing with this child. No one has told her that such behaviour is considered odd, and for that I deeply thankful.

I want my children to appreciate people, full stop. People younger and older can make good friends, can make fun playmates, can make interesting companions. But traditional school can inadvertently send the message that it is appropriate to associate only within one twelve-month age span. Classmates may ridicule and shun those who entertain friendships from without their specific grade: I've certainly seen this myself. What I have never seen, however, is a homeschooled child react to younger or older children in such a manner, but instead have only ever seen home educated children welcome and embrace whatever playmates they encounter, regardless of age. Friends are chosen based on personality compatibility, rather than merely age or proximity. Perhaps worst of all, though, is watching siblings reject each other based on these same principles, because they are not the same age.

My daughters love each other immensely. Their love for one another is a fierce and wonderful love. Peanut is more distressed by Bubby's injuries - of which there have been many, in the past few months, including her own tooth through her upper lip - and is more deeply offended by any perceived slight or misdeed toward Bubby than even Bubby herself. And that is challenging and often infuriating - "Yes, Peanut I can take Bubby's toy if she is using it violently. No, screaming at me will not get her toy back for her." - and glorious and heartwarming. She wants so desperately to protect and care for her sister. And Bubby, likewise, wants to be with her Peanut, wants to bring Peanut her toys or books, things she knows Peanut likes to have near her or play with. They hug each other in greeting every morning. They tell stories with their Playmobil people together. They giggle - in excess, often - at the table. And while it is by-no-means perfect, it is wondrous. 

Enrolling Peanut in school full-time would not guarantee an irreversible change to their relationship: I am certain of that. But I do appreciate that in choosing homeschooling, we have inadvertently avoided a scenario that may have threatened their burgeoning appreciation of one another. Because while Bubby is enjoying having the apartment to herself today, I expect elation when her big sister comes through the door this afternoon. She has, afterall, spent the majority of the afternoon singing songs about her.

a new step on the journey

Perhaps you didn't notice, but there was a landmark post missed a few months back. All the other parent bloggers seemed to do it, but not here: the obligatory First Day of School post. Ontario offers junior as well as senior kindergarten and is rapidly moving toward having all junior and senior kindergarten classes consist of a full day curriculum. So where is the photo of Peanut in her special first day of school outfit, with her oversized back pack and giant grin?


Well, she didn't go. And she hasn't gone. She's at home with me and her sister.

It took a lot of conversation, a lot of discussion, a lot of meditation and consideration but eventually Jon and I decided two very important things: first, that she wasn't ready for full day curriculum (and prior to our recent move the school she would have had to attend has moved to exclusively full day kindergarten) but also, that we just couldn't get behind the current structure for mainstream elementary classes. I wanted to, truly, but I just couldn't reconcile myself to my four year old potentially having homework (which is something Jon and I have personally witnessed within our own school board). Moreover, we couldn't reconcile ourselves to the idea that at four years old she in any way needs formal education. Stimulation and experiences, yes, but formal classroom instruction, no. And stimulation and experiences, opportunity for play and discovery and newness and wonder are things that I am more than capable of providing for her, as are socialization with other children and other adults. I simply do not believe that suddenly in September I was no longer enough for her. The fact that education is not mandatory before age six suggests that the province more or less agrees with me. So she's home.


As Jon and I started realizing that we likely weren't sending her to school any time soon, we started investigating what home learning might look like for us. Along the way, I had heard of Waldorf education, so I started looking into that. With an emphasis on the natural world and on the importance of free, unhindered play, Waldorf education heavily discourages formal instruction before age seven. Song, rhymes, story telling, movement, creative activities and handwork are key elements in Waldorf. Serendipitously, last December we were out for a walk in the first real snowfall of the season and ran into a mother out for a walk with her daughter and son. She mentioned that her daughter was four years old, and I commented, "Oh, are you homeschooling?" to which she replied, "Yes, we're doing Waldorf at home." At the time we were still unsure of what we would ultimately decide for Peanut. She's now a friend of mine, her daughter is a friend of Peanut's and we, along with several other Waldorf-ing families, are working on pooling our resources and ideas to support one another in our children's learning. It's pretty wonderful, watching our little community of families slowly grow and come together.

One of the wonderful things about Waldorf is the sheer wealth of online resources available. I have only begun to plumb the depths of blogs and sites dedicated not only to Waldorf education but to Waldorf living. It's a holistic style of education: not merely consigned to particular hours of the day, it is a gentle and intentional manner of living, of ordering the day, the week, the seasons, the year, the entire home to create a comfortable, harmonious environment in which all in the family can live and grow. Which is not to say that we are now magically living in some family utopia: there's still lots of normal strife around here.


I've been very hesitant to write this post, to be quite honest with you. It isn't just that I know that choosing home education is a pretty controversial decision, it's that I truly do respect the work teachers do and would never want to give the impression that I do not. I have several friends who are teachers, who - I have absolutely no doubt - are truly inspired and inspiring educators. Their students are privileged to have them in their life. And I also would never want to in any way imply that this is a universally right decision or that we find fault with parents who send their children to mainstream school. Far from it. This is simply the right decision for us, for this child, at this time.


When Peanut was first born we had no idea that we would end up here, educating her at home. Occasionally  I still find myself surprised by our decision. But as we paint together, or practice finger knitting, or learn songs I feel a calmness, knowing deep down that this is what we are meant to be doing, and when she surprises me with a new cleverness, a new discovery or deduction, I feel utterly blessed that I am a party to her learning. Such a journey of discovery is youth, and I have the privilege of walking that journey with her.

We are so blessed.

letter time

As I'm writing this, Bubby is "sorting" - aka throwing all over the place - the basket of diapers and Peanut is playing with bright blue masking tape. A little mess is worth a few moments with my hands free.



We've been getting a little more intentional with learning this week. I haven't written a post about our plans for Peanut's education for the coming year (that post is coming soon). Obviously, though, she's home with me this year. I don't - in point of fact, I refuse to - call myself a homeschooler for my under-4 year old (I'll talk about my objection in that forthcoming post) but instead I try to work with her interests and follow her lead as best I can. Previously she has shown very little interest in literacy despite a life-long love affair with books and reading. Attempts at introducing her to the shapes and sounds of letters were met with glassy eyes and blank stares followed by near-immediate running off to find something - anything! - else to do. Recently, though, she's been expressing real interest in knowing what letters and numbers she sees in books and on signs. She'll look at the keyboard of the laptop and ask, "Where does my name come from?" ("What letter begins my name?") Time for letters, then.

We started with a trip to the dollar store for scrapbooking paper. We got some surprisingly cute paper - packages of 6 pages for $1.24/pckg - as well as a roll of blue masking tape and some alphabet stickers. This week we're learning the letters of Peanut's name. We could have begun at A and worked through the alphabet in order but that seemed a little arbitrary and uninteresting. Each day we learn two letters. We begin with Peanut choosing a sheet of scrapbooking paper and then cut out a large letter from the paper. We look at the shape, trace it with our finger and then tape it up on the wall. Then we do a neat trick I saw on Pinterest: we take the blue masking tape and make a large letter on the floor and "walk" the letter with our feet.



Finally, we take a sheet of plain paper and practice writing the new letter. Some letters are easier than others. For the trickier letters we try tracing it with our fingers and connecting dots that I draw in advance for her. We always sit where we can look up at the letter on the wall and down at the letter on the floor to help remember what the letter should look like when we write it. We get our alphabet stickers, find the letter we're learning, and Peanut puts the sticker on the sheet with her written letters. Then it gets hung on the wall under the big letter.



While we're tracing and writing and "walking" the letter we talk about the sound of the letter and what words  and names begin with that sound. She's loving her new adventures in literacy, reminds me that we need to do our letters in the morning, and is very excited to find the letters she has learned on tags and in books. And this morning she was able to write her nickname herself.