Wednesday, August 8, 2007


I loved our homeschooling life last year. My oldest had art class on Mondays and my younger two had it on Tuesdays. Lauren also takes a pottery class on Tuesday afternoons. Their teacher is both talented and educated, immersing the kids in art history while doing hands-on projects like printmaking, collage, sculpture, drawing, and painting.

They come home with some amazing artwork, utilizing the techniques of various artists. My kids regularly blow me away identifying works of art and recognizing styles and forms in the most random places. I'm excited to see how fluent they become with a few more years under their belts, as they begin to see patterns in the works, and really start to understand why and how art is created.

I'm hedging my bets that Jackie's art will be around for my kids' entire education. Can you imagine receiving quality art education from K-12, instead of just dabbling in a class or two during high school or college? I feel so fortunate.

Gymnastics class was supposed to be my other "old reliable". Every Thursday, me and the ladies would congregate on the gym balcony, forgetting ever to peer down at our tumbling sweet hearts, so immersed in chit chat we were. Two years running, I was committed to stay for the long haul, even though the quality of gymnastics instruction was quite dismal compared to that given to the "real" athletes recruited from public schools. We were a novelty I guess.

I would've stayed committed nonetheless, for the sake of a consistent peer group for my kids, and because I love the open gyms on Fridays. We're all hanging out, chasing toddlers on the mats, while our olders have free reign of the equipment. These are the memories.

Tides have turned and we will be switching to the tennis center, where a variety of activities from wallyball to basketball, to fitness classes will consume our school year. I'm disappointed but hopeful. I will meet more moms, get more chances to see the ones I already know and like. Or, I fear, it won't be like gymnastics at all and I'll be waiting in my car for the misery to end.

I had it so good. At least we'll always have our art.

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