My 7 year old son and I just discovered You Tube. I was looking for a video of SpongeBob's Best Day Ever, and was thrilled to find one with lyrics scrolling across the screen. That night we searched for another of my favorite kidz songs, Nowhere, by the Naked Brothers Band. I also love Banana Smoothie, my husband likes Crazy Car, and my son likes L.A. (the mystery of the initials intrigues him) in case you happen upon the disc.
These are the b-e-s-t songz e-v-e-r!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Arizona Project
Our first "school-like" project, we entered Arizona into the geography fair. Unlike the assignments I recall from my own school years prior, this was a blast. We started a month-and-a-half early, and worked at a casual pace building our presentation. Lauren and I shared the work, as is allowed when the intention is true learning. But her creativity and effort shine through.
The 48th state, Arizona was established in 1912. The 13 rays
on the state flag represent the original colonies and mimic the sunset. The blue is liberty blue, from the U.S. flag, and the copper star stands for the large amount of copper mining. The drawing depicts Geronimo, chased by U.S. cavalry, he leaps off a cliff, shouting his own name before landing safely in the river below. Arizona's natural resources as they are distributed throughout the state, significant landmarks,
and a historical timeline of AZ compared with U.S. history. Twenty-seven states were represented this year.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Higher Ed
Alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon,...zeta, eta, theta, iota,...kappa, lambda, mu, nu, xi, omicron,...pi, rho, sigma, tau, upsilon,...phi, chi, psi, omega. Other than the word "zeitgeist" in psychology class, this was the only other useful bit of information I gained in college.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Cultural Literacy
The ability to interact successfully within any culture requires a familiarization with its dominant figures, belief systems, and vocabulary. My children are privileged to study Egypt, Greece, Rome, and the Middle Ages up to modern times, at our leisure.
We can delve as deeply as we like into the construction of pyramids, gaze uninterrupted at mummies in all stages of preparation and excavation, and we can skim over the lineage of pharaohs until we get a better understanding of the system of governance.
Currently, Greek mythology is our fancy, a subject I faintly recall being dangled in front of me in one of the "gifted" classes I was forced to attend. The characters and their stories had little significance to me at the time, as I hadn't been told how they figured into the scheme of things. Years later, as my daughter colors and covets the god and goddess "trading cards" she pulled from our History Pockets, I'm so glad I have more time to explain.
Usborne Greek Myths and D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths are casual reads that pump names like "Aphrodite, Heracles, Eurystheus, Arachne, and Persephone" into her mind's eye. Two headed dogs, women with snakes for hair, labrynths and melted wax wings are associations she'll make for the rest of her life.
We can delve as deeply as we like into the construction of pyramids, gaze uninterrupted at mummies in all stages of preparation and excavation, and we can skim over the lineage of pharaohs until we get a better understanding of the system of governance.
Currently, Greek mythology is our fancy, a subject I faintly recall being dangled in front of me in one of the "gifted" classes I was forced to attend. The characters and their stories had little significance to me at the time, as I hadn't been told how they figured into the scheme of things. Years later, as my daughter colors and covets the god and goddess "trading cards" she pulled from our History Pockets, I'm so glad I have more time to explain.
Usborne Greek Myths and D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths are casual reads that pump names like "Aphrodite, Heracles, Eurystheus, Arachne, and Persephone" into her mind's eye. Two headed dogs, women with snakes for hair, labrynths and melted wax wings are associations she'll make for the rest of her life.
///
Already she dislikes mean Hera. The stories, woven together, teach us about archetypes, that floating fabric of circumstance we keep stepping into. But beyond the stories is the simple, low key transference of knowledge that is the delight of homeschooling. Learning is never a chore.
She beams at me as she connects the names to the stories, picks them out of movies and cartoons that also flash before her evolving consciousness. Hannah Montana, Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and the mistold story of Pocahontas are as relevant as the rest. We don't live in ancient times, we study it. 2007 is where we reside full-time, seeking castles, no less.
I differ from many of my fellow homeschooling mothers, whom I deeply respect for the world they create for their children. Classical music in the background, tv's turned off, they're not numbed, but horrified by the media spewed forth today. While the classically homeschooled children I know will have a special ear for harmony in music, fluidity in art, a vision for order in society above all, I'm not sure they'll survive the chaos they'll need (in order) to perform.
My vision encompasses all realms, walking away from the garbage effects no change, defines reality as hopeless. One small measure of genius is the ability to gather the reins of all the lost horses, and whisper their spirits back into line. If my children grow up unable to tame animals, I'll consider my efforts a failure.
She beams at me as she connects the names to the stories, picks them out of movies and cartoons that also flash before her evolving consciousness. Hannah Montana, Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and the mistold story of Pocahontas are as relevant as the rest. We don't live in ancient times, we study it. 2007 is where we reside full-time, seeking castles, no less.
I differ from many of my fellow homeschooling mothers, whom I deeply respect for the world they create for their children. Classical music in the background, tv's turned off, they're not numbed, but horrified by the media spewed forth today. While the classically homeschooled children I know will have a special ear for harmony in music, fluidity in art, a vision for order in society above all, I'm not sure they'll survive the chaos they'll need (in order) to perform.
My vision encompasses all realms, walking away from the garbage effects no change, defines reality as hopeless. One small measure of genius is the ability to gather the reins of all the lost horses, and whisper their spirits back into line. If my children grow up unable to tame animals, I'll consider my efforts a failure.
///
In consequence, they must fit into society seamlessly, Eds, Edds, and Eddys, and all. Their vocabulary will match that of their peers, yet their cores will resonate differently. Solid family base, strong relationships carried forth into the world, a solemn embrace of life speaks volumes. We are not just socialized, we're literate, so there.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
My Barnes and Noble loves me
We entered a drawing to win Julie, the newest American Girl doll. Her story takes place in 1974, just one year after my own birthdate. I'm an official historical figure.
To my daughters' great delight, WE WON!
Now, when the line of American Boy dolls, books, and video games comes out,
I will be OVER THE MOON!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Madison's 1st b-day
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Abode Design
My friends Jay and Jason have a design business. They are geniuses at creating balance out of the eclectic.
Clientelle has been building over the past couple years, and though Jason's best dream would be to have his own show,
for now,
his art is featured on
the front page of
the At Home section of
our local newspaper.
the At Home section of
our local newspaper.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
This I Know
I graduated with a B.S. in psychology. Took the extra couple science classes for the B.S., because at the time I felt science was more respected than the arts. I intended to follow a friend's footsteps into neuropsychology, I studied hard for the entrance exams, applied to a number of schools, and went on interviews. I was ready to settle down and dive into my future at the same time.
My favorite school was in Kentucky. The blue skies, the fenced pastureland for horses, historic homes lined the campus, built for southern charm. This place offered a culture that seemed new to me. I asked one of the interviewing professors if he enjoyed living in Lexington. He laughed, as if I expected to do any "living" while immersed in my studies. Well, yeah, of course I did.
A professor held a party for us, the night before the actual interviewing began. After making introductions, I sat out in the night air, feeling very concerned about this commitment I was setting to make. A graduate student checked on me a couple times, as I innocently, like the young woman I was, said something didn't feel right. My intuition had always given me yes/no answers, and I faithfully listened.
When I returned home I waited for other acceptance/rejection letters. I'd made it on the alternate list in Kentucky. I called the most appealing of the professors twice, the one who seemed the least understood, but the smartest of all the staff. He connected with me, and understood that my commitment to check back meant I'd be serious if accepted. If any of the other candidates declined, I'd be in. He sounded sad when my space was filled.
Wisconsin gave me a phone interview which I failed miserably, on purpose. My heart was nowhere near it. Another school, which required no interview, accepted me. Why would I go to a school that didn't require an interview?
I set myself free to live my life. My fiance, who was off at his first year of medical school, begged me to come live with him. An "international" school, on a beautiful caribbean island, it didn't sell me. He said I'd make a great doctor. No, and I needed to end the engagement.
Then, the great flood happened. I'm not joking. I was at the frontlines sandbagging, the dike broke that night, and we evacuated. Thousands moved away, but I stayed to rebuild a life.
I didn't finish my senior honors thesis, on the memory deficits of temporal lobe damage. In fact, I still felt guilty for forcing the patients to go through my stupid tests. They wanted healing, not more measures of their disorder. It was complete, I'd dumped my old life and had faith in the new.
While relocated in Fargo, I said a prayer. I said all smart-assey, 'cause I'd never believed before, "God, take me where you will. I will follow you everywhere, I promise." I thought that should cover it. And I fell.
My favorite school was in Kentucky. The blue skies, the fenced pastureland for horses, historic homes lined the campus, built for southern charm. This place offered a culture that seemed new to me. I asked one of the interviewing professors if he enjoyed living in Lexington. He laughed, as if I expected to do any "living" while immersed in my studies. Well, yeah, of course I did.
A professor held a party for us, the night before the actual interviewing began. After making introductions, I sat out in the night air, feeling very concerned about this commitment I was setting to make. A graduate student checked on me a couple times, as I innocently, like the young woman I was, said something didn't feel right. My intuition had always given me yes/no answers, and I faithfully listened.
When I returned home I waited for other acceptance/rejection letters. I'd made it on the alternate list in Kentucky. I called the most appealing of the professors twice, the one who seemed the least understood, but the smartest of all the staff. He connected with me, and understood that my commitment to check back meant I'd be serious if accepted. If any of the other candidates declined, I'd be in. He sounded sad when my space was filled.
Wisconsin gave me a phone interview which I failed miserably, on purpose. My heart was nowhere near it. Another school, which required no interview, accepted me. Why would I go to a school that didn't require an interview?
I set myself free to live my life. My fiance, who was off at his first year of medical school, begged me to come live with him. An "international" school, on a beautiful caribbean island, it didn't sell me. He said I'd make a great doctor. No, and I needed to end the engagement.
Then, the great flood happened. I'm not joking. I was at the frontlines sandbagging, the dike broke that night, and we evacuated. Thousands moved away, but I stayed to rebuild a life.
I didn't finish my senior honors thesis, on the memory deficits of temporal lobe damage. In fact, I still felt guilty for forcing the patients to go through my stupid tests. They wanted healing, not more measures of their disorder. It was complete, I'd dumped my old life and had faith in the new.
While relocated in Fargo, I said a prayer. I said all smart-assey, 'cause I'd never believed before, "God, take me where you will. I will follow you everywhere, I promise." I thought that should cover it. And I fell.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Homeschooling Recap
The first week of school was a success.
Lauren (9): Horizons Math, Dictation/Spelling, and Reading Prilla
Cole (7): Horizons Math, Handwriting/Phonics
Taylor (5): Handwriting/Phonics
I declared school would officially be starting, and everyone surprised me by following my instructions to a tee. Get up, get dressed, brush your teeth, comb your hair, eat breakfast, do your school work.
I was so proud of their dedication, every single day they focused on their duty with pride. I paid them each $5.00 at the end of the week (it's allowance). Build-A-Bear Workshop, I surrender.
Lauren (9): Horizons Math, Dictation/Spelling, and Reading Prilla
Cole (7): Horizons Math, Handwriting/Phonics
Taylor (5): Handwriting/Phonics
I declared school would officially be starting, and everyone surprised me by following my instructions to a tee. Get up, get dressed, brush your teeth, comb your hair, eat breakfast, do your school work.
I was so proud of their dedication, every single day they focused on their duty with pride. I paid them each $5.00 at the end of the week (it's allowance). Build-A-Bear Workshop, I surrender.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Holy Order
Somewhere at the beginning of my career as a mother, I imagined a world that was perfect. This eden within my mind is vital to my children's future, for without this vision, I am merely raising mediocre children to partake in mediocre destinies.
Fortunately for them, my idea of achieving perfection stretches no further than present time, and requires only an ability to tune out distraction and tune in with clarity. Basically, I want my children to hear God when He speaks.
I provide no religious instruction as of yet, since discovery is the most delicious part of the feast. But quietly, I lay the path before them, daily walking my faith without proclamation. My rituals are centered in the home, and are the literal embodiment of:
"Cleanliness is next to godliness" and
"Order within, order without" (and vice versa).
For this reason, I have worked steadfastly this past week clearing and cleaning my basement. The lowermost floor of my home, though the walls are unsheetrocked and the floors unlaid, it's clutter free, everything in its appropriate place. It is so significant an achievement, the space set deepest in the ground, where roots draw nourishment and stabilize the structures above.
I almost felt as if I were preparing for doomsday. It honestly scared me for a second, as I noticed the last items I had to put into place, hanging ominously by the stairs---a black nylon dress and a red Christmas cardigan. I'd actually prepared my world for its final days, all the way up to my burial garment.
In the same blink, thank God, I realized the outfit was identical to one a teacher would wear. This was precisely the intention I'd set while making my basement changes. I sense something bigger though, so generously do I trust God to keep up His end of the details.
Order within, order without. Our roof is beginning its reshingling, weathered gray steadily deepening into a heather. Changes without, changes within. And so it is.
Fortunately for them, my idea of achieving perfection stretches no further than present time, and requires only an ability to tune out distraction and tune in with clarity. Basically, I want my children to hear God when He speaks.
I provide no religious instruction as of yet, since discovery is the most delicious part of the feast. But quietly, I lay the path before them, daily walking my faith without proclamation. My rituals are centered in the home, and are the literal embodiment of:
"Cleanliness is next to godliness" and
"Order within, order without" (and vice versa).
For this reason, I have worked steadfastly this past week clearing and cleaning my basement. The lowermost floor of my home, though the walls are unsheetrocked and the floors unlaid, it's clutter free, everything in its appropriate place. It is so significant an achievement, the space set deepest in the ground, where roots draw nourishment and stabilize the structures above.
I almost felt as if I were preparing for doomsday. It honestly scared me for a second, as I noticed the last items I had to put into place, hanging ominously by the stairs---a black nylon dress and a red Christmas cardigan. I'd actually prepared my world for its final days, all the way up to my burial garment.
In the same blink, thank God, I realized the outfit was identical to one a teacher would wear. This was precisely the intention I'd set while making my basement changes. I sense something bigger though, so generously do I trust God to keep up His end of the details.
Order within, order without. Our roof is beginning its reshingling, weathered gray steadily deepening into a heather. Changes without, changes within. And so it is.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Filling in the gaps
Kenneth C. Davis has written some excellent books in his "Don't Know Much About" series. I am currently reading "Don't Know Much About the Civil War". I ordered every one of his titles available at Bookcloseouts.com because they were such a great deal, and really, with my public school education I don't know a whole heck of alot about anything! But I'm learning as fast as my kids are.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Dangnabbit!
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.
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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