Making Peace with History
Like most homeschool moms at the end of the year I find myself itching to jump into the Land of Possibility for next fall, rather than wringing out the last official school days of this year. I’d rather imagine the potential for great learning moments and Google the books we’ve yet to purchase than attend to the  task of keeping everyone’s spirits up for the home stretch.  As I  race to used curriculum sales and imagine the perfect planning weekend away with friends, I’m surprised to find that the subject I’m most excited about is History.
Let me give you my own history with History. I remember thick textbooks with timelines and pictures that seemed completely unrelated to me. Late night sweat sessions as I tried to absorb enough facts to pass the multiple choice test the next day. It didn’t bother me that I didn’t care about the subject and by college I fully committed to naptime during my summer class on the Middle East. I secretly prided myself on being a “here and now” kind of girl, a time that was obviously more relevant than anything previous. Even learning the background of my major, theater, fell flat against the passion of being onstage in the moment.
Who knew I would marry a man who, if he had been a history teacher, would have regularly donned a revolutionary war costume and staged mock battles on the playground?  Did we discuss the compatibility of a husband who watches documentaries as a way to relax after a long day and a wife who thought their only use might be post-traumatic therapy from high school history class?  Don’t even get me started on how we both felt about museums full of artifacts.  I remember one particular conversation (one sided, that is) as I read my novel and he read his non-fiction, when I realized he’d been silent and staring at me expectantly for several moments, and I hastily responded, “All I heard was pirates, pirates, pirates.”
Fast forward to the realization that instructing our children at home would mean, that’s right, teaching the darned subject. Yawn, boring, why not pass it over to my husband? And that’s what we did some years when we weren’t squeezing it into a unit study which made it a bit more palatable.
Why then as I think about next year, do I find my heart beating a bit quicker as I look through my great finds for our coming year of American History? I think it started with the excitement of my children who have caught their father’s enthusiasm. No one told them that loving other time periods is nerdy or boring, so instead they travel (with playmobiles or costumes) regularly to 17 and 1800’s. Secondly, those documentaries have started to woo me in the same way that my husband has absorbed my love of brownie batter (granted, his obsession is probably healthier than what I gave to him). I sat late into the night with him catching the final discs of John Adams with Paul Giamatti. (yes, I know it’s not a documentary, but close).
All of the above, combined with some great books over our 5 years of home learning, has finally lifted the veil on history, allowed it to shed it’s bad reputation, and showed it’s true nature: stories. Story after story with characters made even more intriguing by the fact that their feet tread this earth at one time.
Story is something I already love, passionately. You mean I get to share stories, go on adventures, and even discover the existence of a woman flier during the time of Amelia Earhart with my exact same name?
That’s what I want to be, a teacher of stories already told and a conjurer of stories yet to be written.
(Please don’t tell my husband because this is a slippery slope I walk. Â There was the documentary last week on a frozen baby mammoth that made me want to reconsider my tender feelings toward history, and I’d still rather make art than walk through floor after floor of of african masks and fertile god statues.)
A Quick “Why I do it” Glance
When people find out I homeschool a look of alarm often passes over their face, and inevitably,
“I could never be with my kids all day.”
When this happens about ten conflicting emotions and possible responses begin scrapping it out inside of me. Â Usually the least offensive, “We all need to make our own choices” statement is the one that finally surfaces. Â It’s the safe one, anyhow.
But I think I should make up little wallet size cards with a list of reasons why I choose to be at home with my four children everyday.  They wouldn’t be the same reasons I’d list in a nicely organized family mission statement.  It would start like this:
1.The thousand moments in a day I would miss if my kids were in school or in the car, traveling to and from school and activities, not to mention the hurried morning and the time spent nagging about homework. Â I get out of breath,grumpy, and less available to snuggle and read just thinking about it.
2. Â For example, the moments AFTER the morning fight between my girls, when they confess their frustration during our prayer time and their praise for a heart change.
3. Â The light in Drummer Boy’s eyes as he sits with the girls and does BIG school. Â He admires them so much even if they don’t recognize it as he follows them around the house and erases any of their personal space.
4. Â The constant sound of giggles emanating from Sparkles as one, two, and then three siblings vie for her attention.
5. Really getting into a book together.
6. All of the “I get it” moments.
7. Being present when a new passion is discovered.
8. Realizing that one of the kids new passion is something we both love and then realizing we get to share the whole process together.
I have a budding writer in the house. Â Does she like grammar, proper sentence and paragraph structure, have a passion for good hand-writing? No! But I’ve been there for the aha moments.
“Mommy, even though this stuff is hard, once I learn it, it’s going to make me better at writing stories.”
Mookie: “Sometimes I think about being a writer, but it seems like it’s really hard to get a book published.”
Me: “Just keep writing down your ideas, Mookie.”
“Wow, you mean by reading all the time I’m actually learning how to write, too? Â I’ve been learning and I didn’t even know it!”
One night as I edited a friend’s piece of writing and explained to Mookie what I was doing, her eyes lit up, “Mommy, can I write something and you can edit it and tell me how to make it better?”
Over the past few weeks we’ve been hard at work on her story for the PBS Story contest. Â She encountered the same problem she’s had the last few years, not what to write about but how to stay within the word limit. Her ideas just keep flowing. Â We had to omit several wonderful details to make the cut.
When she read her rough draft aloud, her sister asked some questions about the story. Â I mention casually,”You know Mookie, when I’m working on something and a friend shares some feedback, I’ll write it down so I can remember it later.” She grabbed a pencil and started taking notes from her 7 year old sister, “What happened to the cornbread after he stuffed it in his pocket? Did it get crumbly in his pocket or did he eat it on the way back?”
I confess I watched her write notes and my heart gave a little leap of praise that I get to share a passion with my daughter.  I might also have to bare her disappointment if she doesn’t win a prize(she really, really wants to win a prize), but getting to be with her in the process is somewhere high on that invisible list.
I’m not trying to give a rose-colored view of our homeschooling life.  I’ve tried to be honest on this blog and on my other blog about the challenges of mothering and homeschooling multiple children.  Do I ALWAYS want to be home with them? No. Are there some days that seem to pass by without even one moment that would make that why-I-do-it list.  It feels like it.  But to be available for the  the 1000(and growing) worth-it-all moments, I have to be available for the rest of the moments, too.
Read On
If only a copy of this article could be placed in the inbox of every teacher, administrator, school board member, and person I meet who’s main concern is whether our homeschool is identical to the typical public school classroom. Â Note to self and others: we’re not trying mirror the schools, if we were, we wouldn’t be homeschooling. Â But if educators could see through the lenses of this article maybe we would be trying to emulate the school system.
A few favorite quotes:
“Imagine, for instance, a third-grade classroom that was free of the laundry list of goals currently harnessing our teachers and students, and that was devoted instead to just a few narrowly defined and deeply focused goals.”
“In this classroom, children would spend two hours each day hearing stories read aloud, reading aloud themselves, telling stories to one another and reading on their own. After all, the first step to literacy is simply being immersed, through conversation and storytelling, in a reading environment; the second is to read a lot and often.”
“What they shouldn’t do is spend tedious hours learning isolated mathematical formulas or memorizing sheets of science facts that are unlikely to matter much in the long run. Scientists know that children learn best by putting experiences together in new ways. They construct knowledge; they don’t swallow it.”
“During the school day, there should be extended time for play. Research has shown unequivocally that children learn best when they are interested in the material or activity they are learning.”
Read the article in it’s entirety here.
Homeschooling Multiple Children
Each season of homeschooling over the past 4 years has brought it’s own challenges(which means things that make me cry or growl or question my sanity).
In the beginning it was wiping out the only idea of school that I brought from my own childhood, and drawing in a new sketch where learning happened all the time and related to every day life. Â It was growing in confidence in a decision that was singularly different that anyone in our church or community. Â Then it was believing that I cared more than any school teacher could care about my child’s heart, education and spiritual life, and I could know her better than anyone as well. Â Even those triumphs over doubt didn’t show me which curriculum would work best, so we keep going by trial and error. Â Knowing we were choosing the right path didn’t show me how to homeschool with toddlers and babies and dishes and my own desires.
As we head into the second half of our school year, baby Sparkles is now mobile and responsibilities even more divided, I don’t wonder if I should be homeschooling. Â I’m only seeking a few tips to keep us open and fresh, excited and flexible, and to keep the growling and crying to a minimal.
Last night in preparation for a day of planning and prayer, I googled “homeschooling multiple children”. The first post I found was this one. Â Instead of being a how-to list of ideas that sound good in a blog post but aren’t actually helpful, it’s a portrait of a morning when nothing went as planned. Â I was cracking up! And I think I needed that, because I really need the gift of being able to laugh every day, more than I need ideas that worked for one family but won’t fit mine.
However, if I come up with any good tips I’ll surely pass them along for what they’re worth. Â Tip #1: Laugh instead of cry, start with this link.