Warning: Salty language ahead. I spent nine hours today getting ice chips, and talking to doctors, and putting away food trays, and generally waiting on my daddy, who is still in the hospital. Except for hating that my dad is miserable, I had a great day. A great day, despite coming up against what others might call a weakness, and I call knowing my limits. It went like this: Dad: “I’ll lift myself up, and you pull up my shorts... Read more
I brought the boys to Plimoth Plantation today with many hopes. For example, I hoped the boys would see how hard the Plimoth children worked and feel bad about the way they sigh when I ask them to pick up their coats. I suppose I could lie and say that I hoped the boys would be inspired by the industrious nature of their 17th century peers. But really I was just going for shame. And why shouldn’t they feel like... Read more
My dad is out of the ICU as of tonight – awaiting test results and probably heart surgery. And I have an uncharacteristic sense of peace about everything. So I’m going to go ahead with my plan to list reasons that we should put the kids back in school next year. Both boys qualify for IEPs. (Those are Individual Education Plans for kids who have special needs.) They may get more services if we were in the school system. Especially... Read more
My daddy is in the hospital. My great, great daddy is sick. So musings on homeschool take a back seat today. Today I will tell you about my daddy. If you’ve been reading the blog, you’ll recognize him in his eldest daughter. My dad is a Patriot. He repaired radios in the Air Force as an enlisted man. That’s when he learned how to play chess and ignite farts. He was in the last class of Officer’s Candidate School that... Read more
Jake was not homeschooled. Kind of the opposite, really. He left home when he was fourteen to go to a special art school. He loved art. He needed more art. He couldn’t get enough art, or the right kind of training, from his school. So he found a school where he could, and he moved there. Go, Jake! Except that today, as Jake was taking us around the Museum of Fine Arts to explore colonial and Mayan embroidery, I heard... Read more
The night before our first day of homeschool, I posted my first entry to this blog, where I described our reasons for doing this crazy, crazy thing. This was the entirety of my explanation: But the boys started swearing a lot last year – even more than I do. And Ezra vowed he would become a lifelong smoker. And Zach was growing up so fast. And I was working in the afternoons and I missed the boys. And my kindergartner... Read more
Ezra came downstairs this morning with big news. He had just read that, “two hundred people died climbing Mt. Everest. And only eight hundred people made it to the top!” “Wow. That means that one if five people died trying,” I noted, using every opportunity to sneak in a little math. “Well, I’m gonna make it to the top.” “Ezra, it’s really dangerous. Even if you don’t die, your fingers and toes could freeze off,” I responded, using every... Read more
“I’m just gonna keep working on it until it’s done.” “That’s good, Ezzie. Very good,” encouraged his big brother. Who are these little angels? And what have they done with Zach and Ezra? While I lay on the couch waiting for the migraine medicine to kick in, the boys worked on the homework their Occupational Therapist gave them last week. It involved worksheets, scissors, and glue sticks. Nothing too taxing, but exactly the kind of thing they didn’t do when... Read more
The boys went letterboxing today. Never heard of it? Neither had I until last fall. Like all great sub-cultures, this one has strange etiquette, conflicting information on the internet, ways to distinguish between the wanna-bes and the this-is-my-lifers, and long-standing feuds between groups with different philosophies. Here’s a quick primer: Someone hides a box in a remote, usually beautiful spot. The box has a logbook for visitors to sign, and a stamp for visitors to use in their personal logbooks. ... Read more
Have you ever just wanted to slap Brother Lawrence in the face? No? It’s just me? If you’re not part of the Christian-small-world, Brother Lawrence is every evangelical’s favorite monk — more than Luther, who’s got all that ugly anti-Semitism staining his record; or Francis, who raises an eyebrow with his namby pamby fellowship with the animals. All we know of Brother Lawrence is peaceful and loving and solid. Think Mother Theresa, but holier and less flighty. Still, sometimes, after... Read more
The Homeschool Chronicles
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