This sort of freestyle results in many a night of worry--strikes of panic is a better way of describing the jolt to my heart when, just on the brink of sweet sleep, I suddenly question the effectiveness of my teaching them, my competence for the role. Oh dear god I'm dumbing them down! I'm dooming them to a life of stupidity, turning them into dim-wits because I opted out of traditional school! How can I possibly think I have what it takes to impart any sort of knowledge? On these sort of nights, I decide what needs to be done in order to put some illusory check in my imaginary box and I construct a schedule, turn over in bed to find a writing utensil and my external brain (day planner)--kept by the bed for moments such as these, and I list just what we will accomplish the next day.
In the hours of daylight, we might get to the list--it certainly provides a structure but there's usually something that pulls us from our intended path. Something like a book I pass on the shelf, some show coming on the history channel, some current event that begs our attention, some experiment or project that suddenly inspires me or less intellectually charged, some illness, some grocery list, some appointment, some headache I can't shake or some housecleaning.
Because any general explanation of just how we approach this homeschooling beast is nearly impossible, here are a few examples of spontaneous inspirations that epitomize the intellectual bent to (some of) our days:
Woke up one morning to find that Barack Obama had addressed the nation with a speech on race that will surely be paved in history, so I printed 3 copies and we read along while we watched the taped speech on YouTube.
During coffee one morning while reading my blogs of choice, I saw a video linked from No Impact Man on the cycle of stuff in our consumption culture--watched the video with the kiddos, discussed and, lesson learned.
The other night, after a rather unproductive "school" day, I decided to turn on the story of Sally Hemmings--Thomas Jefferson's slave mistress virtually erased from history. This epic introduced the kids to the French Revolution, widened their eyes to the complexities of the master/slave relationship, the various 'types' of masters and plantations, the bigotries and prejudices tied up in ideologies on race that perpetuated slavery, the imperfections of a man, Thomas Jefferson, typically held in high esteem and glossed over for history's sake...ad infinitum
The bottom line is, there's no bottom line, there's no one way or sure thing for us--there is simply the 'flow' of our lives.
I have been practicing yoga for the last 9 years of my life and for the past 9 months have become more devout and committed to my practice. I find that my approach to homeschooling mirrors my practice of yoga. I am the pulse and the heart of this family and as that pulse, I sense their limits, their gifts, their interests, their good days and bad, their tolerance levels, their attention spans, their capabilities and such. Just as I move within the grace and limits of my own body during yoga, which changes from day to day, so I move within the abilities and interests of my children and our family during homeschooling, which also changes from day to day.
It's all so sweet and tidy there at the end isn't it? Don't be fooled by the metaphor--for a further exploration into the reality reveals that 'grace' is just no where to be found in this house on some days. There is yelling, impatience, head butting and dirty, dirty words flying from my mouth like projectile vomit, behaviors certainly unbecoming of a 'teacher' as I say things like, "How do you NOT get this?" or "What about this don't you understand?"--rhetorical questions for sure.
Some days it feels like one big freaking gamble. Other days it feels as though I am gifting them with an immeasurable wealth of knowledge. So the question is, how do I know? The answer is, of course...I don't. And because I don't know, how dare I? And that answer is, because I believe in me and I believe in them and I believe in me for them and that is how we do it...most days, um, sort of.
