Popcorn and Sushi

Conflicted

So here's the thing:  school started two weeks ago.  Since I've had kids, the beginning of a new school year has been important primarily to only one out of four of my immediate family members--that one being Husband, because after all, they're paying him to find it important.  But this year is different.  This year we have all been affected.  And I'm not sure I like that.  See, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool homeschooler.  I wasn't homeschooled myself, but once my children were born, I knew this kind of learning would be right for us.  Indeed, it has been, and besides a brief, unfortunate stint in a passive-aggressive Japanese kindergarten, both kids have spent their days at home with me.  To clarify, they have always been allowed plenty of outside opportunities, from piano and language lessons to Girl Scouts and soccer.  But as I said, this year is different.

This year, both kids are in school for about two hours each morning.  This came about via a family decision (with me as the only semi-dissenting party) based on several factors:  we could hand-pick teachers and classes, Husband is on the same campus, there are very few homeschoolers in our area, and both kids (ages 9 and 12) could use a bit more structure and accountability in their daily routines.  I must say that things are going quite well so far, and I really wouldn't expect otherwise.  First Child loves helping out in the library, Second Child has made a couple of new friends, and both kids are doing more writing.  Never mind that the extra two hours were supposed to provide me with extra time for my writing--that hasn't exactly happened, but maybe it will come in time.  Meanwhile, I run errands and try to tell myself that we're doing the right thing, at least for now.  And the early-mornings and afternoons are still ours to share.

Labeling Schmabeling

I was reading a couple of posts over at Learning as we go... about the labels we place on ourselves and others.  I find it interesting that labeling can be somewhat useful, while at the very same time completely useless. 

Let me explain.  The use of a label such as "artist" or "writer" can be helpful in identifying someone by their occupation, but how much does the label actually say about the person or even their work?  To further define the person as a "cartoonist" or "author of children's books" can be clarifying but also limiting.

If I say I'm a "homeschooler," I'm sure an immediate image comes to mind (Bible-thumpers and denim jumpers, anyone?) for some of you who know a little, but not a lot, about homeschooling.  If I define myself further as an "unschooler" or a "Charlotte Mason homeschooler," further images appear--for those of you who do know a lot about homeschooling.  But if I label myself in such a way, and then I choose to do something that perhaps doesn't jibe with the tenets of that particular methodology, I can find myself quickly ostracized.  I'm not saying this has happened to me, and I'm not pointing a finger at homeschoolers, not at all--it's just that we all like to put people in boxes, and we find it unsettling when someone tries to chisel a hole or two in their respective box.

I guess this is why I take refuge in the word "eclectic."  It really does seem to apply to me and to my family.  But again, how useful is such a term?  It means something, yet it means nothing.  It simply means that I don't decorate in one style, teach my children just one way, or eat just one type of food.

Labels are convenient, no doubt about it, and I find myself searching for them when I read a blog or when I meet someone.  We all do this.  But I need to remind myself to look further, to go beyond my own frame of reference and my initial assumptions.

I'm not trying to make a grand statement, or anything.  And don't worry--I'm not heading out to buy business cards with my name and then the words "human being" on them.   That's just silly.  But I do hope to be more mindful in the future of how I label myself and others.  Maybe you'll join me.

My Kids Actually Like This

Pardon me briefly while I pat myself on the back for having children who will watch this movie.

It's an old French flick, in French, and they like it--a lot!  I Netflixed it for myself a couple of months ago, and First Child ended up watching it with me, with Second Child popping in toward the end.  It's a spare, delightful movie with some interesting social commentary on the ugly encroachment of stark modernism back in the 1950s.  And it has some dogs, very cute ones, which play a fairly-prominent role and may be what really sold First Child on the whole thing.  She went so far as to request that we buy the dvd--I promise, I did not plant subliminal messages!--so yes, I gave in and bought it for her 11th birthday. 

While in the throes of smugness, I will also mention that First Child, a once-reluctant writer, is sitting in the living room, at this very moment, starting to write her own " book" on her AlphaSmart 3000.  I just asked her, "What's that thing called that you're writing on?"  She told me, then asked, "Why?" as I'm in here clicking away.  I think she's on to me.

We aren't unschoolers, but this has pretty much been our approach thus far for writing--partly out of laziness on my part, mixed with a rather strong desire for preserving my sanity.  I may impose a little more structure next year, but I think First Child is ready for that now and won't fight me on it (too much).

But back to "Mon Oncle": both kids watched it the other day.  I was in another room, but I kept hearing them laughing, and First Child reading (only occasionally with annoyance) some of the subtitles to Second Child, who couldn't quite keep up.  Joy.  I smiled, wondering what I should spring on them next--some Charlie Chaplin or Harold Lloyd?  "The Red Balloon"?  I'll be thinking.

Newt Races

Cute, aren't they?  This is our friend Brian being a good sport, as his daughter and First Child display a couple of their amphibian friends atop his head (believe me, it wasn't easy keeping the newts still long enough to get a photo this good!).  This was just a couple of the, oh, maybe hundreds of newts our kids found last weekend in the tiny pond outside the 100-year-old villa our families rented in rural Hattoji, Okayama Prefecture, Japan.   The kids spent every daylight moment with their nets and plastic bug boxes, hunting for the newts, frogs, luna moths, and other fauna living in and around the pond.  So many newts were found that the kids--our two and our friends' three--could've become rather blase about them, but instead they treated them as treasured pets, naming every one of the slimy little guys (I suspect some may have received names several times).  They even held their own Newt Races, though there was some dispute over whose newts actually won, as some tended to veer a bit off-course.

Husband, turning Fun with Newts into a Learning Moment (there is no off-position on the Teacher switch), told our kids on the way home that they should study newts the following week.  If I remember correctly from my education classes lo these many years ago, he was intending to capitalize on what is known as a "teachable moment."  Okay, so I agreed it would be a good idea to study newts, and I pulled out several of our Nature books that have thus far not really seen enough play in our homeschooling adventures.  We read about newts from three different books, and now both kids are supposed to write something about them.  First Child is going to do a story from a newt's perspective, and Second Child will likely dictate to me something like "five things I learned about newts."  Both kids are saying they "can't" draw a picture of a newt to go alongside their writing ("It's too haaaaaard!"), but I plan to make them, anyway.

Here's one of the books we're using:  Pets in a Jar:  Collecting and Caring for Small Wild Animals, by Seymour Simon.  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0140491864/sr=8-1/qid=1148883955/ref=pd_bbs_1/002-2292132-3838416?%5Fencoding=UTF8