Melissa

Homeschool flunkie? Nah…

It’s the first day of school. 11:06. I’m still in my pajamas. I finally sent my children off for recess. I don’t have a regular plan for recess. But this year seems to be anything but normal. I only started school today because my children were begging. I am so unprepared. We started the day by cleaning out last years school boxes and organizing last year’s binders. Then I put them all aside to be stored. We filled up this year’s school boxes with this year’s school supplies. (Usually they’re laid out neatly at each child’s place to greet them when they first come down to school. This year they were strewn about the school room still in Walmart bags.)

When we finally sat down to do school, we started with Character/Bible. And a memory verse. A good way to start the day! I sent them off to do math, while I created divider tabs for this years notebooks. Then handwriting. Shoot… my 5 year old finished her handwriting book. I have to order a new one. Then grammar/phonics. As of 45 minutes ago, I wasn’t sure if I was going to finish Illuminations Year 2 or just move on to Illuminations Year 3 and get a fresh start on the year. I looked at all the literature we’d be skipping and decided to finish ILM2. So much for everything lining up in a nice, neat fashion.

So it turns out that really, I sent them off for recess so I could figure out what to do next. Now that I know we’re going to finish ILM2, we can do history next. I ordered the next read-aloud.

Today, it would be easy to feel like a homeschool flunkie, but God offers me so much grace; it’s time to offer some to myself. So far today, my children have been constructive, they’ve learned about loyalty, they’ve worked on a memory verse, they’ve learned, and now they’re building a fort. Together. Those are some of the biggest reasons that I homeschool. That is homeschool success. Just because the day doesn’t LOOK like I think it should doesn’t make me a failure. I do hope I can sneak my shower in, though…

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Mamas, Don't Let Your Children Grow Up To Write Sloppy!

An odd topic, I know. But one that is oddly close to my heart. My father was a calligrapher. He wrote books on Italic handwriting. Some were professionally published; others were self-published. Many were used in schools. Now, he did not always have beautiful handwriting. His conversion to italic was a momentous historical event in our house. It changed his life so much that he set out to share this gift with others, thus the books  The Italic Way to Beautiful Handwriting and Italic Handwriting for Young People. In our home, handwriting was of the utmost importance. I grew up aware of the great controversy on how to form the letter “e.” Two strokes? Or one? Loopy handwriting was forbidden. As were ballpoint pens. We had pens galore in my house, but only a couple of ball points (used for pressing down through carbon copies only). Otherwise, we used felt-tip pens or fountain pens. The use of ball point pens was akin to sacrilege.

Fast forward to my adulthood. My dad passed on in 1990; his books went out of print, and I homeschool my children. What am I to do about handwriting? No methodology met my scrupulous examination. Time went on. I wished I had access to his books. I tried buying Italic Handwriting for Young People on line, but it moved too quickly for my younger children. And (don’t tell my late father this) I really didn’t care if they knew how to use an edged fountain pen. I just wanted them to be able to form their letters properly!  I knew how I wanted my children to write. But I didn’t know how to teach them. So I pretty much didn’t. A book here, a book there. Different styles, different levels. I didn’t stick with anything. And next thing I knew, my oldest was in high school and her handwriting was not exemplary. (Sometimes not even legible.) I was embarrassed. I, of all people, should have taught my child how to write properly.  With three children still in the formative stages (one in middle school  rapidly approaching the point of a permanently established hand) I realized I could not do this again. I could not allow more of Fred Eager’s grandchildren to have handwriting that doesn’t even have a consistent slant! So  I swallowed my pride and chose a handwriting program. Sure, I know my dad’s program was better, but at least my kids are learning something! Now, in just a few short months of consistent practice (and appropriate badgering for neatness and proper handwriting in schoolwork), I have hope for the first time, that the legacy of beautiful handwriting will continue into the next generation. I believe their handwriting will be legible, look like an adult hand and will give them the self-confidence that comes with beautiful, lovely handwriting. All it took was a decision and some consistency. This to say, I don’t care of you use a one-stroke “e” or a two-stroke “e.” I don’t care if you outlaw ballpoints or bring back the beauty of an edged pen. But for heaven’s sake, Mamas, pick a method and stick with it!

Now, with the help of Bright Ideas Press, I have turned my father’s handwriting into a font. In Illuminations, we have used this font to create traceable copywork. I have found that, in addition to their copywork, my students still needed a series of books to teach the methodology behind their letter shapes and give them regular practice with those specific shapes. My choices: Getty-Dubay or Barchowsky.

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A New Season

We are entering a new season in our home. For the past three years, my mother has lived with us. This was a beautiful time for us. She was a retired teacher and school administrator. She loved watching us homeschool our children. She even took part, teaching phonics to our emerging readers. She enjoyed sitting in on our read-alouds. She listened as we read The Mystery of History. She watched movies with us and was usually a part of our family activities. She felt strongly about helping around the house, and took on the cleaning of the kitchen and the folding of the laundry as her chores. Most wonderful of all, she was an in-house grandmother – the one who always had time for the children – to snuggle, read them books and listen to their stories (and boy, do we have some talkers!)

Nana (prounounced Nonnna) moved in with us after a heart catheterization showed arteries that were 100% blocked, one that was 80% and one that was 90%. Her doctor informed her that she should no longer be living alone, so she sold her condo in South Carolina and moved into our Pittsburgh house. Shortly thereafter, we dragged her with us when we moved to Michigan. She came along graciously. We weren’t sure how long she would be with us. After a year and a half of regular ER visits for angina attacks, her doctor put her on hospice. Hospice was wonderful! They checked on her each week, provided medicine, oxygen, a lift chair – if Mom needed, they made they call and the item arrived.

But having an in-house Nana wasn’t always easy, either. She was a stubborn woman (don’t ask me how many times she ran away – on foot, cane in hand, not telling us where she was going.) She argued and attempted to infuse her judgments and political ideas into our family. And just because I’m now a grown-up doesn’t mean the baggage that was created during my growing-up years disappeared. We all learned how to “honor your mother” even when it’s hard; how to choose our battles and when to stand our ground. As her health continued to decline, it meant a lot of changes for our family. We were no longer mobile – we couldn’t leave her alone, and we couldn’t take her with us. She wanted to be left in charge of the children, but was no longer physically or mentally able to handle that responsibility, but she didn’t understand that. Outings had to be carefully planned, childcare had to be thought of and appropriate reasons had to be given. Furthermore, she was unhappy. She was ready to go to heaven. She was tired of losing her independence piece by piece. The children knew it; everyone knew it. Still, I wouldn’t change the time she had with us for anything.

On December 19th, at the age of 85, she went home to be with the Lord. It was a difficult week, but we celebrated Christmas with the knowledge that she was celebrating in the very real presence of our Savior – her Christmas wish fulfilled.

Now as we enter a new calendar year, we feel a sadness, a sense of loss. We watch as our family readjusts, adapting to the change, mourning, but confident that it was her time and His plan. But we also recognize that this is a new season – we feel a freshness, a sense of freedom, as we now have time and energy for commitments that we could not make before, a release from the constraints, both emotional and physical, that came with that time of having her in our home, in our family. And so we look ahead, wondering what the Lord has planned for us in this season, waiting patiently to see what He has in store.

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