The Letter "S"

As I filled out the paperwork for Classical Conversations, the last page was a "I understand ..." page, numbering several items that the parent needed to be absolutely aware of entering the program -- CC is a supplement to homeschooling, tuition is non-refundable, I will stay on premises during the sessions, etc. -- with a place for my signature.

Then, the student section:

As STUDENTS we recognize the privilege to participate and enjoy the weekly program meetings. We commit ourselves to the following:

1. Appropriately participating in class.

2. Respecting our Tutor/Director in words and actions.

3. Working on weekly program work to the best of my ability.

4. Honoring my peers and other students in the program in words and in actions.

Student’s signature(s)

_______________________________________________________________

Time to tell Monkey1 about school.

So far I had not directly explained to her about the Wait List or our other efforts on behalf of her education for kindergarten. She's probably aware of it because other people ask, and I answer.

Here's how what I said to Monkey1:

In kindergarten you get a lunchbox because you stay at school for lunch.

(Beaming excitement over the lunchbox.)

You also get your own desk.

(Not so excited, but a nod that she is listening.)

Now, there are A LOT of children that want to be in the kindergarten class [at the church we attend], and the teachers are having trouble fitting all the desks in the classroom.

(Nod again, forehead furrowed.)

So while the teachers are trying to figure out how to fit your desk into the classroom, we will do another school called Classical Conversations. You will learn things. We will do homework together. And when your desk fits into the kindergarten classroom, you will know things, just like all the other kids know things.

(Nod.) "Mommy, I'm afraid of kindergarten."

So we talked about the things she would learn.

Kindergarten is different from preschool. There were no individual desks in Monkey1's preschool classroom. There was one table that served for "meetings" with the teacher, when one-on-one work was done, and then there were a few long tables where the children all ate their snacks and did art projects. There were bins of toys. She already knows that kindergartners wear uniforms, sit at desks, stay all day, and have no toys in their classroom.

Seven hours away from Mom and sister, five days a week. That is a lot to swallow. I've hung around too many homeschoolers to simply accept this as a mandatory part of life for a five-year-old. Later on, maybe. Now? Undecided. Not convinced.

I explained that at Classical Conversations, Mom has to come too and learn too, and help with the homework. And whenever she moves into the classroom at the Catholic school, she will be with some of her friends, playmates she has had since we moved to this area four years ago.

So we read over the part she needed to sign. That is, I read it, and I rephrased each line to make sure she understood, and she wanted to sign her name. Her WHOLE NAME. She got frustrated with the S in our last name, writing it as a 3. So we worked on the letter "S" on another sheet of paper for a bit and then completed her name on the form.

See, we doing it already.

Backseat Driver

We drive a VW Golf, which fits the four of us and odd items of Ikea furniture.

In her car seat, Monkey2 sits on the rear passenger side, which gives her window access (a place for all the doctor's office stickers) and a curbside exit whenever we park on a street. In her matching pink throne, Monkey1 has the middle seat position, which gives her more leg room, not having a seat immediately in front of her, as well as an open view of the road and the dashboard.

Monkey1 is figuring out road signs. She'll ask if I am going the speed limit. Sometimes she'll tell me I'm going too fast.

So my husband and I joke about our backseat driver.

One day Monkey1 decided that she needed a steering wheel, so from her play kitchen she brought a pink plastic dish decorated with flowers.

Soon she was telling me that she was driving faster than I was. After a minute of this, I figured out that she equated speed with how much the steering wheel was moving. Since we were on a straight road, my steering wheel was hardly moving, while hers was violently turning every which way. She couldn't see my feet or the pedals, which I then briefly explained to her. Of course she ignored this information and continued to tell me that I was driving too slow. I pointed out the speed limit signs and otherwise ignored the jabber.

At this point Monkey2 jumped into the conversation, telling Monkey1 that she was driving too fast. Telling? No, more like crying out in protest of such flagrant disregard for Mom's safety.

Monkey1 replied by hitting her sister with the steering wheel.

So I confiscated it.

I think we picked Dad up from work that day. "Why is there a pink plate in my seat?"

What I Wrote Late Last Night

From the application to Classical Conversations:

Have you always homeschooled your children? Tell us about your child's schooling experience.

Age 2-4 years: we unschooled with a large group of preschool homeschoolers, visiting many area museums and cultural events. Age 3 years: with four other families from our church we made a homeschool co-op. We met once a week, each mother taking a day to teach a letter of the alphabet and do an art project or physical activity. Lessons were aimed at the five 3-year-olds, surrounded by eight siblings aged infant to five years. Age 4 years: attended preschool at Blessed Sacrament's Early Childhood Center, four mornings a week for three hours in a group of fourteen children.

How long have you homeschooled your children?

We have officially homeschooled, that is filed a Notice of Intent, for zero years. However, as her parents we have been schooling her since she was born five years ago.

Do you plan on homeschooling through high school? Explain.

We have not planned that far in advance. We will consider each child (we have two) and each year as our life unfolds.

Anything else you CC director should know about your schooling experience to better understand your family...

We believe parental involvement in education is extremely important. We also see the need for repetition and memorization as cornerstones in learning. Leigh Bortins' book Echo in Celebration impressed us to seek a classical approach to learning for our kindergarten aged daughter. She really enjoyed the group classroom setting last year at preschool as well as the co-op we were part of the previous year, so we see Classical Conversations as providing a key element in our learning, teaching, and need for community.

Waiting Summer

Friday morning, after a week of anticipation, my Monkeys had their second dental visit. They love going to the dentist. She gives out the best little prizes: a goody bag of toothbrush, floss, stickers, and minute-timer, plus a gold coin. This goes into a candy machine filled with bouncy balls, plastic jewelry, stick-on-tattoos, and choking-hazard-sized little animals. Monkey1 was delighted to extract a white dog that is small enough to sit on my thumb nail. Monkey2 was proud to receive a ring with a purple jewel half the size of her little finger.

Then we headed into the city on the metro, so my orthotics could receive a little adjustment. I bribed the Monkeys into this doctor's trip with the promise of a carousel ride afterwards. This turned into a carousel ride, a visit to the Smithsonian castle, the dinosaurs (Natural History), and ice cream from a street vendor cart before heading home.

In the Natural History Museum, I was surprised to see the giant squid. Wasn't he there the last time we went... a year ago? I recall that trip because we met some homeschool friends for the IMAX Dinosaur movie. Monkey1 freaked out in the first 30 seconds, before the dinosaurs appeared on screen, so I dumped Monkey2 on the other parent's lap and took Monkey1 out. The ticket seller nonchalantly refunded our tickets. By all accounts, Monkey2 enjoyed the show without a worry about mom or big sister.

A year ago... a year ago... before Monkey1 went to preschool, when neither of us were looking forward to it. We had been hanging out with a group of homeschool preschoolers for two years, folks who were not sending their kids to preschool and mostly planning to homeschool. We had a lot of fun with this group and regularly visited many of the Smithsonian museums with them. I miss all that. Monkey1 said she has missed the museums too.

Now, a year later, a successful and much enjoyed preschool year behind us, we stand on the question mark again. Monkey1 remains on the wait list to two Catholic schools, and my husband has declared the public school unacceptable (see A Bad Back-up Plan). I'm cautiously exploring the homeschooling options, afraid that I will fall in love with it and then find a classroom seat-and-desk space has opened up for her.

On Saturday morning two of my Catholic homeschooling friends, whose sons are Monkey1's age and among her favorite playmates, took me along to a Catholic Homeschoolers Expo. We spent an hour or so looking at the different curriculums and vendors. Seton seemed to take up a quarter of the floor space, but I liked some of the other curriculum-in-a-box companies better. I did not buy anything. I'm still looking.

My sister-in-law was quite interested to hear about the conference and looked over all the catalogues and materials I had collected. She's watching the rising tuition at her children's Catholic school with a wary eye.

My mother-in-law had some very interesting remarks on the whole idea of homeschooling. "Well, I guess it's good for kids in rural areas so they don't have to walk."

Walk? What century is she living in? "No, it'd be worse for kids in rural areas," I remarked, thinking of my own childhood, in a rural area and commuting out of town to school, "because everyone else goes to public school and you have no friends. In our metropolitan area, there are a lot of homeschoolers. You can kinda make your own school of friends."

So she tried the classroom tack, "It's important the kids learn to share and work with other kids... supplies and games and things."

I just shook my head and decided to ignore her. Truly, I think my Monkeys have learned to share at home. I have two girls, and they fight over the dress-up clothes, the dolls, the pink dinner plates, the princess coloring books, you name it. And they have to work it out, sometimes with guidance, sometimes with time-out interventions. School does not really teach sharing, as I've seen in families with a single child and in families with one boy and one girl, they don't need to share when they get home.

The Notice of Intent to homeschool deadline is August 15. Even then, the Catholic schools have told me that they will continue to call families on the wait list once the school year has started if space opens up, i.e. students do not attend or withdraw, quite common in this highly mobile government/military job related area. It is going to be a long summer, waiting.

Penny Jobs

In the quest for a clean floor at the end of the day, that is, one devoid of toys underfoot, I'm trying a new angle.

I've tried taking away toys for a week.

This simply put toys on a rotation and did not solve the picking-up problem.

I've tried putting toys in the trash.

I found that some toys are more precious to Mom than to the Monkeys.

I've tried the dessert bribe.

However, if I forget to buy ice cream, I have no leverage. Not to mention the problems that follow when all the toys are picked up, and I open the freezer and find... frozen air.

Now I have decided to make the Monkeys pay for their toys. With real money. From real little jobs.

The night that I told them several times, then yelled several times, about toy pick-up, I finally sent them upstairs and boxed up all the toys strewn on the living room floor. Later I took a picture of each toy (there were 30), assigned each one a value, and posted a catalogue on the fridge. In the morning I explained they would have to buy back their toys with pennies earned from jobs. The jobs are: setting the table, clearing the table, putting away their clean laundry, sorting and matching mom and dad's clean socks, cleaning the bathroom sinks (only allowed once a day), dusting the wood trim along the floor, etc. Each job is worth a penny. Some toys are worth two pennies, and some toys are worth 10 pennies.

Monkey2 looked at the catalogue and decided she wanted her lion costume back, and she worked very hard to earn five pennies that first morning and bought it back. She keeps careful track of it now, to the point that when I announce it is end-of-day pick-up time, she puts on the lion suit right away so it will not get left on the floor.

Now she is working on earning 8 pennies to buy back a doll stroller.

Monkey1 wants her 18-inch dolls back, valued at 10 pennies each, but she likes the immediate gratification of doing two jobs, earning two pennies, and buying back a tw0-penny toy. She has bought back a basket, a rabbit, and a plastic purse.

The jackpot is If the Monkeys can pick up all their toys without Mom telling them, they get five pennies. This is going to take awhile, and some coaching, though Monkey1 really likes the idea -- the payoff -- of this job. Of course the first night they lost a heap more toys, but either they will run out of toys or get busy to buy them all back.

Will this really help with picking up the toys? I'm not sure. It is helping me see what my Monkeys value. And, whenever I need help with housework, I shout, "Who wants a penny job?" Most of the time someone comes scampering. That in itself is nice.

Weather

It was POURING.

In cherry boots, purple raincoat, and purple umbrella tipped uselessly over her shoulder, Monkey2 stood out in the rain, screaming at the sky: Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.

Soon she came back inside. "Mommy, I got wet."

Cages

I moved some things out of the shed for discussion, including the bird cages.

The Monkeys were delighted with the cages and the shoe box of dishes, toys, and perches. My last parakeet disappeared from the family nearly three years ago. Monkey2 does not remember them at all, and when asked, Monkey1 said she only remembered that I had a bird but not the bird.

However, the girls responded to all the pieces like it was a doll house, and they happily put in the perches, swapped around the dishes, and arranged and giggled over the various toys -- bells, mirrors, rings, a ladder. Somehow bird seed for our feeder made it into one of the dishes, and when fruit was mentioned, a strawberry was dutifully mashed into that. Water was added to the bathtub, and Monkey1 ran around the yard with her index finger extended, as if she were carrying a perched bird.

I wonder if it's time...