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Do You Like What Your School is Doing?

Eleven years ago, I felt the strong impression I needed to homeschool my two children.  While the concept of homeschooling was not a new one for me, it was one I was sure I would not pursue for many valid reasons.  However, I am not one to lightly disregard a deep, penetrating impression and so I began to reevaluate my conclusions.

Unlike many of the people deciding to homeschool at the time, I did not make the decision based on religious concerns, or concerns about the many “ills” a child might face in public school.  No, I simply took a closer look at my pre-school enrolled son and realized that he was already getting frustratingly bored with the limitations of group learning.

Never have I doubted the rightness of my decision, although it has been a tough road to travel.  The blessings have been boundless and the joy amidst the struggle, immense.

A sense of relief has now been added to my list of homeschooling emotions.  For while, I did not make my decision based on the policies of public schools, I find myself immensely relieved that I homeschool after reading a few news articles concerning the public school world.

I decided to write this post and put this list together after my daughter came and asked me to check on a story about school lunches she heard on the radio this morning. I also Google searched for stories about absentee punishments, but in this case the stories that popped up were terribly sad and from other countries.  On that topic, I do know of one Colorado school which has a policy in place whereby the student’s grade will be demoted each time the student misses class more than the allowed absent days.  Furthermore, excused absences which are only accepted when signed by a doctor, also count against the total.

When did we, as parents, sign over our rights and accountability for our children to the school?

School Lunch Police

Child Truant – Parent Jailed

Do children have the same legal rights as adults or are their rights lessened just as their punishments for crimes are?

Freedom of Speech Cases

Suspended for Banner 

Determining Speech Boundaries

Does the government owe our youth an education if the taxpayers are paying for it?

Suspended Child Sues School

Peanut Allergy Precautions 

Sports or No Sports

 

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Moments in Time: Monumental Lessons

The first moment I would like to share came when I was nine years old.  My mother, who was running marathons at the time, had a grave concern that I was going to grow up to be overweight, and thus decided to entice me to get fit with a bribe  She offered to take me to New York to participate in an all-female 10K, but only if I could run the distance without stopping beforehand.  The jog around Central Park was much more pleasant than the training runs, due mostly to the fact that my mom left me with some slower runners who were prone to take walking breaks. This moment in time taught me I could do anything if I tried hard enough, and that breaks make tasks much more pleasant to accomplish.

Jump ahead a handful of years to the summer when I was fourteen.  While my grandfather had dairy cows, a couple of his brothers had beef cattle and Quarter Horses.  I loved to ride, and would ride as often as I could convince someone to get me to a horse.  I had ridden with my mom and dad, with my cousins and brothers, even with a few uncles, but never with my grandfather, at least not since I was an infant in his arms.  That summer a unique thing happened, my grandfather took to the saddle one more time. With his older brother, and three grown nephews, he decided to revisit the days when he still used a horse to get the work done.  The men all had saddles, bridles and young mounts.  There was only one horse to be left behind, a thirty year old cattle pony which my mother had trained decades before.  My mom, neglecting to ask me or the men for permission, found an old broken bridle and without much warning, hoisted me up on the beautiful, wise, saddle-less mare. I was instructed to let the horse do the work, hold on and try my best not embarrass my mom.  Then off I went, chasing cows and jumping ditches right alongside my grandfather.  I had never before been as humbled or proud as I was on that day; the day I learned to hold on, stay quiet and cherish the moment.  Although my grandfather lived many more decades that was the last time he rode a horse, and the first time I really knew he was proud of me.

My next moment unfolded during the very first days of my sophomore year in college.  Over the summer, I had worked at a camp in Alabama teaching girls how to ride.  I had earned very little money at the camp, in truth only enough to cover the cost of unlimited riding lessons at college which I so desperately wanted, but which wasn’t covered by my student loans and grants.  It was a hard year to work at a summer camp, record rains kept us fighting mud and humidity.  Plus I had suffered a broken toe just a week into camp, causing me to limp through the remainder of the summer.   To my horror, after a week back at school and back in an English, rather than a Western saddle, my knee was painfully swollen and a trip to the doctor was in order.  As it turned out, all the limping from the broken toe had aggravated an old injury to the point where surgery was advised.  However, surgery was not an option for me.  Besides the fact that knee surgery wasn’t as nice and tidy as it is now; I didn’t have the insurance or funds to cover it.  Riding was therefore replaced by physical therapy. Therapy taught me that I could overcome the obstacle of pain and find a replacement for my lost love of riding. After months of working with the school physical therapist, I became healthy enough to train for the New York Marathon.

So with a marathon completed, I moved on to my next challenge: US Marine Corps Officer Candidate School.  In a mere seven weeks of the ten week program, I was left with tendonitis in all my toes, a torn muscle in my shoulder, a chipped tooth and various other minor injuries; all of which had not stopped my desire to be a Marine.  But then flu-like symptoms, unexplained leg swelling and dizziness set in and I was done. I decided that leaving on my own terms rather than in a wheel chair wasn’t quitting, it was just recognizing that my body wasn’t suited for what my brain wanted to do.   That summer I learned how to laugh instead of cry when I was in pain, even when the pain was from the heartache of leaving something behind.  

There are so many more moments in time I could share, but I will finish with one simple moment that occurred today when I was able to exercise for fifteen minutes on my elliptical machine.  Four years ago, I was advised by my doctor to take things slowly if I wanted to manage my fibromyalgia. When I asked what she meant, she replied, “Five minutes at a time.”  I wasn’t even sure how a person exercised for only five minutes at a time, but I was determined to learn.  I made a goal: have more energy when I turn fifty than I did when I turned forty.  I have had to overcome a lot of frustration. I have had to find a place to start and then I had to start again and again.  I have had to get creative and humble in my approach.   First I bought a cane so I would no longer feel so helpless when the fatigue hit.  Second, I bought a spinning wheel, for while I could not exercise without fatigue, and a strange feeling of guilt; I could spin yarn for hours and feel productive while doing it.  Finally, I gave myself permission to find strength in my weaknesses and opportunities in my limitations.

In our youth, time seemed endless, yet we rushed.  In our maturity, time seems brief, and we savor the moments we have left.

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Saith Me… Disassociation

The real separation of church and state appears when clergy (any denomination) entangle themselves into the political debate.  The masses get nervous and disassociate themselves from the debate.

While we may agree with what the clergyman says, we really don’t like clergy influencing our laws or leaders, mainly since we didn’t elect them.

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Morality vs. Religious Freedom

In the light of so much being said about the US healthcare ruling on birth control, I find myself pondering historical “moral” legislation.  It would seem that the people of the United States have a long history of defining what is moral and what is not.  By the very concept of “moral behavior” one must consider the relationship of religion on its definition.  Today’s debate on birth control seems to pit opposing definitions of what is morally responsible.  One side of the debate argues that it is immoral to not provide birth control equally to all women.  The other side claims that birth control, by its nature, is immoral.

This is not the first time that morality, and its connection to religious freedom, has been in the legislative focus of the United States.  Here is a short list of other “morally responsible” issues that have been debated. Some made it to law, some only to be overturned.

Polygamy, Gay Marriage, Interracial Marriage, Divorce, Marijuana, Peyote, Public School Mandates, Homeschool Rights, Alcohol Consumption, Voting Rights, Age of Consent, Immunization, Military Draft. I am sure the list goes on.

Let me state for the record, I personally support religious freedom and religious morality, but I also wonder who gets to decide what a “religion” is in order for it to be protected by the first ammendment.  As I belong to a faith that historically found itself to be under a state legislative order of extermination, I get anxious when religious fervor* becomes escalated to the point where it influences the legislative debate.

In a religiously free nation, I wonder if moral legislation should be defined by a consensus and not one religion’s precepts.  As the granddaughter (many generations removed) of polygamists who had to publically dissolve their marriages, I can sympathize with the Catholic plight on birth control.  However, I see the role of the government to be to govern all the people.  To do so, the rights, desires and practices of some are bound to be trampled on for the good of the whole. This is not a new practice, but is one at the very heart of avoiding chaos and most will agree that chaos is immoral.

End Note:  I am fully aware that many could use my final argument on chaos to support the ban on Gay Marriage, but I would point out that a broad definition of marriage is less chaotic than a plethora of terms to describe similar legal unions.

* See Also (on a lighter note): Spanish Inquisition, Crusades, Witch Hunt, Birth Control Debate part 1, Birth Control Debate part 2

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Entitlement is a Symptom

I am a mother of two teenagers.  My boy turns sixteen in less than a month and my girl is in the first half of her fourteenth year. This fact does not make me an expert, however it does qualify me as a mother of our current generation of teens.

While my teens disagree with non-family adults at times, they are quick to apologize if they should act in a rude manner.  What I mean by this is that they speak their minds, defend their beliefs and apologize later even if they were in the right. They are good kids, they show respect for me and my husband.  They argue with us, as I believe they should because each argument leads to a lesson taught and learned.  They have said they are sorry for their attitudes more times than I can count and so have I (just not as often).  They have learned to respect people who deserve respect and have tolerance for those who do not.

I have the testimonials of others to confirm what I know from experience – I have good kids.  However, my kids didn’t get this way by chance and I didn’t win some good child lottery.  I worked diligently every day.  I went to bed praying every night to have better skills to teach my kids with, and forgiveness for my own shortcomings as well as theirs.  Too many days I yelled, too many times I became distracted, too often I waited longer than I should to give hugs and kisses.    I didn’t read to them enough, I didn’t play with them enough, but I did listen, observe and act.  I was in their lives, their faces and their business.  I still am.  I sacrifice for them. I give them all the tools they could possibly need to succeed. I drive them crazy with lectures, discussions and evaluations.  I am their mom, their confidant, their counselor and maybe just a tiny bit their friend.

It has not been, nor is it my goal to be their friend, but somehow, they like me.  Go figure, they like the grumpy, annoying, and nearly always right teacher, their mom.

So how have I managed this miracle?  Am I a Tiger Mom, or a French Mom or a Soccer Mom?  I am none of these things.  My success comes from spending endless hours talking to my kids, analyzing what they need, and acting.  In essence I parent them.

In 2004, Bill Cosby gave a speech in which he said, “We are not parenting.”  He also says that all the children “[know] is ‘gimme, gimme, gimme.’ These people [the parents] want to buy the friendship of a child….and the child couldn’t care less.”  He was talking to a very specific audience, an audience bigger than the one in the lecture hall that day.  His comments, which I advise all to read or watch, were directed to the lower and middle class black community of the United States, and he started a firestorm of fury.

However, I would like to direct his words to all of the middle and upper class of this nation, maybe even to the world.  I hear so much about the problem of youth entitlement, and how this is a “give me” generation, but where are their parents and grandparents in this debate?  Don’t get me wrong, I fully believe that the idiocy of the youth must be addressed, just as I have addressed my own children’s idiocy.  I have also addressed their grandparent’s idiocy of excess.  Excess money and toys do not make a child feel loved; only time and attention can generate that emotion.  Money and toys are easier to give and are a balm to the grandparent’s consciences when distance or busy lives keep them away from their posterity.  The child, old or young will not remember the money or toys when grandparents are gone, they will remember the games, stories and most of all the smiles and hugs that they shared with their “gramps and nanna”.

If it holds true that time and attention generate love, fondness and respect, then this recipe should work for parents as well as grandparents.

Often I have been told by working moms that they wish they could homeschool their kids as I do.  My answer has always been that they should use the hours of the evenings and weekends to work with their children.  Now, I don’t mean by heaping on more school subjects or doing endless housework (although working alongside your child is encouraged).  I mean that moms (and dads) should find a common interest or intrigue and pursue it together.  Yes, the zoo is fine or the museum, but unless you have a young biologist or artist in your home, try to find something else; something that you have to learn right alongside them, something new. It is amazing how much more open kids will be with you when the playing field has been evened.  Of course, word of warning, just like when teaching a child the game of chess you must help them win sometimes, while learning new skills and hobbies you should not outshine your child too much, let them compete with friends not parents for the blue ribbon.

When I hear adults complain about the “entitled youth”, I wonder about the parents and grandparents.  I wonder about the neighbor lady who is grandchildless, and the older gentleman whose children live far away.  How are they helping this generation?  I don’t think that the youth are the problem of today, I believe they are the byproduct of the problem.  Parents not parenting.  Grandparents spoiling rather than interacting.  Adults with kids grown, not volunteering in youth groups.  Society blaming the lost and not those who lost them.  Yes there will be some youth who will rebel or get lost regardless of the attention they recieve, but the effort should be made while there is still time left to make it.

I was brought up by a community of family and close neighbors.  When I had my children, I was not fortunate to have family nearby, so I found “family”.  I found aunts and uncles, grannies and grandpas, and even a few older cousins.  When someone moved away, I found a replacement.  I ensured that my children had a community of caring people in their lives.  I did this while I still worked full time and maintained it afterwards.  When my son faced a devastating internal struggle and his parent’s counsel did not help, we brought him to a loving “uncle” who spent time with him, listened to him and was always available, despite his own busy life as a father, husband and provider.  When my daughter struggled with self-doubt and low self-esteem, I found a bunch of “aunts” and “grandmas” who took her under their wing and nurtured her.

You will notice the word “I” was used quite often.  These are my kids and therefore I am accountable for them in their youth.

So what is the secret of my success, I spend time with my kids and I don’t do it alone – I don’t try to do it alone either.

(Just a note to the dads out their – all that I have stated, my husband agrees with, as parenting truly is a group effort.)

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Belief vs. Law

I read the most interesting talking point today and longed to be back in college with others debating not just this specific issue, but how this talking point could be used in other debates.

Here is the quote:

“Nobody disputes the fact that Americans opposed to gay marriage believe passionately in their ideas and arguments. But that doesn’t necessarily mean those arguments should win in a court.”By Dahlia Lithwick author of “Why the Proponents of a Gay Marriage Ban Will Soon Be Speechless” www.slate.com

Now fill in the blank with other hot topics.

“Nobody disputes the fact that Americans opposed to _____________ believe passionately in their ideas and arguments. But that doesn’t necessarily mean those arguments should win in a court.”