Random again

So, a visit at daybook time and because it is Perry's turn, we have random music playing.

I have to say, i am in that spot. That spot that you begin to sink down into that piece of furniture and you know it is going to be a masterminded attempt to get out and upright again.

I am in that spot; thinking, what have i done?

With each question, i sink a bit deeper; although knowing it will be more difficult to get back up.
1. Am i doing right by my children?
2. Are they learning from me?
3. Is their experience of value?
4. Would they be better of elsewhere?
5. where did the fun go?
6. Are they isolated?
7. What is the way?

I have said this before; academically, my children are sound. Almost any child in a one on one environment is going to thrive. Are they thriving in everything else that is just as worthy and important? There are not daily play dates. There is not a lot of banter back and forth with classmates. There is no relationship building with classroom teachers.

I realize i am processing by selection. But I need to know if i have offered a world of opened senses...not a world of closed doors. I can not offer a classroom with children of different countries or socio-levels. I have what is only before me. I need time to think, to rearrange. When i plan for a week's lessons at 11pm the evening before; i am closed to the possibilities.

I need time. Time to figure what my first move will be on getting out of that spot.

Almost Spring

Today is Daybook time and the four of us find ourselves sitting in this sun-soaked room; knees propped up on couches; little heads bopping in rhythm to the music, writing about whatever occurs at the moment.

I am trying to get my head on straight with so many things going on....little things that are hidden in details and often forgettable. Writing lists only helps if one remembers to check the list, or remembers to put the list in a prominent place. As much as i try to plan my life ahead of the waves, i am forever just barely making it over before it all comes crashing in. I think my life revolves around the 24 hours prior. Ideas, schedules, agendas begin a fabulous genesis in my mind with great advancement. If i were in charge of writing the 66 books of the bible, the beginning would be unparalleled to anything read before. There would be little mentioned in the middle and the book of Revelation would simply say, "Well, there ya go!"

Daybook time is just about over and then we will move on to reading The Winter of Red Snow - the Revolutionary War Diary of Abigail Jane Stewart. From there, we will move onto the poetry and biography of Phyllis Wheatley. The African American Slave who was well known for her poetry during the Revolutionary War period. The kids have to memorize one of her poems this week.

Talk to you soon.

Daybook TIme

I sit in this sunny corner of my room. Simon has once again been assigned the music and we are listening to B-52s - PLANET CLAIRE. It is hard not to bop around while typing. We are beginning an official week of school. the last two weeks have been rather sporadic with field trips, family matters and a trip out to California. So, the four of us ist in this sound filled environment, writing away.

We continue on our study of the Revolutionary War. I am trying to figure out where i can stop - but there is so much intriguing information. I would like to be done by late spring so that we may begin the Civil War. But I also have the War of 1812 to squeeze in. As I think out loud, i think that one year (such as this year) we will concentrate on American Wars and the following we will concentrate on explorers and inventors - within the same time frame. There is a world awaiting for us with Lewis and Clark.

All three seem to be committed to working through a home school environment for another year. When I tell my husband this, he supports the idea; but if i told him that i am taking the kids back to school and i will be going backto teaching, he would support that as well - as well as the idea of me playing tennis and eating ice cream every day.

One of my favorite B-52 songs is coming on. I need to gel and listen.

"Roll it over it your mind. Why don't you dance with me; i'm not no linberger. Why don't dance with me...i'm not no linberger. Just a linberger. Just a linberger. Dance this mess around. Dance this mess around. Everybody goes to parties, they dance this messa round. They do all 16 dances. They do the cookaloo - they do the shy tuna. They do the camel walk. They do the hypocrit. Hippy hippy boy hippy hippy shake." Okay, enough of that.