Friday, August 20, 2010
FIAR: Ending the first week
I spent a little of the baby-nap time this morning rearranging the kitchen, and so this afternoon Linnea made me a few cups of tea and she also made us all toast, with spread. She's really very proud of her tea-making skills. We have a flask with a pump, so she can just put the mug under the spout, push the top, and almost-but-not-quite boiling water is released. I consider it safe enough for her and so does she, so that's a win all round. I am pleased with the wooden tongs for getting toast out, too. I suspect they'll really come into their own for bagels.
Then we watched the video of someone else reading Storm in the Night again, and after dinner they watched the Magic School Bus episode about a thunderstorm.
They are looking forward to a new book next week. But I very much doubt I'll write about it daily; I'd bore myself silly. I found it an interesting exercise for this week, though.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
FIAR, second-last day of first week
We read the story first, then finished the oil paintings from yesterday, which was nice. We looked at all the high-contrast bits in the book (that took a while) and the children had the opportunity to consider how yesterday's crayons, the oil paint over two days, and today's regular poster paints were all different to use and gave different effects.
A lot of the bathroom ended up blue.
Also, we listened to the story being read in a genuine American-South accent (not to be confused with South American; I'm really not sure what the best way to describe it is from outside America; within north America I think people just say Southern), and read a bit about the south of the USA and the slightly further north bit where the reader was actually sitting at the time of recording.
This led, again, to explaining slavery to Linnea; it first arose because I was in the kitchen, bending down to take things out of the dishwasher, then standing up and turning around to put them away, then bending down again quickly. Naturally, I sang "Jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton," and equally naturally Linnea asked for more information about the song, and of course I never know when to stop so she got a potted history of colonisation and slavery.
"People owned people? Like parents own children?"
That was kind of disturbing. We got it sorted out though.
Today's explanation of what "slavery" is almost made her cry. It made Emer go away pointedly and do something else. Then they both came back to look at the photos in the book of black Americans holding protest signs during Civil Rights Movement protests. I didn't explain segregation in any detail. White people didn't want black people to be allowed to do the things white people could.
"Why?"
That's a tough one. I'm not sure how I handled it.
From yesterday's DW/LJ entry, too:
[Wednesday], at lunchtime, between mouthfuls of sardines and sweetcorn in tomato sauce (don't ask me, I just work here), my fresh-faced and innocent (more or less) six-year-old gazed idly around the room and her eye was caught by a map on the wall, drawn by a friend of ours.
She said, "Hey Mum, why is a bit of Ireland part of England?"
I opened and closed my mouth a few times. Then I stalled - "Do you mean why is part of Ireland part of the United Kingdom?" - and finally I (stammering) said "Well, for a long time, the government of England was in charge of ALL of Ireland, but the Irish people didn't like that much. So before your Nana was born, when my Nana was a little girl, the Irish government and the English government agreed that Irish people would be in charge of most of Ireland, and the English government would be in charge of just that little bit."
Then I thought about the Omagh bombing, which I think about every year now, because it was exactly eight years before Emer's birth day. I got to choose Emer's birth date, as some of you may know, because that's the nature of a scheduled caesarian section. I decided, when choosing it, that there were no benign dates...
But still, sometimes I wish there were.
So I guess we've covered Politics, Geography, Art, Relationships, touched on a bit of World History, Science-and-nature-Weather (I knew the clouds poster we got in a stack of old Guardian pullouts would be useful one day), and Music. Oh, and Music crossed with Science because we had a long talk about why the thunder-maker made different sounds when you held it differently, and introduced the concept of sound-waves, though I'm not convinced they believed in them.
It feels kind of strange to work out what subjects these things cover. We usually just do interesting-to-us stuff and have interesting-to-us conversations. This more structured approach, even though I'm being very loose or possibly even slack with the structure, may well be changing how I think about it.
I might work out what we cover with a regular family mealtime one day, rather than with a pre-planned curriculum-extract. Just to compare. I have an idea they'll be pretty similar.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
FIAR, sorta
What we didn't do today was to read all the words, because they weren't desperate to hear them, and it was somewhat frantic.
And now I'm going to look up tomorrow's ideas, and next week's book so I can make a list of things to hunt up in the library. I feel sooooo behindhand and rushed, but we're having fun, so that's what counts, I think!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
FIAR again, eventually
Turned out he needed to be at home and be able to WORK from home. Ah, then. That's a bit different. So he came home and we all had lunch, and then the three children and I went out. First we dropped some books off at the charity shop, and I had a look for any books they might have about North America or African Americans or anyone black in America but the stuff involving or about black people was all about immigrants to the UK as far as I could see. Which is also interesting, but not totally topical. I got some books about the Large family anyway, and a Michael Moore for myself.
Then we went to the library, and they had very very little too - a book on slavery which is probably more than either of my two girls can handle, and some Brer Rabbit stories, but I'm pretty sure Brer Rabbit isn't - oh, language is funny, I was about to say isn't kosher, but I mean isn't authentic - so I shall have to look that up. However, since I was specifically looking for books with black people on the cover, I found a bunch of lovely ones which we'll read anyway. My friend L was there and she did something for Black History Month a while ago about the slave trade, and had 11-year-olds role-playing and stuff, but she figured it might just plain be too much to tackle for my children.
Then we went to the True Food market, and re-met what was a very important part of our community until I stopped being able to go. It was wonderful. We might seriously cut down on supermarkets if we can keep this up.
And then we came home and while Rob heated up the lasagne I read Storm in the Night again and afterwards we three talked briefly about people who love other people, and why, and how they show it. Of course, during the reading we talked about all sorts of other things, including clock chimes (I must find out why clocks chime the hour with that semi-standard little tune; I'm sure Wikipedia can tell me) and what a powercut is.
It's interesting to me how they are responding to not-really-child-led-learning. Obviously it's still consensual but it's externally driven. I think it's gentle enough that both of them will like it; there's a lot of scope for them to choose what they want to do. And the idea of reading the book and then doing something about it isn't all new.
I might see if any of the "Negro spiritual" songs I know are not fake. I bet a lot of the popular ones are really dubiously sourced.
Heh. I might have to explain about the Bible if we do Joshua and the battle of Jericho.
Monday, August 16, 2010
That'll Larn 'Em
You see, there was a birthday at the weekend, and one of the gifts was a Thunder Maker and the first book was called Storm in the Night and the day before the birthday party we had had a thunderstorm which the children were actually OUT in...
And then when they woke up today we were all in the garden and Linnea said "Can we have homeschool in the garden?" and I said "Of course," and she said "The best thing about HOME school is that you can tell the teacher what you want to learn, I think." Then she skipped off and did whatever it was she wanted to do. I wasn't called upon to be a teacher at all.
I did really really want to get laundry done, though, and then we had lunch, and then we popped off with a family of friends to the community gardens again, and then we came home, and I read the book while feeding the baby, and the children opened our new delivery of extremely fancy marker pens, and so we decided to do some of the Art exercises, and actually did one of them - facial expressions. They mainly enjoyed using the Thunder Maker every time thunder rolled in the book, and working out where to hold the Thunder Maker to make the thunder louder or quieter (the further from the spring you hold it, the louder the noise gets, because your fingers don't stop it so soon).
I think as the week wears on we will get more out of the book, not least because a fair bit of the very American language had to be translated, but that too will get easier - they have as yet been exposed to very little in the way of "faucet" for tap and so on. It's nice to be reading extremely British stuff like Joan Aiken (we've started reading one about Arabel's Raven alongside very American-flavoured ones. I must have a look to see what else I have; I know that when I was little I had a mix of Irish, British and Canadian or American stories, so they must be knocking around somewhere. We also had translations of various Astrid Lindgrens, but those are ubiquitous, I think.
The main difficulty will be keeping the elder girl in check to give the younger one a chance to join in fully. But we'll figure something diplomatic out, I think.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
It's like Christmas!
We have a new art book which I read a recommendation for somewhere in the home ed blogosphere, and a new atlas because Linnea really wanted an atlas and my old school one is out of date and the huge Times one isn't a handy paperback, and I've just remembered that the other day we got a solar system poster, and today we got a wooden toast tongs so that the children can make their own toast, and also the Five In A Row storybook-based curriculum pack arrived, with a squillion lovely books which I wanted ANYWAY and a book to help guide me through what to do with them. I fully expect Emer to enter into the project with enthusiasm and Linnea to partake as long as I don't either ask her to or forbid her to. Also, I think I will enjoy it.
(And I got an invoice from http://www.schoolsurplus.co.uk/ for something I paid for in full on 1st July, so I've sent them an email. Hmph.)
And this evening Emer topped and tailed the celery and chopped it into bits, and Linnea topped and tailed the carrots and then I chopped them up while she wrote the shopping list for Rob - I started remembering things for her to write down while I was chopping, so I just asked her to write it, and she did.
I found it an interesting exercise, and the writing was clear enough for Rob to bring the list and use it, without transcribing first. This is not always true of his own handwriting.
I may get around to scanning and uploading it, in fact. I found it ve-ry in-ter-est-ing. Given the usual reluctance to share her abilities, and all.
Anyway, we had a nice time looking at the different kinds of maps in the new atlas and ended up talking about population distributions and energy sources. Which naturally enough reminded me of Twitter's mentions of this Daily Mail map (WARNING: links to the actual Daily Mail website, so they get advertising revenue when you click on it; I believe there's a website to avoid this somewhere but can never remember where) which made me want to go and watch this Dan and Dan video again.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Gender theory
"Of course you're not in school NOW," said the Health Visitor, "you're on holidays!"
"No," said Linnea, unhelpfully, and a little crossly.
"We're GIRLS," said Emer. She's working on a theory that boys have to go to school, because most of the boys we see most often do, but girls don't. It's a good theory, and very logical, but her premises are flawed.
I decided to rescue the poor HV. "They're home ed," I said, "and Emer has been thinking a lot about gender."
"Yes," said Emer. "I hab a bulba."
"A?" said the Health Visitor.
"A BULBA," Emer said. Well, shouted. Clearly and distinctly. "Astrid hab a bulba TOO."
I translated; "A vulva."
"And THAT's why we're GIRLS," said Emer, triumphantly.
She started listing everyone who has a bulba. Emer, Linnea, Astrid.
The Health Visitor recovered from the shock and joined in, somewhere between willingly and desperately. "And Mummy!" she said. "Mummy has one too and she's a girl!"
"No!" said Emer. "Mummy's a WOMAN."
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Teachable child
But my
I was really really struck by this the other day. My middle child, who is almost four, had a few bits of Lego and my top fave bit of Lego kit, the taker-aparterer. But one 8x2 standard-height brick had an 8x2 flat bit on top of it, and she couldn't separate them. She asked me to help, and I did. Then came the bit that struck me.
I said, "Here you go - shall I show you what I did?"
And she said (this was the first part I noticed), "Yeah."
And I said, "Look - you were pulling them apart the long way, and the top one bent in the middle but didn't come away. I put this thing on the other side, and pulled them apart the short way."
And she said "Ohh! I see!"
It was really quite something, at least for me.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Another beginning
Before we had her, though, we had a summertime, which I have conveniently summarised in photographic form. I was confined to the house for 6 weeks of prodromal labour, after having been confined to the house by SPD, but we had a good time anyway.
Another new beginning, of course, is that now that I am freshly active and back to my able-bodied status, we can go back to the usual round of things we like to do - library trips, museum visits, maybe art galleries, possibly slightly further afield also - and of course the local home ed groups, if we can manage those, too.
And I've decided, after thinking about things for a bit, that I'm going to get a curriculum for my four-year-old. She is not the same as the six-year-old at all, and where externally imposed guidance grinds one child to a halt, it seems to give the other one a bit of zing and bounce.
I've decided on Five In A Row for a number of reasons. It was easy to get hold of, the books are lovely even if we abandon the curriculum itself untasted, and it seems like it will be easy to sell on if it doesn't suit us. Also, I've been following the adventures of the Tinderbox family and it seems like I would enjoy teaching from the FIAR curriculum, which you must admit is an important factor if I'm not to bore the child to tearful rebellion or, worse, apathy.
There are a number of other things I'd like to get regularly involved in. Both children are signed up for swimming lessons again, this time on the same day which should help Emer a good deal. There's a regular ice-skating group in Oxford, which we could probably get to every other week if not every week. There's the usual Friday at ERAPA thing, which I would like to get to more often than we have managed it for the past two years (I can't believe I've started going just over four years ago, that seems ludicrous). And of course Rob is now working right next to the museums in London and day-trips there are more appealing than ever.
I'm a little leery of taking on too much at once, but it's nice to feel so enthusiastic. Though it could be just newborn hormones.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Early Reading
And so when I had a child who was clearly bright but not obviously an early reader, I got very confused. She reached three without obviously reading and I was slightly worried. She reached four, and I was distinctly disconcerted. She reached five and I spent a lot f time persuading myself that it was ok if she wasn't an early reader.
Now she's six, and still not obviously a reader.
I'm not totally comfortable with it, and I don't pretend I am. I know that for at least three years she has been learning to read, in various ways - there were early word-recognitions and mispronunciations which she couldn't have arrived at any other way. A friend overheard her reading a book to herself. She read large parts of a book aloud to another friend. She knew things she couldn't have learned without reading.
And from time to time it has been obvious that she's working on word-recognition (see-and-say, whatever you call it) and at other times that she's trying to figure out phonics.
She really really liked the Peter And Jane learning to read books, as far as we can tell precisely because the stories are not the point, practicing is the point. She doesn't like practicing her reading on decent stories. She hasn't read me a Peter and Jane book for ages, though, and has been playing phonics games on the computer (instead?) and keeping very private about the whole affair.
She has asked me to find her illustrated Learning To Write books where she can fill in the words of a pre-written and ready-illustrated story, like the Peter and Jane ones but more interesting.
I remind myself that although I was reading adult novels starting about 4 months older than she is now, my own mother taught herself to read aged seven, while ill in bed looking at a packet of ASPRO on the mantelpiece.
I find it pretty confusing, nonetheless.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
It's been a long few weeks
Linnea's first term of swimming lessons since the ones that stopped her swimming is almost over. She started lessons shortly after turning 3, because she could swim, but at that age they are sorted by age, not ability, so she rapidly lost interest and with it skill, and we left it for a couple of years. But now she's in with the five- and six-year-olds and has done a term of Level One, so can move up to Level Two in September. Apparently she's very good and the rest of the class were called upon to observe her backstroke the other day.
Emer will start in Level One in September and we shall see how that goes. She claims to be looking forward to it.
Linnea wants more Learning To Write books, like the Peter and Jane ones but with better stories - she likes the size and the illustrations but not, unsurprisingly, the plots. She still likes those minimal plots for Learning To Read though. Meanwhile she's working through her workbooks, allowing herself to do one thing from each page on each day, apparently.
Emer and Linnea have both been doing a ton of phonics and maths games on their laptop.
And we've been growing things, except when we've been killing them by accidentally or purposely bashing them to the ground with footballs or whatever.
Oh - the other thing we did lately was haul out my loom and have a bit of a go on that. It's interesting to see how it works but neither of them has anything they hugely want to create with it yet.
And we bought a pocket microscope which is incredibly useful.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Reading: The Rules
Mum is not allowed to read stories, but is allowed to make them up (as long as she gets it right) because getting stories out of books when you COULD get them out of your HEAD is cheating. This is probably karmic revenge for my own childhood.
No-one is allowed to notice that quite a lot of the time someone is reading her OWN stories to HERSELF unless she's reading books from the These Are For Learning To Read And It's OK To Get It Wrong category, and then only sometimes.
Writing is completely impossible except when it's easy.
If any of the rules are broken, the entire alphabet can be forgotten overnight. Don't push your luck, parents.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Bits of this, bits of that
Oh, and the structure of the planet.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Back to bed
Emer, meanwhile, is buzzing around the house tidying up, painting, making phonecalls, doing laundry, and other important life-enhancing things.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
This and that
In brighter news, we have a wireless printer which works sometimes. Sadly, because of childproofing the wireless router, it's stored on top of a wardrobe and I almost came a cropper trying to reboot it today, so we shall have to figure something else out soon. I love being able to print things out whenever I want, though, so I am determined to get it sorted.
And we recently got a copy of The Cat in Numberland and both children enjoyed it so much, as a bedtime story, that as soon as it was finished they asked for it again, immediately. I haven't been privileged to partake of most of the readings, because bedtime is a Daddy thing, but I heard three chapters at various times and they seemed excellent to me. Emer is "just" following the story and Linnea is delighted with More Stuff About Infinity (and also, incidentally, spent three days unable to count past ten, for her own reasons).
We absolutely have to get Linnea to the Science Museum as soon as I can handle a trip of that magnitude. I should look up whether one can borrow a wheelchair while there, actually, as one can at Kew.
She got a copy of Roald Dahl's The Magic Finger and won't let us read it aloud to her yet. She is "looking at the pictures, leave me alone" by herself, first.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Gender conformity
She considered wearing dresses all the time, but decided she would get cold and sometimes not be able to climb things, which wouldn't work for her. And of course if she waits until puberty, her new body shape will probably mean no-one thinks she's a boy even if her hair is shorter than mine.
Meanwhile, she might settle for a very very short bob, much shorter than she has now.
I'm not totally clear on why it's so important to her, but I do remember my little sister having a gorgeous feminine pixie cut (because her face was so finely structured that my mother couldn't resist the aesthetic appeal of it), and lots of people thought she was a boy and it upset her hugely. I never had short hair until after my second baby was born, so I can't really compare my own experiences, but I don't think I'd have minded being mistaken for a boy so much.
It's her head, and her gender-identity, so I'm staying as far out of it as I can; she wants two things which she isn't sure she can have at once, and will have to decide.
Being six may not be as easy as she'd hoped.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Accepting the concept of Death
Because my eldest child, who is almost six, has fully and completely grasped the implications of DEATH. It is unacceptable to her, and she insists that humanity figure out a way to solve the problem - and she has also latched on to the problem of a population without death, which can easily be solved with interplanetary colonisation, you see.
But under all the talk of space, which we are partially doing because we as adults find it easier to cope with than addressing her actual fears, because we are cowards, there is the basic horror of death.
And I don't know what to tell her. Because she knows what death is, and doesn't accept it.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Why home educate?
Short answers: I think it's a good idea. I think it's the best thing for my children. It's interesting. Everyone seems to like it. I don't think school (the only realistic alternative) would be good for my children right now.
Longer answers: When I was six I spent a lot of time very confused and unhappy about the fact that school kept us all in same-age groups, more or less, doing much the same things at very similar levels, in large groups, with almost no unsupervised or unstructured time. Also, I was bored silly. I asked my mother for an explanation and she wasn't able to give one which was acceptable to me, though eventually she agreed that once school was over I was unlikely to find myself in such a situation again, because offices, laboratories, factories,and most other workplaces are pretty mixed both in age and in activity, so I just had to get through school. Things were easier after that.
I spent some time in a school with mixed-age classrooms, a one- or two-teacher school, and that was less alienating and made it much easier to learn things, but still not quite right. The large large groups thing was probably part of it.
When I was about eight I met a home-educated child who had her very own donkey to ride around on. Her name was, I think, Sophia, and she was American, or her mother was, and we played a lot together for a while. She taught me to scramble eggs and make chamomile tea from fresh flowers, and had her very own donkey. Which was hers. So jealous.
I don't think I thought much about home education after that for a few years, but my mother periodically mentioned Máire Mullarney approvingly and assured me that school was not the pinnacle and highlight of my life and that if I waited it out things woudl get better, which they did, which was a relief.
Then later on I was planning babies and buying a house with my partner, and we were pleased to find an area with LOTS of schools to choose from.
But gradually, as I thought of it more and more, and the first baby was actually born, I liked the idea (of automatically sending them to school and hoping to continually firefight problems as they arose, through joining groups and committees and talking to teachers and principals and changing schools as necessary) less and less. I found various people living in my computer and read a lot. And decided that since what we were doing right now seemed to work, I'd change my default - instead of the default option being to change everything, from who we socialised with to what time we got up in the morning to what we did all day, the default is now to keep calm and carry on as normal, with the option of doing something else if that seems like a better idea at any point.
Linnea does best in a totally unstructured, unpressured environment where she can do things at exactly her own pace as and when she pleases - or a totally new environment with totally new adults. At least, she has until now, but she's only just five and a half, so things will change, I'm sure. Emer is a bit easier to handle, because she can take suggestion and instruction even from adults she actually knows. And she doesn't mind being praised half as much.
I like being able to accommodate their ever-changing physical needs. Children need more sleep, or less sleep, or more rest, or more running around, in hugely varying amounts from day to day, depending on the weather or what they're learning or whatever. I like not having to get anyone out into the rain in the dark to walk to school in the middle of winter. I like their ability to just do things, without any adults interfering or knowing what they're doing, and suddenly they appear with Something Finished, sometimes even with evidence, happy with what they've achieved.
I like that their friends are aged 1 year to 8 years old, if you don't count their grown-up friends. I like it when they teach grown-ups things.
It's hard to know what they like or dislike because they are young enough that their personal basis for comparison is meaninglessly small. But they are happy.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Plants!
I never thought I'd manage to grow anything at all; all my pre-child attempts ended in brown, crispy failure with moldy compost at the base. But so far we're doing quite well:
These are the tomatoes we planted a while ago; they are growing all the time! We had a go at separating one pot into three little pots, which might have worked better without the children's help, but what's the point of that? You can also see the edge of the shop-bought chives and my basil, which seems to be growing from seed just like the seed-packet said it would.
This is the avocado we started from seed last year sometime. We thought it had died, over the winter, but moved it from the dark kitchen windowsill to the front room where everything else is, and it's putting forth new growth just as though it didn't intend to crumble. The hardest part is not overwatering it, now, I think.
And these are outside - they are probably the radishes Linnea planted, but I don't know for sure, because I've never grown radishes that I can remember.
I'm pretty sure these are hyacinths. We didn't plant them, but they have obligingly come up anyway, and make us believe it might be Spring. Maybe.
And I will never get the hang of Blogger's image stuff, but I will also never get the motivation to figure out a useful alternative. I kind of miss having our own server and writing my own blogging software. But we don't have that kind of free time any more...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
OK, I listened to the radio this morning, I couldn't help it.
Of the entire UK population, 0.2% of children are known to Social Services.
Within that entire UK population, there are all the Elective Home Educating families, of whom 50% are known to the authorities as Elective Home Educating Families and 50% are not known.
Of the 50% of EHE children who are known to the authorities, 0.4% are known to Social Services.
Of the 50% of EHE children who are NOT known to the authorities, none are known to Social Services (because any who ARE known to Social Services are automatically added to the list of children known to the authorities, ie the first group of 50%).
Therefore, of the entire population of EHE children, 0.2% are known to Social Services, just like everyone else.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Making Art
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday
Oh, and they ate a lot of chives, because the pot is on the table they use for sums and things.
The trouble is, I've forgotten what else they've done. Some CBeebies website stuff. Some drawing and colouring. Paint-mixing. Tidying up and bedmaking. Making stuff from cardboard boxes.
Is there a way to remember everything they do in a day? Assuming I have a way of figuring out WHAT they are doing? Fairly often at least one of them is doing something I don't know about.
Though sometimes I find out later, I suppose. With squidge.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Reading progress
It really needs an illustration to give the full effect. For the first time, Peter and Jane show some normal human traits. Yay.
(Halfway through book 2a, which we have read one word at a time previously, but apparently not read for content).
Emer is starting to think about learning to read and write. She asks me to spell things and tries to write them down, but needs some reminders of some of the letters. I need to find the camera and its cable so I can photograph the post-it note on which she wrote my name today (so that I can have a tick-chart; unlike Linnea, Emer ADORES tick charts and wants one for every event in her life. This is going to make my life so much easier; hurrah for bribery and the reward system!).
They need to get over their love of anatomy, though, because they're frightening other children by forcibly showing them books with lots of diagrams of internal organs and skellingtons and the nervous system and so on. Uhoh.
And Emer is a little confused about the unborn baby's relationship with food. It prevents me from eating as much as I used to at a sitting, so perhaps the baby is feeding me through the special tube in its bellybutton? I assume she will eventually accept that this is not actually true, but I couldn't persuade her today.
Friday, March 05, 2010
But what about me?!
But actually, I'd rather go out a bit more than we do, for my own amusement. If only they enjoyed being DRESSED a bit more. At the moment they can stymie me by just stripping off and refusing to get dressed again; in summer I could walk out the front door anyway, but in this weather it's not really plausible!
Roll on Spring.
(The tomato sprouts are up to an INCH high now, I'm shocked. The children are kind of pleased their plants are higher than my plants. But they don't want to put shoes on and check outside to see how the radishes are doing).
And I'm also thrilled that Emer has decided she wants to learn to read. I have no idea whether she IS learning to read, or just to recite, but she's enjoying whatever it is she's doing, and I doubt it's harming her. It's very cute and a lot of fun.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Green fingers, black fingernails
We shall see. The children do seem to enjoy the dirt and sowing parts.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Clutter, chaos, binning and binding
This is relevant today because they both drew lovely diagrams on a little human figure outline I got ages ago when one of them wanted to draw clothing. Emer did a mouth, a line to show where food goes, a tummy, and a HUGE STRIPE to indicate ENORMOUS RAPID GROWTH, which is what happens when you eat food, you see. Possibly this is only cute if you are her mother, I dunno. Linnea did nose, and lungs. Not sure why. Anyway, there's those, and the amazing map Linnea did a while ago as part of her passport, and also some completed maths worksheets (though Linnea has also recently taken to doing them in her exercise book (I always want to say copybook) and also she ticks the answers off herself, no longer needing me to do that bit). So there's a little stack of Demonstrable Learning Stuff type stuff and if I don't put it somewhere I'll lose it.
Perhaps I should go into the attic and dig around up there, see what I find.
Also, the crank-operated pencil sharpener works brilliantly as far as the children are concerned, and if we could only stop smashing the sellotape dispenser that would too. It's really, really heavy, but the axle is prone to breaking. Oh - and hole punches are addictive. I had forgotten that, but of course I remember now... Not as addictive as the feeling of cutting one's own hair with nailscissors, though, as far as I recall. The scissors are still mainly out of unsupervised reach.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Sex Education (Because it's quite separate)
What I am thinking of is the way sexual and reproductive education is separated out from the rest of health and anatomy education, which I think is a Bad Idea(tm). A while ago my children specifically wanted to find out more about Where Babies Come From, so I had a look - we already had Grey's Anatomy and some written specifically for very young children, but that wasn't what they had in mind. So I looked in all the local shops and failed miserably. I also failed at the library. I found lots of books about the body but they all just glossed over the whole Dirty In Yer Pants Bit.
In the end, a friend sent us a copy of a text used in Irish primary schools, funded not by the Irish education system but by the Crisis Pregnancy Agency; in general, school texts aren't state-funded in that system anyway. The PDF is here. We really likde it - the drawings were clear, the text was unambiguous and not in the least coy, it was very matter of fact and normal.
Then recently they wanted some books about the body in general. Those were easier to find, and I asked for recommendations, and bought two Usborne books in the end - See Inside Your Body and First Encyclopaedia of the Human Body. The first book is aimed at younger children and has no reference to reproduction at all. The second book shows the female internal reproductive organs and a really nice ultrasound of a uterus with a fetus in it. Neither book has even a hint of a smidge of a genital - you know, the bit children can actually see on their own bodies and wonder which bits are what about.
My own children went through phases - we have diagrams of eyeballs on the wall by the stairs, had huge drawings of poo and teeth with wiggly tubes between them, etc. All that is normal. But it's still unusual (not, I would say, abnormal!) that they spend twenty minutes or more contemplating the diagram of their genitals in the Busy Bodies book and some visitors are embarrassed to read it to them when asked -- for the elderly embarrassed I've started asking the children not to ask them.
I can't help wondering what damage it does as a whole society, this othering of a huge part of our bodies and our lives. Though perhaps something's working, since the UK's teenage pregnancy rate is apparently down almost 4%.
School Start Dates
She's not legally obliged to until 5 years 2 weeks, of course.
I've been avoiding reading a lot of the politics and recent revelations about how badly the current system is failing very young children, because it doesn't affect me, but today I happened to see a few articles about it (while my children were busy being first Real Mammoths, then Kittens, and at one point Mothers, which involved a lot of dancing and singing) and I realised that among other things, I am comparing my success as a home educating parent against my academic achievements at [a given child's age]. This is totally unreasonable, because neither of my children are me. Though uncannily like in short-tempered moments, perhaps. But definitely not me, nonetheless.
And so in real life, it's quite likely that they are no better and no worse at whatever it is that gets measured than the children who have been in school all this time. Certainly when their school-friends meet up and they compare abilities I haven't noticed my children losing any My Talent's Bigger Than Your Talent competitions. And they are world-class Real Furry Mammoths.
Perhaps I can, now that the house is tidier again, take some deep breaths, write up a report or two for my own comfort and convenience ("For your own comfort and convenience please do not sit on the grass," etc) and maybe get a couple of folders to store their work or copies thereof. And then I can go back to normal again and do the stuff we want to do. We have a lot of cash register roll to colour in, when I find somewhere selling it one roll at a time.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Cowardy custard
Luckily this coincides with a newfound willingness on the part of the school-age child to do work which is recognisably work. And a sudden interest in tick-lists and sticker charts.
But I don't want to get into the fight. I am very conscious that if we are inspected and found wanting, I have very little formal education of my own to wave at people - just a (readily accessible to the relevant authorities) history of mental illness and dysfunctional family. The website actually claims that there are studies and research showing that children not in school are at greater risk of abuse, so presumably they are working from the Badman recommendations, which is where that information lurks (unless there ARE such studies? anyone?) and advises people on what signs to look for and how to anonymously report someone for not having their children in school.
I wish I had the kind of background that made me confident I could just speak my piece about my motivations and abilities and my children's well-being and best interests clearly and be actually heard, but I don't. I'm not in a very low position here, but I'm not in as strong a position as a lot of people I know, and I'm conscious of that.
So I'm record-keeping, instead. Which isn't something I wanted to feel obliged to do.
Yay, fear.
Still, so far I don't think the children are wise to me...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Home School Table
However, it's also where they like to do maths worksheets and dot-to-dots and puzzles and drawing. The light is much better than in the dining room. So I have a little basket of stuff nearby, to make it all easier. The current Peter and Jane books, some folders of worksheets of various kinds, some exercise books, workbooks. If they sit down to do it at all, Linnea does it for between one and two hours, which seems like rather a lot to me. I may be biased.
Linnea has been reading far fewer pages-with-new-words and putting a lot more into reading with inflection and expression. Today for the first time she managed to read three pages (um, something like 15 words a page, at a guess) without needing to repeat herself at all; she was happy that she'd got the sense right first go.
I, speaking as the one who listened to many many repeats of every-bloody-thing the other day, was delighted.
Also, she's going back to the parts of old maths worksheets she found "boring" and doing them, for whatever reason. That's good too. I like whole pages to be filled before I throw them away. In fact, I'm running low on good websites for worksheets and dot-to-dots and mazes and things. I may have to buy books of them instead.
Other recent highlights include "Mummy, let's play Banks!" wherein I had an account at a bank which would only accept deposits in square numbers and only allow withdrawals of funds already in my account, in bank-determined numbers, and Emer illustrating things from the Book of a Thousand Poems (oddly, although I have a ton of poetry and a ton of children's books, I have limited books of excellent children's poetry, and the excellent one I DO have has no illustrations at all, which may be an advantage).
I need to persuade the children that inside the house is both bad and boring, so that I can go to a big shop and buy stuff. We have a good pencil-sharpener now, but I still need a sellotape dispenser and some nice tape for it (for some reason we only have awful stickytape in the house at the moment, all yellow and inclined to shred) and big sheets of card to mount pictures on and things. I'd like a good look at some Usborne books too, body books and astronomy mainly.
Today's most difficult question was "Why does big shops opening mean little ones close? Tesco is the biggest supermarket we know," rapidly followed by "Can't the little shop owners all work in Tesco?" I'm open to further ideas on how I should have answered that.
Oh, and there's always "Why doesn't that word have E for Emer?" but the answer to that is "Because it's a pointless and inferior word, my dear, and you must disregard it."
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Reeling and writhing and fainting in coils
And Peter and Jane are lovely, but it doesn't matter how much inflection you use or where, they are not a fun read after the twentieth repeat. Unless you're five.
Friday, January 22, 2010
What do they know?
So I checked Emer's actual ability to count today, and she's got it - not recitation, but symbols representing quantities, adding one to get the next number, and so on. So that's ok. She is fuzzy on numbers greater than five - she used to be able to recite quite high, but I think linking them to concrete countable objects meant reciting didn't work any more.
Linnea still can't read but nonetheless read some Calvin and Hobbes aloud the other day. I'm finding it all incredibly frustrating, but my current tactic is to leave her to it, keep doing the Peter and Jane when she wants to, and let her watch her phonics DVDs as much as she likes.
Emer isn't much into writing or letters and Linnea has no current interest in numbers for their own sake. That's ok.
But sometimes I wish I had a performing seal or two in the family. I'd like, you know, an academic show-off. I'd know where I stood.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Picture!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Writing
once there was an ancient
tower it fell down
And she copied it out with lines to indicate word gaps and zig-zags to indicate "continued on the next line":
once|there|wAs|AN ∫
ANCieNt|towEr|it|fEll ∫
down
And she called Emer over to look at every E; Emer was very excited by them, it's very important when someone writes an E or an e.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Cutting out
Friday, October 16, 2009
Where I come from
So exciting!
I know someone who can read, oh, Linnea love!
Linnea has been wanting to be able to read (as distinct from wanting to learn to read) for some time. But nothing I did to help her seemed to help. Then I discovered the pleasant but unchallenging Peter and Jane ladybird books and she was much less reluctant. Now we are doing a little bit day by day and she is definitely getting it.
She feels badly when she can't do it, when she isn't completely certain that she knows a word. She whispers them, or says them without breath in her voice so the word is inaudible. But as she gains confidence, using these books where she doesn't care about the story or what the book actually has to say, she is delighted with herself.
It is also possible that my good opinion no longer counts for nothing, but I'm reserving judgment on that; that really would be a sea-change.
But my first born daughter has discovered that her ability to read is a skill she can hone and improve, and she's taking pride in it.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Freedom to learn
Ahahahahaha.
I am this close to eliminating it from our lives. Let me see how I feel when I've forgotten about the mud.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Basic Literacy
Enter "Peter and Jane."
I quite like Peter and Jane. They don't ask much, they have a fairish balance of usually-gendered activities, there's a black-skinned baby doll, they seem like real children.
But the books are boring. That's exactly what we need.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
James and the Giant Terrifying Nightmare
She was devastated, but didn't want me to stop. The protagonist's parents died when he was four (essential starting point for all children's literature, getting rid of the parents) and her face froze up a bit. Then the aunts were cruel to him and she cried. Eventually she couldn't speak or finish eating her banana and tears ran down her face and I had my arms around her as I read, but she didn't want me to stop and so I continued.
We reached the point where he's inside the peach and realises that he's now in the company of friends, and that's where we stopped.
Later, she asked, "It's not true, is it?"
She didn't mean the talking insects. She meant the cruelty.
Since then she has refused to let me read the book, even now all the scary parts are over and it's just the nice parts. She's very very thoughtful on the topic of aunts (she has five lovely aunts and a several very nice great-aunts too).
I'm going to suggest we all watch the DVD tomorrow, instead. It can't possibly be as scary as what happened inside her head when I read the book to her, and it might help reframe it all in a more digestible way, so that we can finish reading the book and move on.
Some children like Dr Who. She is afraid that he is lonely, and doesn't like to look at the monster masks in Waterstone's bookshop. Actual moments of peril just about finish her off.
And television violence upsets her, too.
I wonder sometimes whether I should try to desensitise her, but I don't think so, really; I think I should, at this stage, protect her. She does ok now with promises that the hero of the piece really will be ok in the end. But she hates seeing headlice washed down the plughole, because they might get lost in the dark down there.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Reading, writing and 'rithmetic
Maths
Following on from this post, the 1 2 3 5 4 thing sorted itself out pretty quickly (without intervention, incidentally). The synaesthesia receded in importance, and the Numberjacks mania played itself out. So, thankfully, did the bit with me writing out pages full of numbers for the Oyster to colour in. He occasionally does that himself these days. Sometimes he just does the multiples of 11, because he likes them. He went through a brief phase of writing out the times table (or as he put it, a row of "counting in ones", a row of "counting in twos", a row of "counting in threes", and so on), but that petered out fairly quickly. He knows most of the products up to around 100, I think.
He spent a week or two as an infinity denier. At first he decided that the highest number was called Niall (love that!), and that Niall plus 1 was 0. I think he now gets that you can never stop counting. He's interested in very large numbers. He likes billions and trillions and quadrillions and bazillions. I like the way that even though a bazillion doesn't exist, we can still make statements about it (e.g. it's even, it's a multiple of 10, it's a positive integer greater than a trillion, it's 1 followed by a multiple of 3 zeroes, and so on).
He knows that there are numbers between the integers, but we haven't really got into how that works yet.
He's reasonably solid on place value, as far as I can tell. Sometimes he writes out columns of numbers where column 1 is the numbers from 1 to 9, column 2 is 10 20 30 ... 90, column 3 is 100 200 300 ... 900, and so on. Sometimes we multiply numbers by 2 until we exhaust first his capacity, then mine (to do it without stopping to concentrate or write it down, I mean), then my calculator's (to display the result without resorting to scientific notation). He really likes asking me sums, or having a repeated joke such as "What's 55 plus 55 - is it tenty-ten? *giggle*"
Did you know that if x squared is y, then (x + 1) squared is y + 2x + 1? (For example, 6 squared is 36, and 7 squared is 36 + 12 + 1.) I didn't, until the Oyster got me doing squares in my head (while driving - not recommended!) up to 30 or so.
He has the hang of the number line, and can add and subtract small positive and negative numbers fairly easily, particularly if he has a number line in front of him. His mental arithmetic above 0 is pretty good. "What's 54 plus 35 ... is it 89?" he'll say, or "Is 88 plus 88 176?" Béar Eile (his special bear) turned 107 at the weekend, and he accurately added up the ages of all the humans in the house, then had a reasonable stab at calculating the difference between that number (75, for those following along at home) and 107.
Today's little nugget was when he was counting a page full of pictures, and he counted across the first row of twelve, began to count the second row, then checked himself and counted the number of rows instead. "Four twelves, what's that? Is it 48?"
He has some grasp of bases other than 10. When he was talking to Niall about them, he observed that for base 5, you only need the numbers 0 to 4 to write any number. When the Erisian was visiting, he taught the Oyster about binary - and showed him how to count to 31 on the fingers of one hand. I'm not sure how much of that stayed in, but he appeared to grasp it - and at least when he encounters it again it'll be familiar.
It was also while the Erisian was here that the Oyster asked, "Do all the twelve numbers do that thing where ... like, 1 plus 1 is 2, and 1 2 is 12; 2 plus 2 is 4, and 2 4 is 24?" Turns out they do, as long as you put the original number in the tens column and add it to whatever's there (e.g. 5 plus 5 is 10, and (5+1) 0 is 60; 6 plus 6 is 12, and (6 + 1) 2 is 72). Not sure how far up that goes. But we were very tickled that he'd noticed.
My parents got him a 1st class maths book as a present. He takes it out a couple of times a week and does a few pages of exercises. He's done them easily, so far, once I've read the instructions to him. Mostly, what confuses him is the part about being required to demonstrate how he's getting his answers. The first module dealt exclusively with addition of two numbers with an answer of 10 or less. A few pages later, there were sums with an answer of 11 or 12. Later still, the sums had answers of 13 or 14. He's now even done some where you add more than two numbers. He flipped to the middle of the book and found sums demonstrating place value with columns of dots, and sums to calculate how much change you'd have from 10 cents if you bought an item with a given price.
If he were in school, this would be the book for his third year. To me, this seems generally supportive of our hypothesis that being home-educated is unlikely to lead to academic disadvantage for our children. Actually, what I love about the Oyster's engagement with maths is that from my perspective, it seems that he's Doing Numbers in exactly the same way that he Did Trains a while ago, or Did Robin Hood earlier this year. He's following what fascinates him, in other words, which is the key idea. It's kind of thrilling to see it in action.
Books
There is rather less to say about books, other than that the Oyster is an enviably prolific author. He has written books about Robin Hood, books about dragons, books about trains, monsters, aliens, dinosaurs, knights, numbers. He has written books in A4 and A5 size (stapled by patient relatives, often with several stapled booklets taped together); he has written tiny little books in A7 size (painstakingly assembled by me - so far, a 100-pager and a 256-pager, with cardboard covers).
By "written", I mean that generally he draws the pictures first, then asks for the spellings to write the words (which often go in speech bubbles). Recently, he has been asking only for the words he doesn't know - he can do "the", "and", "of", "book", among others, without assistance. Also, I've adopted the strategy of writing out the phrase he wants on a scrap piece of paper for him to copy, which is less hair-tearingly tedious than calling out the letters in batches of three or four.
Before beginning to write, however, the srs bsns of putting the book together must be completed. Page numbers are very important. So are front and back covers, end-papers, and the contents page. Recently he started adding barcodes (complete with little numbers written along the top), prices, blurbs, and endorsement quotes. Some of his books have had an index.
Today's titles, as a snapshot: Elementary Trains (a present for K), Spaceman George (not sure that one went very far before being abandoned), a recipe book called Oisín's Food, and a two-part series: The Story of the Skull and Further Adventures of the Skull. These latter two were for the Boy Down the Road, who is ... ah ... very traditionally socialised, and likes weapons and fighting and horror-type stuff (but is nonetheless more or less a sweetheart). The Oyster fits his material to his readership, in other words, which I find very interesting.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
What made you choose Home Education, then?
I find it kind of hard to answer.
On some levels, home education is a default for me, it's the no-choice no-decision option, much like school is for most people (which school might be a decision, but not whether school). It started to make visceral sense to me when I was about six.
However, when we were looking for somewhere to live, somewhere with a wide choice of schools was important, and somewhere with fairly decent schools and similar institutions, too - not stellar, necessarily, because things change and anyway parental involvement matters more than the school's position on a league table, but ok. We didn't hunt for schools and then look for houses, but we dismissed houses which weren't within easy walking distance of schools.
Because along with assuming that home education would suit me and my family best, I also assumed that I'd have to send my children, when I had them, to school. Just because people have to.
But I don't! Aren't I lucky?
And why not school? I just really don't see that it would, at present, benefit my children in any way. I have a bunch of philosophical objections to the way school as a system is set up and run, but it's still obvious that that system does benefit many adults and children for a wide variety of reasons. Just I can't see a benefit to us yet, and the benefits of what we do are blazingly obvious to me.
I also think that one of my children would be, at this stage in her life, actually damaged by almost all the school set-ups I've seen, and certainly all the ones I've seen as economically available to us. That might change; I expect as she grows older her round peggishness will gradually grow to meet school's square holishness, such that she could fit in there ok even if it didn't benefit her.
I'm glad schools are there, for those as needs 'em, because one day that might include me and mine, and it certainly includes a lot of my nearest and dearest.
Sometimes I'd like to ask them why they chose school. But it's really really rude to do so, so I don't.
They ask me instead. That's not rude.
Ah well.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Monday, September 07, 2009
Bible Stories
But I think some familiarity with the stories would be a good idea. As a child I had access to a set of American books which were wonderful; they were published by Scholastic and each one had a simple illustrated bible story in it. There were a hundred or so, I think - books a few mm thick taking up a whole shelf. I wonder whether or how I could find such a thing now?
Time to plough through websites...
Friday, September 04, 2009
Maths, apparently
Linnea likes it except for not feeling confident to read the instructions unless she's alone, and not feeling confident to do the exercises unless I say "that looks right to me, what do you think?" a lot. On the other hand, it does mean she's letting me be involved in something, which is fabulous for me. And mainly she's working through things she finds very easy usually, but doing them slowly and self-critically, with an element of checking-her-work she hasn't usually shown me.
Along with a recent tendency to do things for reward, which she never used to accept, I wonder whether she's reached a stage where she's willing to perform a bit? I mean, willing to do things explicitly knowing there's praise or not-praise at the end of it? That's a big leap for her, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.
Meanwhile, she likes <, > and = very much but would like to introduce V and a sort of bar-less A for other values, like "kind of the same" and "not actually more but bigger anyway."
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Inner Life
And doesn't let me in.
She asks for a little - a very little - and then goes away after I've shown her how to count on her fingers and comes back casually doing multiplication months later, not having mentioned a number in the intervening period.
She swears she can't read but has been overheard doing so often and oft, though never by me. She doesn't do it when I'm around at all, except for pointing out the library's Archaeology dept. She has very rarely and occasionally allowed me to help her with phonics or letter-formation but still I find scraps of writing lying around and am left to glean what stage she's at from that.
And what do I do? I read around her, to her little sister. I leave alphabet friezes and cuisenaire rods lying around, and sometimes play with them with her. I ask her to sign cards and pictures and letters, and sometimes she also writes the recipients name on them. I call on her big-sister role to show the three-year-old things. For whom do I do these things? For myself, because not knowing what's going on in side her head terrifies and saddens me.
But I remember it. And recently she has been a little more forthcoming, perhaps, just a smidge. She talks about her pictures (I must photograph her recent elephant) and we had a little -at words chat this morning. She's been drawing mazes for her sister to solve; through their relationship I can see a lot of her inner life, really, I suppose.
But she's really a very private person. And an enthusiastic nudist. I'm often bewildered.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Sometimes child-led
"Aww, Mu-uuuum..."
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Numerical Oyster
The Oyster is learning to count to 100. He frequently wants the numbers from 1 to 100 written out on a page, with circles around them, so he can colour in the circles. He usually does each column in a single colour, and I think he's working out various patterns.
He does like to go 1 2 3 5 4, 10 20 30 50 40, and so on, mind you. But he acknowledges that this is a personal quirk, and that he's simply choosing different labels to apply to the relevant quantities.
Have I ever mentioned "flower-1"? It's a very handy concept: a shortcut number that encompasses everything from 101 to 2000. So if you use it you can quite easily count up to, say, 2004, the year of the Oyster's birth. It's written with a flower (including stem and vase) and the number 1.
He's apparently synaesthetic around numbers. For the record, so I can compare later and see if it changes: 0 - dark blue, 1 - red, 2 - yellow, 3 - green, 4 - dark blue, 5 - red, 6 - yellow, 7 - red, 8 - light blue, 9 - dark blue, 10 - pink, 11 - green, 12 - light blue.
This activity all reminds me very much of the bit in John Holt's How Children Fail (or was it in ...Learn? - my copies are lent so I can't check), where he sits in his classroom with a roll of receipt paper and starts writing down the numbers in order, and the kids are dancing around in excitement and calling each other over to look - "Here's 88! Here's 129! Look - he's going to write 300 next!" - the simple fact of numerical progression being a new and exciting idea to some of them.
I love this stuff.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
BDCSF Badman Review: Going Solo
If I believed that the solo interviews would be the best thing for any child, I would feel differently. I will do things which are very slightly harmful to my child for the sake of enormous greater good - like not attending playgroups when contagious, or getting vaccinations when my child is strong enough to withstand the illness should it arise, and so on. But I won't do things which are slightly harmful when there is no purpose to serve other than my personal convenience in avoiding a confrontation.
This is a fairly big deal for us - we're not boat-rockers, for all our activity in activist circles - but it's one of the few parental things where we are totally on the same page instinctively from the word go. And we've decided.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Buying Supplies
- and some for-adult-use pens of various sorts, including fine point dry-wipe markers -
- and sticks of glue for the children -
- and heavy coloured card (recycled?) for mounting artwork for domestic display -
- and I want it all delivered in an exciting parcel, so that I don't have to do actual shopping in a real shop with cranky, overheated children -
- where would you recommend? Bonus points for small, non-massive-international-chain style sources.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Two pictures
Monday, June 22, 2009
No, thank you
"Yes."
"The other children who are five are all learning to read and write, at school."
"I don't want to do that."
"OK. Let me know if you want to."
Her cousin in Sweden is also learning to read and write, because she is seven.
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