Archive for the ‘Methods of Home Education’ Category
The other day a neighbor asked me if we take a spring break. I laughed and said, “Yes—the whole spring!”
We’ve had such a pleasant time the last couple of months, immersing ourselves in some good books and other forms of study. Now the outdoors is beckoning, and our daily rhythms are shifting. Spring is calling us, urging us out of the house. We are a bunch of Mary Lennoxes, unable to resist the rustlings and chirpings, the spikes of green, the gypsy winds.
I keep finding cups of water on the counter with tiny blossoms floating like fairy lily pads: the first bluets and starry white chickweed flowers. Chickweed, so Jane tells me, is an edible plant and quite tasty. (“Like sugar snap pea pods, Mom.”) She has begged me not to uproot the vast patch of it that has taken over a stretch of our backyard mulch bed, just uphill from the strawberries. Another weed, a purple-flowered plant the children call “cow parsley,” is popping up all over the lawn, much to their delight: they suck the nectar from the itty bitty orchid-like blossoms and proclaim it better than the honeysuckle they’ll seek out later in the summer.
Jane, who had been binging on math during the past three weeks—such a Math-U-See enthusiast is she that she devoured half of her new Pre-Algebra book in a month’s time—seems to have shifted her attentions to botany. I find myself tripping over her tattered copy of All About Weeds everywhere I go, and upstairs, the microscope is much in demand for the viewing of leaf cross sections. An experiment involving scarlet runner beans has become the centerpiece on the kitchen table.
Our oregano and thyme are greening back up, and the foxglove is quite large already. Daffodils are in glorious bloom on the slope at the edge of the yard, but I don’t venture down that hill often; the walk back up wipes me out these days. Such is the ninth month of pregnancy.
A mourning dove is nesting above our front porch light. I can’t imagine how she tolerates the clamor, for this is the season of constant in-and-out. Red Virginia mud is every-where. (Please don’t look at my floors.) A great vat of mud has appeared in the backyard under the white pine, and someone painted the slide. This may account for the recent destruction of several pairs of pants.
My hyacinths bloomed yesterday, beating the forsythia for the first time. The crocuses and windflowers have been flaunting their sky colors for two weeks. It’s just about time to get our peas in the ground—our tradition is to plant them on St. Patrick’s Day.
So yes, we’re on spring break already, and it’ll last until summer.
This post is part of my series on Tidal Homeschooling.
Tags: homeschooling, homeschool, home education, unschooling, unschool, nature, nature study, spring
The Staunton News Leader is not the only Virginia newspaper to be confused about the home education legislation recently passed by both the state Senate and the House of Delegates; it is simply the most venomous in its criticism. Which makes it all the more laughable that the paper has its facts wrong:
What home-schooling advocates seek is to allow home-school teachers — who are generally parents, naturally — to qualify as teachers while possessing only a high school education.
Such a measure passed both houses of the General Assembly in 2004, only to be vetoed by former Gov. Mark Warner. This year, both the House of Delegates and the Senate have rubberstamped a similar bill and sent it on to Gov. Tim Kaine.
Actually, no. It is already legal for parents who have high school diplomas but not college degrees to homeschool their children in Virginia. This has, in fact, been legal for many years. What the new legislation would change is the range of options under which such parents may file their notice of intent to homeschool. Currently, they are limited to filing under two of the four options specified in the Virginia Home Instruction Statute (not counting the religious exemption, which falls under a different section of the law):
Any parent of any child who will have reached the fifth birthday on or before September 30 of any school year and who has not passed the eighteenth birthday may elect to provide home instruction in lieu of school attendance if he (i) holds a baccalaureate degree in any subject from an accredited institution of higher education; or (ii) is a teacher of qualifications prescribed by the Board of Education; or (iii) has enrolled the child or children in a correspondence course approved by the Superintendent of Public Instruction; or (iv) provides a program of study or curriculum which, in the judgment of the division superintendent, includes the standards of learning objectives adopted by the Board of Education for language arts and mathematics and provides evidence that the parent is able to provide an adequate education for the child.
Here, News Leader, the watchdogs at the Organization of Virginia Homeschoolers can clarify the proposed changes for you:
Under both HB 1340 and SB 499, parents with high school diplomas would be able to file a notice of intent to homeschool under option i of 22.1-254.1. At this time, most parents without baccalaureate degrees file under either option iii or option iv. HB 1340 and SB 499 would give parents without college degrees additional flexibility when complying with the home instruction statute.
HB 1340 is the House of Delegates’ version of the bill; SB 499 is the Senate’s. Both bills have been passed and are now awaiting Governor Kaine’s signature. The Staunton News Leader “strongly object[s] to the loosening of standards for Virginia’s home-schooled children.” Perhaps the paper’s editorial board ought to examine its own standards for accuracy. Any Virginia parent, whether in possession of a college degree or not, who homeschools his children must still meet standards of accountability:
C. The parent who elects to provide home instruction shall provide the division superintendent by August 1 following the school year in which the child has received home instruction with either (i) evidence that the child has attained a composite score in or above the fourth stanine on a battery of achievement tests which have been approved by the Board of Education for use in the public schools or (ii) an evaluation or assessment which, in the judgment of the division superintendent, indicates that the child is achieving an adequate level of educational growth and progress.
—Code of Virginia 22.1-254.1.C
Got that, News Leader? Homeschooled children whose parents do not possess a baccalaureate degree have been meeting the state’s accountability requirements with no problem for many years. The new legislation does not alter the “proof of progress” requirement in any way.
The News Leader sputters:
Why would a state with one of the strictest standards of accountability for public education — the Standards of Learning — want to give home-schooled students a pass? Why would a state groaning under the onerous demands of President Bush’s inflexible and unattainable No Child Left Behind Act allow such a dichotomy to exist at the home-school level while the legislature is attempting to strike a bargain with the federal government to get free of NCLB?
It just doesn’t make sense.
Something doesn’t make sense, that’s for sure. NCLB’s demands are so “onerous and unattainable” that the legislature is trying to get rid of them, but in the meantime the state should impose them upon more children? Not that NCLB or the SOLs have anything at all to do with the pending legislation to which the newspaper is objecting.
I might also point out that it is an insult to the merits of a public or private school education to suggest that earning a diploma in such an institution does not guarantee a graduate’s ability to understand and pass on the acquired knowledge that diploma theoretically represents.
The newspaper continues:
Home-schooling should be held to as high a standard as public education. While there are parents with only a high school diploma who possess enough intelligence and education obtained by non-traditional means to give their children a quality education, we cannot apply that standard to every parent who wishes to home-school their children.
Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Some parents who graduated from high school but not from college are qualified to teach their children because they have obtained further education by “non-traditional means,” but others, who presumably have not benefited from this “non-traditional” post-high-school education, cannot be held to the same standards of accountability as college-educated parents? The News Leader‘s flawed logic here is laughable. On the one hand, this article is clamoring for “higher standards” for homeschoolers; on the other hand, it is expressing a lack of confidence in the public schools by suggesting that a high-school education alone is inadequate.
Oh, and regarding the end of that last quote—
we cannot apply that standard to every parent who wishes to home-school their children.
—one wonders that the News Leader‘s editorial board members are not concerned about the failure of their own educations to provide an understanding of noun/pronoun agreement.
Tags: homeschooling, homeschool, home education, unschooling, unschool
Lynn of the cmason list very kindly posted this article, “The Work and Aims of the Parents’ Union School,” from a 1922 edition of The Parents’ Review, a publication that was sent to parents and teachers involved with the Charlotte Mason-founded PUS. It’s a fascinating and detailed look at a typical term’s curriculum.
I’ve been on another big Charlotte Mason reading jag lately. More on that later.
Meanwhile, don’t forget to check in on The Bookworm’s ongoing virtual literary tour.
This week’s Carnival of Homeschooling is up and running, courtesy of Daryl Cobranchi. So much to read, so little time…
In Brave Writer and Classical Writing, Julie writes:
Kids deserve to be expanded by great literature, myth, epic poetry, legend, artwork, history, scientific discovery, the stars, mathematics as a language (not just as a workbook), Shakespeare, theater, music, dance, and languages. These sources provide rich material for imagination, vocabulary, and inner life. Such inner lives naturally spill over into writing with content and texture.
I have certainly found this to be the case with my kids. Julie continues with the excellent advice to kindle your kids’ interest in the classics (or anything else) by getting yourself interested first. If I want to reignite their enthusiasm for nature journaling, I get mine out and start drawing. Next thing I know, there’s a crowd of kids around me begging to join the fun. In the same way, they developed an interest in mythology, Shakespeare, the Odyssey, poetry, knitting, basketball, birdwatching, gardening, and any number of other things—by witnessing mom or dad’s passion for the subject and wanting to know what the heck was so exciting.
By the way, the Heaney translation of Beowulf that Julie mentions is one of my favorite books. Language so rich you can taste it. Begs to be read aloud. Makes Scott stomp around the house like a Viking, bellowing colorful oaths. Now that’s the way to get kids begging for more classics.
The Bookworm and her family are touring the Lake District, including a visit to Ambleside.
Tevye was a little alarmed when I directed him down a narrow road signed ‘Ambleside via “The Struggle” ‘, but to his relief we we were travelling in the right direction and got the cruise downhill, not the struggle uphill. Unlike the last time I visited I had remembered my camera, so I strolled up the drive of Scale How, Charlotte Mason’s old House of Education (now known as St.Martin’s College) to take a picture. With my mind on finding a good spot for photography I forgot to keep an eye on my feet, tripped and fell headlong, nearly giving Tevye heart failure. Fortunately there was no real damage done apart from bruised and scraped knees.
So glad to hear everything is OK! Click the link for the rest of her adventure, plus a picture of Scale How. And in this post, she visits Charlotte’s grave.
My Mr. Putty post prompted a flurry of emails from readers wanting to know how on earth we fit so many read-alouds into our day. By chance, a recent discussion thread at the 4 Real forums focuses on the same issue. I’m going to crib from my forum post to answer those of you who have written me privately with this question. And to those who wrote—be encouraged by the knowledge that you are not alone! I think I’ve had more email about read-aloud time than any other topic except “So when is the next Martha or Charlotte book coming out?”
Around here, it sometimes seems as though read-alouds are all I do! For several months now, I’ve been having some pregancy-related mobility problems, and I’m not up to nature walks (a pity with the gorgeous weather we’ve had this winter) or big messy art/cooking/science projects. Right now, the kids are on their own for that kind of thing. But what I can do is read. Since I’m in one of my high tide phases, we’re doing a fairly structured Charlotte Mason-style reading and narration thing.
Between 9:00 and noon every day, the children and I gather in what I jokingly call our “sitting room.” It’s supposed to be a dining room, but we don’t have the furniture. For our first couple of years in this house it was mostly empty: Scott’s beat-up old bachelor computer desk in one corner—that’s where I’m sitting right now, as a matter of fact—and in the middle of the room, a big Brio train table we inherited from his sister. Then a friend’s father had a sofa he wanted to get rid of, and I jumped at it, and now that big blue couch is where I spend my mornings.
Wonderboy bops around the room, playing with Wedgits (my best toy purchase ever) and Playmobil, and the girls perch in various locations: on the arm of the couch, the back of the couch, the edge of the train table…(I guess just plain curling up on the couch isn’t interesting enough.) Their hands are busy with Sculpey or yarn. I have a basket of books at my feet and a mug of tea on the windowsill beside me. And I read.
I read from the Bible, a book about saints (currently 57 Saints for Children), a book of poetry (right now it’s either Longfellow or Frost, alternating), Our Island Story (twice a week), This Country of Ours (twice a week), D’Aulaire’s Norse Gods, Famous Men of Greece (twice a week), 50 Famous Tales (twice a week), a picture book for Beanie, and a chapter from whatever novel we are currently reading. I finished The Penderwicks last week (did I mention we adored it?) and now we’re giving recent Newbery Honor medalist Whittington a try.
In between the various books (and oral narrations following many of them), we sing (very badly), do our German & ASL lessons, do picture study, maybe do a little math, take run-around-the-house breaks (inside the house or out, depending on the weather), change Wonderboy’s diaper, draw pictures, watch birds at the feeders, clean up juice spills, and so on. The morning passes in a flash.
After lunch is a two-hour period of quiet time. Wonderboy naps, I read a picture book to Beanie and she naps, and then I take a half hour to eat my own lunch and check my email. Yes, it is a blissful half hour. Then I spend one-on-one time with the two older girls. I’m reading Old Yeller to Rose, and then she likes me to sit with her while she works on her pet project, ancient Greek. Jane and I do lots of different things together during her one-on-one: science projects (okay, she does and I watch); play Settlers of Catan or other games; write notes back and forth to each other in her Redwall notebook (I have been requested to read the whole-entire-really-really-long series and report my thoughts back to her in writing); stuff like that.
At 2:30 we all gather again for Shakespeare-and-snack time. Right now we’re reading As You Like It. After that, Scott comes up from work, and the kids go out to play for the rest of the afternoon, and it’s time for me to go down to the office and write.
At bedtime Scott is the read-aloud guy. Usually he reads to all three girls together but right now he has separate books going with each of them. Which, yes, makes for a very long bedtime routine, but Daddy deserves some one-on-one time too.
In many ways my pregnancy hip troubles have been a blessing for our family, because without the option of doing lots of active stuff (art projects, field trips, nature hikes) I had to rethink our routine, and despite many rounds of illness—Wonderboy has had pneumonia twice, and that ain’t the half of it!—and other challenges, our days this winter have been rich and fun. We have traveled all around the globe with Mr. Putty; we’ve picked apples in New England and fought Saxons in Old England. We’ve encountered frost giants, one-eyed monsters, woodland bandits, and a host of other strange folk. We’ve journeyed in hot-air balloons and dragon-headed ships. Not bad for a woman who limps like an injured duck.
Have voice, will travel.
A new discussion list is revving up at Yahoogroups: Unschooling Catholics. There are some great minds there, so go chat and enjoy!
The Deputy Headmistress addresses the importance of play for little ones. Yes yes yes. I couldn’t agree more.
A mourning dove is nesting above our front porch light. I can’t imagine how she tolerates the clamor, for this is the season of constant in-and-out. Red Virginia mud is every-where. (Please don’t look at my floors.) A great vat of mud has appeared in the backyard under the white pine, and someone painted the slide. This may account for the recent destruction of several pairs of pants.