Progress is a spiral, but it does happen

I'm a math nerd, in case that wasn't clear before. So when someone said that progress was like a spiral that felt like a circle and showed me a picture, I squinted and said, oh hey, that actually looks like a "screw", which is one of the Simple Machines that makes work easier (you move up not in a straight line but at a more gradual incline; it's slower but it makes it more doable). A fantastic poetic insight, if I do say so myself, but it still doesn't always make it possible to recognize when you're moving up and not just around.

Fortunately, even spirals sometimes have milestone markers.

 

It only looks like you're going around in a circle

I homeschool my sons. That feels like a confession every time I say it, because I grew up believing in institutional education (even if I always felt like an alien in those environments). I was so earnest, it took me years to realize something was off. Actually, it took the suffering of one of my children, and then the incredible boredom of another. Schools failed my children in one way, but they fail other children in other ways. Not all children, perhaps, but enough that my conscience doesn't ping me as much as it used to about my decision to pull my children out.

I tried very hard to replicate "school" for my younger children, but it took me less than two years to realize that wasn't what they needed. We prioritized play, and I tried to focus on what they did well rather than what they didn't, with the theory that when they were older everything would basically even out. I wanted them to enjoy their childhoods as much as possible, even when I could feel other adults glaring at me because I was doing it wrong, and even when I could hear in their voices the concern that I was somehow ruining my children. Sometimes that made me dig in deeper, sometimes that filled me with anxiety that maybe I was using my kids as a social experiment and not being their mother. But every time I thought of changing course, the cues I got from my kids indicated that they wouldn't do better with more of a regimen.

Mind you: this did not mean that they loved homeschooling with me every step of the way. They rolled their eyes at me so many times they must have pulled some ligaments, and every mistake I made I was called out on. There's a rightful concern that parents can be the harshest teachers of all and make their kids feel stupid; not too many people talk about the ways in which our kids make us feel stupid (but, you know, maybe they should).

It had always been the plan to send them to community college at about this time. "About this time" because I would have ideally done it last year, but that wasn't much of an option given the pandemic. So we plugged along, with the normal attendant dramas along the way. Finally, we got to the point where they were ready to register for classes at one of the community colleges in Boston, but first they needed to take a math assessment test.

Long story short: they both did really well, in spite of the fact that they had never taken a standardized test before and one of them has significant anxiety around math. That one tested into Pre-Calculus, and the one who likes math better tested into Calculus.

I was overjoyed -- one of them will never have to take math again, and the other *might* be able to get out of a Statistics requirement, but if not, that's the only math class he'll ever need. More importantly, they both know that 1) they can handle standardized tests, and 2) that they can handle math. And we did it without "drilling", year after year, something they didn't like into their minds in a way that would make them dislike it even more.

There was no guarantee this approach would "work" if working means performing intelligence for anyone. But that was never what I wanted for them. I wanted -- and still want -- for them to explore the topics that they are interested in and find the things subjects that thrill their minds. Letting them "play" in different ways with what they liked helped foster that, I'm convinced.

It only looked like we were faltering in place...right?

Deb in the City

How I survived the Year of Hell - a story in Tarot

I'm so grateful for my posse of bloggers (Caroline, Jami, and Kerrie) who join me on these fun blog hops. I spent a lot of last year looking forward to talking about "the end" with them, and once again they came through.

I feel like a lot of people slowed down in some way during the pandemic, because they didn't have a choice. Lockdown meant being locked down, so most people were home a lot more, and since most people's lives were "out", that was a big adjustment.

That's not what happened to me.

I got this brilliant idea at the beginning of 2020 that the climate action group I was working with should have an arm that focused on the connections between climate change and agriculture, and I got people to agree with me. The pandemic meant that we could do all of our programming online, so between April 2020 and February 2021 we did the following:

• Four webinars on topics including victory gardening, compost, "foodprints", and bringing Jewish values to the garden as we fight climate change
• A film series
• A three-part class on trees
• A two-part webinar on the importance of native plants

Oh yeah, between September of 2020 and April of 2021, I was also working on a conference for said environmental action group, including not only organizing sessions around agriculture but also making sure planning got...done for the rest of it. (I guess you could call me the project manager?)

 

This was as exhausting as it sounded, but in the middle of that, I also decided that I should put together a learning circle on Self-Care with my friend Jordan. I thought it would be really easy, but it took several months to finalize. I'm pretty proud of the way it turned out -- hope you agree.

 

During this time, I continued to homeschool my sons, albeit at the pace I've always used (let's call it "relaxed"). We managed to cover a bunch of material, including physics, calculus, chemistry, some biology, history (boy, was this a good time to re-read Stamped From The Beginning with them, as well as America for Americans), and "random" stuff like computer science and some classic literature. Oh yes, I also started a correspondence with the author of their physics and calculus book, and gave him a few suggestions for answers to two of the physics problems (after I spent three days figuring one out). The seventeen year old in me who did NOT do well in physics senior year was a little chuffed, I admit it.

 

It wasn't all drudgery. I had a lot of fun getting into Tarot with a friend of mine and sharing our spreads daily. No, please don't worry, I am not going to start talking about messages from beyond or anything like that. I see Tarot as a much prettier Rorschach Test: each card has so many meanings, though only a few "speak" to you. The question is why. That's been what I enjoyed most about it, and I enjoyed tapping into that intuitive part of myself that I was told to shelve years ago.

 

I also enjoyed deepening my friendships with two people while we worked on the learning circle and getting closer to two others as we shared some of our writing. (This made up for having to abruptly walk away from a critique group that, to put it mildly, wasn't working out for me.) Yes, of course we talked about the pandemic every time we met, but we also talked about the things that were, literally, giving us life. I'm truly grateful for those connections. And it would not be fair to talk about 2020 without also mentioning how much I loved the fact that I was already in a gardening community that has been putting up the good fight in the community for decades now. I got a lot out of working in the soil, and I'm so glad we're back at it. (And, oh yes, I made a project out of that as well; didn't my daughter do a great job on this video?) 

Mostly though, I was busy, so busy that I felt kind of empty and dried up, and looked forward to life returning to a new and better normal in May. That included getting back to my writing, which had to take a back seat because, well, there are only so many hours in a day and days in a year.

But life did not become a better normal. I had to come to terms with the fact that I felt empty even when I wasn't hustling, and it wasn't because of my activities. Something was *wrong*. And mid-May I realized what that was: I was living with addiction again, and I don't mean my own.

 

I'm not going to go into the details, because as anyone who has ever been in this situation will tell you, after a while they don't matter (but I will tell you this: there's a fine line between a "healthy hobby" and an addiction). Hell is not just the substance, it's everything that goes with it: the lying, the rationalizations, the inability to plan for a future because there is no future past the next fix, and, as I said, that feeling of emptiness. Addiction is the fun house mirror version of "living in the present".

Someone else is on a path toward rehabilitation...perhaps. I am trying to plan for my future. Normal? No clue. But definitely happy.

 

Come at me 2021 and 2022; if I was fortunate enough to live through the last 15 months, I can get through anything.

Deb in the City

Short-Term Planning and Parenting, FTW

Finished Range yesterday. The chapter about letting go of our familiar tools was surprisingly devastating. As in, by the time I realized what was actually being discussed, I gasped. And then I gasped again. Let me not spoil the surprise, but it's worth reading.

In a nutshell, the thesis of the book is that it's a myth that only those who specialize early will ever achieve success is a myth. Of course there are Tiger Woods, Mozarts, and Bobby Fischers, but no one -- individual or parent -- should feel like a failure if they haven't "arrived" by the age of thirty (or twenty). As one chapter discusses, personalities change over time, and the best way to arrive at a vocation that fits is to experiment or, as we lay people might put it, live. No one can guarantee greatness, but broad exposure to a wide range of materials does a better job of ensuring fit and, perhaps, happiness.

I feel comfortable saying Range speaks to the value of short- and medium-term planning, and in such a way that leaves us open to taking detours if we discover the path we're on isn't for us. That's good advice, but it's also lousy advice as the advice industry goes because it isn't neat and it doesn't come with easy to follow steps. That is, of course, part of the point, but I suspect that will be one reason why the plan early and thoroughly crowd will continue to have dominance in parenting circles. 

And that's a shame. When I've been able to step back from my hyperventilating paranoia that my children will never amount to anything if I don't make sure they are following the exact path proscribed by -- who again? -- I see and hear them creating magic. Do they spend too much with video games? Yes, as do most teenagers right now. But they're also making art, making music, and digging deep into the things that interest them. 

 

One of the best examples of someone who did it his way

 I haven't loved all of it -- there was a period a few years ago where I heard a little too much about a certain snarky "public intellectual" who used specious logic to demean non-binary people, among other things -- but conversations with us and exposure to critical reasoning and media literacy went a long way toward ending that phase. So, too, did maturing from a preteen to a teenager, but perhaps the most instructive was the sheer ugliness of what they saw. (Why this isn't working for people who aren't teenagers, I have no idea.)

Don't sweat two decades out; sometimes getting through two months is an achievement. Trust your judgment -- trust your children's need to explore -- and dig into the discoveries you make along the way.

Progress in Learning, with a Touch of Shame

Every parent has shame around parenting, I think, and it’s a separate shame for each child, no matter how many children you have. (Unfortunately, it’s possible to have more than one per child as well.) In the case of my “youngest” (by thirteen minutes), it’s the shame around how he feels about numbers. I panicked when he wasn’t as facile with numbers as he was with letters and words when he was younger; I scolded him for not applying himself, I know I made him feel bad and panicky around them. Hence, the shame, both his and mine. (For what it’s worth, his brother had the opposite learning dynamic, which meant there was a different set of shame, but that’s another story.)

When I collected myself, I had a realization – or was it a theory? – that the things they both struggled with at seven or eight would be easier to work with when they were older, and what they needed more of at that age was play. So we prioritized outside time, tried to make sure they touched words, numbers, and documentaries, but I let them be for as long as possible.

I was right. (Please appreciate how much someone who experiences so much shame on a regular basis enjoys saying that.) At sixteen, the “younger” one can multiply numbers quickly (and better than about half of the adults I’ve met), while the “older” one, though he still doesn’t love reading, can read, write, and comprehend at the level you’d expect when you hear him speak (they’re both sharp-witted, let’s leave it at that). They are, in other words, both everything they need to be and just fine.

Kids need more outside time, because math and words will come. Adults need to remind themselves that even if they don’t, it’s better that they have memories of what they can do, not what they can’t.

Learning Circles

I spent some months in lockdown working on a learning circle with a friend. I really love this model, and I think of it as something John Holt would have approved of if he could have seen what possibilities tech would open up for us in the 21^st century.

My friend Jordan designed classes on writing almost from scratch; there’s plenty of linked material, but the structure and flow are all original. I love this, in part because it’s more of a guarantee that the work will remain free. (A number of places that used to offer free massive open online courses have started to charge for content.) I’m not going to belabor the obvious, but that’s hugely important for people, especially when so many are out of work, or their work is a “gig” that offers no guarantees of benefits or even continued employment.

The learning circle we worked on is on self-care, and as long as no monkey wrenches get thrown at us in the next few months, we’ll be piloting the course in May. (Yes, of course on Zoom.) I’m really excited about this, in part because I had a lot of fun researching, writing, and editing with my friend, and in part because it’s a really important topic. We live in a culture that does not prioritize taking care of ourselves; I’ll leave it to you to decide how long that’s been the case. It’s one thing to not always give ourselves the kind of food we need or as much exercise as we’ve been advised to take, but we don’t even get the amount of sleep we’re supposed to. An increasing number of us not only live with toxic levels of stress, we’re made to feel as if we should take on more. That’s bs, and again, I’ll leave it to you to determine when that started, and for whom.

It’s a cultural problem, but the only way I know how to change a culture is to start with people. I can’t promise that your job will get less toxic once you start thinking about self-care, but I can tell you that once you start thinking about the importance of your own needs, you’ve got a better chance of using the magic word “no” more often.

That’s the first course, and I’m excited. And that’s just the first in the list I have planned. I’ll be working on one – probably around the summer, but maybe the fall – on climate change and soil/agriculture, one on financial literacy, and maybe ones for media literacy and creativity (gulp). We’ll see, but expect to see a bunch from me in 2022.

Pause

If my last post sounds a little bitter, it’s because I came to the realization a few days ago that I needed to pause the writing project I’ve been working on since 2017 so I can accomplish the project I’m referring to. Sorry, I could of course do both, but it’s become evident to me that if I don’t want to have any more episodes like the one I did on December 30, I need to take pressure off of myself.

Bitterness comes from thinking about the pages I’ve already lost.

Full disclosure: there is one more project I have to work on during this time. My sons are nearing the end of their homeschooling career, and it’s time to move them on. We’re focusing on finishing up math, getting them ready for assessments, and working on their transcripts. This is non-negotiable. It’s not hours of work every day – well, not too many hours – but it’s work that needs to be done just about every day. I can do two things pretty well, but I can’t do three.

I picture myself, the last few days of April, and certainly the first week of May, writing furiously to give voice to the characters who have pounding on the walls of my subconscious to get out, and I picture my sons feeling confident about what the months after will bring for them.

The difference between a fantasy and a plan is the work we put into it.

Helping Homeschoolers in the Library by Adrienne Furness

As an urban homeschooler who lives on a small budget with a large family, I utilize free resources as much as I can. Hands down, my all-time favorite resources are public libraries, both the ones in my city (Boston- yes, I am very lucky) and in my surrounding towns and cities. While those collections and facilities are world-class and the librarians have been extremely helpful, I was still looking for ideas on how my children could get even more use out of it.

This book really is perfect for my needs. The first part goes into a fair and comprehensive look at styles of homeschooling, some groups that have homeschooled in large numbers and a bit of the legal history of homeschooling. One of its first recommendations is that homeschooling guides- particularly the work of early homeschool advocate John Holt- be made available for parents as they try to find what will work best for their families.

The second part talks about what the libraries could offer that will make homeschooling families' lives easier. Recognizing that every family will have different needs, it suggests starting by offering a basic session on how homeschoolers can access information that already exists in the library. From there, make the families comfortable enough that they will discuss their existing goals and interests. After that- to the level that's feasible given library funding and possible grants- help build programs that will suit their needs. (In a well-stocked library, many of those programs will be more about "curating" existing materials than buying anything new.)

While most of the programs will be something that most children would want to take advantage of, Furness notes that they have a particular interest in the college admissions process given that many will have to create their own transcripts and diplomas. As necessary and possible, arranging for speakers to come in from nearby colleges would be hugely helpful. (The same can be said for financial aid.)

The book is interspersed with the real-life experiences of several homeschooling families and librarians. It also goes into detail about a handful of successful programs librarians created to serve the population. The most impressive one goes to the Johnsburg Homeschool Resource Center. In addition to detailing the offerings (accelerated reader books, math manipulatives and a miniature science lab among them), it also describes the funding process the library used to facilitate its creation.

This book inspired me to make suggestions to my librarians (and they already know enough about homeschoolers that they are asking for them anyway). I highly recommend it for any homeschooling parent looking to better utilize their library's resources.

Buy from Brookline Booksmith