January 7, 2003

• Row, Row, Row

  
  

  "One who rows a boat turns his back on the goal toward which he labors."  Soren Kierkegaard

  
  

  We are deep into our school.  I have two children who are challenged and challenging in very different ways.  Michael processes information differently than your average bear.  His brain twists the syntax and the sensations which stimulate his thought.  Too many times he nods and pretends to understand the instruction when in actual fact he hasn't even "heard" the instruction.  Oh, he heard sounds.  But, they didn't mean anything to him, so in what possible way can he be said to have received direction?  Tucker, well, I said to my friend last night that trying to teach Tucker anything is like trying to catch a greased pig.  It's far more entertaining to the spectators than the participants. 

  
  

  When I started homeschool, I had very specific goals in mind.  I spent years studying and thinking through various philosophies of education, both the method and the goal.  I know what I'm shooting for with my kids and how I plan to get there.  But, the only way to make progress is to turn my back on the goal and face the kid.  We don't get one step closer to having a well-educated adult if I spend my day frustrating my child. 

  
  

  So what if we don't complete the lesson plan?  It will still be there tomorrow.  But, will the eagerness to learn new things be there tomorrow if I bear down today and grind through to the bitter conclusion of all 25 math problems on that page?  I ask myself this question after using every ounce of creativity to communicate the concepts of the lessons to my children and I wonder if I'm right in my conviction that it's better to nurture them along at their pace than to push them. 

  
  

  I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to put them in an institutional school.  I wonder if they wouldn't do better if we were apart for a few hours each day so that I could devote more time to homemaking and cookie baking.  I wonder if I wouldn't be a happier person if I had more time to spend pursuing my personal interests, wouldn't that give me more emotional resources to meet my children's needs.  I wonder.

  
  

  I believe in tailoring school to the strengths of the child.  Why spend all our time trying to hammer out the rough edges when we can polish the smooth surface?  Focusing on the areas the kid is good at has a way of spilling over onto areas of weakness.  The sense of accomplishment that comes from a task well done infuses my child with confidence to attempt the more difficult task in an area that doesn't come easily.  But, focusing on areas of strength looks, even to me, as though my curriculum isn't balanced. 

  
  

  The only way to avoid unending performance anxiety is to turn my back on the goal and look only at today.  As long as I'm able to see only the lesson we have before us, and not the thick sheaf of lessons to come, am I able to relax and walk through the school with my children in a way that keeps us all interested.  Once I ever turn my eye to all the lessons yet untaught, I'm overwhelmed.

  
  

  I quote and cling to the words of W. B. Yeats, "Education is not the filling of a bucket, it's the lighting of a fire" and I pray that I'm able to avoid quenching the sparks I see among the kindling by pouring on too much too soon.  It's hard not to peer into the bucket and check that level.  It's hard.

  
  

  In Other News:  Today is Fugitive's Birthday.  Happy Birthday, Little Sister. 

  
  

   

  • 5:28 pm
  • 19 Comments