Some wise person, when we moved recently, told us to make memories in the new house to help ease the transition.

We’ve done our best in recent weeks to do that and keep busy with other stuff besides.

There was first Halloween:

And then the open house, which encouraged us to get furniture arranged and boxes unpacked. (Just don’t look in the basement or garage.)

We also held a 1/2 birthday party for Victoria. She didn’t get a birthday party this year, for various reasons, and so we took the opportunity to demonstrate to her that we would indeed be seeing our friends again– even friends who used to live across the street. (It’s a “ninja party”)

Dig the sushi cupcake making:

The party inspired everyone to try their hands at origami. Naturally Eggmaster is the best. But the butterflies and most of the throwing stars are mine.

Today was Violet’s piano recital. It has been fun to watch her name move steadily up the list. In general, the playing order goes by level of student. Older/more advanced students play at the end. It’s a good system. Having sat through lengthy recitals featuring many beginning pianists, my ears need a break after a while.

I have been reflecting on our piano teacher since hearing about the choices others have been making. I feel very lucky to have her. I know there are probably more rigorous studios in town, but our teacher has a great combination of love for her students and desire to challenge them.

Especially when Violet was younger, she would sometimes bump into a teacher who would ooh and ahh and say “Wow, aren’t you great!” without giving any further suggestions for improvement. But one of the most valuable things about piano, for our family, is that it gives both girls an opportunity to work through perfectionism. In Violet’s case, it also gives her a chance to slow down and work on details — something she is not inclined to do without a *lot* of encouragement from her teacher. So I like that her teacher is positive and encouraging but still asks a lot, according to the ability of the student.

The other thing I like about our teacher: she is student-focused, not parent-focused. When we called her about starting lessons, she was extremely direct about only teaching students who wanted to take lessons for themselves, not for their parents. I imagine in this area there are plenty of parents who force their kids through music lessons and practice sessions. Our teacher did not even want us monitoring the time V. practiced — that was to be up to her (at about age 8 forward). I really admire her for that. And my goodness, the students who stay with it! Her high school students are playing amazing repertoire — pieces I played as a college piano major — many of them with great subtlety. I remember listening to our former neighbor in her last recital before going to college on a music scholarship, playing a piece by Sibelius. I was in tears, it was so lovely.

It was, in fact, this family that connected us to this teacher, and I am so grateful, especially since our family life seems increasingly to revolve around music.

And speaking of gratitude, I am looking forward to celebrating our first Thanksgiving in the new house. It’s going to be our biggest group yet.

I would love to post the whole thing for you, but I’m sure that is a copyright violation.

Famous, by Naomi Shihab Nye, a Palestinian-American.

A taste:

The river is famous to the fish.
…..
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole. . .

I’m on a few e-mail lists about gifted ed, and as I mentioned they have a mix of homeschoolers and non-homeschoolers.

Naturally when someone poses a problem to the list, the different groups propose different solutions. I notice some people are very clear in their queries to point out “I can’t homeschool because . . . ” which typically leads to someone saying, somewhat off-topic, “Actually, I am in that same situation and I homeschool.” Which may lead to more explanations of why someone “could never,” and more explanations of why that particular reason is not a barrier, and a little bit of tension around this unspoken question of “What have you got against (not) homeschooling?”

I notice the same thing in person. Of course my friends are also a mix of homeschoolers and non-homeschoolers. As homeschoolers know, non-homeschoolers are well known for telling their homeschooling friends, “Oh, I could *never* do what you do.” (Which a polite homeschooler would never turn around to say, “I hear you — I could never send my kids to school like you do! Wow!”)

When we had a housewarming party recently, for most of the time a very good friend was the only non-homeschooler. I confess, when she pointed this out I had to smile, as for many homeschoolers it is usually the other way around. It was also a good opportunity to say, “well, homeschoolers like to socialize!” ba Dum dum

My friend told me later, after the party, that the homeschoolers were very nice (of course!) but that some had given her a bit of a hard sell on homeschooling. Knowing my friends, I found this really hard to believe. I encouraged her to tell me about what they said, and it seemed to be a version of The Conversation.

Non-HSer: “Oh, I could never do that.”

Friendly HSer: “Oh, of course you could!”

Non-HSer: “Oh, but . . .” I don’t have the patience/my kids are too crazy/it costs too much money/I wouldn’t know how to find the materials

Friendly HSer: “Trust me . . . ” I am very impatient/my kids are crazier/doesn’t have to, way cheaper than any private school/ here’s where you find the materials.

I think I get it. As The Conversation proceeds, the non-HSer is hearing that all of her reasons for not homeschooling are not good reasons. And by extension, she is hearing — though the friendly HSer is not saying — “you should homeschool.”

Maybe it’s a sign of homeschooling’s increasing mainstream status that some people consider it something like breastfeeding or stay-at-home parenting — something a truly committed parent would do if they could.

But it’s not really. A good enough reason not to homeschool is “I don’t want to homeschool.”

Which I think is what people who say, “I can’t homeschool because . . . ” must really mean in 99% of cases. And they get the wrong response from people who think what they mean is “I would homeschool if only it weren’t for . . .”

So I am announcing here, in print, where someone might Google and find it, that homeschooling is optional. It’s like going to Texas. Of course I could go there, but I don’t want to. But hey, you go to Texas all you want, have a great time, and show me your pictures when you get home!

A final note: hearing that my friend felt like she was getting a sales pitch reminded me to lighten up a little about the “I could never” and the “have you tried this school” and then “when do you think you’ll put them back in school.” It’s probable, or at least somewhat possible, that some of those comments come from that same helpful impulse to say, “Hey, your choices are broader than you think.” And it may be that I’m not making it clear that though it seemed at one time like we had to homeschool, now we do it because we want to, which is really the only reason to do it.

Because really, you don’t have to.

A very interesting and sometimes contentious conversation on this question popped up on an e-mail discussion list I participate in.

I can’t quote from other participants, but in general the discussion centered on whether or not it was healthy or wise for gifted kids to treat school as a game. In other words, whether (or to what extent) they should play along with the system and jump through required hoops even when they seem pointless.

This list is made up of people who would never homeschool, former homeschoolers, current homeschoolers who plan to send their kids to school eventually, and die-hard homeschoolers, so you can imagine there was a range of opinion. And even homeschoolers sometimes find themselves wondering whether a kid ought to do something because that’s just the way it’s done.

One person pointed to this essay, a speech by Paul Graham intended for high school students, which says in part:

If I had to go through high school again, I’d treat it like a day job. I don’t mean that I’d slack in school. Working at something as a day job doesn’t mean doing it badly. It means not being defined by it. I mean I wouldn’t think of myself as a high school student, just as a musician with a day job as a waiter doesn’t think of himself as a waiter. And when I wasn’t working at my day job I’d start trying to do real work.

And on the college admissions process it says:

By putting you in this situation, society has fouled you. Yes, as you suspect, a lot of the stuff you learn in your classes is crap. And yes, as you suspect, the college admissions process is largely a charade. But like many fouls, this one was unintentional. So just keep playing.

Rebellion is almost as stupid as obedience. In either case you let yourself be defined by what they tell you to do. The best plan, I think, is to step onto an orthogonal vector. Don’t just do what they tell you, and don’t just refuse to. Instead treat school as a day job. As day jobs go, it’s pretty sweet. You’re done at 3 o’clock, and you can even work on your own stuff while you’re there.

The conversation and the speech really touched a nerve with me, because both V’s and my earlier experience.

We tried very hard to get Violet, back when she was 6, to jump through certain hoops in order to get her needs met. I think we learned a couple of things from this experience:

1. Often, people who make you jump through hoops are stalling and are not necessarily going to do anything for you once you’ve met the first set of requirements. Just as likely, they will come up with a second set of hoops. Playing along can set a bad precedent. Judge carefully before you proceed. When you tell your young child that if he/she will just cooperate and do the easy work, they will then get challenging work, and then this doesn’t happen, it doesn’t take a genius to see that there is no reason to cooperate, and no reason to trust.

2. Some personalities are better at playing along than others, and this is probably dependent on age as well. I have always sought out occupations that give me maximum independence, both from superiors and from subordinates, and so has my husband. It would be too much to expect that our daughter would be radically different. Actually, the Ed.Psych. we consulted told us it was good, in a way, that our daughter was not willing to simply go along in a bad situation. Many gifted girls do, to their long-term detriment.

I think “playing the game” and tolerating tedium are two somewhat different things, though both are useful skills. A person can be good at one, but not the other. I try to model for my children that parts of my work are fascinating, stimulating, and exciting, and parts are insanely tedious. From what I can tell, that describes most kinds of work and most education/training. A willingness to slog through the tedium is absolutely necessary. However, I also look for opportunities to minimize the tedium so that I can focus on the good stuff — who wouldn’t?

“Playing the game” is more of a social skill — whether it is “suffering fools gladly,” as Leta Hollingworth said, or learning to wait your turn and give others a chance to shine as well.

I absolutely wish my kids were more flexible and able to tolerate things that are less-than-ideal, and I do try to work with them on that. At age 6, that did and does not seem an achievable goal. My husband and I are 40, and we are still working on it! Violet is now 10, and it is easier. Developmentally, kids become more interested in peers (to varying degrees), and this can be an opportunity to learn some empathy and patience with others. Working hard on one of your passions can also be a good learning experience — piano has taught and continues to teach my daughter about the need to do tedious work in order to do the fun stuff. Ditto learning Chinese — sometimes memorizing is just dull memorizing, but it serves a purpose that she’s interested in. As she gets older, the connection between those things becomes clearer to her.

I very much relate to the Paul Graham speech — that is just how I approached high school. But I was 14 then, and the tantalizing world of adulthood was so close I could almost touch it. The end was in sight. Likewise, I no longer have a day job vs. a real job — wasn’t that the point of my post-secondary education? The way of thinking Graham describes seems to apply to a period of time that everyone — including the student — knows is transitory and unique.

For an elementary age kid, childhood is still stretching on forever in front of them, and adulthood doesn’t even seem that desirable. I’m not sure either the game or the “day job” metaphor would work in the same way.

What do you think?

*your informed, considered opinion, that is

Victoria, nearing 6 1/2, is a fine reader, and once again I have dodged a bullet. I have no idea how to teach a child to read, I am suspicious of phonics except for children who are struggling to read, and I have no experience.

However.

She cannot spell. At all. With Violet, I have never done any spelling work, formal or informal. I guess the Word Within the Word is as close as we come, but she has some kind of supernatural instinct for spelling, and always has.

I have often heard that you should not correct young children’s spelling, as that experimental spelling is part of their language learning process.

However.

Victoria would like to be able to write. She enjoys writing letters and wants to write stories, and is somewhat hindered by her inability to spell. That is, she is quite asynchronous in her language abilities — her expression and her reading are far beyond her spelling. That does not always bother her, but sometimes it does.

So, do I intervene? And how?

I am wondering about doing some kind of simple spelling practice, but then leaving the rest of her writing alone, unless she asks for a specific spelling for something she is writing.

Were she in school doing “language arts” at some level approximating her current reading level, she would definitely be doing spelling. Then again, I think Violet had spelling words in kindergarten — which was interesting, because some of the kids could barely write. So school practices are not the most helpful guide!

I have always had a vague belief that reading is the best kind of spelling lesson — and that is probably true.

But what do you think? If you are going to do some kind of specific spelling work, when and how do you start?

We went to church for the first time in weeks, our first stop on the search for a new church.

You would think we would just go to the nearest Catholic church, but then you wouldn’t know the Twin Cities very well. Today we went to a church that is about 3 miles away from our home, which means we opted not to attend two or three Catholic churches that are closer. In our old parish neighborhood there were maybe 6 large parishes in a 3-mile radius. If you listen to Prairie Home Companion, as I do (and did today), you might think that all Minnesotans are Lutherans, but there are also a *lot* of Catholics. And back when there were immigrants from Europe of many different nationalities arriving here, each group built their own Catholic church.

In short, you don’t have to be a persnickity “church shopper” to find yourself choosing a church.

Today’s church’s patron saint was a skeptic, which makes it a nice choice. It’s also in a lovely area right behind a co-op to which we still have a membership from our pre-kid days, near a Waldorf-y toy store, coffee shops, a bread bakery (as opposed to a sweets bakery), and other nice things.

Also on the plus side, I saw a lot of kids. I have learned and changed my views on things like Sunday school, and now think kids should be celebrating Mass with parents, and I’m glad this parish also takes that view. I particularly noticed a lot of middle school kids, which we are always happy to see. Sometimes it seems that by the time kids reach middle school families have moved to the suburbs, and city neighborhoods are full of babies.

The homily was fine — nothing too challenging or profound, but nothing insulting either, which is a good start. The pastor told a Buddhist story relating to the homily’s theme of service, so I took that as a sign of relative open-mindedness.

On the downside: first, the church has been remodeled, and not all that well. The outside is lovely, but the inside feels kind of like an airplane hangar. All hard, cold, new surfaces, no color. The arrangement of the ambo (pulpit) and altar is odd — it took a long time for me to figure out how the church was oriented. It doesn’t add much to the experience of the liturgy, and of course I am spoiled by having attended an absolutely gorgeous church with a deep sense of (regional and salvation) history etched into every post, buttress, and tiny chapel.

Another downside: the church is affiliated with a school. My experience and that many friends is that if your children do not attend the parish school, it is nearly impossible to get involved in parish life. I say this as one who was co-chair of our parish council, and I am backed up by two other women who were co-chairs of our parish council — that is, it was not for lack of effort on our part that we found it hard to get connected.

The music: well, let’s just say that church music generally requires lowering the bar a bit, unless maybe you are a Presbyterian or Methodist with a paid choir (as many are around here). Still, while I’m no traditionalist, my old parish did give me a taste for a little more variety, and not *all* modern hymns.

So, we’ll go back next week and check out their Donut Sunday. Then I think we’ll try a couple of other churches. And maybe we’ll pop into our old church now and again. I would love to be settled into our house and a church before Christmas, but something tells me we will still be pilgrims on December 25th.

We closed on old house this morning — phew! — and we were chatting with the buyers, talking about how we liked the house. My husband talked about why we unexpectedly outgrew it — couldn’t just buy a bigger house without really good reason! — and mentioned the homeschooling.

We hadn’t planned to homeschool, he mentioned, but our oldest daughter turned out to be — well, I don’t remember what he said. I remember closing my eyes, cringing, and putting my hand on his arm once I figured out where he was going. Of course he said nothing overly dramatic, said it in a very offhand way, but I was mortified to have it said in a roomful of strangers.

Mainly this incident demonstrates, yet again, that while I am far more outgoing than my husband, I am also a lot more private.

But it was also another reminder of (one reason) why we homeschool — not the bare fact that she is “profoundly gifted” or whatever, but because it is so much simpler just to deal with that on our own than to deal with the myriad reactions she and we get from others about giftedness.

Also today, I read a report on the No Child Left Behind progress of area schools. The “achievement gap” shows no sign of diminishing, and schools are turning more and more of their resources towards working on it. The reality is, school resources — personnel, money, books — are an ever-smaller pie, and as more attention goes to the lowest achieving students, less goes to kids like mine. Maybe that’s morally fair, maybe that’s good public policy at a macro level, but from a day-to-day educational perspective, it’s not going to work for us.

Of course our homeschooling lately is pretty weak! Thank goodness for Online G3, Life of Fred, and Chinese Pod! This keeps Violet going when nothing else is going on. And Victoria has started doing EPGY math. I started her on the 1st grade, but we’ll see. I am hoping the early lessons are more about establishing comfort with the program, because they are bizarrely simple. It is really nice to be able to give her some computer learning, as her sister gets so much. And it is not easy to make early elementary math very interesting!

We are clearly not going according to our early fall plans. Are you?

Funny that I know lots of Writermoms on the Internet but so few in real life. Then again, I know so few of anything in real life.

But I have been meaning to mention that I have an IRL friend who is also a writermom and on the internet. She is a poet, like some others I know, and posts some good poems from other poets too.

Here is one that I am trying–struggling!–to take to heart:

Cecilia Woloch — Slow Children at Play

All the quick children have gone inside, called
by their mothers to hurry-up-wash-your-hands
honey-dinner’s-getting-cold, just-wait-till-your-father-gets-home–
and only the slow children out on the lawns, marking off
paths between fireflies, making soft little sounds with their mouths, ohs
that glow and go out and glow. And their slow mothers, flickering,
pale in the dust, watching them turn in the gentle air, watching them
twirling, their arms spread wide, thinking, These are my children,
thinking,
Where is there dinner? Where has their father gone?

You can find her at Both Fires

I am so sorry — I am really having trouble posting comments to your blogs. But I am reading along, I swear!

Just a short note of thanks to the people who have commiserated and encouraged with regard to the move. It really helps!

I am on such a roller coaster — I am sure I am wearing my family out! At times I am despondent about the chaos, about the deadlines slipping away, about how dreadfully disorganized and messy we are even when we aren’t moving, about what a bad friend I am being as I am so caught up in my own busyness. And then at other times I am galloping on about how great everyone is, and how great the world is, and how blessed we are and how friends keep turning up just when I need them most.

This can all happen in the space of an hour, several times a day.

It’s a crash course in gratefulness and trust. I am missing church nearly every Sunday as time runs out for meeting some essential deadline and I have to choose between my health/sanity and yet another outing, but this is like Eucharist to the homebound. The bread and wine friends shared with us tonight was yet another unexpected touch of the Real Presence.

I will need to have lots and lots of payback dinners once our dining room and kitchen are mostly box-free.