Can't teach 'em 'til they're ready

You'd think that as a university trained, state certified secondary teacher that I would know this. I *thought* I knew all I needed to know about kids after graduating with my teaching degree. Parenting was not a big deal. It was simple. All kids must follow the same basic progression or why would everything be organized the way it is. Follow what they taught me and all would be well.

Then, I taught for a while.

And, then, I became pregnant for the first time.

I read the books. I read the research. I prepared. I studied. I asked around. This parenting thing really wasn't that big of a deal.

Then, Flicka arrived.

And, I went reeling. Nothing about this child was standard, by the book, expected, or on time. But, I only had to survive it once because the nice medical team that treated me for infertility assured me that I'd never be pregnant again.

Until, I started throwing up when Flicka was 15 months old.

Seven months later, while I was then reeling from Flicka's ongoing terrible twos, Pojke arrived.

So, a couple years later, we hemmed and hawed about homeschooling. However, we settled on a little country school that we *LOVED* for Flicka's kindergarten and first grade year.

Jump forward two raucous, crazy, insane years and we were starting homeschooling. How hard could it be? I taught 150+ middle schoolers daily for several years. I had a teaching degree. I had been a parent for 8 years. I had this.

And, then I didn't.

How could I not have learned (or, at least, remembered) that kids learn at their own pace, in their own order, and at their own motivation. I still *get* how new information should be "linked" or "hung on" older already-known information for better recall and retention but, while I've seen it in the classroom, I don't see it as often with my own kids.

Most of their acquisition of knowledge makes me feel like I have whiplash.

For example...

...a child that can't spout off their "2 times" facts but sat down and did their 6's, 7's, and 8's

...a kid who can't read their phonics workbook but can read a chapter book

...a child who can't tell you 6 + 9 but could tell you 6 X 9

...one who can't remember the reading from yesterday but can remember in detail an event in a biography we read a year ago.

...a kid that can't name the planet we were studying this afternoon but can rattle off the entire planetary solar system mnemonic for all 7 (or 8) of them.

...a child that can't print their name legibly but can do it in beautiful cursive.

...one that misspells every 3rd or 4th word while "free writing" but is a month ahead in their spelling text with consistent 100% scores.

...a child that can't tie their own shoes but is learning about the Fibonacci sequence.

...a kid who can't remember to cover their mouth (or to chew with it closed) but wanted to look up "typhoid" and "cholera" after reading about immigration at Ellis Island.

All this can be frustration, infuriating, delightful, and wonderous. It can be the best part of homeschooling...and the worst. This is that leaps-and-bounds thing. And, that two-steps-forward-one-step-back conundrum. But, what it is at its most basic is - a leap of faith.

Having faith that we as a family called to this. Having faith that *I* am called to this as the teacher. Having faith that, with all this hard work, laughing, crying, and fun, it will all turn out just fine.

In My Head

A battle of the mind. It really is.

In the attempt of backing away from my behavior and seeing it from a objective instead of reactive point of view is not pretty. I used to be much better at this.

Some how I've wallowed down to the least common denominator equivalent of reacting. Not sure what precipitated this...the move, the financial stress, the awful and only year in our local public school, the transition to homeschooling. Could be any or all.

But, I had a typically busy couple of days last Wednesday through Saturday: schooling, hosting a homeschooler open gym I started,  Flicka's tumbling class, a momma-night-out photography class I got for Christmas up in Rockford (45 min north of me), teaching the first day of spring semester at our homeschool co-op (45 min SW of me), a Girl Scout cookie booth, Valentine's Day expectations, and Pojke's basketball class.

And, I didn't lose it. I didn't completely freak out. Ya know why?

I lowered expectations for myself.

And, the world didn't come to an end.

So, much of my current stress and suffering is simply in my head. Yes, I deal with anxiety. Yes, I have ADD. But, the majority of all this garbage could be better handled if I (one) took better care of myself and (two) would just lower expectations.

It sounds like a "well duh!" statement but when you are thinking you are managing fine, haven't overscheduled, on top of things but suddenly those things are getting harder and harder to deal with...what's changed?

One's attitude and response.

Lesson learned.

Now, let's see if I can continue to apply it.

A day off

Ocassionally, we take a day off of school in the middle of the week. Sometimes it's that the day has completely overwhelmed us or something suddenly urgent occurs. And, unfortunately, I tend to stress out about the whole thing. Apparently, somewhere in my  disorganized, control-seeking mind, an unplanned day is a waste of a day.

I've taken "days off" of school because I've let other priorities that precedence...groceries, errands, commitments to others. So, days off for the Vikings are hardly days off for me. They've still been packed to the gills with alternative stressors.

My body has been trying to tell me that it is breaking down from all this running at top speed , guns a-blazin' busy. And, I feel awful. 

Without going into much detail, there seems to be something "off" with nearly every system in my body one way or another. Nothing definitive but taken all together? Something is going on. 

I could blow it off as getting older. God knows my 30-something male doctor thinks many of my textbook symptoms of pre-menapause are no big deal. But, in the last 36 hours, there's been a bit of a defining moment where I suddenly panicked.

There really could be something major going on.

So, today, I took a day off. Other than making a small meal and taking the Vikings to two outside activities, I haven't done a darn thing. Other than make a doctor appointment for Monday.

And, ya know what? It was a 98% yell-free day.

I've been reassuring myself that everthing is fine -I just need to work harder, work better, work faster - that I've convinced myself I don't need rest, that nothing is wrong, and that I don't need to take care of myself. I'm fine.

But, I'm not. And, I am gonna take one small step to try to change that.

One day at a time is still too long

I'm gonna have to go hour but hour to ever feel like I'm making any progress.

My ineffectual coping, my weaknesses have become like an addiction that I have to be hyper-vigilant, hyper-conscious about minute to minute and hour to hour.

Our day went wonderfully today...

until it didn't.

Chores. Playing. To-do's. School.

But, then I get stressed. I'm tired of answering questions. I'm tired of their delays. I just need them to MOVE and do what I told them.

That was the beginning of the end. From then on, I'm walking a hair-trigger stress to get stuff done, be places on time, balancing, completing, crossing stuff off, etc.

And the noise! My noise sensitivity starts. I can't think. I can't talk. I can't finish anything with the noise, interruption, distraction. They're just being kids. It's only a question from my hubby but I'm irritated by it all.

School suffers. Relationships suffer. I don't get anything done. And, I feel like a failure.

I'm so far under and beneath the trees that the forest is just a dream I can't quite even picture yet.

And, in the meantime, I'm wasting their precious days at home.

This wasn't what I wanted. This isn't what it was supposed to look like.

But, I don't know how to stop.

Blessing

I so want to enjoy blessing my kids. Surprising them with little things here and there. But, I never get to.

"Mom, can I have..."

"Mom, can we go..."

"Mom, why can't we..."

"Mom, but I don't wanna..."

"Mom, how come..."

"Mom, do you have..."

"Mom, do we have to..."

I never get the chance to bless them with the little things when they're whining about other littler things. And, it's frustrating. I'm tired of being the "no" mommy instead of the "yes" mommy.

Today was the first time in a *really* long time I was able to do some nice little things for them while out grocery shopping. And, it seemed to make a big difference today. Lots of hugs and "thank you, Momma's."

Why can't it be like this everyday?

In the midst of cabin fever

Today was a rough day.

There's been a lot of them lately. Days where I'm barely hanging on. Having trouble from going postal-level angry at the kids. And, it's been happening too often.

This is not how I wanted it to be.

When I pulled the Vikings out of public school, I optimistically imagined that it would be hard but covered in rainbows and butterflies, I guess. Naive for a state-certified, professionally trained teacher, eh?

The whole momma/teacher balance - which I presumed would be an easy nut to crack -  is WAY outta whack somehow. I spend so much time as an "enforcer" that I don't get much time as a momma anymore.

I figured that the plus of "only" 2-3 hours of school each day would outweigh any resistance, whining, and complaining. Got that one WAY wrong, by the way.

I imagined being done with schoolwork each day before noon and spending long, leisurely afternoons enjoying my kids. Again, got that one wrong.

Planning - which used to be a challenge for me - is now my refuge. I can do it alone. It's about breaking up large chunks of information into small parcels and distributed over school days, weeks, and months.

And, every minute of teaching - what used to be my favorite part of my day - is now just seconds away from mere torture.

I feel like I've "lost" my babies. Confrontation has replaced relationship. And, the teen years are coming on quickly.

This needs to be fixed.

And soon.