Loving this unschooling thing... if that's what it is!

Honestly, even though I pretty much consider us to be unschoolers, I have to say I'm still not exactly sure what that means. When I've asked others who also consider themselves unschoolers about that, they've told me that there are pretty much as many definitions of unschooling as there are unschoolers.

In any case, I love what we're doing. I love that we're staying flexible, and going with what works. Today, for example, we had a plan. It was fairly ambitious and included the following:

*clean his room
*write a book review on his blog (he had started about three, and I wanted him to finish one of them)
*practice his recorder
*brush and floss his teeth (yes, I have to make this part of his schedule! It's nowhere near automatic)
*clean the cat box
*do a final olive oil treatment on his hair

All of that had to be done before noon, because from noon to 3:00 on Fridays he goes to the local YMCA for Spanish class, swimming, and gym class. From 3-4:30 we were going to run some errands, and then head to Tae Kwon Do class from 4:30-5:30.

He had accomplished most of what was on his list (which took a lot of effort on his part--his room was quite the disaster area, and he worked long and hard on his book review), and was sitting in the bath with the olive oil on his head. I told him it was time to comb it out--that we couldn't wait long because we'd be late for Spanish. He gently protested, "But I haven't had any time to play in the bath!" I thought about this, and about how rushed we'd be if we tried to make it to Spanish on time, and I realized that I actually would rather just let him play in the bath and take his time a bit--especially considering how hard he'd worked all morning, from the time he'd awakened. A little unstructured playtime is good for the soul, don'tcha think? So, I suggested that we skip Spanish. Which he followed up by suggesting that we skip the whole afternoon at the Y, and just go to Tae Kwon Do.

My first response was "No way." It's not just that we've paid for these sessions, or even that I like the consistency of his being with the same group of kids every week for an entire afternoon. It's really more that I don't want him to blow stuff off just because he feels like it.

But then I thought about myself--after a long, exhausting week--having to sit for three hours on uncomfortable benches and chairs (it's not a drop-off program; you have to stay there with your kid), and about how I haven't been sleeping well and wasn't really feeling all that great, and also about the mountain of work I have to do over the weekend (grading, grading, more grading, and writing of letters of recommendation, and reading a bunch of applications for an awards committee I'm on, and prepping for my next class, in between all of which I have a big gig with the band Saturday night, *and* have to go Halloween costume shopping, and really should get out our Halloween decorations already!!!, and, well, you get the idea...). And I realized I really wanted to stay home, too. Besides, he'll still be going to Tae Kwon Do this afternoon, which is super rigorous and disciplined.

So, I caved, though I made it clear that this was a one-time deal; that normally we wouldn't blow this off. (Of course, normally on a Friday morning we won't have to be working in an olive oil treatment and a combing and a bath!) He was fine with that. We finished his treatment/bath (he's definitely still lice-free), and he completed the rest of the items on his agenda and is having some playtime before Tae Kwon Do.

In the end, it will have been a productive day--just not exactly in the way that we planned. This, I guess, is at least a small part of what unschooling means to me--though I know (from reading other blogs as well as talking to other homeschooling parents) that even those who do follow a curriculum with their kids will often deviate from the plan on any given day.

So, of course, it's more than that... Even though he doesn't like everything on his daily schedule, there's very little on there (apart from the chores and the tooth-brushing) that he didn't either come up with himself or embrace very enthusiastically when I proposed it to him. For example, I actually wanted him to do another CTY writing course, because he got a lot out of the two he did last year, but he wasn't up for it. He definitely wants to do more of them at some point--he just got burned out last year, and I decided not to push it at all. So instead of a class or some other sort of curriculum, we came up with the idea for him to blog. My suggestion was a book-review blog, which he's doing, but he's also doing two other blogs that he wanted to do (one with movie reviews and one with whatever he wants to write about).

In addition, I have several workbooks/activity books for him on math, geography, history, etc. Most days he has "workbook time", but I let him choose what he which ones he wants to work on and I don't make him do any pages or activities he's not interested in (unfortunately, the math ones I got are too easy for him, so he never picks those--I guess I'll have to have him help me pick out some math books that he'll find more challenging and interesting).

He also reads like crazy and often writes comic books, but he does those things almost effortlessly, and he doesn't need them to be on any kind of daily agenda. Still, I value them (especially the reading, but also the creative activity) as vital parts of his daily learning.

Where's the discipline in all this choice? Actually, I would say that he's more self-disciplined than he's ever been. Although he needs to be gently reminded, for example, to practice his recorder, I think there is plenty of discipline required to practice an instrument to the point where you can play it well. There's a lot of repetition and, when he's learning a new piece, a fair amount of frustration that he has to face and overcome. I love seeing the commitment and drive in him to succeed at that. And of course, Tae Kwon Do is about as disciplined as it gets--not just the moves themselves, but lots of lining up or sitting down in straight rows, and being quiet and paying attention even when it's not your turn, and all that--all those skills he *hated* trying to acquire way back in 1st grade at public school but really doesn't mind working on in this context (where all that lining up and sitting down feels like it's worth it because he's actually learning something!). He also shows discipline and stick-to-it-ive-ness in his writing, which is something that of course can be difficult and frustrating and tiring, and he works hard at it.

Overall, maybe he's not pushing himself as hard as he could be right now, but I think that's ok. He's definitely making really good progress, academically and personally, and he's happy. It's a great combination. Also, I do feel that when he's ready for more of a challenge he'll seek it out, or ask me to help him seek it out. In fact, he's already excited about the thought of taking at least one or two online courses staring in January. And of course, I'll keep encouraging him every so often to think about getting back to his EPGY math.

And one of these days, when I have some spare time (ha!), I'll read up on unschooling, though I guess it doesn't really matter what I call what we're doing; it just matters that it's working so well!

Where does a homeschooler get lice?!

You can guess from the title of this post why I've been too busy to write of late. Yes, my kid got lice. And I never did figure out from where--no one else in all the people we know came forward to say that they had had it as well. (Of course I'm very glad that everyone I know was spared!!)

This was our first experience with lice, so I'm sorry to say that it took me a long, long time to figure out what it was. Poor George had been scratching his head for quite some time (weeks, at least). I had even checked his scalp multiple times, but didn't know what I was looking for. He has sensitive skin, and his scalp often gets itchy when the weather gets colder, so I assumed it was that. However, after we'd been careful to use medicated shampoo for several weeks and his head was clearly itching even more than before, I finally took him to the doctor to see what it was. Honestly, it did not even occur to me that he had lice (since I had checked his head and hadn't seen anything that looked like lice to me).

His regular doctor was busy, but we were able to get in to see a new doctor. As she looked through his scalp, I came up next to her to see. Almost right away we saw a rather large louse scurrying across his scalp. Ewwwwwwwwww! The doctor and I both jumped back in some degree of startlement and/or horror. George himself remained perfectly calm. I was trying to remain calm for his sake but was completely freaked out, honestly!

The doctor sent us on our way with instructions to get the medicated shampoo from the drugstore and to cut his shaggy hair a bit to make treatment easier, and off we went. In the car, my little stoic broke down, as he realized that he wasn't going to be able to play with his friends for at least the next few days and that on top of that he was probably going to have to get a haircut.

What really got him, though, he said, was how the doctor had reacted to him when she saw the lice. I (quite guiltily) pointed out that I, too, had jumped sky high when I saw, but he (through his tears!) very sweetly exonerated me, telling me that I didn't have any professional training to deal with that kind of situation. He further clarified: "Doctors are supposed to be prepared for that sort of thing. I don't care what she saw on me; she never should have reacted like that! If she were examining me and happened to see an ALIEN crawling on me, she should have said [imagine him speaking in a totally calm voice] 'Oh, I see, you have an alien crawling on you. Let me make a note of that.'" Sweet boy! He was so right! And though he had me laughing, and had absolved me of all wrong-doing, I felt like the Worst Mother in the World for having jumped and shrieked in horror and having no doubt contributed to his feeling so wretched!!

We went straight to the CVS, where I proceeded to buy pretty much every lice treatment on the shelves. The shampoo (actually two different brands of it), the after-shampoo, a comb-through solution, a furniture/car upholstery spray... and then headed home to use it all. By the way, if this ever happens to us again (um, knock on wood that it won't!), I will skip all of these products and go right for the olive oil. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When we got home, I read more carefully the instructions on the shampoo and on the after-shampoo treatment. I was still in kind of a fog of horror about the whole thing, but managed to figure out that the shampoo was claiming only to kill live lice, while the other stuff was claiming to kill any live nits as well. In my panic I decided to use both, though I was slightly worried about the strength of the chemicals in them (there are warnings all over them) so I didn't leave the shampoo on for 10 minutes as directed--I just rinsed it right off and then proceeded to cut his hair myself. This took a long time (he has inherited my deceptively voluminous hair, and it had been getting quite long), and I hated doing it as much as he hated having it done. He cried some more and was feeling utterly humiliated (still reeling from the doctor's reaction and also the thought that he'd be isolated from his friends for awhile, but also devastated that he had to have his hair cut because he was trying to grow it out even longer).

Next I applied the other solution, I think it was the CVS version of Nix, which I did leave on for the full 10 minutes. It promised it would kill everything on his head. Then I dutifully used the lice comb that came with one of the kits, but honestly, I wasn't getting much out, which I thought was kind of weird, since I knew he'd had the lice for weeks.

Anyway, I stripped his bed and put on new sheets, feeling rather confident that the Nix solution had rid his sweet little head of the unwanted invaders, and then started the monumental task of laundering every sheet, pillowcase, item-of-clothing-that-may-have-been-worn-since-last-being-washed (including coats and hoodies), and towel in our house--with 5 people in the family and a hot tub and pool, plus lots of guests on a regular basis, I had towels pretty much all over the house and I had no idea which ones might be harboring a nit... (In my state of denial over the end of summer, I had not yet laundered and put away all of our summer pool towels, which we don't wash with every single use).

Fortunately (um, for me, if not for her!) it was the day that my house cleaner comes, so she vacuumed thoroughly all the furniture in the house and helped me bag up in plastic all of his stuffed animals. I then pretty much quarantined him to his room, but with the welcome news that I would buy him some new books *and* he could play on the computer all he wanted, even on non-educational sites. I figured if he went to school he'd be kept home for a few days, so it seemed fair to excuse him from all schoolwork while he was being treated.

While I assumed the Nix had done what it had promised and killed everything on his head, and that the dead lice had probably all washed down the drain, I could see that I hadn't removed all the nits, the little white egg shells that are stuck to the hair shaft. (They look like tiny flakes of dandruff, but they are really stuck to the hair and won't easily move or dislodge when you try to make them with your finger.) If there were any live lice inside of these eggs they were supposedly also killed by the Nix, but I didn't like the idea of dead lice egg shells still stuck to my kid's head. The comb wasn't getting them, though. After phone calls to several friends (including my sister) who had experience with these things, and a conversation with one of the nurses at the doctors' office, and a fair amount of obsessive web searching, I headed back to the CVS to get a metal lice comb (instead of the plastic ones that all come with the shampoo and other stuff).

When I got back I completely saturated his scalp with olive oil, and then wrapped his head as best I could with saran wrap, and then made him stay like that for about a couple of hours. Poor thing! He hated it. He said it was really itchy, and the oil kept dripping down his neck. He at one point had the bright idea to make a sort of scarf for himself out of toilet paper, which worked pretty well.

After more than two hours, I set about combing through his hair with the metal comb. I didn't expect that anything but the tiny white egg shells would be coming out, since I was sure that the super-toxic chemicals I had subjected my kid to had done their job. NOPE! I got all kinds of things out with that combing! Nits, tiny-baby lice (which are light brown, like the full grown ones), and full size lice, both dead and ALIVE. YUCK! You bet I was horrified, but you can also bet that I didn't show it one bit this time! I spent about an hour combing through every centimeter of his hair, over and over, until I wasn't getting anything else out.

For the next week or so, I continued washing his sheets and blankets and pillowcases (and towels and clothes) every day, and I continued the olive oil treatments every other day, though on these follow-up treatments I left it on for only a half-hour and usually skipped the saran wrap. After less than a week I was no longer getting anything live out of his hair, but of course wasn't happy until I wasn't getting anything at all out of there, which was the case the last couple of times I did it. I will still probably do it one more time, just in case, even though it's been over two weeks since we started treatment--'cause I'm kind of obsessive that way!

Amazingly, no one else in our household got it, even though we actually often share towels (especially pool towels) and even brushes sometimes! It's truly amazing that I didn't get it, since I often lie down next to him for a bedtime chat or story at night.

So, that's my lice story. More than a week of endless laundry, vacuuming, olive oil, saran wrap, ineffective chemicals, tears.... And may you never have occasion for it to be of any use to you!

Listening to my kid

George and I are not in agreement regarding how long his break from math should last. But I think I'm going to follow his lead on this one. After all, he's technically at the beginning of 4th grade, and he just finished 4th-grade math, so it's not like he's falling behind.

It's just that once he's done with 5th-grade math, there are all sorts of cool courses he'll be eligible to take with CTY (namely, a middle school science series, and a cryptography course that he's quite interested in), and I'm eager for him to be able to start with those. (I think that we'll probably alternate online science and math courses once he gets to that point.) Plus, the achiever in me wants to see him accomplish more, more, more! But I'm really trying to resist that impulse, because it's not even about him.

The only real consideration here is that I don't want him to lose what he's learned. But I can address that by making sure that he does some math worksheets or workbooks, and that we keep playing his math card games, on a regular (if not daily) basis.

I don't think I would have had the guts to do this last year, to let him make the call on how long his math postponement would be. But I know he'll want to get back to it. He's very excited about the cryptography course, and he's also eager to get a math computer game offered by CTY (Descartes' Cove) that is for kids who have completed 5th-grade math. Plus, last year when I denied him a break when he had asked for it, math became intensely unpleasant for him, something he dreaded on a daily basis. When I relented and let him take a 3-week break, he did return to it with renewed enthusiasm. So I am fairly confident that when he feels ready he'll come back to it.

But what about kids in school who have to do math every day, whether they like it or not?! Shouldn't I make him do stuff he doesn't want to do? Isn't that part of life? Isn't that a skill he'll need in order to succeed "out in the world"?

Actually, he does plenty of things every day that he doesn't want to do. He has daily chores, and some of them--such as cleaning the cat box--are no doubt even more unpleasant than some of the awful things he'd have to be doing in school (LOL). Then there are matters such as complying with my sometimes quite stringent limits on tv and video games, having to brush his teeth and hair every day (neither of which he likes at all!), having to go to bed earlier than his younger step-sister (she sleeps in; he doesn't), having to negotiate with his step-siblings about all sorts of things, etc. etc. So, honestly, rather than make him continue with his math right now when he's feeling burned out, I think it's a better use of our time and energy to insist that he stick with his chores (and that he continue to do academic work in other areas, of course). As long as he is making adequate progress in academics overall, which he surely is, to me the rest is not so important.

Besides, the math that he's doing is much more intense than the math he'd be doing at school, so I do think it's fair to let him recover from that intensity before he delves into it again. In fact, the tutor that CTY assigned to us said that lots of kids find that they need a substantial break in between the classes, to do other more "fun" things with math. So I'm following my new, experience-based instincts, and letting it go. It will be interesting to see how this experiment turns out!

Fall, Schmall... Or, my own little bitty pity party

I hate fall. There, I said it.

I live in a place where autumn is greeted with general enthusiasm and even excitement. Spectacular fall colors blanket gently rolling hills in almost every direction. But where everyone else sees beauty, all I see are signs of impending doom and gloom--namely, of the five or six unrelenting months of winter that are about to descend upon us with a choke hold. Months and months of bitter cold and a sun that, when you can manage to see it, looks like it needs life-support.

I just can't seem to get down with the whole seasons thing, despite the fact that I've lived here for 15 years now. The California girl in me not only wants it to be summer year-round, but truly thinks that it ought to be.

My pool is still open (though I did finally cave in and turn off the heat after that last pool party last Thursday--was it really just last Thursday?), and my bathing suit still hangs from a hook in my bathroom, along with my pool towel. Somehow I can't help but feel, each year, that if I don't put my bathing suit away and don't close the pool, autumn simply *can't* come.

It never works, of course, and I inevitably end up with a very cold pool full of dead leaves that are really a pain to deal with. But it doesn't stop me from trying, year after year.

Don't get me wrong--I do try to make myself like fall. I try to muster up some enthusiasm; I really do. I try to talk myself into getting excited about pumpkins and Halloween costumes, and hay rides, and turkey, and holiday parties.... But would I put those things off forever if I could still be enjoying the warm sunshine, and tennis, and swimming, and backyard BBQs? You bet I would. Besides, I can't help thinking about how throughout the fall, all over Hawaii, for example, people are enjoying Halloween and Thanksgiving and holiday parties just fine, and in between it all they head to the beach for the afternoon.

I'm sitting here shivering in my drafty old house, hoping for a heat wave, but knowing that not long from now a day like today--or an evening like tonight (42 degrees)--will feel positively balmy.

So, go back to California, you say? Here's the thing--I can't really do that, for a variety of very good reasons (among them three children who need to stay near their other parents!), and even if I could, I'm not sure I'd want to. I actually love it here. I have an amazing community of friends, and I've really built a life for myself that I love. Not to mention the fact that the cost of living is such that I can live it up here in a way that I'd have to be a multi-millionaire to do in CA. It's a wonderful place to be raising a family. Apart from the wretched cold and serious lack of sunshine for about half the year, life is generally pretty easy here. Traffic is practically non-existent ("stuck in traffic" means it may take you five extra minutes to get across town), nowhere is too crowded, crime is low, people are down-to-earth and friendly in a nice, low-key kind of way. Despite the fact that it's a small city, there is plenty of culture. Ok, not New-York-City kind of culture, but enough culture to keep me satisfied most of the time.

So, I guess I'll go crank up the heat a bit, perhaps make myself a cup of hot tea, and remember to keep counting my many blessings. But don't blame me if my mind keeps drifting to how, at least in an alternate universe, I could be counting them just as well on a beach in Hawaii....