Breaking up with RU (Radical Unschooling)

Dear Radical Unschooling,

I'm sorry, but it's just not going to work out between us. I gave it my best shot, but I've become convinced that we're just not right for each other.

You might say I didn't give us enough of a chance. That if I'd stuck it out longer I would have seen that we were perfect for each other. But I just don't think so.

The thing is, I do have an idea in my head of the kind of person I want my son to be. You might call that controlling, and you might say that control is an illusion, and that if I'm imposing my ideas on him I'm just messing with him, that I should stand back (or stand very nearby) and let him develop entirely into the person he wants to be, that he chooses to be. Perhaps this could even be true if the world were different. But with so many influences raining down on him all the time from our culture, I feel that if I don't step in a bit I'm not really letting him grow up to be free, I'm merely ceding my role as guide to the media, etc. I think that as his mom I have a thing or two over the corporate/consumer culture that is constantly, subtly and not-so-subtly, bombarding kids with messages regarding what they should value and who they should be. And if I don't speak up and yes, sometimes insist, that culture will play too formative a role in his development. And as his mom, I don't want that. And I actually do believe that is my right (and maybe even my responsibility) as his parent to want or not want that for him, and to act accordingly.

I know you're asking me who I am to insist that my son spend his time in particular ways. What makes me think that he should spend only a limited amount of time, decided upon by me, playing video games or watching tv, for example, as opposed to reading books? If I happen to think that books are more valuable than tv/video games, that's merely my opinion, and I should let him form his own conclusions, right? Sorry; I don't buy it. I really don't.

Let me tell you, RU, I have nothing in particular against the tv or video games. I enjoy them plenty. And I also know that there are plenty of truly educational tv programs and video games, and also that one can learn a lot even from shows and games that are not at all meant to be educational. But there has to be a balance. And with all the tv programming for kids that there is nowadays, I'm sorry but I don't trust that my son would "eventually" self-regulate. I gave this unlimited tv thing a try. And George enjoyed it, for sure. He found a whole bunch of new programs that he loved and started watching on a regular basis. I don't have a problem with that, except that it's all he wanted to do. And with all the cable channels we have, there is *always* something new to watch. And for awhile he was simultaneously watching the tv and playing his Nintendo DS. For hours on end. At the end of which he'd be completely strung out. I felt him slipping away into his own little electronic world. Seriously, his personality changes when he has too much screen time. His sense of humor, normally so sharp and verbal and sophisticated, regressed into mild obnoxiousness. This just does not happen when he spends the whole day reading. And honestly, I don't think it's good for him as a human being!

Yes, I do have an idea of the person I want him to be, and that person is very well educated, and well read. Call me a snob if you must, but I'll counter that I think that such a person can also be well versed in pop culture. I truly have no problem with that, and am quite well versed in pop culture myself. For crying out loud, I'm in a rock band, and I love so-called "reality" tv. If I had more time, I'd actually read People magazine from cover to cover on a regular basis. But again, there has to be a balance as far as I'm concerned.

I want George to grow up reading. All kinds of things. From comic books to the classics. Reading engages your mind in a particular way that electronic media simply does not, in my experience. In a way that I value. It gives you a broader perspective on humanity and the human experience, and sharpens your analytical skills more than electronic media can. I think it makes you a more sophisticated consumer of electronic media, and in the days of "infotainment" and almost non-stop advertising and completely bogus political propaganda being slung around all over the place by around-the-clock stations like Fox "News" (and all the rest of them, really), being a sophisticated consumer of rhetoric is of vital importance. If you are not thoroughly versed in the ways of rhetoric, or at least in possession of a critical approach to and understanding of the ways in which people use language to shape "reality" for you, you are a sitting duck for corporations and politicians who would manipulate you into following them headlong into what's best for them, which at least as often as not is not going to be what's best for you. And I'll tell you what I see: people who are well read and/or well educated tend to be less likely to fall prey to that sort of thing. It was certainly true for me that in graduate school, when I became a much more sophisticated reader than I ever had been, I also became a more sophisticated consumer of both popular and political culture, and that spilled over into all areas of my life, making me a much more empowered human being.

I want that for my son. And I'm going to do what I can to make sure he gets it.

So, anyway, RU, I hope there are no hard feelings. I wish you all the best, and I know you'll continue to thrive in many places, among many families. Just not mine.

The Unschooling thing

Unschooling has been on my mind a lot lately, pretty much ever since I went to the unschooling conference earlier last month and discovered that I'm not really an unschooler. Well, not a real one, anyway. Turns out to be a true unschooler you pretty much have to not insist on anything from your child. It's not just a homeschooling approach; it's a parenting philosophy as well. If there's something you want your child to do (being helpful around the house, or being polite, for example), you lead by example and can talk to them about what's important from your perspective, but leave it completely up to them whether or not they follow. Unschoolers also do not worry about what their children are or aren't learning--it is completely up to the child what to focus on and when. You might think that this sounds like neglect, but from what I've seen nothing could be further from the truth. The parents I've encountered who choose this style of homeschooling/parenting are extraordinarily dedicated parents, who work hard to provide all sorts of educational opportunities in areas where their kids express interest. And the unschooled kids I met at the conference seemed, actually, to be very nice kids (articulate, interesting, well-socialized, "together", etc.). Here's a definition of radical unschooling that I found on an unschooling site:

Unschooling will look different in different families, and "radical unschooling" simply means extending the philosophy of unschooling (that children will learn what they need to know when they are ready and want to learn it) into every other aspect of life (i.e. children will go to sleep when they are tired, eat when they are hungry, and will learn to be a functioning, helpful member of a family/household without being forced/required to do things like chores, given punishments, limited on tv/videogames, etc.)

I find this concept to be both intriguing and kind of horrifying. It goes counter to so many things in our society (which could be both a plus and a minus, I suppose).

Children who are unschooled often take classes and follow curricula--*if* and when they so choose. Parents who unschool their children say that their kids hardly ever spend the whole day watching tv or playing video games; they say that because these things are not limited, their children aren't obsessed with them. I see the logic in this argument; I really do. And when George had lice last fall, and I told him he could do whatever he wanted until it cleared up, he did spend about three full days on his Nintendo DS but then was quite bored with it and went back to reading. Does that prove the point? Well, I must admit that it kind of does. Do I continue to limit his game/tv time? Well, yes I do. But back to that in a minute.

There are two separate but of course related issues here, one having to do with parenting in general and one having to do with schooling. I'm actually grappling more with the schooling end of things. I'm pretty happy with my parenting in general and also with the person George is turning out to be. Of course I believe that in any area there is always room for improvement, so I am enjoying being on an unschoolers list-serv and considering the different points of view presented there.

But I feel like George and I have a pretty authentic, balanced, respectful, trusting relationship (not unlike the relationship I had with my parents when I was growing up), despite the fact that on occasion there is an imbalance of power. Because I've been around a lot longer than he has, there are some things that I know that he doesn't. And while I'm always willing to listen to and consider his point of view, and will follow it on many things, I feel that insisting on certain things like a bedtime is truly in his best interests. When he doesn't get enough sleep he becomes very irritable and difficult to be around, which adversely affects both him and everyone around him. He really turns into a different kid. Argumentative, edgy, angry, volatile, sometimes even explosive. I understand; I become those things, too, when I haven't had enough sleep! I truly do. As an adult, I do my best to insure that I get at least a minimum of sleep so that that doesn't happen too much. But I can't expect George to do that for himself, not when it would mean voluntarily removing himself from whatever is going on with the rest of the family pretty much every evening (George wakes up early, no matter what, so he has to go to bed by about 8 or so. My husband and I stay up a bit later than that, of course, and when my stepkids are here, they are also allowed to stay up until at least 9--they generally sleep a bit later than George does). This is one example--actually, the main one (though a similar phenomenon happens when he has too much screen time)--where I feel it works best for our family and for George himself for me to insist on something from him.

Back to academics.... The theory, as stated above, says that kids will learn what they need when they need it, and it's not up to us to force-feed them anything at all. This sounds pretty radical, yes. But there are so many examples I've heard of since I've really been looking into this lately. Mostly having to do with math/science, which coincidentally is what's most on my mind. One unschooled girl was never required to do any math and when she was of high school age she was doing a building project of some sort that was important to her, and she suddenly found that she needed a mathematical formula to figure something out. She went right to the computer and did a little research, and within 15 minutes had found the formula and figured out how to use it. Another kid decided she really wanted to go to college and found out that there was an entrance requirement of chemistry, in which she lacked any interest or training. She decided to take an online college-level chemistry class, worked really hard for the duration of the term, and got an A. Getting either of these kids to study these things sooner, when they really didn't see the point and had no interest in them, would likely have produced different (less desirable) results.

At the same time, as I've stated before, I am a proponent of a well-rounded education. I believe that people benefit from studying different things. Even things they aren't particularly interested in. That each discipline has its own way(s) of seeing the world, and that one can only benefit from being exposed to such diversity of perspective. Plus, you might discover that you love something you didn't know you would in advance. An example: I thought I hated "literature". Don't get me wrong; I always loved to read. But I had a series of English teachers in high school who did not inspire in me a love of studying literature. I thought it was sort of imprecise and annoying to try to analyze literature. Fast forward to college: I decided to be a French major, mostly because I loved traveling. (I had initially wanted to be a math major, but had a bad experience in honors calculus my first semester and never took math again.) At a certain point I ran out of language/culture/cinema courses in French and was forced to start taking literature courses my senior year in order to finish my major. Well, with the right professors, I suddenly found that I *loved* studying and analyzing literature. Something finally clicked, and I went on to grad school (in Italian) and became a professor. Now I spend much of my life analyzing literature and teaching others how to do it. And I love it. I really do. But if I hadn't been required to look into it further as part of my studies, I never would have discovered that.

But what about George? What about how much he's hating math right now? How much do I insist that he stick with it? Perhaps there's a happy medium. I actually do believe that he could pick it up pretty quickly, later, if it were to serve a purpose he valued, and I kind of feel like all he's learning right now is a hatred for and frustration with math, which is certainly something I do *not* want to teach him! I recently read a really interesting article, in fact, about a highly successful experiment in which the teaching of math was delayed until middle school. Those kids actually ended up with a better understanding of math than their peers who had been taught the basics all along. (The real problem with the math George is doing right now--which my husband, a former middle-school math teacher, says is about early 7th-grade level--is that it is too repetitive, and it's killing him. So I'm thinking of letting him drop it entirely for now and starting up with a new program sometime next year, when he's recovered a bit.)

This post is already getting kind of long, but I am also wondering how much to insist on things like writing from him. He's already a really good writer. How much do I push him to work on his writing skills, and how much do I let him just run free with them, working on them when he feels inspired to do so? I like the idea of letting his own creativity and drive be his guides. On the other hand, it's not a bad thing to learn how to write (or do math, or work in general) even when you're not feeling particularly inspired to do so.

Anyway, for right now, unschooling (academically, at least) is working pretty well for me--I know George is ahead of the game in everything at this point, and I'm 8 months pregnant with increasingly limited energy and under a fair amount of pressure with my own work. Work that I do, yes, because I feel inspired to do it--sometimes. But also because I *have* to do it (if I want to keep a roof over my head, etc.), and it's a pretty good thing that I've learned to work even when I don't particularly feel like it.

So, despite my current flirtation with radical unschooling, I think I'll likely continue, in the future, to embrace my own little combination of approaches to both homeschooling and parenting. I'll keep looking into a variety of approaches, taking what feels right to me and leaving the rest, figuring it out as I go along. And then figuring it out all over again, as needs and situations always seem to be changing!

Birthday thoughts, and OW

First, the ow--I've been having early labor pains for most of the weekend and it has not been fun. They do finally seem to be subsiding, though, so I'm hoping for a decent night's sleep!

More importantly, the birthday thoughts... It's George's 10th tomorrow.

I used to keep a sort of journal for him. I started it when I was pregnant with him. When I found out I was pregnant all those years ago, a friend took me to a knitting store and got me started on my first knitting project since the 1970s, when I knitted one pink slipper to earn some girl scout badge or other. (It was all about the badges--and one slipper was enough, so I never got around to the other one.) Anyway, my friend got me started on a lovely blanket, which I really appreciated, but it wasn't helping me to connect with the little being inside of me in a way that really felt like, well, me. I suddenly got the idea to start a journal, which I would address to the baby, and in which I would write down all of my thoughts about being pregnant. I loved it, and I kept doing it regularly well into his first year. I'll share them with him someday, when he's a bit older. Anyway, my writing has gotten more and more sporadic, and I now write only a couple of times a year or less.

But one thing I've always done, right before his birthday, is to write down a bunch of things I love about him right then, at that age, and also some highlights of the last year. I was going to just write it in here this year, but then I thought that I really ought, for continuity's sake, to write it in the latest journal I have for him (which I think I started when he was about 4!) But then I couldn't find it, and now there's less than an hour left before his birthday, so I figured I'd better just go ahead and write it in here! I always address it to him. I hope it won't sound, I don't know, too personal. Or like I'm bragging, because it's kind of all about how awesome he is. (He's never actually read any of these yet, but he'll probably read this one... Anyway...) So if all that's going to annoy you, just stop reading right now! In any case, here goes.

Dear George,

It's almost your birthday! I won't say anything trite, like "you're growing up so fast", even though it does seem odd that it was 10 years ago tonight that I went to the hospital to bring you into this world. I didn't really know what to expect, of course. I was very excited and also scared. I had always wanted to be a mom, and sure hoped I'd be good at it. It's funny that now, exactly 10 years later, I've been having labor pains.... But in a way it's kind of cool, a kind of interesting connection between you and your little brother-to-be.

George, you might think I am saying this just because I'm your mom, but you are a really great kid. I have loved the last year with you. It has been such a privilege to get to spend so much time with you. It was just a little over a year ago, I think, that we pulled you out of the Montessori school (which you were attending only part-time at that point anyway) and moved full steam ahead with homeschooling. It has not always been easy and we've been sort of figuring it out as we go along, but I am so happy we're making it work. I can see that you are thriving and that is what a mom really wants to see.

So, what do I love about you, right now, at this ripe old age of 9? I love... first of all how kind and caring you are. You really care about other people and are extraordinarily thoughtful and considerate. You've been that way since you were like 2, but I'm glad to see that the world hasn't taken it out of you :-) Also, how insightful you are. How you really "get it". You have a great barometer for detecting bull#$%@ and you crack me up sometimes when you subtly call people out on it. You are really good at considering people's motives and also at understanding why people do the things they do, even when those things aren't very nice. This is true on the level of family, friends, and even society--we had a great conversation about racism tonight, for example. (After which you told me that when you grow up you want to eradicate racism. And also find a better cure for lice.) And I love our bedtime conversations--connecting with each other at the end of a day.

I love how motivated you are with Tae Kwon Do and also with recorder. That when we find something that you like and is a good fit for you, you really run with it.

I love that you trust me enough that when I'm upsetting you you know you can tell me. Like the other day in the car when we were a little late for music because you took too long getting ready, and I was going on and on about it because I was stressed out (about work, not really so very much about being late for the music lesson) and you listened to what I had to say but at a certain point you spoke up and gently expressed that I had really made my point, and that you really don't like it when I go on and on like that after you've clearly heard and understood what I've said! You were so right. And you didn't say it in a mean or disrespectful way.

I love how creatively you play. You will sit in your room for hours playing with your toys (right now it's lots of Legos and Disney Racers), talking and making up story lines... and I love that because you're homeschooled you have plenty of time to do that. Also, I really enjoy sitting on the floor with you (well, I did before I was pregnant, anyway!), playing board games, especially word games. Also, the way you write your own comics and you make up games that involve drawing pictures and such (sort of "choose-your-own-adventure" games, where you draw pictures for each adventure that the "player" chooses, like the rock-star game you made up for me).

Speaking of which, I love how you love my music and my singing. It makes me so happy to hear you sing, and I get an extra kick out of hearing you sing the songs I have written. Even more, I love how we wrote a song together, Schoolhouse Blues--that we took your horrible experiences in first grade and turned them into something so fun, and that was so well received when Bob and I performed it at the unschoolers convention.

There's not much I love a whole lot more than your sense of humor. You really do crack me up several times a day. Wish I could think of some examples but I'm tired and am drawing a blank! On a similar note, your facility with language. I love how when you learn a new word you start using it right away (pretty much always correctly).

I love the tenderness you already feel toward your little brother. You are so sweet when you kiss or ever-so-gently pat my belly and talk to him. I love all the love you already have in your heart for this little boy you haven't met just yet, but of course are so deeply connected to.... Also, how early on in the pregnancy you told me that a uterus was a portal from heaven. And how when you came to an ultrasound early on, and the ultrasound technician pointed out how quickly the baby had just turned around, you turned to me and announced, totally deadpan, "Well, Mom, looks like we've got another child prodigy on our hands." Also, how you told me that the ultrasound reminded you of how Chronos had swallowed his children, that that's what it looked like to you!

I love your attitude about religion and God and the Bible and such, and that you and I can have mature, sophisticated, and completely honest discussions about theology. And about literature. And about people. And about the meaning of life, and about just about anything. You are a great conversationalist--and not just for a nine-year-old, either. Really. I am lucky to know a lot of really great conversationalists and you can hold your own with any of them, with insightfulness, panache, and wit.

I also love how philosophical you can be... like the other day when you were overtired and upset, and verbalized that you were overwhelmed by turning 10 and thinking about all of the changes that you've had in your life already! Also how you noticed, when you were so very tired and upset, that it was, as you said, almost as if your body was looking for excuses to cry. That level of insight into your own feelings is going to serve you well in life.

I love what a good little actor you are. It was so wonderful to see you on stage last year (on your birthday!) at the play on campus, and then again as Lysander at the various performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream with the homeschoolers--especially one of the outdoor performances, when it was pouring rain, but you didn't let it slow you down one bit (nor did any of your cast mates!) I also loved it when you realized that you had forgotten to bring your sword out on stage with you once when you had a fight scene that was about to start--you hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and then just went for it, as if you were holding that sword anyway.

I love snuggling up with you in the morning and chatting, planning our day, or sometimes watching tv. I love going out to lunch with you. And going to the movies with you, even though I fall asleep probably half the time. How you loved the Return of the Pink Panther, which was my favorite movie when I was your age.

I love traveling with you...

I love how helpful you've become, especially now that I'm pregnant... offering to do various things without even being asked (like carrying the groceries, etc.).

Of course there are plenty of other things I love about you, Honey, but it's so late and I'm so tired... so this will have to do. I hope you're not embarrassed that I've written all of this here instead of in a journal where no one but you would see it (and not even you for several more years!!!).

Goodnight, my 9-year-old. Tomorrow we'll have brownies at Shakespeare class, and for dinner we'll have tostadas, your favorite meal. Then next week we'll have a little party for you at the movies. You wanted to show the Pink Panther movie, but were dissuaded when you showed to one of your friends and he didn't share your enthusiasm, so it's Back to the Future Part 2, instead (since you showed part 1 last year). So, sweet dreams, and happy, happy birthday to you!

Quick math update

So, I backed way off on the math thing, and apologized to George for having been overbearing and impatient about it, and guess what? We're almost totally back on track with it. He's not absolutely loving it, but he's had a few good sessions in a row and is really motivated with it again. Most importantly, he has in general returned to his enthusiastic self.

I hope I've really learned the lesson this time, to listen to my kid, and to respect his own internal rhythms a bit more. He knows when he needs a break. And it may or may not coincide with when I want him to take one. But when he truly needs it and I push him harder instead of giving it to him, it just doesn't work. And I end up sort of traumatizing him in the process! I need to remember that he pushes himself plenty hard overall, in many directions; apart from general guidance or specific help when he needs it, and gentle reminders here and there, I should just back the heck off. And save my slave-driving for myself!

Wrestling with my inner control freak

So, writing that post yesterday, and observing with renewed attention George's behavior and attitude today, I realize that I've slipped back into my slave-driver mentality this week. There are so many forces at work (both internal and external) that validate that mentality for me.... And it's so easy to forget who I'm dealing with here--not that being a control-freak-nazi-slave-driver would work particularly well with any kid. But the point is, George is plenty driven. He doesn't need me riding him so hard to make him learn! When I do that, it just burns him out. Listen to your kid, remember? He understands his own needs better than you might think.

When I'm pushing him too hard, it's because I'm noticing that he's slacking off a lot, but when he's slacking off a lot, it's always because he somehow knows he needs it. I'm not talking now about when he'll try to avoid doing something like brushing his teeth and he needs a little push in the general direction of the bathroom sink. I'm talking about when he starts to get an overall lack of enthusiasm for everything, even the things he normally loves. Which I really noticed today, when I was paying particular attention to *him* and not just to my own agenda.

And for cryin' out loud, who says he has to complete advanced 5th-grade math in 3 months? He's not even in 5th grade yet and even if he were, why should he be pressured to finish a whole year in 3 months? Just because I've paid a %$&^load of money for it? That's just dumb. Like forcing yourself to overeat at the buffet or something, because no matter what you want to make sure you get your money's worth. Or making yourself wear really uncomfortable-but-expensive shoes that you bought on a whim, because even if you're making yourself completely miserable, again, you're gonna get your money's worth, come hell or high water. Ha.

I *know* all of this, and yet somehow I can so easily forget it. Especially when I'm in a particularly intense period with my own work. And I guess I'm feeling the pressure with that and also with a baby on the way, like soon I won't have enough time and energy to make sure he's doing his math, so I'd better work hard to make sure he gets as much done as possible, right now. But he has his own needs and his own internal pace. His own comfort level with processing, absorbing, learning. And it absolutely needs to be taken into account. In fact, it really needs to be what guides his education. Any teacher worth her salt should know that!

It can just be hard to quiet the voices inside (and outside) my head--subtle though they may be--that express worry that he won't learn the value or the satisfaction of hard work and discipline, or that I'm letting his mind and talents go to waste or something. Again, it goes right back to the issues in my very first blog post, where I was grappling with the question of whether or not I was pushing him too hard or not enough (guess which one it was). I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I'm having to relearn a lesson that I thought I had already mastered. That just kinda seems to come with the territory of, well, life. On some things, anyway. Two steps forward, one step back....

F-bombs and 9-year-olds

I'm trying to figure out exactly how I feel about 9-year-olds swearing. Ok, I'm certainly not all for it. But how strongly against it am I? And what if it's written down instead of said out loud? Does that make any difference? Or not?

Last night I had some friends over for my birthday, and George's 2 best pals came (along with their parents). Let me say that these are really good kids. They're both 9, as is George. J is the son of colleagues/friends of mine; I've known them for years but they just recently moved here, and George and J (who had met several times before) have become very fast friends. E is the daughter of very close friends of mine, and she and George have practically been raised together. All of that to say that these are kids I like, respect, and trust.

Anyway, we parents were busy doing our things (mostly chatting, but also playing pool and other games) and were happy to see the kids behaving well and enjoying themselves. They each had a Nintendo DS and were using the Pictochat feature, whereby they were sending each other messages across the room. They would also stop sometimes and interact with us (joining us for some snacks or whatever). They were clearly having fun, and I remember thinking to myself that I was relieved it was going so well, since sometimes when there's an odd number of kids someone can end up being left out, but that wasn't happening at all.

Then today, I get an e-mail from E's dad, to all of the parents, letting us know that E had mentioned that the kids were dropping f-bombs and writing the word "sex" back and forth to each other. How do I feel about this? And how do I feel about George swearing in general?

George hears me swear sometimes. I don't speak like a sailor or anything, but I probably swear several times a week. For one thing, I tend to be a little bit of a klutz and I hurt myself on a regular basis by bumping into things or catching a table leg with my toe, etc. etc. I have made it clear to him that there are times when it would be inappropriate for me to swear (at work or in front of people I don't know very well, etc.), and he actually understands that very well.

So, should the standard be the same for him, or not? I am not totally fond of double standards in general, though of course there are some things that it's ok for adults but not kids to do. Driving a car, starting a fire in the fireplace, drinking alcohol, etc. I guess I'm just wondering if swearing is indeed one of those things. Honestly, if he swears to himself, or even in front of me, every once in awhile, and it does not become a habit, it doesn't really bother me. But I know that it's something that does bother a lot of people, which for something like this (where the activity in question is easy enough to do without) is probably a good enough reason not to do it. He understands this reasoning; in fact, he has actually complained to me on occasion about kids who swear too much, that he does not like it.

I think he and these friends will likely back off of the swearing for awhile anyway, since I know all the parents talked to the kids about this case. I will probably just stick with telling George that since swearing does make some people very uncomfortable, especially when it's done by kids, that it's just better to avoid it. Yet part of me does feel that it's ok for him to be experimenting with language in this way with his closest friends in the safety of our home. This is a kid who loves language in general, and really enjoys exploring words and different ways of speaking, and is sensitive to contexts and audiences, and is quite keenly aware of many subtleties of ways of communicating. So I am at least partly reluctant to tell him that all swearing is strictly forbidden.

As I said, I'm trying to figure it out....

Another Highly Successful Bribe

George hit a major milestone today--he rode a bike (without assistance) for the first time. I've been waiting for this day for a long time! What led up to today's achievement was quite different from my own experience as a kid....

I first rode a bike when I was about 5, in the alley behind our house in California, aided by one of my older siblings--I think it was my brother Michael. It was a perfect place to learn to ride, because it was flat and there was hardly ever any traffic on it. I still remember the thrill of when Michael (or was it Drew? Not sure--I really only remember what was ahead of me!), who was running along beside me and holding me up, let go and I just kept going. I was on a green bike with a banana seat that I had been given for Christmas, that my dad had put together at his workbench in our garage.

Before Christmas I had actually walked in on my dad in the garage when he was working on it. He was so cool, though: when I asked what it was, he said, in highly conspiratorial tones, that it was Drew's Christmas present, and he swore me to secrecy. I remember sitting there with him for a long time as he worked on it, and I even still remember the thrill I felt at knowing something that my older brother didn't, something that was going to be a wonderful surprise for him. (I didn't know enough to be able to tell that it was a girl's bike!) It's actually one of the earliest sustained memories I have of my dad--along with some snippets of times at the dinner table and several happy memories of him on family camping trips.

On Christmas morning that year I remember being extra excited as I ran downstairs with my siblings--I wasn't even thinking about what I was going to get. I just couldn't *wait* to see Drew's reaction to the shiny green bike he was getting and that I had "helped" my dad with. But he instead was over oohing and ahhing over a different bike that was next to it, a bigger, red one. I said to him, Drew, come over here--this is your Christmas present! This is your bike! And my dad said to me, No, Honey; that's *your* bike! It's for you! Well, I was just blown away. It was completely magical. The fact that I had already seen it and had thought it was Drew's actually added to its value in my eyes. Being the youngest of 4 (by far--Drew was the closest to me and he was 7 years my senior), I pretty much idolized my siblings, and wanted to be just like them. I couldn't have been happier with that bike if Santa himself had handed it over to me personally.

I could not wait to learn how to ride it. I'm not sure how long after that it was that Michael and I took it out back to the alley where he taught me to ride it, but it can't have been long. The whole thing is one of my favorite childhood memories.

George, on the other hand, could not have been less interested in bicycles! Ok, not quite true--he loved riding on his little preschooler bike. But once I got him a scooter, the bike sat in the garage, along with the newer bike I bought him when he'd outgrown that one. Several times a year I'd ask him if he wanted to learn how to ride his bike, but he'd always answer that he just wasn't interested, that he was happy with his scooter. I'd tried talking his dad into taking him to a park and teaching him, but although his dad agreed in theory that it really ought to be done, I guess George's lack of enthusiasm for the whole thing was contagious to all of his parental units. I was feeling quite guilty about the whole thing, actually, like that somehow despite his resistance I really should have found a way to teach him. (How very many things there are to feel guilty about as a parent!!)

Anyway, fast forward to today. George and I were in Toys-R-Us compiling his Christmas list. In the back of the store is a big section with all the bicycles. George hopped on a little preschooler bike with training wheels and started riding it around. Suddenly something clicked in my head--these aisles were wide and pretty long, and there was no one at all around in this part of the store... what if I surprised him with the suggestion that he jump on one of the two-wheelers and give it a try, right here in the store? I thought the idea was zany enough that it might appeal to him. I also liked that it had the element of surprise, that he might just say yes without having any time to really think about it. As I predicted, he was definitely intrigued!

Before he could think much about it, I pulled a bike off the display that looked about the right size, had him get on it, and I started wheeling him around on it. I let go for a few seconds and I could see that he really did have his balance--all that scootering had surely helped prepare him for this. But I could see his enthusiasm level wasn't quite what it needed to be to see this task through to its conclusion, so I thought fast and then asked him what he would want from me as a prize if he really learned how to ride a bike today. He quickly replied, a video game. Done! I said. I told him we'd go to a park when we got home and if he really learned today we'd come right back and get him the video game of his choice. But we both kind of wanted him to try it one more time right there in the store, so I set him up again, gave him a good push, and let go. He rode all the way down that aisle! ...and then crashed, into a display of bicycle helmets! I laughed so hard I had to sit down. Before you conclude that I'm a wretched human being, let me add that he was laughing just as heartily. The irony of the display being helmets was not lost on him, as he sat/lay there amidst them all with the bike sort of on top of him. We laughed and laughed for quite some time before we could get it together to put everything back.

We hurried home, as we'd soon be running out of daylight (stupid autumn! anyway...) and looked for his helmet and a wrench to remove the training wheels from his "new" bike which he's had for years but has ridden probably three times. Then we wheeled the bike down the big hill to the parking lot in the park across from our house. The lot was basically empty, and there weren't too many people around--perfect. From there, it was really a snap. He was off and running from his first try, though learning how to start by himself took a little bit of effort. As I watched him ride around the parking lot, and then on one of the trails across the park, I think that the thrill and pride that I felt matched what I felt all those years ago on the other side of the country when I had my first successful solo ride.

So even though it took a bribe to get his enthusiasm up for this milestone (and honestly, I wish I'd thought about this approach two or even three years ago!), in the end he did take on the task with great gusto, and I know he was quite pleased with his success. He said that we shouldn't make a big deal out of it since he should have learned when he was 3, but I could tell he felt rather triumphant just the same.

Definitely an A+ for phys ed today!

Clearly, I'm not above bribery

On George's agenda when we woke up today was finishing the final exam for his EPGY 4th-grade math class. He had nearly finished it yesterday but ran out of time before we had to leave for a dentist appointment. He had left the long division section until last, because it's the thing that is the toughest/least fun for him. Although he had only one question left to do today, he really didn't want to do it! He had worked so intensely on this over the last several days (reviewing before starting the actual test) that I could see he was just having trouble getting ready to face it again today. Usually we do math first thing in the morning, and I'm pretty strict about it, but I let him read for a while instead (A Wind in the Door).

I had told him that when he finished his exam we'd celebrate by having afternoon tea (believe it or not he had actually been asking me for this for some time). But not even the lure of scones and whipped cream could entice him to the table to do that one last problem. I told him that he could read until 10:00, and then he'd have to stop and do his math and clean the cat boxes. At 10 he cleaned the boxes as requested, but I could see in his face that he was dreading facing the math, and I didn't want him to be approaching it with that kind of attitude--he was really down, worn out, exhausted, and it just didn't seem like he had it in him to do it.

So I thought fast and came up with a plan. I told him that the second he was done with that problem I was going to take the can of whipped cream and squirt it right into his mouth. His whole face lit up, and he asked, "Really?!" He couldn't quite believe that I was going to do it. I told him yes, I was, and that he'd better have a napkin ready because I was going to squirt so much in there it probably wouldn't all fit. He was utterly delighted by this proposition, and raced to the table. Before he started he looked at me one more time and said, "You're really going to do that?" And I went and got the can and said, "Yes, and I think you need just a little shot before starting, don't you? Open up!" and I squirted a small dollop in there. The sparkle in his eye had returned, along with his motivation. He powered right through that problem, and checked over his work on the rest of the exam, in record time. He got his mouthful of whipped cream, as promised. Followed by tea (from my grandmother's tea pot, in cups from her tea set), scones, jam, and of course, more whipped cream. It was lovely, and I was so proud of my little scholar.

I know, I know--using food (sugary, *bad* food, at that) as a reward for math is probably not the very best idea. But hey, sometimes you really just have to go with what works.

After tea we tidied up a bit, and then went out to the opera, for a musical version of Little Red Riding Hood (which we both loved--it was hilariously entertaining). After the opera we came back home and spent the rest of the afternoon hosting a little pool party for some homeschool friends. (Phys Ed, you know. Plus, as people seem to love to remind us, homeschooled kids need their socialization!) Probably it will have been the last pool party of the season, as the weather seems like it's taking a turn for the colder.

All in all, another great day in homeschoolville.