Simsek Strikes

Making History Stick

In some ways, summer is behind us already.  Last week Spencer and Lexi began school again in earnest, and I must admit that I ventured into this new year with no small amount of trepidation.  Afterall, until now I have only had Lexi at home and, while that seemed daunting enough that first year, it was much like tutoring.  I taught, she learned, and the year rolled along pretty smoothly.  Ok, there were plenty of bumps, but still, we had managed and I had started to get the hang of Lexi's learning style:  highly verbal, easily engaged by discussion and questioning, adept at memorizing all things except math facts, and prone to grand emotional swings.  Got it.

Spencer, on the other hand, couldn't be more different.  At his comprehensive developmental evaluation earlier this summer (where they told me that he is highly intelligent, ADHD-NOS, and struggles with language recall, usage, and organization) the kindly doctors who evaluated him all expressed their relief that he was to be home-schooled for one stark reason:  Spencer should be taught one-on-one in a structured, quiet environment.  Oh, and he's a visual learner and may struggle with the language and writing portions of his education.  No, they didn't have any good advice for where to get help or services for the language-based challenges. (And yes, we are still looking.)

In the mean time, I needed to find a way to teach this very bright but very distractable, language-challenged child a first-grade curriculum in a way that would keep him engaged and help him to progress successfully....while also building a third grade curriculum for my very bright, hyper-focused and super-verbal daughter which would accomplish the same thing.  Super.

As school approached I was starting to lose some sleep over school.  It seems normal for home schooling moms to occasionally second-guess themselves and their choices for education.  Wait.  I think that's a parenting plight in general, but I digress.  I had questioned myself and my abilities as a teacher before now, but suddenly I was gripped by fear.  I am not a professional!  I don't have the training for this!  I'm not even the most structured or detailed person on the planet!  Heck, I have been known to space on a therapy session for Ellie, forget important business phone calls, and make a trip downstairs to retrieve a new roll of paper towels three times before actually retrieving it.  I may have made a horrible, horrible mistake.  

And yet, when I imagined Spencer in a public school class with 20 or 30 other kids I shuddered. Physically shuddered.  Because  I saw him struggle in a class with only 8 other students.  I saw him so distracted and lost in the chaos that he began to act-out.  And I know that the doctors were right about the kind of environment he needs to learn.

So week one arrived.  Ready or not, it was time to learn!  My mom heroically voluneetered to help out for those first dicey days as we all got our sea-legs, and with her help we dove in.   And as expected, there were some ups and downs. The first day, after I had done everything I could think of to make things exciting and dynamic, Spencer informed me that "school is boring."  Ouch.  And then, on the fourth day, in the middle of a lesson, that same boy leaned over and told me "I love home school with you, Mom!" Win!  And so it went.  Some things worked.  Others failed miserably.  We adjusted and adjusted again.  But by the end of the week, my newest student had made two things clear:  1) he loved Science and wanted to do it every day and 2) he hated History.  There was too much "story" in history, apparently.

So this week, as we approached History again, I decided to take a different tack.  This time, we would do History early in the day while he was still fresh.  I would go slower, act more out, and look for the places that he was lighting up--and there we would go, whatever direction that was.  

Apparently, the thing that excited him about hunter-gatherer societies was the hunting.  Spear hunting, to be exact.  While I had visions of trying to build a hut or fashioning a fishing trap of some sort, Spencer wanted a spear.  So, as soon as the rest of the day's work was done, we headed into the yard with a tree limber and a pocket knife, and we made spears.  We talked about how straight and how strong it would have to be, and how we might cut and sharpen it if we were hunters and gatherers without pocket knives. We talked about the dangers of getting close enough to a big, wild animal to stab it with a spear, and what it would probably do when you did stab it. And yes, we made two spears because Lexi wanted in on the pointy-stick action.  Finally, we set about making a target to practice spear hunting.  And my boy who can't be bothered to color things in?  He painted it all himself.

Who knew that a pointy stick and a target were all that was necessary to make History exciting?  The two little barbarians proceded to run headlong, yelling their gutteral, hunting yells, across the yard to jab their spears into the cardboard target again and again.  In no time, our target was peppered with holes, the center nearly perforated to oblivian, and two kids were grinning and panting with joy.

"Hey, Spencer,"  I asked.  "Do you still hate History?"

"I LOVE HISTORY!" he cried, and you know, I think he meant it. 

Off to School

The school year has officially begun for all the kids.  Lexi's begun second grade at home,  Spencer's in private kindergarten in the next town over, and Ellie's in Developmental Preschool in the local public school. This year we're taking full advantage of all the schooling options, and in doing so maximizing the chaos and running about, too.

My biggest concern, of course, was how well Ellie would transition from receiving services at home to a daily preschool program without me.  (Spencer had been to school last year and was clearly ready to go again, and Lexi was geared-up for a new year at home, so no worries there.)  To ease her into it, we began with shortened days, and with my staying in the classroom with her at first.  Amazingly, it went better than I had ever imagined it might.  Granted, the first day brought an agonizing half hour or more of tears as she discovered that she was not free to simply roam the classroom on her own all day, but things improved from there.  Soon I was leaving the classroom and waiting in the hall after the first fifteen minutes, and then after the first five.  After a couple of days, I was spending the entire time out of the class after drop off, and by the second week she was walking down the hall to class without me, hand-in-hand with her teacher. I was free to go home and do school with Lexi!

While still stunned by her success, I am not letting my guard down just yet.  Last Friday we had rain and she wasn't able to play on the playground at the end of the morning.  When I picked her up she was still crying.  Yesterday (Monday) she dissolved into tears at the mention of school, shaking her head violently and saying "NO, NO, NOOOOOOO" over and over again.  Thinking that she might still be tired and a little under the weather after being sick over the weekend I let her stay home.  But today it was back to school, complete with more tears, although fewer than last time when I promised that there would be outside time today.  And when she wandered down the hall to class with her teacher I could hear her little sobs echoing back to me.  I can only hope that they were short-lived.

Luckily, I have great confidence in the care and professionalism of her teachers.  So far they have done an amazing job of helping her along MUCH faster than I anticipated, and they have been responsive to my input and concerns, too, which is important.  I trust them to do as well as anyone might with her, and so far I have been impressed.  If only we could get past these transitions without tears things might be just about perfect!

Naturally, all of this has meant that our days are really, really busy.  When I finally have time to breathe it's often time to go to bed, and if not I'm good for little more than mindless TV watching or game-playing.  I'm pretty sure that this means that the blog schedule will continue to be light for a while.  I wish that I had the time and energy to post pictures of our outings, reviews of some of the great things Lexi is doing in school this year, or how far Spencer has come in speech or how many friends he's making.  For now, though, you'll have to settle for a couple of school pictures and a promise that I'll try to do better soon!

    Keep smiling, Little Sunshine!

Playing Catch Up

I must now face the fact that I am a terribly inconsistent and unreliable blogger.  In my defense, I'm working really hard at being consistent in a lot of other areas, so that maybe it all balances out in the end. After all, if the kids manage to turn out stable and well-adjusted and the blog is a complete failure at least I'll know I had my priorities in the right place!

School is rushing ever closer as I write this, and already the pace of life has accelerated. In my mind I had imagined a quiet, relaxed tempo for August.  Ellie was out of therapy for a month, school had not yet begun, and so we should have plenty of time for day trips and lazy afternoons, right?  Ah, it just goes to show how wrong I can be.  And I can be VERY wrong.

August found us bringing Lexi to the eye doctor only to discover that she has an enormous astigmatism in her left eye that no one had picked up on for oh, seven years or so.  Apparently a 1.5 on the scale is sizable for Lexi's age, but Lexi's astigmatism measures a whopping 4.0.  How could we have missed this? As dismayed as we were at the thought that we might have gone so long without knowing that Lexi was practically blind in one eye, I was equally disturbed by the fact the the doctors had never picked up on it either.  I know that I should expect no less at this point since they also missed two cases of Austim Spectrum Disorders and Celiac Disease, but COME ON. This is really basic, right?

In any event, she is now sporting some seriously cute specs and, for six hours each day, a girlie-patterned eye patch over her strong eye.  Although by the age of seven they believe that the brain has finished building all the neural pathways to the eyes that it will build, there is evidence to suggest that forcing her to exercise the pathways between the left eye and the brain will strengthen the existing pathways (until now largely ignored because of the poor quality of the imagine being sent) and improve her vision in that eye somewhat.  Let's hope that her brain is more malleable than most and that the exercise gives her vision an extra boost!

August also marked the beginning of both speech and OT for Spencer.  At this latest speech assessment, while he still tested between average and well above-average in each of the language areas covered, the gap between his receptive language (what he can understand) and his expressive language skills (what he can say) was 16 points:  a significant gap for any child.  According to the therapists he's been managing as well as he has because he's quite bright and compensating cleverly, but that it will catch up with him when he starts trying to read if we can't help him before then.  He also needs work on his working memory and some visual perceptive skills such as tracking and catching a ball and coloring within the lines.  Both speech and OT are expected to be short-term for him, but from now until November or so I can expect to have long trips to neighboring towns a couple of times each week for therapy sessions.

August saw Ellie's first visit to the dentist, followed rapidly by her second visit to the dentist. Apparently, my worst fears about the consequences of her resistance to tooth-brushing were well-founded:  she had four small cavities in her front teeth.  Luckily for all involved, they were very superficial (hence no need for Novocain shots) and the nitrous oxide agreed with her.  She cooperated beautifully while watching Nemo on the overhead screen, and the dentist did a great job of filling and cleaning her teeth in record time.  And so a second potentially catastrophic appointment (Lexi's eye appointment being the first) went remarkably smoothly.

Now the greatest challenge looms ahead:  Developmental Preschool.  In less than two weeks Spencer will begin Kindergarten (a fact he's thrilled about), Lexi and I will begin Second Grade at home, and Ellie will enter Developmental Preschool for the first time.  I wish that, like Paulo, I could imagine this going smoothly, but I can't.  And because I can't, I am waiting with my fingers crossed for an opportunity to meet with her teacher to discuss some sort of plan for easing her into the classroom in a positive fashion.  With a little luck I will have more details about how that will occur in the next week.

Until then, we are trying to squeeze in as much fun as possible around the edges.  In between doctors' appointments and Taekwondo and school errand-running and Paulo's work schedule, we managed to pack out of the house at 7:30 yesterday morning to meet my parents for breakfast an hour north at our favorite little gluten-free pancake house and petting zoo.  The food was as amazing as we'd remembered, the weather sunny and warm, and everyone had a ball.  With any luck, we will follow it up next weekend with a trip to a small local zoo.  

         

What Happened in May?

Apparently, my writing brain took a vacation.  Countless times I sat down in front of this lovely laptop, staring at the keys.  Nothing.  Stared at the screen.  Nothing. Flipped through pictures, looked out the window, thought about the days.  Nothing. Oh, lots of things were happening, but they refused to iron themselves out into words.  And sadly, typing random streams of letters with glee is really only acceptable if you are too young to read or write.  So, I walked away.  Again and again.

I'm still not sure that I'm up to the task, and I'm pretty sure that there's no way I can catch up on everything, so I'll just do my best to toss out some of the basics, and then (hopefully) go back to my usual blather as though nothing ever happened.  Because, let's face it, for the last few weeks nothing HAS happened on here.

So.  Brace yourself:  this may be a bit long-winded.

Updates!

Service Dog:

Ellie was turned down for the service dog that we applied for in March due to Paulo's allergies.  I'm not going to get into the details since it would appear to be a big miscommunication.  With any luck he will get the thumbs up from the allergist in the next year or two and we'll try again.  I must admit that the day the letter came I cried, shook, and basically needed to be talked off the ledge, but I'm much better now.  I think I'm getting better at this whole disappointment thing.

Getting Ready for Developmental Preschool: A Mixed Bag

It is now time to begin the process of transitioning Ellie.  At age three, she "ages out" of Early Intervention, through which she currently receives speech therapy and ABA.  At at point, the public school system becomes responsible for her therapy.  So we began by having our first meeting with the coordinator and one of the teachers here at the house.  They both seemed like very nice, very experienced people and I've heard only good things about the program here. 

Then, earlier this week, I went to visit the school itself to see the classroom and iron out Ellie's IEP--that's an Individual Education Plan, for those of you outside the special needs loop.  Lucky you.

Here's the thing:  in spite of the fact that IEP's are supposed to design a program that is best-suited to meet the needs of each child, it's clear that in truth they are designed to help each individual child best fit the available program .  If your three-year-old would be best-suited to a home-based program, well, you're out of luck.  If your three-year-old has a hard time in closed-in spaces, staying with non-family members, or focusing amidst a lot of noise or distractions, you'd best be independently wealthy because your IEPis not going to service your child in the environment that suits them best.  It will service them in a classroom with other kids and teachers. Period.

So, I went into the IEP meeting fighting back my fears about what this year will mean for Ellie, and hoping that she has some amazing, miraculous developmental leap between now and September and decides to love going to school.  I was praying that going to 'school' won't trigger all the anxiety and panic that we've worked so hard to eliminate, because as far as I can see, it is our only option for her services--a realization that makes me equal parts hopeful and desperate.

After well over an hour with the woman who will be her primary teacher, I came away from the IEP meeting feeling really hopeful.  Miss J-- seems to be all the things you'd want in a special needs teacher--experienced, caring, engaged, and willing to work with me as a parent.  She listened, made adjustments to the plan as appropriate, and offered solutions to the issues I brought up in the meeting.   

When we left the meeting room I was feeling positive and even optimistic.  As we walked through the halls towards Ellie's future room, we passed walls brightly painted and decorated with children's artwork.  We walked through a bookfairand past open doors leading into brightly lit classrooms with neatly stocked shelves of books and construction paper and crayons.  And then we came to the preschool room.  

She opened the door and my heart sank.

The room was felt small, and cluttered.  A few children and their teachers sat staring at us from the table in the middle where they were eating--it was unclear whether it was lunch or snack time.  One boy asked curiously where Miss J-- had been all this time, but the rest were quiet.  The shades were drawn to keep the room cool as it was an exceptionally hot May day.  It was working, but it seemed to intensify the closed-in feeling I got from the room.

Where I had imagined a bright room lined with activity stations carefully organized and visually clear (like the classroom at the Parent-2-Child program) there were instead a few child-sized cubicles with materials stacked, (?) piled (?) shelved (?) at the backs and, in some cases, on or next to the tables themselves.  Where I had imagined a cozy respite area for a "break corner," there was a partially walled-off corner with one squishy foam chair and a few hard chairs, presumably for circle time. The coat cubbies protruded into the room next to us, and, like many of the flat surfaces visible, their tops were covered with random objects--juice pouches, notes, toys, bits of paper and assorted odds and ends.  The play station featured a play kitchen and a table (I think) and was similarly cluttered.  The much-anticipated touch-screen computer was crammed into the back side of the “independent work station,” which was one of the cubicle-type spaces with another pair of small, cluttered tables.  In the open space on the work-alone side was a simple Velcro-strip schedule like the ones I’ve become familiar with in all of Ellie’s therapies.

The "gross motor room" that I'd heard so much about was not actually a room at all.  I had pictured an open room with several play structures, but instead, it was roughly one-third of the adjoining classroom, divided on two sides by more cubicle-type dividers.  The floor was the same tiles floor as any classroom without mats or padding of any kind.  There was one small balance beam, and arched bridge, and a hanging cloth swing.  Behind one divider were piled lots of other equipment which protruded around the edges and the top in a haphazard manner. More equipment was stored along the other end wall from floor to ceiling.  I was told that there were a variety of swings that could be hung in the space, and that all the children took turns on the equipment every day.  I'm glad that they have so much equipment and that they change it daily, but the visual effect was startling even to me.  I knew looking at it that this was not the fun and exciting area I had imagined Ellie gravitating towards each morning.  I’d be surprised if she so much as paused in this space on the way towards the door.

Behind the room-long divider in the same room were a series of office-type cubicles again.  These were the spaces where kids went to meet one-on-one with speech and occupational therapists as often as indicated on their IEPs.  The service sounds good, but the environment?  It felt more like an office building in communist Russia than a learning room for special needs kids.

I came home and cried. 

Paulo thinks I’m over-reacting, and maybe I am.  Apparently kids come through this program and do well.  Certainly, the teacher seems to be competent and dedicated—she must be doing something right.  Probably a lot of things right.  But I wanted to come home feeling positive and enthusiastic about the place where I would be leaving Ellie for the next two years, but instead I felt defeated and depressed.  I wished like hell that there was a way for her to continue to get services at home, or at least in a cheerful environment.  I am hoping that I feel differently after spending the morning there with her next month.  Cross your fingers and say a prayer that she surprises me and loves the place, OK?

Ellie’s Gut:

But it's not all frustration and disappointment around here.  In fact, we've made an unexpected break-through! A while back, I wrote about my frustrations dealing with Ellie's gut.  Shortly after writing that post, I took Ellie off theMiralax completely.  I determinedly packed each meal with every stool-softening remedy I could find--Fruit-Eze, fiber, magnesium, extra probiotics, aloe juice--if it was natural and poop-inducing I snuck it into her food.  

She’s crafty.  Sometimes she sniffed it out and it didn’t get into her.  But it was hard to turn down doctored ice cream and pineapple juice, and flaxseed pancakes became a big hit with everyone, too.

Ellie started feeling better, napping better, and talking more. But after 8 days she still hadn't pooped.  It was time for more drastic measures.

So one afternoon on the way home from Spencer’s preschool, with all the kids in the car, I stopped at the grocery store for glycerin suppositories. Let's be honest:  no one likes the idea of suppositories.  But after all that we've been through it just couldn't be worse.  I wasn't risking a bowel impaction.  And I wasn't going back to the Miralax.

She wasn't thrilled, but worked like a charm.  I decided that one day probably wasn't enough.  She had a weeks' worth of poo to flush out, so I decided to give her one each night.  And that has made all the difference.  Not only did it end the withholding, the diarrhea, and the diaper rash, but for the first time IN HER LIFE Ellie slept through the night.  The bloating went away and her stomach returned to a normal size and shape.  She wasn't thrilled with the process, but she wasn't distressed, either. And after a couple of weeks she began to get braver about trying new foods, too.

She doesn't sleep all night every night now, but since stopping the Miralax she typically sleeps a 4 to 6 hour stretch in the  beginning of each night (as opposed to 1.5 to 2 hours) and then comes into my room to sleep instead of crying for me to go to her.  And every once in a while she sleeps right through to 6 am.  

It's a miracle I'd given up hoping to see.

Best of all, according to the GI (who we were finally able to see this month) we can continue to do this right straight through potty training without fear of dependency or side effects.  I only wish we'd discovered this solution earlier!

Taekwondo

Lexi and Spencer had some great news too:  they were named Students of the Month for the month of April at Taekwondo.  They had their pictures taken with weapons (such fun) and I had to write a blurb about them to go on the poster that was hung in the Dojang.  At the end of this month, we will get to bring the poster home.  With a little luck, I’ll remember to take a picture to post here—they were SO proud!  Now they are each well on their way to earning their next belts.  I can’t believe how far they’ve come this year!

Preschool and Home School

In May, Spencer’s class held the traditional Ladybug Tea in honor of the mothers on Mothers’ Day.  They began by serenading us with several songs in the chapel above the school, which was absolutely adorable.  Even Spencer, who struggles to memorize lyrics on the best of days, did a great job of belting out song after song with all the movements.  I’m beginning to think that little kids just sing better in motion!

After the songs the mothers were escorted downstairs to the gathering space where there were tables and chairs set out for tea.  In each place was aplacemat decorated by the child, a potted pansy (in a plastic cup, naturally) and a card written and decorated by the child.  Mine had a lovely drawing of me (I think I rather resembled a slightly disheveled cartoon M&M with a bouffant and a goatee, but you can judge for yourself) and a little essay:

Mommy

My mom has black, long, straight hair.

Her eyes are brown.  She likes to wear a brown shirt.

My mom likes to sew everything with big holes in it. 

She likes to play with me.  She doesn’t like to do

chores for me so I can do it for me. 

My favorite thing to do with her is hug.

I really like it when she hugs me.  I like

when Mom cooks me an omelet for breakfast.

My mom can read in cursive. 

We have moms to take care of us.  (Great answer! He said)

I love you, Mom!

Spencer

Then all the moms had tea together, although I have to say that I would have preferred to have Spencer join me for tea.  It’s not often that we get one-on-one time anymore.

In a couple of weeks’ time we were all back at his school for his graduation.  It was a mercifully brief ceremony in the parking lot of the school under a vicious sun on an almost 90-degree day.  Paulo’s parents, my mother, and Paulo’s godmother all attended, and afterward we feasted on Portuguese food courtesy of my mother-in-law.  It was lovely.

Meanwhile, Lexi is still finishing up her school year here at home.  She took her first-ever CAT tests this month and I am proud to say that she got all but one answer correct.  This week I will send the results to the school superintendent, and although she will not yet be done with all her lessons, she will officially have passed the first grade in the eyes of the state.  She’s reading at a third or fourth grade level and has had a great year in general, in spite of all the adjustments we have had to make along the way.

Personally, I am hoping that our more relaxed schedule will leave us extra time for all the field trips, art projects, and little experiments that got pre-emptedthis year by Ellie’s diagnosis and therapy sessions.

*****

 

There’s a lot more—the rest of Mother’s Day (my new ipod!), Dad’s birthday, Paulo’s afternoon at Fenway—but  but in the interest of time, and because if you’ve read this far you deserve a little thank you, here’s a gem from Spencer from this week:

 

Spencer:  There was a grackle on the feeder!

Lexi:  That was a good sentence, Spencer!  Mommy, did you hear that?  Spencer made a really good sentence!

Me:  Yes, you’re right, Lexi!  That was a great sentence, Spencer!  Good job!

Spencer (grinning proudly): I have my moments.

PS.  Apologies about the formatting.  I am way too lazy, unmotivated, busy, to do all that's necessary to fix its weird behaviors today!

 

Home School Update: A Foray into Block Scheduling

Our first year of home school has been an adventure, a challenge, and a blessing.  Lexi is a surprisingly adept and eager student, absorbing information eagerly and quickly.  She has been surprisingly flexible, too; a good thing since our schedule has been challenged and adjusted to accommodate Ellie's therapy more than once.

When we began, we were sitting together and covering the material all morning.  We worked each subject together, did the corresponding seat work, broke briefly to refresh, and then began the next subject.  It took longer each day than I'd anticipated, and I had to adjust the amount of material covered in any given day accordingly.

A few months in we had to change again.  Ellie was beginning Parent-2-Child therapy each morning and we could no longer spend that time together.  I began making check-lists of Lexi's seat work.  She could work on these items by herself outside Ellie's classroom while Ellie was inside working with me.  Then, after lunch at home we could review her work and cover new material.  It was less satisfactory to my mind, but it was a good exercise in independent work skills, and I was impressed by how much Lexi was able to accomplish and absorb in this manner.

After more than nine weeks of working in this fashion we began pursuing home therapy for Ellie.  At first it was hectic because we were waiting for a therapist who could work with us--someone who had the appropriate skill set and could work with Ellie at the same time every day, preferably in the morning. During the wait I had to find creative solutions for keeping Ellie entertained while I worked with Lexi, and we began to modify the check-list approach some what.

When Ellie's new therapist started it was like a dream come true.  Suddenly Lexi and I had two hours each morning without interruption.  I thought that we would begin to fly through the work, but what I soon discovered was that Lexi was fascinated by Ellie's therapy sessions. She loved Kristin, the new therapist, and wanted to help teach Ellie.  Each morning she began to beg for breaks to go "help" Kristin. Getting her started became a battle for the first time, as did getting her to switch gears. 

Last week I found myself discussing this with one of the other therapists.  I was describing how excited Lexi was to be learning--how she wanted to keep going even after we'd finished the day's material in each subject--but that getting started and switching subjects was more difficult because she saw these as opportunities for "breaks".  And as I thought more about this I began to ask myself if there wasn't a way to capitalize on her enthusiasm and minimize the struggles.  

After thinking about it for a while (and bouncing the idea off my mother, the educator of course) I have decided to try a new approach to organizing Lexi's work week.  Instead of trying to cover small bites of each subject every day of the week, I am going to try to cover only math drills daily, followed by two intensive subject blocks per day.  Monday will be math--math drills, math games, new material, and workbook exercises (not to mention her daily soroban lesson), followed by handwriting.  Tuesday after math drills we will cover Phonics and Spelling.  Wednesday we will focus on Reading and Writing, and Thursday will be Science and History.  Friday after the daily drills we will lighten up a bit with Religion and Art.  In this way we can keep pursuing a subject through its conclusion, which is the way her mind likes to work, and when we are done she can be done for the day.

I have to admit that the idea of working in blocks made this week's lesson planning fly by.  I was thrilled about the opportunities afforded by the longer periods and the lack of clutter.  Moreover, Lexi is excited about the idea.  It offers something fresh and new each day for both of us, and will encourage us to work more closely together which is something we will both enjoy.

For now, I am just hoping that everyone is well enough tomorrow for us to begin the week as usual.  If Spencer is still sick (he's had a fever over the weekend) we may have a different sort of start altogether.  In any event, I will let you know how block scheduling goes once we've had a chance to try it in earnest!

Is a Soroban the Answer?

Mr. Philippi was thin, tall, and almost gangly. His teeth were thick and uneven, and never quite seemed clean.  He wore no-nonsense square-framed glasses on his longish face, and he had a special way of peering through them that diminished and dismissed you at the same time.  He was my high school algebra teacher, and it's safe to say that it was his undisguised disdain for any student who didn't immediately "get it" in his class that finally and definitively killed math for me.

After algebra, math became the thing I couldn't do.  Numbers slipped out of my mind like fried eggs off Teflon.   Don't get me wrong, math had never been my strength.  While I could (and did) read everything I could get my hands on, and had no problem memorizing lines for plays, poems, grammar, and all manner of trivial minutia, math facts were always slippery. And, to make matters worse, I had an unfortunate propensity for reversing and transposing numbers.  So even before algebra I had learned a variety of work-arounds and tricks to compensate for my lack of natural ability.  The difference was that, before Mr. Philippi I still believed that I could do it, as long as I took my time.  Mr. Philippi took that belief, ground it beneath the heal of his scuffed, brown pennyloafer, and spat at it as he walked away.

From that point on, I lived avoiding as much math as possible.  I took only the minimal requirements in college, and opted for a major that didn't require any equations EVER: English. And, when I thought about it, hoped that when and if I ever had children their father would like math better than I did.

So you can imagine my joy when I discovered that not only was Paulo THE ONE, but he was also a math whiz.  A natural!  A kid who was breezing through algebra books in his free time in first grade, while I was still fighting my way through addition facts.  And when he tutored a friend's brother for his college entrance exams I practically swooned in the next room--not only was he great at the very subject that made me quake in my boots, but he could teach it so that it MADE SENSE and sounded, um, reasonable.

Naturally, I prayed that the kids would inherit their father's "math brain"--that numbers would make sense intuitively, and that they would revel in the very equations that made their mother feel like a moron.  I was thrilled when Lexi declared her intention to be a scientist, and when Spencer (at age 3) looked into a bag of cookies and declared in his matter-of-fact voice :"Four cookies left:  two for me and two for Lexi."

But as this first year of homeschool has worn on I have begun to suspect that, at least for Lexi, my prayers have been unanswered.  Every day we work through the same sets of math facts.  She has learned all sorts of methods for finding the right answers, but in spite of all our practice and drilling they are never on the tip of her tongue. She can memorize a new poem in two days, but she still can't seem to remember that 7 + 3 = 10 without working it out in her head.  I see the look on her face as she searches for the missing information and I see my own struggles with numbers, and I know I have to find a way to help her before it snowballs.

Luckily, it's still early and she likes math.  She is still fearless. She enjoys her lessons, loves numbers games, and is great with patterns.  So I've been racking my (admittedly limited) brain for a new way to make arithmetic click for her.  We've tried card games, flash cards, computer drills, math songs, "number family" projects, LOTS of manipulatives, oral games in the car and on walks...she likes it all but none of it has given her the piece she needs. 

I've discussed this with Paulo, and with my mother who taught for 16 years in elementary school.  We've bounced around several ideas, and it was in one of these conversations with my mother that I remembered a clip I'd seen on TV a while back that talked about children in Japan learning on abacui.  These children were doing series of sums quickly and correctly, and it was all based on making numbers into concrete patterns. 

I began reading and learning and suddenly found myself wishing that someone had introduced me to an abacus as a child.  It made so much sense!  Excited, I ordered a cheap Chinese abacus and continued to read.  I watched a few online tutorials.  I realized that, in fact, we might be happier with a Japanese version called a soroban, as it lacks the 2 extra beads per column that the Chinese use for hexadecimal work, and therefore might be a lot less confusing for a beginner.  I found a free tutoring service online, too, and ordered two more abaci--this time Japanese sorobans instead.

Today, after practicing a bit myself and getting excited about how simple it was, I decided I couldn't wait for the abaci to arrive before I showed Lexi what I'd learned.  In a quiet moment, I invited Lexi to sit next to me and introduced her to the virtual soroban online.  I showed her how it was laid out, what the values were, and how to count, and she loved it.  She counted to a hundred (carrying properly) and wanted to do it again.  After the second time through she was ready to try some sums.  Two places, three places, even four places...it all made sense.  At the end of one particularly big sum she just threw up her hands and cheered, and I could have cried with joy. 

Maybe,just maybe, we've found the tool that will help make math work for her as it never did for me.  If this works for Lexi, homeschool will have already paid off for the year!

Trying to Catch Up

Life has gotten increasingly hectic and it shows.  I've found precious little time to blog about our adventures recently, and I expect that this pace may be the new norm.  Please bear with me, and I'll do my best to fill the void with a little information and some pictures!

School and Tae Kwon Do

Last week Spencer had his first day of preschool.  He was dashing in his new outfit from Paulo's family, and eager to dive into this new adventure.  Truth be known, he's been asking to go to preschool ever since Lexi started kindergarten, and felt he was overdue to start.  He kissed us good-bye and dug into the play-doh without a second thought!

Lexi started first grade on Monday and so far we're having a great time.  We're still working out the details and I've already had to readjust my lesson-plans to be a little more realistic time-wise, but she's an eager pupil and a quick study.  We've already covered a lot of ground and even had our own little archaeological dig.

Both Lexi and Spencer began Tae Kwon Do this week, much to their delight.  They tried one lesson two weeks ago and they were hooked. I'm not sure I've ever seen them both quite so excited about anything as they are about this.  I love how this one sport helps Lexi with her strength and coordination, and Spencer with his self-control and focus.  Maybe I'll remember to get some pictures of them both in their DoBoks next time.

A Weekend Adventure

Last weekend we were supposed to trek up north to visit a poodle breeder.  We aren't looking for a dog for a few more years, but this breeder was our first choice, and since thy had guest cabins near the Canadian border, we planned to stay and get to know the dogs while exploring the north country for the weekend.

I won't go into what happened to change our plans, but we were hugely disappointed to discover on Thursday that we wouldn't be able to stay there after all. The kids were in tears and Paulo and I were frustrated and annoyed.  But I married a resourceful and determined man, and before the night was out he'd made reservations for us near Story Land Park for a weekend of fun in the mountains.

Story Land was wonderful--the perfect place for young children--and the weather was ideal, too.  We spent all day Saturday riding the rides and playing in the park, with a brief break for lunch and nap.  Lexi and Spencer were especially thrilled to ride the roller coaster and flying fish rides.  Lexi insists that her favorite part, however, was riding the pumpkin carriage to Cinderella's castle and meeting "the real Cinderella!"  And Ellie loved the Ferris Wheel and the carousel enough to cry when they were all over.

Sunday morning before heading for home, we woke up early and set off in our pajamas to drive the Kancamangus Highway in search of moose.  We didn't catch sight of a single moose (just my luck), but we did see some spectacular views in the early morning light, while the sun crested the mountains and  fog still nestled in the valleys.  It was an awesome drive. 

Thank you again, Paulo, for making this happen for us.  Getting away was just what we all needed!

Homeschool Curriculum for Our First Year

With the arrival of summer I have felt an increasingly urgent need to get my homeschooling ducks in a row.  Diving into the world of homeschooling for the first time has been time-consuming and, like learning about any new thing from scratch, somewhat overwhelming.  There are countless philosophies to explore, hundreds of pre-built curricula from which to choose, endless approaches to building your own scope and sequence, and more supplemental material than I could ever cover. 

I began as soon as we decided to try homeschooling by reading reviews of boxed curricula.  This helped me to eliminate some choices, but it didn't really help me find anything that sounded like the kind of education I wanted to offer.  I read more and began to ask other homeschool moms what they did, what they liked, and what they didn't like.  I got more information and suggestions this way.  In the early spring I visited a homeschool family to see how they organized their days, what they taught, and how they approached teaching four children of various ages.  The mom was extremely helpful and, in the course of talking about how they ordered and prioritized their lessons, told me that they followed the classical approach.  I had heard of this on-line, so I assumed that I understood what that meant, but at the time I didn't actually have all the information I needed to understand this.  I did know that they used some material from Kolbe Academy, and I was considering that curriculum at the time.  But it was clear that they were using a lot of original source material, a stronger math program, and the children were learning Latin, which I knew wasn't standard in the Kolbe program.

After that visit I came home and read more about the classical approach to education, which was put forth originally by Dorothy Sayers in 1947 in her essay "The Lost Tools of Learning".  Her philosophy about education stemmed from the developmental approach favored in the Middle Ages, and was broken into three distinct stages: the Pole Parrot or Grammar Stage (gathering and storing and committing to memory fundamental facts and skills), the Pert Stage(logic development) and the Poetic Stage(rhetorical proficiency, argument, logical analysis and ability to debate and defend a thesis).  The goal of education was to build strong linguistic fundamentals and solid logic and reasoning skills, and to produce students who could absorb and assimilate information, draw insightful, critical conclusions, and defend them logically.  It relied heavily on original source materials, classic literature, and historical context. Sounds great, in theory, but the essay itself did not provide a detailed roadmap to designing such a curriculum, and I walked away liking the basic philosophy but lacking any way to implement it. 

I continued my search and began thinking that maybe Kolbe would be a reasonable place to start.  At least it offered order, structure, and flexibility.  I could alter the curriculum where I felt it was necessary and use what was useful.  Unfortunately, I had no way to look inside their textbooks before buying, and the more I read the more I found I wanted to alter.

We set a date for when I would begin to purchase the books, and by a week prior to that date I realized that I had already changed my mind about several of the Kolbe texts.  With days to go, I met a friend of mine at the park for a playdate.  She also homeschools, and her oldest is a year ahead of Lexi so she's had more experience.  We seem to have similar philosophies and this time she brought a book she thought I might like: The Well-Trained Mind by the mother-daughter duo Jesse Wise and Susan Wise Bauer.  It was exactly what I was looking for!  I dug in and was elated to finally find a resource that had all the depth and breadth that I wanted with all the specifics that I craved.  It

With The Well-Trained Mind, Home Learning Year by Year, Homeschooling: Take a Deep Breath, and The Complete Home Learning Resource Book spread out around me I could finally put together the curriculum I really wanted to present.  It's been quite a project, but I've ordered most of the books and resources and written out a scope and sequence for each subject.  I've cobbled together an Excel spreadsheet for each subject, and a separate spreadsheet for weekly lesson plans.  I'm far from done, but I'm elated.  I'm eager to get started with Lexi, and for the first time the excitement and anticipation is strongly outweighing the apprehension.  This may be naive and foolish--after all, this is a substantial undertaking--but it's a wonderful feeling!

PS I have been remiss in failing to mention the obvious: my mother, who devoted 16 years to teaching some of the luckiest children in the North East, has been a constant source of inspiration, a sounding board, and an invaluable repository of information and creative ideas.  In fact, it was her suggestion and encouragement that inspired me to consider home schooling at all!  She will be my mentor and guide this coming year and there are no words to express how much I appreciate this:  with her help I know this can be a success!