Author Archives: mellex

About mellex

I'm a writer, a photographer, a wife, a mom. I homeschool my son, I take photos when I can and I write about it all when the spirit moves me. Namaste

Growing

             There’s a ton of growing over here at our little homestead (still haven’t landed on a name — Half-Baked Homestead, Crooked-Little Homestead, Half-*#!ed Homestead, and the calmer, purer, WaldenWood Homestead are all in the running). The homestead itself is growing as we make room for more self-sustainment, including a little peach tree that we hope we can keep away from the raccoons, woodchucks and other critters that will find it as tasty as we would.

     Accidental plants are growing from our compost dirt, in spite of my insistence that we not throw anything with seeds in there, some always seem to make it in and we get an unexpected crop. This year it appears to be melon. So I’m going with that too, as far as six plants go. I’m afraid the rest will have to be let go.  Melons, anyone?

     Our landscape itself is growing and changing as we adapt to the natural shifts that happen with things we have in our yard. When I lost my father a few years back I got a dwarf Japanese maple tree in his honor. It is extremely happy in our little curved Zen garden — so much so that it’s sweeping branches now drip across our lawn where the lawnmower could do some damage. The solution? Go with the flow. Pull the edging out from its concave curve into a convex one, enlarging the space into a rock garden where the branches will be safe, and oddly enough, our little Buddha statue — who has been moved all over the yard in search of his proper place — sits happily on the patio stones in front of the little tree. It is wonderfully symbolic.

               And there is growing inside, too, as the fruits of our labor in letting our son go his own way with much of his learning begin to blossom. Two years ago we pulled back on “teaching” reading and letting him find his path. It led him to Calvin and Hobbes comics and today he sat at the dinner table for nearly half an hour, on his own, reading through the book. And actually reading.  Reading words we have no idea how he knows, and certainly can’t sound out. We also stopped trying to teach spelling, understanding he needed context to care, allowing him to ask how to spell things, telling him, believing that if he asked enough eventually it would stick. For him it came (and continues to) by looking things up online. Police information. Lego building ideas. Rescue toys. Diecast. Construction. Rescue. He asks how to spell “telescopic fork lift”, or “road work” and a few weeks later he wakes up in the morning and says, “Hey Mom – yesterday I spelled “road”. I started it, thought that is wasn’t right and realized it was r-o-a-d. I did “diecast”, too!”

               Yup, there’s a lot of growing. In us, as well, as we continue to learn to trust our son’s ability to learn without always being directly taught. To trust the wonder of what can happen when his curiosity is encouraged. To marvel in accidental seed growth, a peach tree in our back yard, and a Buddha finally finding his home because a tree outgrew its space. It’s all silly with symbolism. And all full of happy.

               Hope your spring is unfolding as wonderfully as ours.

               Namaste.

 


For Real

This year I took on Easter. All that really means is I had a small gathering of family for brunch. But I couldn’t leave it at that. While I’m not a ‘foodie’, I’ve been on a new journey of eating more real. More natural. More fresh. So I baked bread for sandwiches, a sugar-free coffee cake for those who cannot (or choose not) to have sugar, and then I embarked on something new — homemade bagels.

 The first batch we did the dough the previous day, let it sit overnight in the refrigerator, then made the bagels the following day. I’m very glad we did a test run, as those ended up rather hard and dense. So for Easter day I found another recipe and in spite of being rather tired from a bad night’s sleep and waking too early, we went ahead with them. They got raves and went oh-so-well with the lox and cream cheese. Score one for self-reliance!!

Then, seeing as I was feeling foodly adventurous, I pulled out the Vitamix this week and looked up a few of those greeny drinks you always read about. I eat pretty darn well, but there’s something about these fruity/veggie drinks that just feels like you are doing something extra special good for yourself. So a little nectar, a handful of grapes, a half a pear, a half an avocado, a dab of bee propolis and…

  Voila! A yummilicious oh-so-good for you drink (and yes, that is the same bowl and linen from Easter on the table). I am glad I tried it as it goes well with our commitment to eating more real; to better living, better food and our endeavor into a little suburban homesteading. I look forward to this summer, sitting at our table outside with fresh-from-the-oven bagels, honey oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and a Vitamixed drink with veggies from our garden – oh, and some sunshine and family. It doesn’t get more real than that!

 


Finding the Good

So I guess we’re homesteading. To a degree, anyway. The end of 2011 was full of illnesses lasting months and months, revolving through the house, wreaking havoc on immunes systems, energy levels and overall well being and happiness. We know there are food sensitivities, and the more we read about grocery food the more disgusted we became.

We’ve always gardened, and we’ve always tried to be healthy in food choices. This year, however, we’ve decided it is time to take it a step further. I am baking  our breads, trying my hand at fresh bagels,  cutting out sugars as much as possible, learning how to use the Vitamix and going vertical in our garden. The garden is the biggest leap and one that I hope will allow us to provide nearly all our summer vegetables (and what we cannot furnish ourselves will be obtained through local farms). In all honesty, if this goes well, we establish a nice veggie homestead, next year I do believe I’d like to add chickens for fresh eggs.

More and more I find myself wanting our family to self-provide, to huddle into our little enclave by the woods on our modest piece of suburban property and let the craziness of the world undo itself.  It’s not that I don’t care what happens in the world — I do — but I only have so much control over it all. I vote. I sign petitions. I protest with my wallet and stop shopping at certain stores and stop buying certain products.  But then I want to create something in contrast — a community I trust and like being a part of. Bartering, sharing, coming together and creating a mini-world we can all by happy in apart from the discord of the world at large. I want my haven with my tomatoes and zucchini and raspberries and a house smelling of fresh bread and oatmeal cookies. I’m thinking of naming our little place, Waldenwood Homestead.

My mother calls me a throw-back to our farmer ancestors, and I suppose I am. Perhaps it is time for that. A turning back of time, behavior and focus. I don’t romanticize it. It’s work — planting, caring, picking, storing, baking, and more baking. But it really is good work. It feels good. It smells good. It tastes good.

And it continues to teach our son that there are other ways, other choices than the ones the world makes obvious and tells you are the only ones.  He’s already learned that about education. Now I hope he learns that about life.

That would be really good.


Acting Their (Real) Age

Thinking recently about the term “typical”, particularly in relation to phrases like, “he’s a typical (insert appropriate age here) year old.”  I’ve been thinking about it because our son is nine years old, almost ten, actually, and I sometimes wonder what that is supposed to mean.  He’s always been something of a mix of ages in behavior and attitude and thought…sometimes younger, sometimes much older than his chronological age.  But that’s not what got me thinking about it.

What got me thinking was this: something he’s always liked to do is dress up like his real-world heroes. Police officers, firefighters, paramedics (and some less hero-like, but fascinating to him like tree cutters, National Grid electrical workers, DPW, construction and demolition). He’d gear up all the time, and to this day rarely leaves the house as his regular self.  Today it was a firefighter, made all the more fun and exciting because the guys at our fire station gave him a set of real gear. We’ve been visiting regularly since he was four, and they are watching him grow up, and learning about what they do; being his age and knowing now more about the equipment, the apparatus and the work than some of the rookies, they’ve taken him under their wing and encourage is fascination. So, as we were getting ready to go to the garden center he asked if he could wear his turnout gear.  I hesitate sometimes, but can rarely think of a good enough reason to say no.

So there he was, lumbering out to the car in full firefighter gear – pants, boots, coat, helmet – and suddenly I thought, “Hrm…he’s nine.  Shouldn’t he be outgrowing this dress-up thing?” Well, anytime I hear myself use words like “should” and “ought” the red flags go up because it means I’m referring to some kind of standard that is usually not my own. I don’t know any other nine year old that would gear up this way. Not of the public school variety, anyway. And I started to wonder, is our child that unique? Is he that out-of-the-box? We know he’s incredibly imaginative and has a vivid and rich inner life. He has always turned to his hero archetypes for confidence and self-worth and strength. Is he too old for that now? What does that mean, anyway?

Then I had a thought. I think most traditionally-schooled boys of this age would never consider dressing up not because they are too old for it developmentally or chronologically, but because socially they have been sent the message of what’s cool, how to fit in, how to behave to avoid teasing, hassles and everything else that goes with being this age in a traditional school setting. But our son doesn’t have that experience. While he’s around groups of homeschool friends, there is no judgment from them, no hassles, nothing to make him think twice about something he loves to do and ways he loves to play. They accept it and him freely.  Sometimes there are questions, “Why are you wearing that?” and he’s learned to answer confidently and honestly, “Because it’s fun,” “Because I really like paramedics,” etc. and that settles it. He hasn’t been ostracized, hasn’t been pushed to squelch the desire, or question it or feel guilty or strange. I’m not certain the same could be said if he were in a different social environment.

That then led me to the thought: “Is it possible that in fact he is showing the true age of nine years old? At least a true age – one not tainted by peer pressure, outside judgment or attitudes, but rather, a pure, real, true version of a nine year old. One still full of rich imagination, inner story-telling and fantasy exploration of himself, the world and his potential. One not thrown into doubt or uncertainty by signals from without or a large social structure full of pressure to belong, fit-in and not stand out.

I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I’m looking too deeply into it. But I don’t really think so. Kids in school face so much, deal with so much so early and the pressures from peer groups are strong. They are surrounded by those forces every day, away from guiding/assisting parents and helpful support structures. It’s not that homeschool kids don’t spend time among just their peers, but the honest truth is our experience so far is that our peers are different. They are less subject to outside influence, they are more supportive and accepting of one another, more tolerant of differences and welcoming of many.  Before I get tromped for generalizing, I’m not saying this is true of all public school kids. I’m not saying all the friends we have whose kids attend public school are not tolerant and accepting. I am saying that I wonder how much their behavior or levels of “maturity” or their throwing off of “younger” play is a result of social pressures – be it conscious or unconscious – to be a certain way by a certain age. Because our son certainly continues to simply be who he is and play how he likes and do what he loves because there is no one around to tell him he can’t or shouldn’t, that it’s not cool, or it’s silly.

I just wonder how much that’s the case for others. Which begs the question, “What does it really mean to ‘act their age’?”  I kind of think that our son is a real ‘typical nine year old’, and maybe others are being robbed of some of the whimsy and freedom of their younger years. Again, maybe not.

But for us, I will continue to encourage our son to act his (real) age. Not a pressurized, socialized one.


These Moments

There are those who choose to fill their homeschool days/lives with a curriculum that models traditional schooling. There are those who throw it all out the window and allow natural learning to take its course. We are somewhere in between. Nature takes its course in interest and curiosity, and learning happens via guidance, encouragement and a bit of structure within those interests – as much as I am able to make that happen. Yes, I’ve gone so far as to search for “firefighter math” because that is where interests lie and if we can learn within that interest all the better because then it has meaning.

But nature also takes its course elsewhere. Like – in nature. And our unstructured time is important because that is often where those meaningful, rich, and memorable moments happen. From watching a group of friends ranging from two years old to nine years old run in unseasonably warm sunshine, being birds, or doing recon in the fort, or digging to lay pipes in a dirt pile, to the true natural moments that can happen in our own backyard, but that only matter if you are there to see them:

 

This was far more joyful and enriching and memorable than sitting at the computer, or at the table, or with our noses in a book because it was time to read or count or research. This was right over our heads (quite literally!) and I’m so very grateful that we are able to be present to witness moments like this one.

Made even better sharing it with friends. In the sun.  In our yard. 

Remember I mentioned stopping time? These are those moments.

These moments.


Time and Attention

               I have had many thoughts banging around my brain lately. I’ve wanted to write about time — its passing, its speed, its nature.  I wanted to write more (evermore) about learning, my fascination with it, its speed, its nature.

               So I guess I’ll do both.

               First: Time. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Being a “late-season” mom, nearing 50 with a son not yet in his teens, I often feel time slipping by too quickly. While he’s not yet in his teens, he’s also no longer a little boy. I often wish I’d had my current knowledge and understanding of education and learning and my current philosophy of it all right from the first moment we started homeschooling. When the boy was still small and relatively new to the world. When it was all about mud pies and Bob The Builder.  I would then have had the courage to slow down, worry less, play more and take the time to truly relish our days together. Less stress about writing A,B,C and more finding letters in the clouds. Not that I didn’t do any of that. I did. We laughed, we played, but I also thought I had to “Teach” (with quotes and a capital T). If I’d known then I would have done more laughing and playing. Maybe even all laughing and playing because those young moments are fleeting.

               So now I sometimes I’m feel I’m fighting to turn back the clock. To get those moments back. But, knowing that isn’t possible, now it is just about slowing it down. Slow down so we have these moments, these days, before the little boy that became the big boy moves on to what’s next.

               But — how can that happen when there is learning to be done? He’s not getting any younger and there are things to know!

               Right?

               Well — that’s where the rest comes in.

               Because next I considered changing the name of this blog to, “The Education of Us” as more and more I find that in guiding him toward learning and discovery, to help him find his way, I’ve had to educate myself.

               Not in the things he’s learning or curious about (though that happens to) but rather I found there was much for me to discover about how he learns (because my goodness there are so many ways a person can perceive and process information!).  There is so much to learn about how the brain functions, how memory works (or doesn’t), how to help it function better, and the way sensory systems come into play.

               Education is not a one-size-fits-all prospect. Of course, I already knew that as it was part of why we chose homeschooling in the first place.  Bur the degree to which it is important, how specific it can be continues to amaze me.

               But the truly phenomenal thing about coming to this knowledge and understanding how to apply it to us (him) has been the effect it has on our son’s ability and enthusiasm to try and learn things that had before been a source of struggle and unhappiness (both things that seem to suck time away from us).  Deciding to respect his being a “late reader”, understanding how a right-brained learner/thinker in facts learn to read (which is NOT the way it is taught in school) has given him the freedom and permission to find his own way to it, and to do so with calm, clarity, and more importantly, success!

               The same applies to numbers and math. Well, it applies to all his learning. He has his way because of the way he’s wired just as the rest of us each have our own ways. Some of us may crossover, some may be similar in learning styles, but none of us are absolutely identical.

               Knowing this, embracing this, has allowed stresses to dissolve, pressures to vanish, and in their place a true belief and trust in his ability to learn in his way and his time has taken root.

               All of that has brought more joy and happiness to our increasingly unschooling-like days. Learning and discovery is happening all the time. Sometimes guided, often spontaneous, all encouraged and supported. And all of it leaves more time and space for dirt-playing, lego building, cookie baking, deep breathing and just really being with him. Knowing his thoughts, his ideas, fears, laughs — all the things and moments that anchor us and make life — and learning — one and the same. We can just be.

               And so in all of that I have my time. Sometimes I still need to remind myself to take it. My time. Our time. And when I do I am blessed with the wonder of watching him — become. It happens in nearly every moment of every day – sometimes in big, loud ways, more often in small, quiet ones.

               By educating ourselves we’ve been given the gift of knowing how to truly see him, to guide and support him in his quest of becoming all of who he is. And to witness all his becomings, both big and small.

               And maybe, just a little, even for a moment, we can stop time.

 


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