Why Homeschool for One Year? Reason...

In the next few posts, I am highlighting my best reasons to invest one year of your family's life in homeschooling.  Everyone may not be cut out for the full commitment of all school years, but taking a leap of faith for one year changed everything for my family.

Reason- 
Your kids will talk to you about school.

Before our one year homeschool adventure, it was like pulling teeth to get a detailed answer to: "What did you do at school today?".  Shuffling in the door, dropping book bags and heading straight for food, they answered, "Nothing much."

Nothing, but the world.  Nothing, but algebraic equations and the essay format.  Nothing, but the laws of gravity and the Declaration of Independence. Saying "nothing" implied: "Nothing you would understand, Mom.  What's for dinner?"

Today, after one year of my husband and I teaching our children everything from photosynthesis to the Pythagorean theorem, the kids spill everything.

"How was school today?"

"Mom, you're not going to believe what we did with Newton's laws of motion.  We performed two experiments, and oh! I need your help to make a balloon car that demonstrates Newton's law: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

Our fourteen-year-old shares activities and classwork never before surfaced in conversation.  She asks questions about math and listens to our answers (most of the time.)
Our twelve-year-old asks me to take him to the library to check out the next book in his current literary obsession and explains the plot to me in detail as I drive.
Our ten-year-old wants me to practice division facts while she enjoys her after school snack.  When she misses one, she listens as I explain different ways of getting the right answer.

So WHY does one year of homeschool get your kids talking about school?

1-They know you know about school.  Simple answer, but before we home schooled, our kids clearly understood that their parents went to school and even knew that we did quite well while we were there. But that was a long time ago.  What could possibly apply to their school world today?  After working day after day with the kids on everything from handwriting to marine biology, they have a deeper understanding of our knowledge.  They know we know and respect us more as a result.

2-They know you care about their education.  When we quit our jobs to dedicate one year of our lives to teaching and traveling the world, our kids registered the significance we placed on their education.  I'm not saying the only way children will feel you care about their education is through home schooling.  Obviously, many parents stress this importance daily in overseeing homework and attending open houses, conferences and PTA meetings. I simply mean that I discovered the quantity of time spent with my child over specific lessons in math or history created a bond between us that I never expected.  Their doubts or questions about what we expected of their learning disappeared.  They know we are willing to go to any lengths to prepare them for life on planet Earth.

Talking about school may seem a banal or trite reason to home school.  Some may say a whole year is an enormous sacrifice for such a minute accomplishment.  I know that one year helped me discover the joy in little things... like talking about school with my kids.

From the Mouths of Babes*

A sleeping child is a beautiful thing.

Kids are hard work.  They wear on your nerves, test your patience and put a constant strain on your pocketbook.   With kids around, the laundry piles to the ceiling and the cupboard is always bare.  That box of crackers you bought for the cheesy chicken casserole for dinner is gone thanks to the neighborhood kids and your daughter's giving nature.   She cut up all the cheese, too, so you'll have to go back to the store.  Oh, and there is no milk for your coffee... again.

Kids have never ending needs that must be met.  One kid perpetually asks, "What's for dinner?" even though you just fed them yesterday.  One kid has outgrown their shoes even though you bought the last pair two sizes too big. Another kid has the unmitigated gall to ask you to help them with social studies homework even though you spent an hour with them the night before going over slope-intercept form in math.  Must you help with social studies, too?   Good grief!


So why do we put up with them?  

Because they are pretty darn funny.  Greg and I would have kicked ours out years ago if they were not so entertaining.  While writing about our family sabbatical year, I stumbled upon several gems that endeared us to our children long after their cherub faces thinned and they became too big to cuddle.  Here are some of my favorites:

Overheard from the Mouths of Babes-

While playing with their dolls:
Anabel: Do babies really say goo-goo, gaga?
Emma: Yes, but only the stupid ones.

While playing Wii Party: 
Wyatt: I can't help it that I'm good at it.
Anabel: You're just good at being lucky.  How much skill does it take to press a button and have the spinner land on your number?
Wyatt: More than you'd think actually...

While trying to steal my book light:
Mommy: Put that back.
Emma: Can I just use it tonight?
Mommy: No, you'll lose it.  You can buy your own light with the $50 you have.
Emma: I wouldn't spend my $50 on a book light.
Mommy: Why not? They're only $3.
Emma: That's exactly why I wouldn't spend $50 on one.

While getting ready for bed:
Emma: Can I get some of the tools dentist use?
Mommy: Why? Do you want to be a dentist when you grow up?
Emma: It would be fun, but I don't think they'd let someone who's had so many cavities be a dentist. Or would they? I'd know more about it than a kid who never had any.

While trying to talk my husband into taking me to a movie for date night: 
Greg: I don't know.  What movie do you want to see?
Me: The one with Bradley Cooper.
Wyatt: Ooper Duper! (Said just like Peter Boyle's monster in Young Frankenstein.)

As long as they keep the laughs coming, I guess we'll let them hang around...  Laughter may not fold the clothes, but it sure helps it go a little faster.



*For those readers with no sense of humor, this post was written with my tongue firmly in my cheek.  I love my kids dearly and would never kick them by the wayside.  Greg, on the other hand...

Pelican Plunge Redux

The 5th Annual New Year's Day Pelican Plunge marked two members of the Brooks Family going off the deep end... literally.  Wyatt, age 11, joined his insane dad, age old enough to know better, in plunging into the fifty degree Atlantic waters as a symbolic way to ring in the new year.  Last January first saw Greg celebrating our sabbatical year with a groovy group of like-minded folks dunking themselves for fun and fundraising for the South Carolina parks system. This year, my guys and about 300 other nuts brave individuals did their part for silliness and charity.  And I thought I was proud last year! (See my New Year's Pride post from last year.)

Pre- Plunge

The Brooks girls were not as stupid courageous as our men.  When asked if they wanted to do it, the answer, in stereo, was a resounding no.   Honestly, we didn't think Emma was even coming along to watch.  As Greg and Wyatt dug out their bathing suits, Emma sauntered through saying, "Can I stay home?  I'm just not in the mood to watch people run into cold water."  My question: When is anyone EVER in the MOOD to watch people run into cold water?  Regardless, we all piled in the minivan and headed to Hunting Island for the one o'clock event.

As the onlookers lined the beach, the swimmers counted down. Wyatt and Greg were front and center and prepared to go all the way under the water.  Greg warned Wyatt that some participants wimp out by only going in knee deep, but the Brooks' men would go in whole hog-meaning a complete, full body dunk.  Wyatt agreed... it was all or nothing.  I videoed as they ran, but soon lost my men in the mob.



I scanned the shore searching for them amid the splashing and shrieking, and suddenly, Wyatt emerged victorious:

Super (Cold) Wyatt

Greg, being a repeat offender, stayed in the water and swam around a bit longer, but joined in Wyatt's victory lap (searching for Anabel and Emma with the towels) a couple of minutes later.

My Fellows: Post-Plunge

As we drove away, I commented since one Brooks took the leap last year, and two plunged this year, there must be three Pelican Plungers for next year.  Looking at the girls, I asked, "So who is going next year?"

Without missing a beat, Wyatt said, "Daddy, Anabel and Emma.  I'm never doing that again!"  As with everything, time will tell...  He seemed to recover quite well in the hot tub:

We hope all have a Happy New Year 2013!

The Chore Jar

As kids get older, parents have many mounting problems to deal with.  The two rearing their ugly heads in my home are:

1. How to keep the house clean around these filthy urchins who have the nerve to snap at you as you block the latest Phineas and Ferb episode while carrying fifty pounds of their laundry.

2. How to effectively punish the smart mouth who dared to say, "Move!" 

As they say, “Necessity is the mother of invention."  Years ago, I came up with a great punishment system to help with cleaning and quieting the back talk: The Chore Jar.  One quiet afternoon, while the kids were away, I calmly wrote a list of common household chores: dust baseboards, clean mirrors, scrub bathrooms, vacuum, etc.  I cut the list into chore strips, folded them up, and placed them all in a Mason jar labeled with white duct tape- THE CHORE JAR.  Placing the jar in the center of the kitchen counter, I explained to the kids the new rules.  If they got in trouble at home, at school or anywhere in-between, they would pull one or more chores from the chore jar.  

When Wyatt bonked his sister testing his new bat in the car on the way to baseball, the living room furniture got dusted.  Anabel rolled her eyes at me one too many times, and suddenly, I no longer resembled Krusty the Clown after applying my makeup, thanks to my new, clean mirror.  Emma ripped up my new flowerbed when she decided to go off-road with her Barbie Jeep, and I got a fully mopped kitchen floor.  I began watching them like a hawk hoping that one slip-up would get me clean toilets.   

Me before a clean mirror (and coffee.)

My favorite thing about our chore jar is it takes the anger out of  punishment.  I hate the confrontational feeling of yelling and lecturing the kids about every infraction.  Though we have never spanked our children, my anger would lash out and bring down the punishment hammer with an unrealistic sentence that meant nothing because the kids knew we had no follow-through.  Who can see “no television for a year” through? What parent can seriously carry out “a five-year grounding”?  What Mom would “never cook for ungrateful kids again”?  With the chore jar, the consequences of their crimes had been dispassionately thought out and written down.  It became the luck of the draw to the severity of the penalty unless someone stacked the deck.  

One day, I noticed I had the cleanest living room windows, but disgusting bathrooms and impenetrable closets.  The kids' behavior had been just as wretched as before, so why weren't these areas getting cleaned?  I realized the kids had been placing the easy chores on top. Well, two could play that game.  

When Wyatt went down the street to his friend’s house without telling anyone, I grabbed the chore jar before I got him and stacked the deck.  Floating on top was the closet cleaning assignment. When he drew out “Clean out your closet,” he went completely boneless- collapsing to the ground in a nine-year-old puddle consisting of hair, t-shirt and shorts.  I smiled.  He had been “cleaning” his room for months by shoving everything into his closet.   I had to stay in his room for three hours supervising the chore, but it was worth it. Cleaning his own mistake taught him three important life lessons: hiding a mess doesn’t make it go away, never leave the house without telling someone, and never try to pull one over on Mommy. 

The downside to the chore jar method for household cleaning is its lack of reliability.  Wouldn't you know my little devils caught on fast. They started cleaning up after themselves, stopped fighting and finished their homework on time.  It would seem a mother’s trials and tribulations never ended. 

If anyone out there would like help setting up their own family chore jar, please let me know... it's the least I can do to help keep America beautiful (homes and attitudes, that is.)

A Lost Wallet

I have an ethics question for you: If you found a lost wallet, would you return it to its owner?  Imagine the wallet had no identification and contained $174 in cash and a $50 gift card.  Would you think such a careless owner deserved to be taught a lesson and therefore, feel justified in spending the money?  Or would you secure it in trust that the owner would eventually show up?  If you chose to hold on to it for safe keeping, how long would you wait?  A day? Two?  How about a week?

Our son recently experienced this moral dilemma, but from the other side; Wyatt lost his wallet.  Just before leaving for England, he had purchased a brown, leather wallet and against his parents instructions, put all his eggs in that basket.  His eggs amounted to $200 of grass-mowing, chore-doing, birthday-gifting and allowance-saving money.  Tenaciously, he kept the wallet secure throughout the UK, but became lax after returning home.

Our first Saturday afternoon back home, Greg took the kids to Publix for groceries.  Planning to buy a $1 bag of Skittles, Wyatt grabbed his wallet on the way out the door- because an eleven-year-old boy must bring all his money, obviously, for that "just in case" purchase.  He wore an old pair of shorts with a small pocket, but by stuffing the wallet in, he managed to make it fit.  So what if it hung out a little?  On the way to the store, his sister had a nose bleed- because nothing is easy when taking your kids anywhere- even to the grocery store two miles away.  Greg pulled into the nearest convenience store and sent Wyatt inside for napkins.  With everybody relatively clean and blood-free, they proceeded to Publix.  After walking up and down every single aisle in the store at least five times- because that's what kids do when they go to a grocery store- the party was ready to check out.  Wyatt reached for his wallet to buy his Skittles and discovered it was gone.  He, of course, told his parents all this... ONE WEEK LATER!

Greg and I were crushed for him.  How do you explain to your kids that the world is not an honest place?  I figured it was best to just rip the band-aid off and be blunt.

"The wallet is gone, Son.  If you had told your dad the minute you realized it was missing, we might have found it.  But losing it in one of two high-traffic areas, over a week ago, makes it impossible."

Call me a cynic, but I believed what I said.  The tears flowed... from Wyatt and me; Greg somehow managed to hold it together.  We gave Wyatt a stern speech on respecting money and explained that part of being responsible meant not just spending wisely, but keeping the money safe.  We said, "We told you to keep your money at home and only put five dollars in your wallet.  If you're not responsible with money, the world will take it from you- one way or another."

For Wyatt's sake, I called Publix and spoke with someone in customer service.  She kindly told me what I already knew: no wallet had been turned in.  Greg looked up the number to the convenience store, but we didn't know the new name.  My dad had built the store twenty-five years ago and called it BJ's for Bobbie and Johnny's, my parents' names.  It has changed hands a couple of times since so I had no idea what to look up in the phone book.  Feeling deflated after my cry, I used a trip to the store as an excuse to get out of the house for a little while.

The store was packed for a rainy afternoon.  Only one employee worked the rush so I waited in line to speak with her.  When I reached the counter, I was brief.

"Hi.  My son was in here last week and lost his wallet.  It was brown leather and had a lot of money in it, but no ID.  He just told us about losing it.  Has anyone turned one it?"

"I don't think so, but I'll check.  Do you want to leave your name and number?"

"I doubt it will do any good," I replied as I wrote down our information.  She rang up the next customer as I thanked her and walked back to my car.

Before I got home, a miracle happened.  The store clerk called and told Wyatt (who answered the phone) that she found his wallet a week ago and had put it in the safe and forgot about it.  She assumed the owner would claim it soon.  By the time I got home, Wyatt was jumping for joy.  Greg and I stood in shocked disbelief.  Honestly, I didn't know how to react.  Part of me was thrilled that an honest person was still out there, but another part of me was kind of pissed.   I mean, how was this going to teach Wyatt to take care of money?  Isn't that awful!  Wyatt was dancing a jig and instead of dancing with him, I wanted to make sure he understood how rare this was and how lucky he was.  Instead of celebrating this moral exemplary person who found his wallet and kept it safe, I chose to be dour.  Why was it hard to be happy that someone did the right thing?  I think it's because sometimes (Dare I say it?)-  being a parent sucks.   Sometimes you get so caught up in teaching a lesson that you miss the point of it.  Say your kid gets an A on a test without studying.  A parent can't say, "Good job! You must have listened and participated well in class." Oh no.  A parent must say, "You lucked out this time.  Classes get harder so you better study next time."  With the burden of the future ever looming, I forgot to celebrate the present- the gift of an honest person.

When I came to my senses, I called to thank her.  I told her what an amazing thing she did by keeping the wallet safe for my son.

"I knew it must be a kid's wallet because it had no identification in it.  I have a three-year-old and I know if it were his, I'd want someone to turn it in for him.  I put it in the safe and forgot about it after no one had come looking for it."

We kept talking, discussing ethics.  We both agreed how hard it was to find honest people these days.  Then we made a strange connection.  I told her that my father built the convenience store where she worked and her heart opened up to me.

"Johnny is your father?  I used to be in love with your brother!  I came in the store at least five times a day to see Chris smile.  I was only fifteen, but he was always so nice to me.  I hated what happened to him, but you know drugs are hard to kick.  I was an addict for six years, but have been clean for over three years since I found out I was pregnant.  I feel great, but I struggle with it everyday.  I think of Chris when I'm working here and wish he'd been able to get off drugs, too.  Thinking of him helps me stay straight."

I said, "Well, you're obviously a good person and respect yourself now.  You've done a very nice thing for Chris's nephew."  I admit I was a little choked up as I said it.

On our way to pick up the wallet, Wyatt asked, "Can I give the lady a reward for finding the wallet and keeping it safe."

"I think that's a great idea."

"Would twenty dollars be okay?"

"Perfect."

OMG! Anabel's a Teenager!

"Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?" - Clarence Oddbody, AS2

Thirteen years ago, Greg and I were blessed with our miracle baby.  I know every baby is a miracle, but after ten years of marriage, five years of infertility, and two heartbreaking miscarriages OUR miracle baby finally arrived.  Anabel healed our pain and led the way for two more miracles: her little brother and sister.  Often, I think how different our lives would be without her… the empty hole her absence would leave.  Like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, Anabel would have left quite a hole, altering our entire lives, had she not been born.  Our guardian angel, Clarence Oddbody (Angel Second Class), would show us a life with no kids, no snuggles and giggles, no small hands slipping into ours, definitely no sabbatical, and possibly, no marriage because I would have turned squirrelly and driven Greg nuts.  We may have had more money, but no one to share it with.

Thankfully, Anabel was born, and we have three beautiful, healthy children.  Our pockets are empty of cash, but overflowing with love and Zuzu's petals.

To celebrate our good fortune and Anabel's life, we spent a family day in Beaufort.  

After opening seven of her thirteen presents (each item from Bath and Body Works counted as a separate gift...even the two lip glosses), we headed to the Beaufort Inn for their very Southern Sunday brunch.   The spread included a grits bar, andouille sausage balls, fresh berry parfaits, shrimp cocktails, artichoke dip casserole with homemade chips, lox and cream cheese pops, caesar salad and beef tenderloin.  Anabel splurged on the the cooked to order eggs benedict while Wyatt and Emma dug their way through a mountain of cinnamon and honey French toast.  Greg and I tried a little of everything, but could have contented ourselves with the basket of popovers and strawberry butter alone.

One Word: Popovers

Did I mention the dessert bar yet?  Holy smokes!  Everyone sampled dark chocolate creme brûlée, banana pudding mousse, angel cake, and chocolate ganache pops. (Part of my recovery program is admitting to all of this.)  We waddled out through the back garden enjoying the Confederate jasmine and admiring the gorgeous day.

Our next stop was a surprise...

 Keeping a secret from Anabel is difficult.  She begs and pleads for you to tell her something and if you don't she drives you crazy asking questions and trying to guess.  Somehow, we managed to keep quiet this time until we turned on the road to Camelot Farms and she immediately shouted, "We're going horseback riding!"  She was excited and nervous.  She hadn't been on a horse since a brief scare last year during a riding lesson.  While being our most cautious child, Anabel is also our most accident prone.  With one broken arm and leg and emergency surgery in her past, I can't blame her for being a little hesitant to jump into dangerous situations.   However, I think there's an old saying about getting back on the horse so we poured out of the family truckster ready to climb on.

Since we were the only ones on the farm, our guide, Ned, let us help prep the horses for our marsh trail ride.  As he brought each horse up, we brushed, sprayed and made new animal friends.  I was very happy with the "getting to know you" period before the ride because it was Wyatt and Emma's first ride and I hadn't been on a horse in twenty years.  By the time the horses were saddled and ready, our nerves had settled and we were ready, too.

While brushing and petting, Anabel became attached to a horse named Shoes, but when Ned started assigning mounts he gave her the friskiest horse.  I was so proud of her for speaking up and asking if she could ride the horse she liked.  Sometimes it's hard to admit your kids are growing up, but speaking up for yourself is a difficult lesson to learn so I was happy to see this evidence of our daughter's maturity.

The trail ride was fantastic.  We went all over their farm's acreage at the end of St. Helena Island riding under mossy live oaks, near farmland and through pinewood forests.  After an hour on the trail, we hated to say goodbye, but we had gained more to celebrate: Anabel overcame her yearlong fear of riding again, and Wyatt and Emma found a new love.

We ended her birthday celebration with Anabel's all time favorite meal (yes, we were hungry, again.)  Crab legs, baked potatoes and iceberg wedges followed by strawberry cake were the perfect grand finale to a grand day.

Happy 13th Birthday, Anabel!  We love you!

Trying New Things

"Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things.  The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have." - Louis E. Boone


Surprisingly, I just found this quote on a random Internet search.  I have never heard of Louis E. Boone, and yet, I have lived by his words for over a year.  Greg and I had talked for the past five years about taking a sabbatical to spend more time with the kids and try new things: personally and professionally.  Ironically, it was trying one new thing that started the ball rolling.

My book to be released June 2012

In a teacher's workshop less than two years ago, I presented technology-based curriculum that I had developed over six years teaching gifted children.  A few of my esteemed colleagues encouraged me to write my curriculum into a book and have it published.  Here's where trying something new came in... I actually did it.  For the first time in my professional career, I didn't just dream about it, talk about it, or think of all the reasons not to pursue it.  I wrote it up, sent it out to publisher land and didn't stop there.  After receiving a couple of rejection letters (which I proudly pinned to my bulletin board because receiving a rejection letter meant I had actually tried something, right?), I got a publishing offer from a small company in upstate New York.  But I didn't sign it.  I didn't want to sell myself out too soon.  When I hadn't heard anything from a couple of the more prominent publishers, I called them.  After a two hour conversation with the head of The Critical Thinking Company, he sent me a contract.  My passion for my topic convinced him that my curriculum worked.  Signing the contract, no one could have been more shocked.  I had tried a new thing and the world didn't open up and swallow me whole.  Instead of being eaten alive by the words: could have, might have, should have, I had accomplished something!

I'm a contributor!

Continuing my momentum, I have taken new writing classes and submitted articles to small magazines.  In the new April/May issue, I am a contributor to Beaufort's local publication, Fit and Family.  I have three short pieces or tidbits about family travel.  Small, but definitely a step in new direction.

What a thrill it is to see my name in print!  The question I keep asking myself is: Could I be a writer?  I'm having a book published.  Does that make me a writer?  I'm in a small magazine.  Does that make me a writer?  I have chronicled our year opening up about my thoughts, experiences and dreams. Does that make me a writer?


While I've been more tempted by professional pursuits, I have tried some new, personal things, too.  Remember my baking bread blog?  Baking bread is now my go-to, de-stress activity.  Nothing has made me feel more in touch with the spiritual than the simple act of producing this basic necessity of life.  I feel quite certain that I could live by bread alone... with butter and a nice Pinot... and share it with friends, of course.


Not all new things I've tried have been a success.  Some, I'm proud to say, failed miserably. Take pottery class, for example.  Since getting a plastic potter's wheel for Christmas when I was 10 years old, I have always wanted to take a real lesson.  With home school art in mind, I signed the whole family up at Coastal Art in Beaufort.  We met many interesting people who all helped our instructor, Pat, attempt to teach us the subtle art of clay pottery.


Here's what I fantasized I would create:

And here's what I actually made:

Yes, it is as uneven as it looks.  Feel free to laugh.

Stop staring at me, Pablo!  I'm trying!

Trying to keep my failure in perspective, I turned to words of advice from a great experimenter. Pablo Picasso said, "I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it."  Great words of advice, Pablo!  We're learning.  Unfortunately for me, I think his and my learning curves are a little out of sync.  Picasso's experiments created completely new art forms.  (Ever heard of Cubism?)  

Picasso's Cubist painting: Femme En Pleurs

My experiments created new... junk. So why am I proud?   It's my junk.


I'm also proud to say that the rest of the clan feels the same way about their junk, I mean art, and the other new things they've tried this year.  

Wyatt's candy/chip dish

Anabel's pencil cup and Emma's dog and Mickey Mouse

Wyatt's ?... we're not sure what it is...

We planned this family quest to discover new things and appreciate the joy in our lives.  Having planned our one year off the grid, we almost backed out at least twenty times due to fear.  Fear of going broke; fear of alienating the kids from their friends; fear of spending too much time together and thereby alienating our kids from us; fear of never getting a job again; fear of rejection; fear of judgment; FEAR OF FAILURE.  Ultimately, the fear that won out over every other was the fear of regret.  We knew we would regret not taking this sabbatical with our kids... the alternate fears were just conjecture.

Emma trying something new.

So trying new things proved to be a great success even when we failed.  With less than three months left of our big experiment, I have never felt less regretful or more excited about life.