Smrt Lernins

The week started out pretty terribly, but slowly improved, peaking with today’s work.

Math this week was…well, kind of a wash. Captain Science, despite having shown mastery in the individual skills in the preceding chapters, couldn’t manage to synthesize those skills well enough to pass the bridge. He did tries 2-5 of the bridge to chapter 20 in Life of Fred: Decimals and Percents, then the first try again, because he missed two or more problems each time. Earlier in the week, it was because he was trying to solve the problems using his “better way” of doing math. Today’s problem just seemed to be that he remembered how he worked the problems last week, and was just replicating that work from memory, rather than working through it fresh. Impressive memory, kid, but I think you’re missing the point!

Grammar, luckily, is going pretty well. We did have the bizarre stories before his completed story, but otherwise, he’s zipping along through his MCT. Today, he kick the butt of a great big lesson from Caesar’s English I and we’ll quiz on it on Monday. I need to get the poetry lessons broken down, with examples, but I haven’t managed to find the time for that yet, so I don’t think we’ll be doing any poetry today.

Creative writing wasn’t the best ever, as Cpt. Science lost last week’s work and had to redo it, but I’m happy with his makeup work. He’ll be doing this week’s assignment today, in order to be ready for next week, when two more students join us! Woohoo!

Piano is going splendidly. Captain Science has a great ear for music, but is also very good at sight reading already. He has learned the terminology quickly and is learning many new songs. He’ll have a formal recital in December, but between now and then, he’ll be learning more piano, some keyboard, even some arranging/composing!

Science is awesome. The brain unit that Patchfire is teaching is just SO COOL! Captain Science is enjoying it tremendously and is eager to work on it. We also ordered our Thames and Kosmos physics kit for the next unit, which is good, because our lack of the kit meant reading instead of lab on Thursday. Bad Smrt Mama.

My patience is a little short with Captain Science at the moment, because he’s really been goofing off and spazzing out this week, but I think we managed to invoke an adequate course correction for his shenanigans. Here’s hoping.

The Tank had a great week, at least. He made a musical instrument from a piece of Tupperware, some beads, bells, and buttons, and foam stickers. I also whipped up a double batch of pink salt dough to send in to school. He loves school so much that I do feel slightly guilty about not re-enrolling him next year. Not guilty enough to re-enroll him, though.

The find of the week was the National League of Junior Cotillions, which offers a wide array of etiquette classes for girls and boys. Patchfire and I are seriously considering enrolling our eldest children in the 5th grade program next year! We are so juneyaleeg.

Dear Crazy Internet Christians,

It’s time I had a little come to Jesus meeting with y’all, alright? And yes, I’m aware of the irony there.

Now, you intelligent and compassionate Christians, who treat others with respect and who actually try to live life as modeled by Christ, can just sit right back down. This isn’t about you or even about Christianity (or at least, its foundations). I know that the crazies aren’t the only representatives of Christianity, or even comprise the largest percentage of Christianity, but they are, unfortunately, the loudest. You reasonable people have my love and appreciation for making this world a kinder place, though most of us differently-believers and non-believers wish your voices were a little easier to hear over the fray. God bless you for trying.

I’m talking to y’all over there, the other Christians, the ones who use your religion as a weapon of hate and denigration against others, who expect everyone in this world to treat your beliefs as true and absolute while you dismiss all of theirs as falsehoods and heathenry, who balk at any implication that an alternative set of beliefs might ever be acceptable to discuss (or God forbid, to actually believe), who wander around like rabid dogs in a hot summer street, looking for a chance to become righteously offended and bite anyone who commits the grievous crime of not thinking how you think.

If this is your version of Christianity, well, I feel awfully happy that I’m not a Christian (and even if I were, I’d be happy that someone like you probably wouldn’t consider me the right kind of Christian). You are not convincing me to become a Christian. You’re not convincing me to think highly of Christians or Christianity. You’re certainly not convincing me to think carefully about what I say, out of fear of offending you punkin dunkin liddle baby feelings.

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to hate Christians so much? A little hint — it has nothing to do with being afraid that your religious beliefs are right, being jealous of you, being lead astray by the devil, or any of the other nonsense your more extreme Christian groups keep claiming. Here’s a great example of the behavior that triggers that sort of response from others: Getting worked up over someone asking for recommendations of “books about Christian mythology for non-Christians”, dressing them down for daring to (accurately) use the term “Christian mythology” to refer to “the body of traditional narratives [everything] associated with Christianity,” accusing them of “insulting [your] intelligence” by asking for secular resources in a manner you find unacceptable, and really, when it all comes down to it, making an ass of yourself because someone is addressing a question to non-Christians on a board where you seem to think that everyone should feel obligated to ascribe to your narrow and unreasonably rigid view of Christianity, all while making plenty of blatantly insulting and ignorant comments about adherents to other faiths and their beliefs in the exact same thread and plenty of others.

That’s why people hate you. You’re narrow-minded. You’re petty. You’re completely self-absorbed. You see insult where none is meant just for the pleasure of feeling wronged. You’re judgmental. You’re hypocritical. You’re passive aggressive when you aren’t being openly aggressive. You cast the first stone into your neighbor’s eye. You’re just plain mean.

In short, you give Christianity a very bad name and you look like pure fools in the process. The best thing you could do to win people to Christ would be to just shut up, because y’all aren’t doing him any favors right now.

Sincerely,
Smrt Mama McLernins

P.S. The heathens called and they’d like their holidays back.

I think I’ve figured out the crux of Captain Science’s issues and it mostly comes down to the above statement. Captain Science always thinks he knows a better way to do things, and when his way isn’t actually better, he has a very difficult time accepting it. The roots of this are buried pretty deeply in his psyche, so I’m not sure how we’ll dig them out, if we even can.

I’ve seen a lot of chatter on the WTM forums lately about the difference between “gifted” and “just bright.” Several people insisted that giftedness comes down to “the way they think.” I am inclined to agree, because I’ve seen Captain Science’s brain working. He really does think differently and has a hard time relating to people who are more “inside the box” thinkers (or people who have difficulty getting the whole box of concepts immediately*). The upside is that it makes him a great abstract thinker and problem solver, when he applies his abilities confidently and diligently. The downside is that it has created an unwarranted sense of his own mental superiority, which manifests as the stubborn insistence that he can always, for every subject or activity, find a “better” way to do it. He’s also constantly on the search for shortcuts, even if those “shortcuts” end up requiring 10x the amount of work as just doing it the normal way.

We saw this a lot when he was little. When Officer Daddyman would teach him martial arts, he would usually respond with, “But I can show you a better way to [roll, stand, kick].” Eventually, he did have to acknowledge that, at five or six, he really didn’t have the knowledge to school the 4th degree black belt in martial arts, but before he could get to that point, there was a lot of headbutting and chest pounding (mostly on his part, as Daddyman isn’t generally going to dignify the young monkey’s attempt to show up the big gorilla).

We’re seeing it now with math, and today it proved to be the trigger for his absurd display of hissydom. He is perfectly competent in mathematics and math foundations, so the last two days, when he suddenly couldn’t do multiplication correctly, we knew something had to be up. Apparently, he decided he could develop a better (and more importantly, faster and easier) way to do multiplication. He would only do multiplication in his new “better” way, despite the fact that the answer came out wrong every single time. The more someone tried to demonstrate that his new method wasn’t working, the angrier he became, until suddenly, he went utterly nuclear. How dare we, the simple-minded parents of his great and hideous oppression, try to act like we knew better than he? How dare we say his way wasn’t hands down the single biggest mathematical innovation EVER in the history of the world?

I’m not exactly sure what to do about this. I’m glad he wants to try new methods, but insisting they’re the right or best ones, when they obviously aren’t, has got to stop. Captain Science is probably too aware of his intelligence, which was partially avoidable (too much praise from family and teachers, too involved in his own test scores during the grade skipping and gifted class testing process) and partially unavoidable (when you’re in a class environment, it’s really not hard to compare yourself to other children, and see that your capacity or performance is different from theirs). I do think that homeschooling will help somewhat in that respect, though — instead of being the gifted kid in a mainstream classroom with diverse ability levels, he’s one several. If Eclectic Girl’s math abilities don’t poke a little hole in his delusions of grandeur, then nothing will. I also hope that being with other highly intelligent children, working on higher-level work, will start encouraging him to rise to the challenge more, rather than finding short cuts.

I agree with Patchfire when she says an IQ of 300 doesn’t matter if all you do with it is sit around and play video games. “Gifted” may describe a certain, special way of thinking, but what does that really matter if the result is a smug attitude and the constant search for cheats and shortcuts? I was a “gifted” student, too, but by high school, I was cutting so many corners in order to put in as minimal effort as possible that I was performing at a significantly lower level than the “average” students in my classes. By college, I was making no effort at all, and I’d managed to functionally dumb myself down through sheer force of “couldn’t be bothered.” The brain is like any other muscle, and if you don’t exercise it to its full capacity, it starts losing that capacity and getting mushy. I don’t want that for Captain Science.

I’m happy for him to look for a better way to do things. I don’t want him thinking his way is automatically going to be better, simply by virtue of it being his way. I definitely don’t want him falling out with the red ass any time someone points out his way isn’t an improvement over the original way of doing things.

*When Captain Science was three, his preschool teacher told me about an incident in the classroom where his frustration with another classmate’s difficulty in mastering the colors came to a head. Nick had incorrectly identified something blue as green, prompting Captain Science to say, with great exasperation, “It’s blue, Nick. B-L-U-E, blue. Not blew like the wind. Blue like the color.” A warning sign of trouble to come?

Yes, we’re having another WTF Wednesday around these parts. Captain Science, after two wonderful weeks, has been on a slow decline this week, culminating in a full blown stomping, screaming fit. Yes, he’s been assessed for all those things you’d assess a child for when he is pitching a stomping, screaming fit (that was part of our barrage of testing before leaving public school). He doesn’t have any specific problem. He’s just throwing a hissy.

My theory is that we relaxed the prison-style homeschooling too quickly, because he was being so good and agreeable. We probably needed to continue to apply it for another two weeks beyond the improvement stage. Instead, we were too quick to relax and reward, and now Captain Science is back to having meltdowns. Gotta say, the kid is a master manipulator. I’m sure he’s just waiting for one of us to go try and empathize with him or attempt to understand why he’s acting like this.

Honestly, I don’t care why. I’m the adult. He is the child. I’m not going to be yanked around by a 9 year old with a bug up his butt. I’m done with sympathizing, empathizing, or in any way trying to explore his motivations. I do not give a rat’s patoot about his motivations. It’s behaviors that interest me, and his are going to change.

So, back we go to lockdown. We’re divesting him of his worldly toys and pleasure reading, too, in the interest of full blown attention to what needs to get done. We might be taking the door off the hinges again, as he’s been slamming it this week in his fits of tantrum. We aren’t scaling back any curricula, but we aren’t adding to it, and he might miss out on next week’s board game class if he can’t improve in the next six days. We’ll go to Patchfire’s house for science, then come straight home with no playtime.

At least Officer Daddyman was home to witness the sound and the fury. Also, I didn’t get even remotely upset about this magnificent display of jackassery (at least, not externally), so Captain Science didn’t accomplish getting a rise out of either of us. He is going to learn he can’t control us, but he had better damn well learn to control himself.

Ticked off mama is ticked off.

What does a homeschooler look like? You get to decide! Well, ok, I get to decide, but you get to provide me with a wide range of options from which to decide, which is almost as good and puts a lot less burden on your already overburdened shoulders.

Close your eyes and picture your interpretation of the quintessential homeschooler. What do s/he and her/his children look like? Is she wearing a denim jumper with an appliqued cardigan? Are they wearing mismatched clothing and badly in need of haircuts? Are perfectly coordinated poloshirts or yoked dresses involved somewhere? Does someone have a Aquanet-stiff beehive and a modest-necked sweater or a pair of worn out Birkenstocks and the lingering smell of patchouli?

Now ask yourself: “Do I look like that homeschooler?”

Our contest is simple, yet ludicrous, and the prize is absurd, yet priceless (simply by virtue of being awarded by Smrt Lernins). Here’s how to enter:

1. Find the best picture of you and/or your children looking like what YOU think of when you think of “homeschooler.” You decide what “homeschooler” looks like.
2. Comment to this blog with a link to that picture.

The winner will be chosen by an expert panel of judges (ie. my family) and announced here. One photograph entry per commenter, though if you can rope your spouse, partner, significant other, children, mom, or neighbor into entering a picture of your family, you can always get an additional shot at the grand prize.

Want more chances to win? A second winner will be chosen at random to win a second, even more absurd prize. Entering could only be simpler if you sent us the message psychically. Gain one entry in our random draw for:

1. Each link to this post AND/OR
2. Tweeting “@smrtlernins and I look like homeschoolers, and so can you! http://bit.ly/digDMv”
3. Commenting here with a link to the blog where you posted about our contest or your Twitter name.

While you’re limited to one Twitter-related entry, you can post this link to as many blogs or websites as you can without being called a wanton spammer, gaining one entry in our random draw per link! Don’t forget to leave a comment with the link, though, because despite that comment about entering psychically, no one at Smrt Lernins has developed psychic powers yet…that I know of.

Show me what a homeschooler looks like to you, tell other people about it, and win ridiculous prizes. So simple, even a public schooler could do it*.

Contest is open until February 28th. That’s almost a whole month, you guys! Plenty of time to make entries all over the blogosphere.

*And I’d know, as I went to public school.

Lisa M. asks, “How much ‘outside’ schooling do you do? I mean classes or subjects that you do not teach yourself and either have someone else teach or pay for at a local facility.

Have I mentioned my undying love for Patchfire? Apart from having a wo-mance with her (which is like a bromance, only for women), I also share a little mini co-op with this delightfully intelligent woman of many talents. Twice a week, we get together so that she can teach science to our oldest children. On Tuesdays, Patchfire and her brood come over here for Captain Science and Eclectic Girl to delve into a wonderful course in the human brain, taught by Patchfire (about an hour of work). After that, I spend the next hour working with them on creative writing, while Patchfire entertains the smaller kids. Our current topic is writing short stories, which both kids seem to be taking to quite well.

On Thursdays, we zip over to her house after dropping off the Tank. There, the kids work on physics units, covering a wide array of topics, such as sound, color and light, water and heat, electricity, magnetism, etc. We’re usually there from around 9:30 to 12, plenty of time to finish all the experiments and even have a little play time.

Captain Science is also receiving piano lessons twice weekly from my great-aunt. It’s a nice break to the monotony of Mondays and Wednesdays, which are our biggest academic work days.

Later in the spring, I’d like to start both boys in some art classes. Art isn’t my strongest area, and I think they’d both benefit from some additional instruction. We’ll also have a little more money freed come summer time, once the Tank is no longer in preschool. I’m already looking at the possibly camps and programs they could enjoy this summer!

As a follow-up, Lisa would also like to know, “How far away would you travel for a class that fit your schedule that you could not teach?”.

Could not? There is very little I could not teach. I can’t imagine willingly traveling more than 20 minutes each way with any regularity. We have enough resources within a short drive that I wouldn’t be willing to drive to downtown Atlanta, up to Gwinnett, or any place like that just for a class. A one-time thing? Sure. A one-week camp, once a year? Maybe. A regular class? I’d just have to look for a closer alternative.

That’s how a [Smrt] Homeschooler handles outside schooling!

Do you have a question for the [Smrt] Homeschooler? Email them to
smrtmama@smrtlernins.com

My little author finally decided he’d do the assignment as assigned. This version is a little less amusing, but actually correctly incorporated all 8 parts of speech and was free from glaring grammatical/punctuation errors (he could have just rewritten the first story, but wouldn’t).

Once there was a boy, living in a town, and he ran so confidently and fast during races that everyone who saw him run would say, “Wow!” One day, in a racing tournament, he participated and raced into the finals. as soon as the starter gun fired, he and his three competitors took off. He was in first place neck-to-neck with another guy. 100 feet…50 feet…he was now in first place alone. 25 feet…10…15…10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-0! He won the tournament for the 34th time, and felt great holding up the golden trophy.

When asked to correct some minor grammar and punctuation errors, Captain Science instead chose to completely rewrite his story. Unfortunately, this resulted in it no longer fulfilling the requirements of the assignment, so he is now working on draft #3. As you can see, version two is as bizarre as version one, of not more so.

Once upon a time, there was a nice town, and nice people lived in this town, but they had been cursed by a wizard, so they couldn’t speak any adjectives. As a result, their sentences were dull. One day, a spy who worked for the wizard noticed two men talking…about his master! The first man said, “The king will surely like when I deliver the culprit.” The second man said, “He certainly will.” Then a third voice said, “Listen up, both of you! Your wretched town will never survive with my spied lurking in every corner!” The spy’s eyes widened. The third voice belonged to his master. He then hurried off to prepare for a siege.

Captain Science’s grammar work today was to choose one word from a list of choices for each part of speech, use those words to write one sentence, and then use that sentence to start a story. I had some trouble getting him to actually use all the parts of speech, and as you can see, he played a little fast and loose with the interjections, but I found his story to be…well, ok, I found it to be absolutely absurd.

Once, there was a nice town, and nice people lived in this town, but one day, they were suddenly cursed so they couldn’t say interjections like “yes” and “no.” One day, a spy was spying when he saw two men talking. The first man was saying, “…the lord will not be pleased–.” The second man interrupted with, “not you!” since he couldn’t say “no!” “Besides–” he added, but he couldn’t say any more since he couldn’t say “Why you?” “FINE!” shouted the first man, “forget it.” “Whew!” said the second man. “Let’s race to the park,” he added, and they took off. “I like the second man,” said the spy. “He saved my master’s life.”

“But I really need/have to have my…”
“I absolutely rely my…”
“I just couldn’t live without my…”

‘Fess up. We’ve all used variations of the above phrases to describe something that we probably don’t really need (in the “immediate levels of Maslowe’s hierarchy” sense), but that we’ve conditioned ourselves to believe we cannot function well without*. Now, I’m not a Luddite by any stretch. Many of the technological things I’ve learned I don’t really need have been replaced by cheaper, more streamlined, or healthier versions of my former crutches. The difference is that the alternatives take a little more work for more reward and don’t engender a panicked feeling of “no! What will I do without it!”

Here are the things I once thought were absolutely necessary to my existence, that I have found I no longer rely on:

Live Television: I like to be able to veg out with a little mindless entertainment in the evenings. When Officer Daddyman insisted that cable wasn’t in the budget (and our house’s position makes it difficult to get signal) and that he didn’t want the children exposed to the intensity of advertising on the for-profit children’s networks, I balked. Couldn’t we cut another corner elsewhere so I could have my shows? Through Netflix (less expensive, no commercials) and Hulu (a free, limited commercial web-based viewing service), however, I have plenty to watch and I now find myself so frustrated by regular commercials that I seldom watch television when I have the opportunity. Sure, I have to watch Glee a day late, but it doesn’t make the show less entertaining…in fact, fewer commercials makes me like it a lot better!

Caller ID and Call Waiting: After an ugly divorce, followed by on-again, off-again years of phone harassment by my ex-husband (which I had to record for documentation for court), I developed a profound love of caller ID. Unrecognized number? Queue up the recorder, just in case. After the termination of my ex’s parental rights and Captain Science’s subsequent adoption by Officer Daddyman, however, the only things holding me back from ditching caller ID were fear (which I needed to get over) and habit. Caller ID hasn’t done a great service to people’s phone manners, after all, and it’s not like that many different people call me. Goodbye, caller ID! Call waiting also went out the window, because I have both a home phone and a cell phone. In an emergency, people can get me, even if the home phone is busy. I haven’t found myself missing either service. Caller ID and call waiting — I can live without them!

The Newspaper: When my parents moved to their new house and Officer Daddyman and I married and took over the house note on my childhood home, we considered continuing the paper. The argument for it was that I could read it at my leisure without having to sit down at the computer. The argument against was that I could read it online for free. We opted not to get the newpaper, and I’m so glad we did. The quality of our paper has gone down hill significantly. The paper becomes smaller, lower-quality, and more conservative each year. With my anxiety issues, reading the news every day isn’t always the best plan, anyway. I have select news outlets I rely on for information, and let Patchfire screen the rest of my news for me. Sure, it keeps me somewhat ignorant of local happenings, but I don’t worry over every shooting or car-jacking. The newspaper — I can live without it!

Microwave: How could a mother (or father) ever survive without the convenience of a microwave oven? When I first started homeschooling, I found myself relying on the microwave more and more often, between heating leftovers for lunches (no more school cafeteria) and feeling run down and a little tired of dealing with the children by the evening (just zap it and be done). When our microwave started to die shortly before Christmas, I found myself in a panic. What was I going to do without my microwave? It finally went to the great electronics store in the sky shortly after the New Year and was replaced, not by another microwave, but by a rice steamer. Slower cooking time, sure, but significantly better flavor and texture (and no concerns about the questionable safety of microwaves beaming through the kitchen). In the month since ditching our microwave, we’ve adjusted quickly. Leftovers reheated on the stove or in the over taste better. Food prep takes a little more planning (though only a little more time), but that has only helped eliminate that panicked meal-prep rush. Microwave — I can live without it!

Eight hours a day “to myself”: This was my biggest anti-homeschooling argument, by far. I really needed those eight hours that Captain Science was in school away from home to get anything done (and to maintain my sanity). Once I stopped to think about it, though, I realized that this particular “can’t live without it” didn’t speak very highly of me as a mother. Had I really had children believing I was entitled to a third of my day without them or that I for some reason deserved hours of peaceful, child-free alone time? Could I really not accomplish anything because they were here? In retrospect, that mentality was lazy at best, downright selfish at worst. Of all the reasons to homeschool or not homeschool, getting rid of the kids for the better part of my daylight hours couldn’t be part of the argument. Yes, I have a little less quiet time now, but the laundry still gets done, dinner still makes it on to the table, and if anything, I have more time to socialize, because I’m not worrying about making it home in time to meet the bus. I’ve had to find ways to engage with my children that would be less crazy-making and ways to find moments of solitude (which might explain my stack of books in the bathroom), but it’s been completely doable and completely worth it. Eight hours of time without the kids every day — I can live without it!

Your list of “I could never live without them”s may be quite different. Your list may be eerily similar. Ultimately, it wasn’t about any of the above things being inherently bad (well, maybe the “8 hours without the kids” mentality, a little bit), but about the dependence on them being unhealthy, expensive, or fostering a huge degree of laziness on my part. I feel good about having changed how I thought and lived in those areas.

Make a list of the things you think you can’t live without and see if you actually can. Set a short-term goal and find alternatives. It’s remarkably freeing! Microwaves, cable television, the ability to switch between two clearly identified callers…those are all nice, but certainly not necessary like I thought they were.

The internet, on the other hand? Absolutely can’t live without it.

*Ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which you will have to put**. It’s perfectly fine when applied selectively. If you have doubts about how you can apply sentence-ending prepositions safely and correctly, however, please leave it to the professionals.

**Incidentally, the “up with which I will not put” quote was likely retroactively misattributed to Winston Churchill. No source of any such quote has been produced.