A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was having difficulty homeschooling my youngest.
My husband and I reached a decision about what to do. We signed our son up for Kindergarten.
His first day was today. Apropos to her profession, his teacher is named Mrs. Smart. He's only there two hours per day.
I walked the tiny man up to his classroom and walked through it with him and his teacher. I felt good about leaving him there. The more Mrs. Smart talked, the more I thought, "Yes. This is good." I saw a few of the other kids come into the classroom and they were sweet and well-behaved. Then I patted my son's cheeks and said I'd see him in two hours. I walked to my car and cried all the way home.
As parents do we ever really know if we're doing the right thing for our children? How do we know these decisions aren't going to screw them up in some way? How can I feel good about leaving him under the influence of a woman I barely met today, who could expose him to anything and everything of the cruelest or rudest or most vile, and I wouldn't know until the damage had been done? (I realize I'm over-dramatizing. But the thought is there.)
On the other hand, there was the nice feeling in her classroom. Also the pushing he gave me every day to let him do this. This is as much his decision as it was his parents'.
So, after all the dithering, this is the result: More dithering.
Maybe it's not the homeschooling that's hard. It's mothering.
25 February 2013
16 February 2013
More on LTUE (And Other Inconsequentials)
After three days of sitting, my tush is telling me LTUE is over. At least, it is for me, who didn't bother buying a ticket to the banquet.
I went to 19 workshops on topics that ranged from Xenobiology to Cryptography to Antiheroes. I should have counted how many people made reference to Star Trek. I unfortunately missed an entire hour discussing how The Matrix teaches a person good storytelling techniques. I stood in line for more than an hour so I could get my Thief books signed by the oh-so-charming Megan Whalen Turner (She signed my old library copy of The Thief by saying "Ex Libris! FTW!" I admit to having no idea what FTW means. Anyone care to clue me in?). I met a few authors and other aspiring authors. I also learned to be "innocent through likability" by simply looking people in the eye and raising my eyebrows.
Today Megan Whelan Turner gave the keynote address. This was my view:
Do you see her? No? I couldn't either. This is what I could see though:
That, my friends, is Bree Despain of the flawless ivory skin with the cool green bag, and just beyond her is Mette Ivy Harrison of the ever busy hands. Bree Despain wrote the Dark Divine books and Mette Harrison wrote the Princess and the Hound books. The stripy sweatered body belongs to my sister-in-law who granted me admission into this exclusive club of sitting next to celebrities. I couldn't get in on my own.
So, if you're sorry you didn't get the advantages of hearing Dr. Eric Swedin (who almost looks like Doug on Strictly Ballroom but with more hair) expound the possibilities of life on other planets, or compliment Jennifer Nielson on her debut novel The Lost Prince, then you know what you need to do.
It's totally worth the moolah.
14 February 2013
Life, The Universe and Everything (And Other Inconsequentials)
After following the same line of cars up and around, and around and up looking for a parking spot that never appeared, I parked on the street in a two hour parking zone. Then, I walked into the Provo Marriot and stood in a long, curvy line. I checked my belt. I checked my texts. I chatted with the lady-writer in front of me. I got to the front of the line and received my ever-classy name tag and walked to the first session of my second ever writing conference: Life, The Universe, and Everything.
Lots of people. (A few of whom were in capes.)
I got to see Megan Whelan Turner in the flesh and hear her talk about writing her short stories. (Basically, a writing contract fell in her lap, along with a nice little recommendation from Diana Wynn Jones. Who does that?) There were other authors, but I'm not going to mention them because MWT is the main attraction for me. (Her initials are the same as Monday, Wednesday, Tuesday. Or Thursday. Hmm.)
I learned about cryptology, which was fascinating, but had nothing to do with the kind of stories I write. I also learned about creating good, believable villains, how to write for a specific audience, and how to avoid writing one-dimensional characters. Sometimes I felt like I was back at University. (Yes, there was some wistful nostalgia in that sentence. Maybe some hopeful planning for the future too.)
I'm ready for more. Tomorrow. And the day following.
I love that it's close. It's cheap. It's educational. And I get to hang out with other half-wits like me who think writing novels is a fun use of time.
If you're in the area, come. It'll be, like, so totally hot.
Lots of people. (A few of whom were in capes.)
I got to see Megan Whelan Turner in the flesh and hear her talk about writing her short stories. (Basically, a writing contract fell in her lap, along with a nice little recommendation from Diana Wynn Jones. Who does that?) There were other authors, but I'm not going to mention them because MWT is the main attraction for me. (Her initials are the same as Monday, Wednesday, Tuesday. Or Thursday. Hmm.)
I learned about cryptology, which was fascinating, but had nothing to do with the kind of stories I write. I also learned about creating good, believable villains, how to write for a specific audience, and how to avoid writing one-dimensional characters. Sometimes I felt like I was back at University. (Yes, there was some wistful nostalgia in that sentence. Maybe some hopeful planning for the future too.)
I'm ready for more. Tomorrow. And the day following.
I love that it's close. It's cheap. It's educational. And I get to hang out with other half-wits like me who think writing novels is a fun use of time.
If you're in the area, come. It'll be, like, so totally hot.
07 February 2013
Tribulations of the Third
After three and a half years, I'm starting to realize that homeschooling is hard work.
Truthfully, it's always been nerve-wracking because I never know if I'm doing enough, teaching enough, creative enough to make it engaging. I get so tired of hearing my own voice. Cajolery becomes my native language. I tell the kids not to whine and do their work, and when I listen to my own voice, I realize I'm the one whining.
I've persisted in doing it because I want my children to have the best in education. I want them to learn ALL the good things, and there is so much! I don't want them taught only what will be on the next test, but what interests them. I also enjoy spending time with them and hearing the views on things and their witty rejoinders when they don't mean to be witty. I love when they ask me to read to them. My favorite of all favorites is when we're all snuggled up in a heap on the couch and they're listening to me fake a British accent reading "Harry Potter", or chronicling the trials of Queen Elizabeth from their history text.
My two older children have been so easy to teach because they are eager to learn. They have interests that we can find in the library and read books about. They want me to teach them and ask questions. That's not true everyday, certainly, but by and large it is.
My youngest seems to have been born to challenge me in this area of my life. He has no interests beyond making people laugh and playing video games. He wants to know how to read, but he doesn't want to learn how to do it. Even when I tell him something and then ask him a question about it, he doesn't want to answer correctly. Every lesson is a trial to the both of us.
I have been on the verge of tearing my hair out all year. I have begged and begged to put him into school, only to wonder if that's really what would be best.
I still wonder.
And I still bully myself into teaching him with as much of a smile as I can muster.
I give very short lessons.
But yesterday, I sat down to read one of his new favorites from the library (it's a favorite because he thinks it's funny), and he read several pages all by himself. I am persistently refusing to acknowledge that he memorized it. It also doesn't matter in the slightest that the pages only have a few words on them. He read something without cajolery, without bribes or threats, and he even seemed happy about it.
Maybe, just maybe he was listening after all.
Truthfully, it's always been nerve-wracking because I never know if I'm doing enough, teaching enough, creative enough to make it engaging. I get so tired of hearing my own voice. Cajolery becomes my native language. I tell the kids not to whine and do their work, and when I listen to my own voice, I realize I'm the one whining.
I've persisted in doing it because I want my children to have the best in education. I want them to learn ALL the good things, and there is so much! I don't want them taught only what will be on the next test, but what interests them. I also enjoy spending time with them and hearing the views on things and their witty rejoinders when they don't mean to be witty. I love when they ask me to read to them. My favorite of all favorites is when we're all snuggled up in a heap on the couch and they're listening to me fake a British accent reading "Harry Potter", or chronicling the trials of Queen Elizabeth from their history text.
My two older children have been so easy to teach because they are eager to learn. They have interests that we can find in the library and read books about. They want me to teach them and ask questions. That's not true everyday, certainly, but by and large it is.
My youngest seems to have been born to challenge me in this area of my life. He has no interests beyond making people laugh and playing video games. He wants to know how to read, but he doesn't want to learn how to do it. Even when I tell him something and then ask him a question about it, he doesn't want to answer correctly. Every lesson is a trial to the both of us.
I have been on the verge of tearing my hair out all year. I have begged and begged to put him into school, only to wonder if that's really what would be best.
I still wonder.
And I still bully myself into teaching him with as much of a smile as I can muster.
I give very short lessons.
But yesterday, I sat down to read one of his new favorites from the library (it's a favorite because he thinks it's funny), and he read several pages all by himself. I am persistently refusing to acknowledge that he memorized it. It also doesn't matter in the slightest that the pages only have a few words on them. He read something without cajolery, without bribes or threats, and he even seemed happy about it.
Maybe, just maybe he was listening after all.
28 January 2013
Innovation
Every once in a while a book comes along that causes a disruption in the force. It changes things. It makes you see the medium of book making and writing and reading in entirely new and unforeseen avenues.
Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick was such a book for me.
Selznick was the mastermind behind The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which I admit, I haven't read. If any of you have seen the movie HUGO, it was based on that book. The movie was lovely. I should probably read the book.
Wonderstruck, follows two story lines that intertwine, mostly at the end. It's the story of a deaf girl in the 1920's who has to find her place in the world, and a boy in the 1970's who becomes deaf and unable to communicate in anything other than writing. While the story was worthwhile and interesting, it wasn't the story that intrigued me. It was the fact that half of the book was done in black and white sketches. Half the story was told without words. I realize that for picture books, this has been done many times to great effect. However, in a middle grade, or YA book, I haven't heard of anything being done like that outside graphic novels (which are entirely different). The drawings were beautiful and descriptive in a way words cannot be. They brought forward a new sort of storytelling for me. A more adult form of picture book. A profound form.
Aside from that, I love the title. What a word! Wonderstruck. It brings to mind the same feeling that awesome used to inspire. Awe struck. Wonderstruck. I love it.
Selznick has taken two creative processes and combined them to tell a story. He has taken a middle grade novel and a picture book and combined them. I loved the way it made me feel like I was participating in something worth noting.
Creativity can be a scary thing to unleash, especially when it's different from what everyone else is doing. But this was beautiful. Definitely worth picking up.
Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick was such a book for me.
Selznick was the mastermind behind The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which I admit, I haven't read. If any of you have seen the movie HUGO, it was based on that book. The movie was lovely. I should probably read the book.
Wonderstruck, follows two story lines that intertwine, mostly at the end. It's the story of a deaf girl in the 1920's who has to find her place in the world, and a boy in the 1970's who becomes deaf and unable to communicate in anything other than writing. While the story was worthwhile and interesting, it wasn't the story that intrigued me. It was the fact that half of the book was done in black and white sketches. Half the story was told without words. I realize that for picture books, this has been done many times to great effect. However, in a middle grade, or YA book, I haven't heard of anything being done like that outside graphic novels (which are entirely different). The drawings were beautiful and descriptive in a way words cannot be. They brought forward a new sort of storytelling for me. A more adult form of picture book. A profound form.
Aside from that, I love the title. What a word! Wonderstruck. It brings to mind the same feeling that awesome used to inspire. Awe struck. Wonderstruck. I love it.
Selznick has taken two creative processes and combined them to tell a story. He has taken a middle grade novel and a picture book and combined them. I loved the way it made me feel like I was participating in something worth noting.
Creativity can be a scary thing to unleash, especially when it's different from what everyone else is doing. But this was beautiful. Definitely worth picking up.
15 January 2013
Things I Learned While My Husband Was On A Business Trip
Things I learned while my husband was on a business trip:
Dishes and laundry still have to be done.
Children are crankier when Mom is in charge all day and all night.
Both sides of the bed don't get warm when there's only one person in it.
Texting can make me laugh out loud.
Children get away with eating a lot more junk because I just don't care. (Make the whining stop!)
Sleeping is a security risk, as I can't hear intruders as well.
I am willing to poke said intruders in the eye with a sword-shaped letter opener. (It's the only weapon we have currently.)
It's not such a relief to get the kids to bed when there's no one waiting on the couch to talk to me.
Four days can be really long.
Every time the phone makes a noise, I leap to answer.
I don't mind so much if I'm grumpy because no one is there to take me to task.
I really like having my husband around.
It's not the first time we've been apart (the longest was three months a few years ago), but every time he's had to go I'm reminded again why I like him.
And while I really love my children, and love having them around, it's still nice having a second pair of hands to make their care a little easier.
It's been a long week.
Dishes and laundry still have to be done.
Children are crankier when Mom is in charge all day and all night.
Both sides of the bed don't get warm when there's only one person in it.
Texting can make me laugh out loud.
Children get away with eating a lot more junk because I just don't care. (Make the whining stop!)
Sleeping is a security risk, as I can't hear intruders as well.
I am willing to poke said intruders in the eye with a sword-shaped letter opener. (It's the only weapon we have currently.)
It's not such a relief to get the kids to bed when there's no one waiting on the couch to talk to me.
Four days can be really long.
Every time the phone makes a noise, I leap to answer.
I don't mind so much if I'm grumpy because no one is there to take me to task.
I really like having my husband around.
It's not the first time we've been apart (the longest was three months a few years ago), but every time he's had to go I'm reminded again why I like him.
And while I really love my children, and love having them around, it's still nice having a second pair of hands to make their care a little easier.
It's been a long week.
02 January 2013
The New Year's Dilemma
This is the season of resolution.
Determination.
Drive.
Motivation.
Choose your own noun and place it here.
So why does it start with staying up late, and sometimes breaking the law, and kissing people you don't know well, and gorging on treats until the wee hours of morning?
Let's get into a little Mandi History. I am the youngest child in my family, and so I was always the designated babysitter for my older siblings when they had their own children. As far as I can remember, the first time I was allowed to stay up until midnight to welcome in the new year, I was babysitting my sister's small children. It was a little disappointing. Add into the fact that my parents woke us up at 6 AM every school morning, and in this way discouraged the ability to enjoy staying up late.
I can remember only one time in my entire life going out with friends for new year's. It was really, really cold.
I read a book by Sharon Shinn last year in which they had a bonfire to welcome in the new year. The story explained how the characters took things that represented some aspect of the old year and they burned them. Then burned things that represented what they hoped for the new year. Since I'm a closet pyromanic, this idea appealed to me. We tried it last year, to less than stellar results. Once again, it was really cold. And our big, bright bonfire was reduced to a tiny spark in an abandoned charcoal grill.
This year, my husband and I said "Bag it" to the whole idea and I read my way into the new year while he played video games. A friendly neighboring trailer park set off a round of illegal fireworks that rattled our windows. At least I got a kiss. It was from my husband. The kids slumbered their way into 2013.
Call me a humbugger if you'd like, and you'd probably be right, but New Year's Eve is lame.
May 2013 be a better year than the one before it, and despite its uninspired birth, I wish you happy in it.
Determination.
Drive.
Motivation.
Choose your own noun and place it here.
So why does it start with staying up late, and sometimes breaking the law, and kissing people you don't know well, and gorging on treats until the wee hours of morning?
Let's get into a little Mandi History. I am the youngest child in my family, and so I was always the designated babysitter for my older siblings when they had their own children. As far as I can remember, the first time I was allowed to stay up until midnight to welcome in the new year, I was babysitting my sister's small children. It was a little disappointing. Add into the fact that my parents woke us up at 6 AM every school morning, and in this way discouraged the ability to enjoy staying up late.
I can remember only one time in my entire life going out with friends for new year's. It was really, really cold.
I read a book by Sharon Shinn last year in which they had a bonfire to welcome in the new year. The story explained how the characters took things that represented some aspect of the old year and they burned them. Then burned things that represented what they hoped for the new year. Since I'm a closet pyromanic, this idea appealed to me. We tried it last year, to less than stellar results. Once again, it was really cold. And our big, bright bonfire was reduced to a tiny spark in an abandoned charcoal grill.
This year, my husband and I said "Bag it" to the whole idea and I read my way into the new year while he played video games. A friendly neighboring trailer park set off a round of illegal fireworks that rattled our windows. At least I got a kiss. It was from my husband. The kids slumbered their way into 2013.
Call me a humbugger if you'd like, and you'd probably be right, but New Year's Eve is lame.
May 2013 be a better year than the one before it, and despite its uninspired birth, I wish you happy in it.
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