Can you spell “adorable”?

I love my children’s creative spelling! It’s like baby talk, though. As adorable as it is, I feel obligated to reluctantly correct it, for the sake of the child’s literary future.

My seven-year-old knows quite a few sight words, but she usually relies on the rules of phonics when writing her own stories. I was amused to read her review of a new “compyouter” game. Apparently, including the sight word “you” on a recent spelling list made a big impression on her.

I have saved a box of notes addressed, “To Mom, Frum Faith”. Faith is embarrassed when I show them to people. “Mom!” she exclaims indignantly. “I KNOW how to spell ‘from’! I wrote those a LONG time ago!” I guess six months is a long time when you’re seven.

Faithie is a prolific writer. Like her mother, she finds the sight of blank paper exciting! She considers it a great honor to be invited into my office and allowed the use of my special pen. One of Faith’s Time4Learning lessons covered the typical sound of /ing/, citing examples such as “ring”, “sing”, and “bring”. I know my daughter was paying attention, because her next journal entry stated, “I am youzing my moms pin with the pingk ingk.” It broke my heart to have to correct her spelling to read, “I am using my mom’s pen with the pink ink.”

As cute as they are, spelling mistakes do have to be corrected. The whole purpose of writing is communication. We aren’t communicating if our readers can’t understand what we’ve written.

My grown son received (not “recieved”) a letter from a friend when he was a teen. He brought it to me, puzzled by the word “chrie” that appeared throughout. His friend had written, “I am going to chrie for that apartment I looked at and chrie living on my own again. I know I chried before, but I think I can do it this time.”

Eventually, through reading the letter aloud and noticing the context in which the word was used, we began to realize his friend was “chrieing” to spell the word “try”.

Being a do-it-yourself kind of gal, I rarely purchase a spelling curriculum. I find interesting words in the books my children are reading or pull misspelled words from their journals to make customized spelling lists. We’ve been having lots of fun practicing our words at SpellingCity. It’s a free site where I can input our own spelling words or use lists that others have shared. The kids can play online games with the words. It’s much more exciting than the old, “Write your spelling word five times each” method.

I remember being bored to tears over some of the assignments I was given in school, so I put quite a bit of effort into locating fun educational learning resources for my own kids. Online learning games are usually a big hit with my family. As a homeschool mom, I can’t always find a fun way to teach everything my children need to learn, but I really do chrie!

Neglected Blogs, Homeschooling, and Mnemonics

During the past two weeks, no fewer than ten people have chided me for neglecting my blog. (A couple have also mentioned being tired of the same old picture, so I chose a different one for a change.) I knew it had been awhile, but I was surprised to find I hadn’t posted a new entry in over three months. I’m flattered that people are still checking. Although I get up in the wee hours of the morning, with five kids still at home and several part time jobs, it’s sometimes midafternoon before I even find time to brush my teeth.

A good deal of my recent time has been spent teaching Middle Son algebra. My high school algebra teacher would laugh hysterically at the very idea.  The fact is, I’ve learned a lot through teaching my children these past twelve years. My kids think I’m brilliant. They don’t know that my evenings are often spent studying the very thing I intend to instruct them in the following day. Middle Son is the third one I’ve helped with algebra, and I was pleased to realize I didn’t need to study quite as hard this time. Homeschooling often provides these kinds of unexpected bonuses!

Discussing “Order of Operations” with my resigned teen, I remembered a mnemonic I learned as a student myself. (Don’t tell the kids, but that’s the ONLY thing I learned as an algebra student.) “Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally” . . . Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, Subtraction! I shared this with my son, and it proved to be the magic solution to his dilemma. At least, he stopped wailing about the unfairness of having to do “math with all those letters”.

As I was standing under the shower this morning (pleased at having arrived there before noon), Youngest Daughter pulled the shower curtain aside and peeked in. “I can’t turn the water on, and I need to wash my hands. Which is it?” she inquired.

I knew what she meant. “Righty – tighty; Lefty – loosey!” I chanted. Satisfied, she was able to finish her grooming after turning the faucet handle left (and scalding me in the process, but that’s another story). 

“Blog fodder!” I realized, and immediately started thinking of other mnemonic devices we’ve used over the years.

Even my youngest children can recite, “Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species”, because the older ones feel compelled to say, “King Phillip, Please Come Over For Good Spaghetti” every time I serve pasta for dinner. This is another benefit of homeschooling. The younger kids learn from their older siblings. It’s also something I didn’t learn myself, until I had to teach it to my kids . . . the order of taxonomy.

I do remember my second grade teacher telling us, “My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.”  That still helps me remember, “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto”, although the International Astronomical Union went and messed it up by demoting Pluto. I’ve seen it changed recently to, “My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Noodles”, which really doesn’t have the same zing.

Most of my kids will also proudly rattle off the names of the Great Lakes when the opportunity arises. (The little show offs!) They spell HOMES . . . Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, Superior.

Can YOU remember the difference between a Dromedary camel and a Bactrian camel? You’ll never forget again if you remember that a capital ”B” has two humps, as does a Bactrian camel. A capital “D” has only one hump, just like the Dromedary. (Camels are even-toed ungulates. I thought you’d want to know.)

Roy G. Biv is a name that helps elementary students remember the colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Try as I might, I can’t find a separate “indigo” color in a real rainbow. Isn’t indigo just a shade of blue? I suspect it was added because a vowel was needed in “Biv” . . . and whoever heard of the last name “Biv”, anyway? I prefer the one suggested in my favorite science curriculum: “Rainbow Over You, God’s Blessed Promise”. Besides alluding to the history of the rainbow, it ignores the silly “indigo” and replaces “violet” with “purple”, a more familiar color to most young children .

When I was asking my husband for mnemonic ideas, he offered helpfully, “On old Olympus’ towering tops, a Finn and German viewed some hops.”

“What the heck is THAT?” I asked.

“It’s how I remember the cranial nerves,” he replied innocently. As a nurse, Hubby has to concern himself with such things. I’ve had that rhyme running through my mind all day. I still don’t know the cranial nerves, and I’m not sure I care enough to learn them. Now I know how my son feels about algebra. 

Imaginary Friends

Opening the small box our mail lady had just delivered, I gave a little squeal. My husband, who knows I’m not usually a squealer, walked into the living room to determine the source of my excitement. He squinted at the beaded, pink object I withdrew from its mailer. “What is that? A necklace?”

“No,” I answered, still admiring my unexpected gift. “It’s a pen!”

“Won’t that be a little large for your lapel?” he asked, feigning horror.

“Not a PIN . . . a PEN!” I clarified. “Amy made it for me.”

“Who’s Amy?” he asked, losing interest in a hurry.

“You know . . . Amy . . . my partner on The Swap?” I explained patiently, seemingly for the hundredth time.

“Ohhhh . . . one of your IMAGINARY friends!” he declared with a smirk. Having now completely lost interest, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

I stuck my tongue out at him and, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, took my new, hand beaded pen down to my office, where it would be safe from a dozen grubby little hands. Amy knows I love pink. She made this just for me! She’s such a thoughtful friend!

True, I’ve never met her. But after years of daily communication via The Swap.com, an online forum for homeschoolers, I know her better than I know many friends-with-skin. When Renna and Marilyn, the previous owners of The Swap, decided it was time to retire, I had no qualms about partnering with Amy in an attempt to fill their very large shoes. It’s been a blast! I have to admit I’ve gotten the best of the deal. Amy is one in a million, using her Internet savvy and creative talent to make improvements to the site, cheering for me when I come up with an occasional idea of my own, and text messaging with me until well past her bedtime. (And let’s not forget the presents!) “Imaginary Friend”, indeed!

The Swap was originally started in 1996 as a place for homeschoolers to buy and sell used homeschool curriculum. The message board quickly became a popular place for homeschooling moms to ask advice, share stories, and give and receive support. In the past twelve years, there have been few days I haven’t logged on at least once. I KNOW these people . . . their hobbies, their kids’ names, their favorite colors and, in some cases, their weight! So, yes, I consider them my friends.

In addition to my work on The Swap, I have half-a-dozen other online “jobs”. I’m not getting rich but, as a hobby, it’s more profitable than, say, golf. (Sorry, honey.) I appreciate being able to work at home because I’m free to wipe tiny noses as necessary, I can work in bare feet and blue jeans, and no one cares if I’m nursing a toddler and typing at the same time. Online work isn’t as solitary as you might think. I’ve gotten to know some very interesting clients, co-workers, and customers via email, text messaging, and online forum posts.

One of my newer online acquaintances is Doodlemom, who just started her own blog. When she emailed me about her plans, I felt privileged to be one of the first to know of her blogging intentions. I expect to find she has a lot to say. You know how encouraging those first few comments can be. Here’s your chance to welcome a new blogger!

Meanwhile, honey, the next time you tease me about my imaginary friends, I’m KEEPING my imaginary paycheck.

It’s Mine, All Mine

One of my blog posts has surprised me, receiving more views than any other and generating a lot of email. It’s A Satire, a little story I wrote that compares the public school system to a fictitious public nutrition system.

Unfortunately, many people have emailed to say they’ve “read it somewhere before” and hinted (or outright accused me) of plagiarism. Now someone has left a tactful comment to that effect.

I assure you, that story originated in my own head. (I am not boasting about that. It’s not always a good thing!) I didn’t even get the IDEA for it from someone else’s work. It’s a comparison I’ve used many times to explain my unpopular belief that government schools should not even exist. I decided to try and put it in story form and composed it mentally during a couple of long sessions in the shower.

Although I read everything about homeschooling that I can get my hands on, I have never seen the same comparison. If someone could point me in the direction of a similar essay, I’d be grateful. My Internet searches have been unsuccessful.

I’m a bit insulted that someone might think I’d use other people’s work without crediting them, but I remind myself that the people who have emailed don’t really know me. I suppose I should just be flattered that they think my work is good enough to steal.

A Satire

If you have stumbled upon this blog, the following rather lengthy story might leave you scratching your head. It’s probably important for potential readers of this satire to know that I homeschool my children.

The leaders of the fledgling community were disturbed. Despite their firm belief in equality for all members, they had noticed a distinct difference in how the townsfolk chose to nourish their families. Some children were raised on inexpensive, filling fare, such as beans and potatoes. Others dined daily on lobster, asparagus, and caviar. There were parents who routinely popped frozen dinners in the microwave. Others cooked for hours, either because they enjoyed the meal preparation process or as a labor of love.

In dismay, the government leaders took note of the wide disparity in the apparent nutritional status of the community’s children. Some were quite thin. Others appeared to have overeaten on a regular basis. Some children were pale, while others had a healthy glow. A good many children could run and caper without difficulty, but there were those who hung back or seemed to lack the stamina to play.

Discussing their observations at the next counsel meeting, the leaders decided something had to be done. Obviously, some parents could not afford sufficient nutrition for their children. Others lacked knowledge regarding sound nutritional principles. Agreeing that every child was entitled to Free and Appropriate Nutrition, leadership quickly drafted a plan. Children over the age of five would be delivered, three times a day, to government-run nutrition centers. Here, government-employed, professional nutritionists would serve meals with the proper balance of calories, vitamins, minerals, and fiber. This balance would be based on the needs of the average child.

Parents were enthusiastic about this plan. No longer did they need to plan menus, cook meals or, more importantly, pay for food to nourish their children. They dutifully delivered their precious little ones to the public nutrition centers, trusting that the professionals who worked there were more capable than they. Besides, participation in this process was now required by law.

Soon, some parents began to notice disturbing trends. The health of children who entered the program with optimal nutritional status quickly declined until they appeared no healthier than the average child. Children who had been raised on fresh produce and whole grains were served canned vegetables and white bread, because these foods were deemed adequate for the average child. Parents who desired enriched diets for their offspring were told they needed to provide the extras themselves.

Children who began with health deficiencies sometimes improved a little, but it became clear their previous difficulties were the result of more than the food they had been served at home. Children with food allergies, diabetes, or other special nutritional needs were supposed to benefit from their own I.E.P. (Individualized Eating Plan), but their success depended heavily on the skill and interest of the nutritionist who administered the I.E.P., as well as the parents’ ability to advocate for their child. Although children with special nutritional needs were supposed to be integrated within the main group, their trays were a different color, so everyone knew who they were.

Feeling betrayed, a group of parents demanded accountability. Nutritionists and government officials agreed to test the health status of each child annually. Weight, blood pressure, endurance, and signs of nutritional deficiencies were recorded. ”Look!” they announced triumphantly. “The average, government-nourished child scores at the fiftieth percentile on our health assessment tests!” Without thinking too much about the logic behind such a statement, parents were satisfied for a while.

More problems were identified, unrelated to food. Although the initial purpose of the nutrition centers had been healthful eating, much more than eating was taking place. The children often sang songs while waiting for their meals to be served. Some parents were concerned about the questionable lyrics contained in those songs.  Discipline was confusing, as aides who circulated the eating area had varying abilities and expectations. Cliques had begun to form. Aggressive children bullied timid children into giving away the more popular food items from their trays. Adherence to a strict schedule was a must, with participants beginning and ending their meals at the same times. Distractions caused many to be unable to finish their meals at the center, requiring them to take their food home to finish there. Children who had been taught to pray before their meals were not allowed to do so at the public nutrition centers, because it might offend the non-prayers.

Fed up with the way things were going (and pleased with the pun), some families quietly began keeping their children away from the nutrition centers, choosing to nourish them at home. As these parents suspected, the children blossomed when provided with a diet prepared especially for them, by a parent who was intimately acquainted with, and had a heartfelt interest in, their individual needs. Encouraged by the others’ success, more and more families began discreetly home-nourishing their own children. “I nursed my child, taught him to use a knife and spoon, introduced him to table manners, and prepared his meals from infancy,” reasoned one mother. “Why is it assumed that I suddenly became incapable of providing for my child’s nutritional needs when he reached the age of five?”

When the professional nutritionists finally realized what was happening, they were indignant. “How can mere parents nourish their children as well as we professionals?” they stormed at the government. “We demand enforcement of the mandatory nutrition laws!” Hoping to pacify nutritionists and parents alike, government officials declared that home-nourishment would be legal . . . but home-nourished children were to have their health status assessed annually and must provide the results of such tests to the same government program they were seeking to avoid.

Several notable things occurred over the next few years. The home-nourishment movement grew. More and more parents were opting to feed their children at home. These families were insisting their family lives were more stable, their relationships with their children more positive, and their children less stressed than when they were government-nourished. Of course, everyone was most interested in the children’s health status. The home-nourishing families were not surprised to learn that, while government-nourished children scored at the 50th percentile on standardized health assessments, children fed at home achieved averages in the 83rd percentile.

Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the N.E.A. (National Eating Association) released a statement clarifying their own stance on the subject. They went on record stating, “Home-nourishment cannot provide children with appropriate nutrition.” Home-nourishing parents scratched their heads in puzzlement. Weren’t they doing just that?

Parents who provided for their own children’s nutritional needs chafed against being accountable to the very institution they sought to release themselves from. Whenever it was suggested that home-nourishing families be allowed to regulate themselves, government and the N.E.A. raised shocked eyebrows. “Sure, maybe YOU are doing a good job! How about all of those parents who might just CLAIM to be nourishing their children at home, but actually feed them solely on Twinkies and soda pop?” Reminded that most other aspects of parenting did not receive such government oversight, they refused to budge on the issue of home nourishment.

“No one checks to see if I provide my children with appropriate clothing for the weather,” one home-nourishing mother pointed out. “It’s assumed that I do, unless there’s a good reason to suspect differently. No one looks in to assess how I care for him when he’s sick. I don’t have to fill out reports evaluating my ability to bestow affection, encourage independence, or promote self-esteem. Why is the ability to feed my child assumed to be a mysterious skill that only a trained professional can accomplish?”

“Don’t we need trained professionals in our lives?” inquired her challenger. “I’ll bet you take your child to the dentist!”

“Yes,” the mother retorted, “I take my child to the dentist when professional help is necessary. I don’t keep one around to brush his teeth every day!”

Still, the majority of parents chose the government nutrition program for their children. Raised to think of that as the norm, it had simply never occurred to many to do anything else. Others looked forward to the reduction in their grocery budget as each child became of mandatory public nourishment age. Some had allowed themselves to be convinced they weren’t capable of planning menus for their own children. A few subconsciously appreciated being able to blame the government or the public nutritionists if their child experienced health challenges related to nutrition. It was common for those who chose government nutrition to scrutinize the home-nourishers. What about the socialization that occurs at the public eating places? Can your child really be properly socialized at the family dinner table?

And that is where that small community stands to this day.  Public nutrition centers have become so commonplace that those who don’t take advantage of the watered-down government menus are considered rebels, troublemakers, arrogant . . . or at least a little odd.

 

 

Disclaimer: I have friends who are teachers. My beef is with an institution that has proven it works well for only a minority of children . . . not with the individuals involved in that institution. GHG

Curriculum and Cash

I’m a homeschool curriculum junky. When I hear of a new learning resource, it doesn’t take much to convince me that it would be JUST PERFECT for at least one of my children. After looking it over, that proves to be true a little less than half the time. The rejected material has often ended up on eBay.

The online auction process is a unique experience. Often, it’s profitable. Frequently, it’s educational. Usually, it’s entertaining.

Not too long ago, I listed a workbook from a popular publisher. Because virtually anyone shopping for this item would already be familiar with it, my description was brief: “This is XYZ workbook from ZYX publisher. The book is like new. There is no writing in this book.”

The next day, I received the following question in my email regarding said auction:  “Is there any writing in this book?”

I’m not sure why this person was interested in buying a book, because it appears she can’t read. (No, I didn’t point out her oversight. The potential customer is always right.)

A few years ago, I was baffled by one buyer who was the high bidder on three of my auctions. Instead of sending the total price for all three books, she issued three separate payments. I was mildly disgruntled about this, because PayPal charged me thirty cents per payment received. I decided not to make a big deal about the extra sixty cents, but was curious enough to ask why she had paid that way. She willingly answered, “My husband and I agreed not to spend over twenty dollars at one time without consulting each other. The books I purchased from you cost almost twenty dollars each, so this way I don’t have to ask him first.”

Can you say, “Creative Accounting”?

I’m always amazed when people are willing to pay more than the new price for a used item. I’ve often seen this happen when two bidders engage in a bidding war at the end of an auction. Up, up, up goes the price until somebody WINS. It doesn’t matter that the item is available for far less at a variety of retailers. What matters is that they WON! When it’s time to pay the invoice, I imagine this type of behavior gives “win at all costs”  a literal definition.

Once, the closing price of an item I was selling for My Husband was more than double what the overly-enthusiastic bidder could have purchased it for at his local KMart. Riddled with guilt, I emailed my buyer, explained how to research reasonable prices, and offered free shipping to help compensate for the excessive purchase price he was obligated to pay. He replied cheerfully, “Oh, don’t worry about it. eBay is the only place I can buy sports equipment without paying attention to what I am spending. If it comes from eBay, my wife thinks it HAS to be a bargain, so she doesn’t complain!”

I hope neither of these people are spending ALL their money. I suspect they’ll need it to pay for future marriage counseling.  

Since I have your attention, I will mention that I now buy and sell my used curriculum at The Swap, a site operated by my friend Amy and myself. Listing and selling costs only six dollars for three months, shopping and buying are free, you set your own prices and, unlike eBay, you can sell teacher’s manuals!

We would also be happy to have you join us on one of the fun, encouraging, informative and VERY active forums for homeschooling parents. The Swap is the oldest used curriculum site on the ‘Net! (Advertising is allowed only in the Classified Ads section. No advertising is allowed on the forums.)

Make a Joyful Noise

I’ve been blessed with half-a-dozen kids. And I do consider them a blessing, despite the extra work, noise, confusion, mess, noise, expense, lack of sleep, occasional heartache, and did I mention “noise”? 

As homeschoolers, the state requires our students to be tested periodically. Looking at the results of Middle Son’s latest test, I commented, “You did very well in everything except Vocabulary. I guess we’d better do a little extra vocabulary work this year.” His response?  “Okay, Mom. But . . . what does “vocabulary” mean?”

And then there was the time five-year-old Youngest Daughter was looking forward to taking part in our homeschool co-op’s annual Christmas program. As she loudly practiced “Away in a Manger” in front of the bathroom mirror, I heard her sing, “The cattle are glowing, the poor baby wakes . . .” I must admit, those glowing cattle would have awakened me, too.

I’m not quite sure what the problem is. When Eldest Son was about eight, he was cast as part of an angry crowd in our church’s Easter pageant. When asked what should be done with Jesus, my son was supposed to shout, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” Imagine my horror when he yelled instead, “Criticize Him! Criticize Him!”

Maybe I should make them all appointments with a hearing specialist.

Can you stand one more? These are my KIDS, remember. Everything they say is utterly fascinating.

But you probably don’t want to read about the fish poop, anyway.