Homeschool lesson #247 - How to Promenade in style

Lucy was in 4th grade and Jonathan was in 1st when I started homeschooling them.

Believe it or not, even back then, when people found out we were homeschooling them and that we intended to do so for as long as necessary, some would very sincerely ask:

"What about prom?"

Yes. They did. I don't think it ever crossed any of the nay-sayers minds that perhaps my children would grow up more secure and comfortable in their own skin by not having to negotiate the battlefield of what currently passes for public school education.

I think back to my own high school years and I remember the proms I attended. I remember being scared and excited and yet, feeling incredibly awkward. I had never dressed up in a formal gown. I had never been given a corsage or had pinned on a boutonniere. (Nobody teaches you this stuff, do they?)

I look back at my prom photos today and I see myself in satin formal wear and gloves (gloves!) and I think, "Wow, we both look supremely uncomfortable."

Me & my date, Terry B. - (I had never seen an orchid up close and personal before this moment.) May 1971.

In the formal portrait we are positioned in the classic pose that I'm pretty sure is called: "Awkward Prom Pose #1.  (You want him to put his hands where?? No. I obviously wasn't breathing here and to top it off, I forgot my gloves. I had gloves, people!)

But going back to the original well-meaning question: "What about prom?"

How were my poor homeschooled kids (which I was already so obviously depriving of a normal life and education) going to be able to function in the "real" world, and how would they be able to survive in that world if I kept them from experiencing the joys of promenading in formal attire?

Well, for those of you that may be worried about the socialization of my children and how that would play out if they didn't get to go to prom, you can rest easy. The independent learning high school that Lucy attends sponsors a prom each year. (You may now breath a collective sigh of relief.)

• It's a lovely event held at the Disneyland Hotel. (Win!)
• I didn't make her wear gloves (gloves!) like my mother made me back in 1971, so her wrist corsage was easier to put on.
• And yes, I taught her how to pin on the boutonniere. (Hello...Homeschooling Mom! I teach stuff! =D)

 

Lucy looked lovely. Her not-boyfriend (He's a boy. He's her friend. He's not her boyfriend. Shut up.), Matt (who was also homeschooled, but that's not important right now) looked extremely dapper in his tux.

She wore her favorite footwear and, unlike many of the other girls who got brand-new-trendy-yet-painful-prom shoes and had already taken them off before the dance began, she was comfortable in her shoes the entire night. (Win!)

 

I'm glad she got to go to prom. Not because I believe in the sacredness of the ritual, but because I love so much that both of them had such fun together and were obviously so very much at ease.

Let me turn your attention to Exhibit A:

"Those kids look so relaxed together and they're wearing fake mustaches. EPIC WIN!"

And that, my friends, explains the difference between promenading as an awkward teenager and promenading as a secure teenager with someone who is a good friend. These two are are obviously very comfortable in their own skins.

I'm pleased.

(But now I'm thinking she might have liked some gloves. =D)

Today's lesson in homeschooling is complete. ;-)

You can't stop the beat...

So, if you're a regular reader, you know that my kids are all theater geeks. And I know I'm the mom and everything, but they really are pretty good. (No. Really. They are.)

Can I just tell you how much I love to sit in the audience and applaud them? Because I get to see all of their hard work to get to that moment when they're on stage and going for the laugh. And I'm always holding my breath and crossing my fingers hoping they get it.

It's not just the performance that makes me happy, it's when I see them doing something fearlessly. Like Eric often says, "I could never have done that at that age....or even now!"

Jonathan was in a Broadway-type review for this year's play. There were 24 kids in 18 numbers and I managed to costume them all (with a little help from my friends - actually with A LOT of help from my friends, but that's not important right now).

Jon was in a few of the numbers, but this last one pretty much brought the house down. He didn't quite remember the choreography, but it didn't much matter. When he came on stage, you couldn't take your eyes off him.(Possibly because he was wearing a sparkly red gown....)

I love that he was completely fearless and comfortable enough in his own skin to pull this off.

So here's Jonathan, my 14 year old son, playing Edna Turnblad (the John Travolta character) in Hairspray.

WARNING: Put down whatever you're drinking, or it may just come out your nose. ;-)

Drama is My Life.

"You haven't been blogging very much lately."

The criticism is accurate.

I figured out that even though I do a lot, I can't do everything. (But I'm still doing a lot!)

So, besides cooking and laundry and educating my kids and doing life, what else is going on?

Well, Jonathan and Lucy are both in Drama Productions, so I can say with complete certainty that right now:

Drama is My Life. =D

The show Jon is in is called Give My Regards to Broadway and includes a cast of 24 in 18 numbers. And I'm in charge of costumes for them all. Do the math. That's like 400 costume changes.

 

Lucky for me, I'm just overseeing this madness, and not really having to sew much. I have a crack team of Costume Helpers Goddesses who are making adjustments and fitting these beautiful pieces to each kid.

 

Not to mention my Embellishers. (Hey, that works on multiple levels!)

 

My job is to oversea this craziness and make sure those young thespians look wonderful. (All I need is a tiara and a scepter.)

So, if you're wondering where I've been....

You can find me somewhere between the band uniforms...

 

and the fake beards....

 

Right in the center of it all with a big grin on my face. =D

Who's Who?

The other day, Eric (my husband) and Jonathan (my 14 year old) were going to our local YMCA to go play racquetball. (P.E. in our homeschool usually means a trip to the Y, but that's not important right now.)

They came downstairs and got their racquets. I was aware of their presence, but was into what I was reading, so I just caught a glimpse of Eric (or so I thought) out of the corner of my eye and proceeded to ask him to remember to pick up something for me after they finished their game.

As is usual for anyone when there is an intimate and casual familiarity with someone, I didn't even bother to glance up from my book when I spoke to him.

And then.....

"Umm...Mom?"

It was Jonathan. Not Eric. HUH??

Before you judge me for not realizing it was my teenage son and not my husband, please allow me to present Exhibit A:

See?

So let's hear your best guesses....Who's who? ;-)

Nature and Nurture

I homeschool my kids.

Lucy is now 16 and a junior in high school. Jonathan just turned 14 and is in 8th grade.

We've been at this wonderful, terrifying, exasperating, delicious experiment for the past 8 years and in retrospect, I don't, for even a moment, regret our decision to take on this mighty task.

Lucy was in the 3rd grade in our local (highly rated) public school.

Jonathan was in Kindergarten.

Jon, my easy-as-pie, roll-with-the-punches kid, HATED Kindergarten. I wondered how that could be possible. Isn't Kindergarten supposed to be a beautiful world of finger-painting and growing bean sprouts and art and taking care of the class mascot rat and playing chase with your friends?

So I started volunteering in Jonathan's Kindergarten class one day a week. And I found that there was a big academic push in Kindergarten. To learn to read and do math and PRODUCE RESULTS. (I started to hate going to Kindergarten myself.)

Lucy had already tested in the gifted category. I think that just meant that she could already read well and understand what she was reading. She was a pretty articulate child. But what did "gifted" mean?

In this particular (did I mention it was highly rated?) public school, it meant they gave her individual busy work and sat the class behavior-problem next to my sweet and quiet girl. The expectation being that she would get her work done and be a calming influence on the resident classroom devil-child.

Needless to say, Lucy started to dread going to school.

What was happening here? Kindergarten through 6th was supposed to be the most fun time of anyone's life! Not so in our little world. I had homeschooled Amy and Adam for a couple of their elementary years, so I knew I could certainly homeschool these two. But did I want to?

Towards the end of that particular year, we made the decision to bring them home and commence their education here. Childhood goes by so fast. Did we really want them to suffer through it? As you can guess, the answer was a resounding 'NO!'

I researched all of our options and read everything I could find on the subject of homeschooling. We didn't make the decision quickly or flippantly. And yet, when we brought our kids home, we got nothing but grief from friends and family.

Somehow, they figured we were depriving our kids of a major social experience. They would ask the ridiculous, "What about socialization?" question.

"Socialization" is not, as most people believe, providing our kids with a social life. It's giving them the skills that will help them function in most areas of life and with all kinds of different people. We realized early on that a classroom full of peers was not the place we wanted for them to be learning how to behave. 

So we brought them home. And we RELAXED.

We did not try to recreate a classroom situation at home.

We read lots of books and did art projects and talked about lots of things. We (Eric and I) didn't really teach, so much as facilitate. We didn't try to pour information into their heads for them to regurgitate on a test. We taught them to love to discover and learn. This was the great success of this social experiment.

Jonathan and Lucy. May 2009. Federal Hall, Wall Street, New York.

Last year, we had this mini-drama play out just outside our front door. (It applies, I promise.)

Just outside our front door, under our eaves, we noticed a pair of birds building a nest. We were privileged to be a part of the process from when they first started to scope out the location...

 

To when they actually built the nest. The mom was committed and would spend hours covering those fragile eggs.

 

The dad would go get food and pace nervously near the nest to ensure there were no predators nearby.

 

One morning, like magic, we heard a new sound from the eaves. The babies had hatched and were making feed us! noises.

We were delighted to watch the drama unfold. (As were other members of our family.) =D

We began looking forward to the times of the day when we would hear the noisy kids demanding to be fed, the parents dutifully providing for them, and then they would go quiet for a while. It was a fascinating process.

Weeks of this went by and then one day we noticed that the mom had booted one of the babies from the nest. They were getting big and strong. And were crowding themselves out.

She no longer had to feed them. They could survive on their own. They had outgrown the nest and were standing on the edge, ready for flight.

 

And so it was. They flew away. We felt a kind of joyful sorrow. "Good for you!" we thought. "We knew you could do it on your own."

So we provided a feeder in the garden.

And they kept coming back. With friends.

 

It seems that the early protection and nurture had served them well to socialize with the rest of the birds in the "real" world.

We're finding that the same has been true for our kids. I don't fret as much anymore about whether Our Great Homeschooling Experiment has worked. I know it did.

They have grown into lovely people, with good morals and standards. They love to learn and are interested in many things. They are smart. Book-smart and socially-smart. They're curious and are constantly learning. And they can look you straight in the eye when having a conversation.

When I see them interact with others (which is often - they have lots of friends), I see confident, self-possessed people. ("What about socialization?)

Let's see the (highly rated!) public school system duplicate those results.

Cuban Stress Cure

On Tuesdays:

My son, Jonathan (13) is involved in Drama once again. This year they're doing a Broadway review - scenes from different Broadway musicals, which promises to be really fun and adorable.

I have volunteered once again to coordinate their costumes. Just call me Mrs. Darby, Costume Goddess.

(I may or may not make the kids actually address me this way. =D)

There are thirty kids in seventeen musical numbers, which means about 100 dresses, jackets, tunics, scarves, shoe covers and multiple wigs, uniforms, hats and props that fall under my authority command jurisdiction My-God!-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into!? supervision. 

I was asked to choreograph three of the numbers, also. (Most likely because I am Cuban and the obvious conclusion is that I can dance.) I'm wondering if the director may want it just a bit more elaborate than "wave your hands up in the air - whoop!"

Which means that on Tuesdays I am up to my eyeballs in drama stuff. And I have to admit that while I absolutely love what I'm doing, it also stresses me out quite a bit.

Not to worry. I have found a sure-fire Cuban cure for stress...

 

At the rate I'm going it may just be quicker to apply the guava directly to my hips, but that's not important right now. ;-)

(My foolproof and totally easy recipe for homemade pastelitos de guayaba can be found here.)

So Many Places, So Little Time

We had a reunion tonight with the great group of homeschooling families that traveled along with us to Washington DC and New York back in May.

We were to bring along a dish for a potluck and our photos and scrapbooks from our trip.

Well, we are taking our sweet time getting that scrapbook done. (Darn those perfectionist genes!)

But we (the kids and I) pulled together a few photos and created a thank you to go into a scrapbook for our amazingly-knowledgeable-and-delightful-tour-operator-and-now-friend, Greg St. Jacques from P.A.C.E. Travel, who absolutely made the trip amazing for us. 

Here are the pages...

Lucy and Jonathan collaborated with me on the journaling. Here's what we wrote:

We didn't know...

• that American history could be so interesting.
• that meeting World War II Veterans could be so memorable.
• that the Washington Monument looked so beautiful at sunset.
• that the Statue of Liberty is really in New Jersey.
• that we would cry at the Iwo Jima Memorial.
• that Capital Hill is really a hill.
• that standing in Times Square would exceed our expectations.
• that the Apollo spacecrafts were so small.
• that the view from the Washington Monument was breathtaking.
• that Gettysburg was such a well documented battle.
• that the view from the Top of the Rock would be so iconic.
• that we would fall in love with our amazing tour guide.

From the bottom of our hearts: Thank you, Greg.

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And just because I like it and this is my blog and I can add whatever I want (but that's not important right now) here's a gratuitous photo of me & Eric from the Top of the Rock in all our dorky-An-Affair-To-Remember-glory. =D

We The People

On April 17, 1975 I became a proud naturalized American citizen. I was almost 20 years old.

[UPDATED NOTE 9/18/09: Imagine my Naturalization Certificate right here with a cute photo of me with short, feathered 70's hair in the upper left-hand corner. I was advised by my Favorite and Most Awesome Immigration Attorney (and you know who you are, Abe) that I shouldn't have posted this so publicly. I stand corrected. The rest of the post still remains.]

Before I got to the moment in the U.S. courtroom where I pledged my allegiance and was sworn in as a Citizen of the United States of America, I had to learn a few things.

I had to learn about American history.

I had to learn the names of my representatives in my state and in our country.

I had to learn how Congress worked and what the chain of command was in Washington.

I had to learn about the Constitution.  And I fell in love with it.

Having come from what was once a free country that was taken over by communists, I felt a much deeper appreciation for the gift of liberty.

I wondered then and I still wonder now if the birthright of citizenship here in America is taken for granted by those who did nothing more than make their entrance into this world in a delivery room on U.S. soil. But then again, that's the beauty of this amazing country.

When we visited the National Archives in DC back in May, we stood before the Constitution and let the awe of that historic document wash over us.

 

It was especially emotional for me to read the first three words: "We, the people..."

 

I stood there and thought how awesome it was that this document included ME, a Cuban refugee, in that WE. And I wept.

Many Americans don't know American history. Or the names of their representatives. Or how Congress works. Or what the chain of command is in Washington.

Can you pass the Naturalization Test that allows you to become an American citizen?  (click on the link and tell me how you did. I got 90%. =D)

Today marks the 222nd anniversary of the signing of that historical document. Thirty-nine brave men who, by signing their names to this document changed the course of history.

Some have never read the Constitution or even learned the Preamble.

Let me help you with that right now....  ;-)

Happy Constitution Day.

(H/T Babalú)

Taking Time Off

Okay, so now everyone else is back in school, but it's not quite the end of summer. (If you want to get technical about this, the season goes until September 21st, which is not until next week, but that's not important right now.)

We started school a few weeks ago, but because we homeschool, our schedule is pretty flexible. So we usually choose to take some time off when we are not fighting crowds at the beach.

That's Eric catching a few waves before sunset.

 

Jonathan is thrilled that he only has to keep up with math and reading this week.

 

Lucy has big plans for this week. She hopes to discover who has the very best fresh tomato, garlic, and onion pizza in this county.

Eric is already visibly relaxed after one whole day of surfing.

Me? I'm trying to decide whether I really, really, really want to leave the comfort of my comfiest of lounge chairs by the perfectly heated pool to walk down the 100 steps (which would eventually have to be walked back up) to get to the beach.

I'm thinking no. The kids are having a great time bonding with dad (and my camera).

Besides, I can see them just fine from up here.  =D

 

Happy Darby-Vacation-Week!

The Writing Sample

NOTE: Lucy is now in the 11th grade. She has been homeschooled for most of her school life.
She was asked to provide a writing sample for a class she's petitioning to get into.

As someone who stares at blank pages hoping and praying for inspiration to come, I totally enjoyed this.
I think you will, too.

(She wants to be a published author one day....)
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I sit at my desk, staring at the instructions:

λ Please provide a copy of a writing sample.

My hands pull back from the keyboard. A sample of my writing? Does this teacher want an old essay? Or a new piece of fiction? Something short? Long? Informative? Creative? All of the above?

Doubt appears. His seven-inch stature is barely taller than my drinking cup. His little brow is furrowed and his mouth is turned down.

He looks up at me and says, “I don’t think this will work.”

I reply sternly, “I haven’t written anything yet. How can you say it won’t work when there’s nothing here?”

He shifts his weight, and looks askance at me, “Well…” he begins hesitantly, “We just don’t know exactly what she wants… and what if we get it wrong? What if she wants an essay about…I dunno, one of your History assignments? But then again…”

Doubt rambles on, while I try to focus. My fingers rhythmically thump on the keys, and I stare at the screen until my eyes feel glazed. I shut my eyes and focus on the task at hand.

I can do this. Writing sample means a sample… of my writing. I’ll write what I like. It’s easy.

I open my eyes. Doubt is no longer there.

I smile and turn back to the screen.

The blank, empty, plain white screen.

I tilt my head to the side. I blink. I fiddle with my bracelet. I doodle on a notebook. I push my chair away from my desk…

And Procrastination is sitting on my shoulder. Leaning lazily on my neck, he says slowly, “You need a break.”

“No. Not you. Go away.”

I try to brush him off, but my hand falls through him as if it were empty air. He pulls out an apple and begins munching loudly. “How about a snack? You need energy if you wanna finish anything.” He tosses his apple from one hand to the other.

My stomach rumbles. Maybe he’s right…

There’s a loud crunch as he takes another bite. Mouth full, he mumbles, "This project isn’t going anywhere. Just take fifteen minutes. Rest. Relax.”

As he speaks, I imagine myself lounging on the couch, watching a movie. Thinking about nothing. I’m tempted.

Wiping his lips on his sleeve, he tosses the apple into the air. It disappears. “Come on, you know you need a little break. You’ll get this done… eventually.”

I set my jaw. I know all too well how Procrastination works. I’ve fallen under his influence one too many times. I shake my head roughly, take a deep breath, and pull my seat close to the desk again. 

The little being on my shoulder is gone. And now I see a new figure on my desk.

Determination, standing on my stapler, meets my eyes. His face is the very definition of his name. Lips set in a resolute line, he speaks in a steady voice, “You know you can do this. Just keep concentrating.”

As if on cue, Focus appears, sitting cross-legged on my mouse pad. Her breathing is calm and she gazes at the screen, blinking every so often. I mirror her. 

When I do, Inspiration, in all her quirky glory, bounds out from behind my computer. Her wild hair shimmers and her many skirts bustle around her. She adjusts the scarf around her neck and smiles at me.

As soon as she smiles, I have an idea.

With Determination cheering me on every now and then, my fingers relentlessly pound across the keys. With Focus nearby, I never stray from my task.

As I come to the completion of my story, Determination walks off my desk. Focus fades away. Inspiration is the last to leave. She twirls around and is gone in a flash of bright purple light.

I type the last word and lean back in my chair, grinning like an idiot.

Appreciation struts by, reading my work. When he’s done, there is a pause. Then he nods.

“Not bad.”