I have taught . . . → Read More: Considering School Options]]> Since before my son was born, I have worried about where he would go to school. Since before I got pregnant actually. Waiting lists at preschools, Montessori vs. Waldorf, home-schooling, unschooling, public and private school felt like I had more chances to get it wrong rather than that I had more choices.

I have taught daycare through adult students and every age in between. I attended public and private schools, earned three degrees and went to six universities through exchange programs, internships, and programs of study. I ran two Sylvan Learning Centers. I have some experience with education. All of that experience gives me an understanding of just how big an impact education and the educational environment have on our self-concept, our life choices, not to mention our everyday existence for the majority of our waking hours for 13+ years of our lives.

I like the Montessori set-up for toys but not the emphasis on doing so much by oneself. My son has his whole life to tie his shoes. Waldorf’s emphasis on play appeals to me but I have reservations about reading windows and other aspects of the program. Reggio Emilia sounded great but there were no schools close to us.

The homeschool network in Austin was appealing with part-time school, classes in special subjects, and extra-curricular activities like soccer and drama. We could create the educational landscape that worked for us. Being a single mom with a limited income isn’t particularly conducive to homeschooling though. Additionally, I’d figured out I’m not so sure I’m the best person to be Cavanaugh’s teacher–at least not his primary teacher. I want him to be able to come to me and say that something is too hard, or too easy, “Look what I learned today,” or ask, “Can you help me with this?” First and foremost, I want to be his mom.

Also, I’d like to not be so broke all the time. I’d like to be able to educate him by taking him on trips to foreign countries or affording experiential learning like flying in a hot air balloon or going white water rafting: modes of travel, speed, nature, tasting the world to figure out what he likes and doesn’t, what his skills and interests are. We can unschool–follow his interests and let him learn through life experience–when he’s not in school.

Private school is expensive too. While I could work to earn an income, which would be more difficult if I were homeschooling, the money I earned would be turned into tuition. Plus in many private schools, the social, ethnic, and economic diversity isn’t really diverse. And even if you don’t have to take state standardized tests, you’ll end up in high school classes getting prepped for ACT and SAT

Public schools’ emphasis on testing, behavior, and conformity concern me. Plus, I’ve taught in Texas public schools.

I want a place where he’ll learn, where he’ll be comfortable, and safe, and can be himself. I don’t want him to be bored by worksheets, overwhelmed by crowds, bullied. I don’t want a system of praise, punishment, and rewards to take away his intrinsic motivation.

Can you tell I’ve been dwelling in what could be wrong instead of what could go right? That’s why I was worrying about where he’d go to school, rather than looking forward to what worlds might open up for him.  School options felt like being at a buffet of foreign foods. Things looked familiar, like I might like them, but instead of being able to dish a little of this and a little of that on my plate, in order to let my son try out different school environments, I’d have to get on long waiting lists, pay hold or enrollment fees, and then have school tours, observation days, let him get used to a place. It was daunting. And I didn’t actually know what Cavanaugh would like because he’d never tried any of it. Maybe things would seem like a bad fit and then he’d get there and it would all be fine. Or, they’d seem made for him and he’d end up hating it.

A friend advised me to tour schools with Cavanaugh’s personality in mind. That would help me make a decision. The barriers included tuition, required schedules –5 days a week for traditional Montessori schools, long days with a naptime though my son stopped napping at 2 1/2, etc. Now I was at a buffet where the food had some ingredients I liked but others I knew I didn’t like. I couldn’t eat around the beets or request them to hold the celery.

At some point this spring, I finally acknowledged that I wasn’t doing nothing. I just hadn’t made a final decision yet. I also let myself accept that I might not get it right the first time. Maybe I’d put Cavanaugh in a school that didn’t end up working and we’d reevaluate, or maybe it would work for a time and then stop. Just like ordering in a restaurant, I could try something and send it back or order something else. The first step was looking at our school choices. I’d done that by considering:

• My child (his personality, talents, likes and dislikes, current abilities, ways of learning, need for sleep, social needs, etc)
• Different educational approaches (Montessori, Waldorf, Reggio Emilia, Homeschooling, Unschooling, Private, Public, and other alternatives)
• Scheduling (part-time, traditional school year, year-round, school hours–how much of our day/week/year/lives would be taken up with school)
• Finances (tuition, scholarship or other financial aid, how much time I’d have to work (or not) depending on what kind of schooling we chose)
• Location (commute time to and from school, busing, community we’d be (or not be) around depending on how far school was from home)
• Myself (My career/life options would be impacted by his school schedule, location, state of mind, costs, etc; how involved I could or would want to be with a particular school and what my values are around education)
• Goals (What school could provide in terms of intellectual, social, physical, and emotional education, what it would teach my son about the world and himself)

All that was left was actually making a choice and trying it out. I’ll write more about that in my next post. In the meantime, I’d love to hear what your considerations are regarding school options. What have you tried? What are you going to try?

Photo by shazie28

I finally settled on Guiding Principles. When . . . → Read More: Guiding Principles]]> In Gretchen Rubin’s personal happiness project, she defines Personal Commandments. Commandments have connotations I’m not sure I want to take on. So what to call mine? Uber-resolutions? Goals for myself that extend beyond an aim for that particular day (exercise, enough sleep, etc). Rules for life? Core values?

I finally settled on Guiding Principles. When I’m trying to figure out what to do or how I feel or what comes next, I turn to these. I don’t always pull it off, but I know what I want. These principles help to guide me towards that self, that life, those relationships.

1. Be true.
2. Right here. Right now.
3. Live with you.
4. Worry is not action.
5. Do the next right thing.
6. Replace criticism with kindness.
7. Be open.
8. Keep what serves you. Let go of the rest.
9. Ask for help.
10. Listen to your still small voice.
11. Cultivate gratitude.
12. Love well.

How about you? What are your guiding principles?

In January of 2010, I started working through Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read . . . → Read More: Happy Happy Joy Joy]]> My happiness project officially ended a couple of weeks ago. Shall I announce, now, that I am happy happy happy? Well, I am. Sometimes.

In January of 2010, I started working through Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun. Rubin studied happiness theory and spent a year testing happiness theories. She was happy but felt she could be happier. I was not happy. I had spent fifteen years of my life being treated for chronic depression and another ten escalating to generalized anxiety disorder. I had absolutely no idea how to be happy in the sense of it being a state of existence. Circumstances could make me happy, but an underlying darkness inevitably blotted out the light.

I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing happiness. Hopefully, it would be like lifting weights or swinging a racquet–once I got the feeling for it, I could recreate the motion until it was a memory, automatic.

Rubin separated The Happiness Project into twelve themed chapters, one for each month, offered the structure of a resolutions chart, personal commandments, secrets of adulthood and set up a blog and a website with a happiness toolbox.With all of her footwork, there was really no excuse for me not to try. So I resolved to spend a year learning how to be happy. After that, maybe I could work on getting happier.

Three weeks into the project my husband said he wanted a divorce. Our son was just over three. The project turned into a life vest with me determined not to drown. My year of learning how to be happy turned instead to a year of self-care, recovery, and figuring out what to do next.

I took a divorce recovery workshop, went to support group meetings at least six times a week, was asked to come back to the divorce workshop as a facilitator so went through WYRE a second time, went to acupuncture, and met with a group of women working through Renee Trudeau’s The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal: How to Reclaim, Rejuvenate and Re-Balance Your Life. I spent hundreds of hours in therapeutic settings. And I was actually happier than I’d ever been, but I still didn’t feel like I could honestly call myself a happy person. I wanted happiness as a state of being. I wanted to see the world as a glass (at least) half full.

So 2011 turned into my second pass at the happiness project. When our group finished The Mother’s Guide to Self-Renewal, we switched to The Happiness Project. My divorce was finalized. I’d kept my house. I hadn’t had a nervous breakdown. I was ready to learn how to be happy.

Having a group of people to work through the book with was a great help. Every month, we talked about whether or not the resolutions chart was working for us, if we were actually getting happier, what each of our continuing obstacles to happiness were.

We all worked through the project differently–meaning that what worked for one of us didn’t necessarily work for all of us. That’s been a helpful lesson in itself.

For me, having a resolutions chart that need to I look at daily, that has specific actions for me to take, and that I have to check off is helpful. I feel productive. I can see where I’m making progress. I can also see which of the resolutions I consistently don’t do and can ask myself why not. Maybe I’m resolving to do something because I think I should but should rarely leads me to happiness.

For me, simple things made a difference in how I was feeling. Was I getting enough sleep, meditating or taking time for prayer, drinking water, eating well? Was I writing, getting exercise? All those resolutions people make on New Year’s are the foundation for my happiness.

Lattes don’t replace sleep. The escape  I get from entering someone else’s world through TV or books only lasts till I hit the off button or close the cover. Being a single parent to a now five-year old, I can’t be the kind of parent I want. If I’m not doing something to stay in balance, he suffers. I don’t have energy to play, patience when he flip-a-dips around the bed after stories. I’m not a fake it till you make it kind of person. I needed to figure out how to actually make it.

By our official end of the project I’d had the same daily resolutions on my chart for about four months. My challenges continued to be my challenges.

• Exercise 3xs/week
• Go upstairs by 11, lights off by midnight
• Meditate/pray
• No yelling
• Replace criticism with kindness

Did I check every one off every day? Not even close. That’s why they stay on there. I need to see. I need to remember. When I do these things, I feel better. Even though the project is over, I’m still using the chart. I see myself continuing to do so.

Besides the daily resolutions, I focus on one area of my life each month to get big projects done. When I wasn’t getting to the gym, had stayed up till two, or hadn’t remembered to take even a minute to get quiet, I needed a bigger picture, somewhere I could measure progress: curtains on the windows, a redesign of the blog, a business plan for how to support myself and my son.

Though our group finished working through the book together, we’re going to continue progressing toward happiness. This month we’re using Byron Katie’s “The Work.” Next month we’ll discuss part of Pema Chodron’s Don’t Bite the Hook. I can honestly say I’m happy. What we’re doing now will help me learn how to be happier.

I’d love to hear any tools you’ve got–books, support groups, spiritual practice, vitamins, whatever–that help you to be happy. And if you’re trying to figure out how, I’d definitely recommend The Happiness Project.

Photo by Danielle Kiemel

But those were the . . . → Read More: Foolin’ Around]]> April Fools’ Day always struck me as an even meaner holiday than St. Patrick’s Day with all of it’s pinching. April Fools’ Day seemed more focused on making other people feel foolish than on fooling around. You feel like a dupe, gullible. You trusted someone and s/he tricked you. You fool.

But those were the mean April Fool’s jokes. And now I have a kid. As far as I can remember, he found out about April Fools’ Day from the show Caillou. Whatever introduced him, it wasn’t me. Those of you who read mamaTRUE regularly know I love most holidays. I decorate, craft, figure out games, cook. But not this holiday. I always preferred to skip it. I didn’t play tricks on people, and most of the time no one played them on me. Then my son embraced April Fool’s Day as if it were another Valentine’s or Easter–no big presents but a cause for anticipation and celebration. What shall we do? How will we fool each other?

Last year, I tried a trick I saw on some TV show. On April Fools’ Eve, I put cereal, milk, and a spoon into a bowl and then stuck them in the freezer. What was supposed to happen was that Cavanaugh would try to pick up the spoon and I would say, “April Fools!” What happened instead was that Cavanaugh said, “I don’t want cereal” and refused to even touch the spoon, even after I asked him just to try it for April Fools. No fun.

For the last month, Cavanaugh has been practicing. “I’m gonna April fool you Mama. What can I do to be tricky?” I suggested he put a ball of socks in the end of my slipper so my foot wouldn’t go in. He did. He was thrilled with the trick. I wasn’t fooled, of course, but it’s the thought that counts, right? I had him talk to one of his cousins to ask for April Fool’s ideas. I let him watch the Caillou April Fool’s episode again.

I needed some ideas too. Luckily, while I was looking up Easter crafts on Martha Stewart.com, I found April Fools’ Day Pranks. I tried two of them. The first, switching his short sleeves and long sleeves drawers got very little reaction. Really, Cavanaugh just pulled out a long sleeve shirt and didn’t realize anything was amiss until I exclaimed, “April Fools’.” But the second, was a hit. I put two of his colored bath tablets above the sink filter, so when he went to wash his hands, green water came out. He was thrilled to be tricked. He wanted to fool around some more. So, we’re celebrating April Fools’ Week at our house this year. And I need more ideas!!! Send me some stuff people. My son wants to be April fooled.