“You are what you do, not what you say.”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“I don’t know.  It’s just true.”

You are what you do, not what you say.

First off, I love that my son shared this. It is one of the reasons we homeschool in the first place.

So that our children can learn that their actions matter. That they aren’t just a number, a letter grade, a child. They are people. And people with the capacity for real thought, and real action. People who can contribute in real and meaningful ways.

And contribution takes action. Not just thought, not just reading a Facebook feed, or even talking around the kitchen table. At seven, it may mean feeding the rabbits and tidying your room. Or it may mean fundraising to save the ocean. It may mean letting your guest have the bigger piece of cake. But, in so many small ways, actions speak louder than words. Even at seven.

Well, the proclamation got my attention. It sat with me for a few days. And started to convict.

In the course of a day, I make so many promises I don’t keep.

“We’ll finish that lemonade stand we’re building today.” (Ok, it turns out we’re missing some parts).

“I’ll draw you those puppies this afternoon.” (Except that the baby never went down for his nap).

“Yes, we can stay home all day!” (Oops, I forgot about the groceries).

“We’ll read that story, just as soon as I finish the dishes.”

Elbow-deep in dishes, I ponder.

What are my actions saying? Or, more precisely, my inactions? What message are they sending to my children? And what do they say about the person I am?

This week, I hope to finish that lemonade stand, draw that picture and read that story.

Because, I want to be the person that I intend to be. I want my actions to reflect my intentions.

And I want them to say, very loud and clear, “I love you. And I’m listening.”

What actions might speak volumes for you this week? Share in the comments.

We celebrated the 1st of May with a day spent outside. If you live anywhere near us (or have anywhere near our overgrown, bee-friendly lawn!), you, too, will associate May with dandelions. Here they sprout with abandon, and I learn to appreciate them a little more each year. Although I haven’t gotten dedicated enough to harvest them (yet!), I find they do make enchanting photographs!

The weather cooperated with us, which produced more than a few pairs of bare feet!

My daughter delights in the flowers of the season, and we both celebrated the first poppy to greet us with its yellow warmth.

Our littlest showered himself with the good, brown earth.

And the three of them played, and played, and played.

My daughter left this little gift. Knowing it wouldn’t last, I snapped a picture of the sunshine, warmth, and little wonders that it promised.

I hope this new month finds you well, and inspired by the promise of May flowers, and a long and fruitful summer!

Since at least May, I have been reading blog headlines about homeschool planning.  And, I’ve been asking myself, “Who are these people?  Planning for next year already?!”  What about enjoying summer?!  What about  a break?  What about living this blissful season?  (Maybe you are one of these people?  If so, you have my kudos. Planning does not come naturally to me).

Yet, here I find myself.  Planning in August.   A full, beautiful month of summer left, and it might as well be over.  I’m itching to start.  Itching to start structuring our days, do something “scholarly,” focus inward and, well, begin again.

I m looking outside, and the hot summer sun is beckoning.  The creek by our house calls.  The kids and I are, regretfully, inside on such a gift of  a day.  And, as much as August feels to me like a filler month (the month before the big month of September, with its fresh starts, fresh notebooks and renewed vigour), I’m electing to embrace our August.

Swim in the creek.  Spend the days at the beach.  Build a bonfire.  Enjoy each other’s company and experience the treasured moments that will sustain us through the rainy season.  This season is magic, and I intend to embrace it.

So, if you catch me writing and thinking about planning, know that we might be doing  bit of that. But, we’ll be doing a lot more living.  And that’s just great with us.

Sometimes I like to jump to the conclusion that, just because we are homeschooling, we differ from the norm in everything.  Take my latest quandry: allowance.  For whatever reason, my son has had a lot of people telling him that he could help me with this or that around the house, and get paid!  He mentioned this to me the other day.  Not in an entitled sort of way, but more as an observation.  Wondering what exactly do these well-meaning people mean?

So, it’s got me thinking.  Just what is our stance on allowance?  Is now the time to introduce it (my son is six).  Should we introduce it at all?  Which brings me back to how we are different (are we?).

One of the reasons we homeschool is that, ideally, it allows us to better function as a family – as a team.  We work together, respect each other, and have a chance to be intricately connected with one another’s lives.  This includes chores around the home.  I’ll be the first to admit, I do the bulk of the housework.  (I suspect a lot of homeschooling families don’t break the mould, and are with me here.  Mom homeschools the majority of the time, Dad works outside of the home.  In fact, we’re a bit different in that respect, but, nevertheless, I still spend the majority of my days at home, and Dad doesn’t. So… our housework structure ends up looking pretty predictable).  However, because the kids are also around all day, they see me in action.  And, naturally, they are involved.  Now, I say naturally, because that is how it works for us.  They see me vacuuming, they want to give it a try (sometimes).  My daughter’s favourite chore is cleaning the toilets.  My son could clean windows all day.  They both like to help me cook.

So, my thoughts around allowance go something like this.  If they are naturally integrated into my life so well that they enjoy what other people call “chores,” would allowance ruin all of that?  The things they now do out of interest, or a shared sense of responsibility, would they start to do out of obligation?  Or, worse, simple monetary gain.  Rather than coming from a place of giving, sharing, and purpose, would their help come from a more self-serving place.  Would this be a good thing?

I want to teach my kids responsibility.  I also want them to know about money.  How it is made.  How to save, and why.  And I want them to contribute around the house.  But, so far, this has all happened fairly organically with us.  I do most of the work.  But, they help.  And it’s rarely a struggle.  My son has regular jobs around the house: feed the rabbits, and the cat.  Let them out to hop.  Take out the compost, and help with the recycling.  But, he doesn’t get paid for those jobs.  And I’m not sure he should.

Does this make us unique as homeschoolers?  That we are so involved in each other’s everyday, that household chores are simply part of that.  We don’t separate them into another section of our lives.  We do them.  We don’t get paid to be a part of the family.  I think so.

But, looking ahead, and thinking about allowance, I wonder.  Where, exactly does it fit into this picture?

I’d love to know what your family does about allowance, and how you integrate the things that need to be done around the house into your homeschooling lives.  What is your take on allowance?

If your family is anything like mine, whole days can go by without any formal learning taking place.  Emphasis on formal (in contrast, not a day goes by without any learning taking place).  Our days are full, but they are also full of time.  Time to play, time to think, time to live with a concept and let it become a part of our lives.  In contrast to the drill and kill method of schooling – which conveniently has been drilled into many of us – we prefer to let it percolate.

Whereas in a school situation, there is limited time to introduce a concept, and to evaluate whether or not a child has grasped it before moving on, at home, time can be practically unlimited.  One day your child, who was recently introduced to the concept of addition, will pipe up with – “Mommy, 10 plus 10 equals 20!”  Or they’ll take their lego car and use it to randomly explain force, gravity and friction to you.  These are moments that a teacher can’t always wait for.  That a formal learning setting would have to test for.  For homelearners, they are like a perfectly brewed cup of coffee.

So, how can we help our kids percolate?

Time.  We can give them time away from formal, sit-down, adult-introduced learning.  Time to play.  Time to think.  Alone time, and undirected together time.

Play. It doesn’t take much more than time to encourage most kids to play.  But, it is something we should be conscious of – both in providing time for self-directed play, and approaching learning in the spirit of play.  Both will help our kids absorb the things they are experiencing (read: learning), and face them with a positive, natural interest.

Arts. We just read this fabulous picture book about Albert Einstein (thanks Jamie at Simple Homeschool for recommending it!).  When Albert was overwhelmed with his thoughts (which he gave himself plenty of time to process), he took a break and played his violin.  In the Waldorf philosophy, this same concept is addressed with the practice of handwork: knitting, felting, painting.  Something about repetition, and using the parts of our brain that address the arts, allows our intellectual brain to rest.  And reset.

My  3 year old daughter reminded me of this today.  My son was frustrated with something he couldn’t do, and she pipes up with: “When Albert needed a break he would go and play his violin.”  It made me smile.  She was right. Sometimes we need a break. Sometimes we need to let it percolate. Process.

In this case, she, too, was letting it percolate.  We read the Einstein book together a few days ago.  I didn’t ask her to tell me what lessons she learned from it. We didn’t have a formal discussion about it. But, she was thinking. Letting it percolate.  And then applying it to real life. Her life.

Isn’t that the end goal?

I’d love to know how your kids process things.  What do they or you do to allow them time to percolate?

This week, on a rare full day off, I took the kids to our local science centre, Science World.  It is a crazy place, full of experiments, presentations, activity centres and displays.  It’s also full of kids!  We had a great time exploring and watching the fascinating, and, at times, hilarious, science show.  When it came time for the end of the day (and our parking was running out!), I rushed the kids out – wanting to give them the last few minutes to soak up the fun.

As we’re rushing to the car (in the pouring rain – another motivator), my son stops and throws this hammer down.

Mommy, why are you ALWAYS rushing me!  It’s always, hurry, hurry, hurry.  I have things to do, and you’re always rushing me.  Why do we always have to be so fast!?

The words you hear about, and dread, and assume (of course) that you are above.  And, I so knew he was right.  I am always rushing him.  To be fair, he is pokey.  I mean, give him an inch, and he will take a mile.  He loves to explore.  He’s fascinated by everything.  I mean, everything.  And he wants to take it all in.  Yesterday, it was a giant marble run.  Another day it might be a bus driving by.  Or a fascinating cloud.  Or, tonight, a game of fishing boat.  With him, there is always something to stop and do.

So, if you have a schedule, it is often hard to keep.

But, no excuses.  I know, I’m still in the wrong on this one.  Because, of course, we all of have to get things done.  But, my son shouldn’t have to feel rushed.  I should be able to give more lead time.  Plan better.  Plan less.

One of the major reasons we chose to homeschool was precisely to avoid moments just like this.  To give ourselves more time.  More wiggle room.  More time to stargaze, or marble gaze, or whatever.  And, in my mind, we are free from a lot of scheduling.  No having to get up every morning for school (although many mornings we still get up to take Mommy or Daddy to work).  No rushing from school to one activity, and another.  No cramming it all in on the weekends.

And, yet, somehow, we are still rushed.  So, here we are.  I’ll be the first to admit it.  We have a busy week.  We have a busy weekend.  Mom and Dad work (while one is working, the other is at home, homeschooling / living – for the most part).  And, yes, Dylan is enrolled in classes.  Art, dance, music, outdoor school one morning a week.  So, it’s not as if we stay home all day and do nothing.

Two thoughts on this…

1. I still can’t imagine adding full-time school to the mix.  My poor child (and my self) would be on overload.  We’d probably implode.  Or we’d cut down on everything else, and he’d miss out on the cool enrichment activities that he enjoys so much.  Not to mention playtime.  I’m thankful we aren’t there.

2. I’ve got to admit, we’re still askew.  If my son is asking for less rush, then he’s feeling it.  And, if he’s feeling it, then something isn’t right.  So, time to either cut down, or get better at time management.

I know.  A lot of homeschoolers are in the same boat.  We choose to homeschool, at least in part, to give ourselves more time.  I wonder, then, how many of us simply replace that time with other things?  Filling our days, when we could be filling our souls with quiet or peaceful play?  Is it hyper vigilance we need, or simply a bit of prioritizing?  Or even just a bit of warning for our children?  Are we fooling ourselves to think we are free from the rushing onslaught of  modern daily life?

How many of you strike this balance?  Do you feel grounded?  Rushed?  I’d love to know how other working and homeschooling moms feel about this one.  Can you find a middle ground?  Or, for you, is it more about wisely spending the time you do have?  And approaching even the hurried moments with a calmer frame of mind?

Two months into Kindergarten, and we’re still working on it.  I suppose that should be no surprise.  It’s a new and wild lifestyle we’ve entered.  And there is no handbook.  But, from here out, I’m going to be more mindful that we are, truly, doing the best we can.  So, my explorer can explore.  Just a little more.

Well, my children aren’t perfect.  Although I’d love to believe they are, they do have their guises.  As does everyone.  As do I.  I always thought knowing that made me a better parent.  Being able to see their strengths and weaknesses honestly.  And, it is helpful.  But, in a far more powerful way, I have come to realize that having me in their court, is okay.  It’s good.  In fact, it’s great.

I don’ think my kids are perfect, but I do see them as beautiful, amazing, deep and real human beings.  Little human beings, with the needs of developing people, but human beings.  Who deserve to be treated as such.  And, this is where “behaviour parenting” really irks me.  I know my children aren’t the most well-behaved.  They tend to be a little wild.  A little free-spirited.  And, sometimes, it makes them difficult to reign in.  Sometimes, it makes us challenging to be around (sometimes they are perfect angels, too, of course).  But, I don’t think I’d change that.  I really don’t.

You see, I believe that allowing them to ask questions, speak their mind, and follow their natural curiosities is a good thing.  I want to support that.  I believe that going against the grain, sometimes, will serve them well, in the end.  I want to honour their interests, their desires and their hearts.  What I see, too often, are parents that want their children to behave.  To be presentable.  To be easy to take places.  Children that “play by themselves” and “sleep all night” and are “socialized” (read: will sit quietly in a classroom).  Children that are self-sufficient.

I want my children to be self-sufficient, too.  I want them to be confident that they can accomplish things on their own.  I want them to take pride in their abilities.  But, I don’t want them to be convenient.  And I don’t want to parent them based on the behaviours I want to them display.

Sure, I’ve dabbled in behaviour-based parenting.  I’ve gotten frustrated, and even angry, when I know my kids are doing something inconvenient.  Something I’d rather they not be doing.  Something dangerous, or thoughtless, or – let’s see – loud?!  But, the more I focus on correcting their behaviour, the less I become the parent that I want to be.

When I focus on behaviour, I objectify my children.  They aren’t my children, they are the source of a poor behaviour.  When I see them as such (consciously or unconsciously) I cease to see them as human beings with a complex set of emotions and needs.  I cease to see them as human beings in need of respect.

I refuse to treat my children as creatures that don’t deserve respect.  I refuse to treat them as beings that need to be controlled.

I want to guide them.  Yes.  But, I also want to listen to them.  To hear them, and to serve them.  To be there for them, and to help them grow into the human beings they were meant to be.

When I think of them this way, I don’t think of their behaviour.  I think of their needs.  I think of their hearts and their minds.  I approach parenting from a much more compassionate place.

And that is the place where I want to dwell.

I’d love to know your thoughts on behaviour-based parenting?  Does it work for you?  Do you find you can focus on behaviour and still have compassion for your kids?

1. Connection

Being a blogger means you are automatically connected to people.  Like-minded people are treats to find, but so are those with opposing viewpoints.  Getting involved in the blogging community broadens your perspective, and connects you with real people.  And you’re not limited to those in your immediate vicinity.

2. Accountability

Whether you write a personal blog, a homeschooling blog, or something in between, writing about your journey, or your passions, is an amazing way to keep yourself accountable. When I look back on what we’ve done this year (by reading over my blog entries) I am amazed.  We’ve done a ton of learning!  Getting something down is a great way to prove to yourself that you and your kids really have been learning.

3. Memories

Not just an academic record, a blog can be a record of your personal learning journey.  It can bring back sweet memories, and become, well, what it is – an online journal.  If you’re reticent to start journaling, blogging might actually be a more fun, and more interactive way to accomplish the same thing.  I know, for me, if I hadn’t been blogging about what we’ve been up to, half of it would be long forgotten by now.

4. Photo Journaling

Because I blog a lot, I always have a reason to bring my camera with me.  There are so many times I have taken photographs of our daily learning, knowing I might use them in a future article.  I am so thankful that I have these photos as a record of our learning, and as a way to see my children grow.  The really fun bonus is that I get to develop my photography skills at the same time!  Which brings me to…

5. Learning

Blogging is learned skill.  It can seem intimidating at the outset, but it is so great when you demystify the process, by learning the ins and outs of the blogosphere.  While your kids are learning at rapid-fire pace, you, as a blogger, are learning right along with them.  And you’re also developing a whole host of skills (writing, photography, computer literacy etc).

6. Fun & Encouragement

Blogging is fun.  It’s inspiring.  It’s amazing to feel connected to the world beyond your front door.

Whether you blog for yourself, or hope to build a community, blogging can be a journey that benefits a homeschooling family in a multitude of ways.  So, if you’re dabbling with the idea, I’d say, go ahead and try it!  You haven’t got a lot to lose, and you might be surprised by just how much you like it.

P.S. Welcome to summer, everyone!

As a family, we went back and forth on the decision of whether to enrol our son in a distributed learning organization, or simply, go it on our own.  Here in British Columbia, families have the choice: register or enroll.  If you register, you just let someone (the Ministry of Education) know you are homeschooling, and then you do your thing.  If you enroll, you choose between a myriad of “schools” that oversee your learning (read reporting), provide you with planning help, and a stipend from the government ($1000 / year is usual).

Our family has a very free approach to learning – not a lot of structure, and a lot of child and interest-led learning.  We all contribute to what we are going to do in any given week, and we try to listen to and accommodate our children’s curiosities whenever possible (which is most of the time).  Mostly, we read together a lot, and play together a lot.  We tell stories.  We paint.  We hike and take photographs.  We garden.  We cook.  We talk.  And, we listen.

This approach to learning has worked for us, so far.  My son, at 4.5, is knowledgeable about all kinds of things (including his letters and numbers), and has an incredibly inquisitive mind, and sociable personality.  I’d say we learn the way we do because of him, more so than the other way around, but it’s probably a bit of both.  As for Kindergarten, we wanted to be sure we were enrolling him with an organization that matched our learning values, if we went that route.

To that end, we’ve chosen to enroll him with an organization called SelfDesign: a proponent of child-led learning, with a lovely, flexible structure.  Yes, we have to report every week or two, but it will be short, and will consist of, well, just whatever it is that we do.  With Self Design, we will design a learning plan for the year (as specific as we want it to be, or not), with the input of a learning consultant, ourselves, and our son.  And we’ll receive a stipend to put towards classes, curriculum materials or whatever else we think will support his learning.

Do I think that I need someone to oversee our learning?  Absolutely not.  Do I think that I am the only one with ideas and input that would be worthy of considering while home learning with my son?  Of course not.

I think it will be fun to have a learning consultant.  I’m sure they’ll give me ideas and feedback on things I haven’t thought of.  And, although we are very unstructured in what we do, I do love to record our learning, for my own sake, as well as my child’s.  Yes, I like to write.  So, I don’t think I will find the reporting burdensome.

Mostly, I am excited to be crossing a new bridge together.  I don’t envision our year – which “officially” starts in September, but never really starts or ends – to be significantly different from what we do now.  Because we are always exploring new things.  But, as a person who likes to mark milestones, and finds symbolism and beauty in celebrating the seasons of life, I am excited to mark the start of Kindergarten with my son.

I’d love to know what you think of your state or provincial homeschooling regulations.  Do they work for you?  Are they too constraining?  If your child is enrolled in BC, how do you enjoy it?

Once again, thanks for reading.  The Homeschool Co-op’s sabbatical is over, although look for some changes in the way we do things in the next few months, as we ease back in.  We’re aiming for a more streamlined approach, in keeping with what our readers use and desire most.  A heartfelt congratulations to those finishing up your schooling year, and a welcome to our new subscribers!

All the best,

Kelly @ The Homeschool Co-op

There is a growing body of recent non-fiction work that takes a single subject, and really delves into it, from a lifestyle and research perpective.  Richard Louv’s Last Child in the Woods, and Daniel Pink’s Drive are two that come to mind.  Another is Carl Honore’s, In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed.

I  read this book about a month ago, and was immediately drawn in.  It seemed to be exactly what I needed, at exactly the right time.  Honore makes a solid case for embracing slow in our everyday lives.  That is, taking time for everything, and, in turn savouring more of life.  From slow parenting, to slow food, to slow cities, Honore profiles the growing slow movement around the world.

Part informative, part research, part cautionary tale, In Praise of Slowness, is wholly inspirational.  It’s a wake-up call for those of us who have felt pressured to accomplish more, in less time.  For me, it came at the right place and the right time, but, more likely, it is simply the right place and the right time for the world to read this book.

Very intelligent, well-researched, and with the capacity to be life-changing, this is a book for anyone who wants to be more grounded, and get more out of life – by doing less.  With an insightful look at homeschooling, and how it fits with the slow movement, this book is a glorious read.