Early Wobbles
Just around the time you might imagine you could never begin the routines again, never shuffle papers into the right order, never spend the day inside,
September arrives and beckons.
Here in Vermont this means mornings with the windows still open but an extra blanket on top. Baby wakes up first, and she’s got two blankets. And evenings cool enough to excuse an outdoor fire before dinner. Maybe a tray of s’more supplies at your side. And sweaters! I love sweaters.
The leaves are still green. Acorns on the ground, tomatoes at the market, even the basil is still happy in the garden.
We’ve been away from all of our formal curriculum—the handwriting books, the spelling, the weekly memorized material of Classical Conversations, the daily reading aloud (the Bible, historical fiction, poetry, a classic), the math worksheets—since March.
So you could say it’s been almost six months of unschooling.
Six months of a new baby and six months of watching what they ask to do take first place on the list.
Whenever you come away from a period of unschooling, the primary realization is how very much they ask to do! The requests can quickly fill a day. One day you might worry they aren’t writing, they never write any more, and the next day they come to you with two pages of an imaginary menu scribbled down.
By the same turn, to step away for so long and then to return to it is intimidating. My days have been full with only the goals of a tidy home, nourishing meals, a quiet chapter or two (or five) of a good book to myself before bed, rested and kind children. Though the list be simple bake black beans, read aloud, dig through the garden for something to eat, trim fingernails, to add reading, astronomy, and arithmetic back on to it, is scary.
Over dinner last week we sat down together and talked over the girls’ hopes for the year. Eight-year-old: to study science and astronomy. Six-year-old: to learn to read. Three-year-old: letters. phonics. The enthusiasm of the table was collectively zealous, but a tinge of dread snuck in as they spoke. Can we really pull this off? I wondered. Suddenly I longed for the ho-hum of a morning back into our school routine, when things seem entirely possible, if altogether ordinary.
I feel like I’m on the first three steps of crossing a sturdy tree that’s fallen over a riverbed.
Step, catch balance, step, look up and smile, step, wobble, step…
A Moment / A Photograph 
A sawdust kitchen, enjoyed for a few days, swept up and composted before the cakes turned grisly from rain blown in.
Something Ambitious to TryIt wouldn’t be fall if I weren’t eagerly looking up more things to add to our collective feast. Lately I’ve been clicking through the class lists on the website Outschool. Outschool offers video chat classes for 6-12 students, ranging from $8-$14 a session.
We haven’t tried them yet—mostly it’s hard for me to imagine pausing the flow of our day to get just one of the kids settled in front of a laptop. But I’ve loved finding classes for the things the girls are into, like lego engineering, or one about the Wizard of Oz series (the eight-year-old’s current passion), or a book discussion for the second Land of Stories fantasy novel.
The specificity is delightful. And just reading the bios of the clever instructors is giving me joy.
A Book I Read
Are you a words person or a numbers person? As a natural words person I spend a fair amount of time puzzling over how to invite numbers generously into my children’s world. My approach to this is to read about it (ha!). Basically I’m hoping to get inside the head of a numbers person so I can properly convey that magic to the girls.
So when my friend Katharine recommended The Weil Conjectures, I was quick to ask my local library to order it….
more about this read on my blog
A Book They ReadPale green Monarch chrysalis with gold spotting are hidden everywhere—under a zucchini leaf, a hydrangea branch. Brilliant orange Monarch butterflies land in the grass to catch the sun for a few minutes, and the remaining Monarch caterpillars are still fattening up in the garden. Gail Gibbons’ detailed illustrations and story from 1989 have been illuminating our understanding of these fascinating creatures. (Amazon)
A local photographer named Mary Holland does amazing work keeping citizens of the Northeast aware of what is going on around them. About the monarchs she writes…
After eight to fifteen days, the adult Monarch emerges from its chrysalis and heads towards Mexico (butterflies that emerge after the middle of August migrate). It is the great grandchildren and great great grandchildren of these migrating monarchs that will return next summer.
Mary Holland’s blog Naturally Curious.
And / A Blessing for YouMay the questions be welcome. May your confidence come from gratitude.
She who seeks, shall find.
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Matthew 7:7-8
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