The questions, the answers

I had a very polite conversation today with an adult who learned that I homeschool my kids. She was curious, but respectful, and though she asked the usual set of questions, they were asked with honest curiosity and interest. Homeschoolers always get these questions, and so here they are, with my answers. If you are a non-homeschooler who finds yourself questioning a homeschooler someday, perhaps you can be as polite and positive as my questioner was today.

1. Do you have a teaching background? aka Are you a licensed teacher? aka How can you know what to teach your kids? aka Do you think you’re better than a school teacher?

Notice that all the questions ask largely the same thing, but I liked her phrasing (the first one) the best. It’s a natural question: I am spending my time “teaching,” so am I a “teacher”?

The short answer, which I gave her, is that I was a college English teacher.

But that had nothing to do with my homeschooling, and actually has nothing to do with my qualifications to homeschool. Lots of homeschoolers were teachers—in fact, it’s notable how many homeschoolers were public school teachers who didn’t want to put their kids through that system. Hm. But the really important answer to this question is actually this: I don’t have to be a teacher. I am teaching my kids to be learners. In this day of information overload, no one can “know” everything you need to know in order to become fully literate in our society. This is a huge change from a century ago, when there was an accepted body of knowledge that one attained in order to become literate, then an accepted body of knowledge one attained in order to become educated, and finally a deeper and narrower body of knowledge to attain in one’s chosen field.

Today, the most important thing kids need to be taught is how to teach themselves what they need to know. Some teachers and schools are getting this. But most aren’t. If you look at what’s being taught and tested for in our schools, it’s certainly not how to find the answer. What’s being taught is how to know the answer, which is a whole different thing. The other thing students need to learn is how to evaluate the reams of conflicting information they will be presented with. Critical thinking skills are mandatory in this world.

Both learning how to learn and critical thinking are fundamental to what homeschooling parents do.

2. You must work hard! aka I could never do that! aka You’re crazy—wouldn’t you rather have a real job? aka What’s the point?

Again, she asked respectfully, but homeschoolers get these variations on this question all the time.

My answer was quite simple: We have a very laid-back lifestyle. This morning, for example, was unusual in that I had to get both kids to different locations because I had an appointment. So yes, I did have to call my son a few times (he’s 13, right?) and then he sat there in his pajamas and talked instead of eating. Finally I had to get dramatic on him and say You Have Ten Minutes Before You Need To Be Dressed And Ready To Leave.

The thing is, this could be seen as a replay of our mornings when he had to catch the bus. But this was taking place at….well….8:50 a.m. Our days of having to get up at the crack of dawn (unless we’re getting up to do something fabulously exciting) are over. We have a laid-back lifestyle, and we love it.

The number that homeschoolers cite is that you only have to “school” for about 2.5 hours per day to match how much schooling kids get in the average public school. All the rest of the school day is organizational stuff, getting from one place to another, waiting, waiting, and waiting. Now, I have to admit, I have never spent 2.5 solid hours making my kids do “school.” But over a day, we probably fit in that much of what might be called “school” stuff, as long as you include electives in what you call “school”!

The fact is, you could do that. You think it’s hard because you see that the job of being a schoolteacher is hard. And it is! I am awed by anyone who can spend a whole day with 30 (or more) kids. By then I’d want to go flush myself down the toilet. But I don’t spend my day trying to teach that many kids. I spend my day interacting with my two favorite kids. And it’s really not that hard.

However, I must also say that this is a “real job.” I’m giving my kids a Cadillac education for the price of a used Chevy Neon. When we do our taxes, I see what I do as “income”—finding a private school to do this would certainly cost many times more than we’re putting out.

3. So…do you have time to do anything else? aka Are you wasting your time staying home with kids? aka Are you losing your edge in the job market?

Each homeschooler is different. I know some who are lower-energy people, have higher-energy kids, or just some random combination of life circumstances who really don’t do much outside of homeschooling. But I and many of my friends do a significant work outside of homeschooling. Now, a lot of what we do is in service of homeschooling, such as the board I’m on and the homeschool program whose Site Council I’m on. But we also do things that are both professions and personal callings. (Obviously,) I’m a writer, and my writing only sometimes intersects with my homeschooling. I also sing, garden, and read voraciously, things I would do whether homeschooling or not.

Yes, we have lives. No, we aren’t giving everything up for our kids. We just happen to be in the situation where we think this is the best choice for us. At this time. In our situation. Things can change.

4. My conversation-mate didn’t imply this, because her child is grown, but probably the most frustrating thing homeschoolers get is other parents implying, or telling us straight to our faces, that by homeschooling, we are implicitly criticizing their choice to send their children to school.

Nope. Sorry. That’s your own insecurity. So don’t put it on me. I made the best choice for my family. If you are concerned that you’re not making the best choice, you’ll have to deal with it. But don’t make it my fault!

Homeschoolers choose homeschooling for their own reasons. When other people get defensive about it, they’re simply speaking about their own insecurities. We aren’t doing it to insult you. In fact, you can pretty much be sure that we didn’t think of you at all when we chose to homeschool!

5. Having met my kids, who were both polite and one of whom showed impressive knowledge in our questioner’s occupation, she didn’t even have to ask this one, but I’ll throw it in just for a laugh: What about socialization?

Hahahahaha! Heck, if my kids didn’t socialize so much, we might actually get something done. Believe me, my kids are doing fine, and thank you for your concern.

So there you have it, my answers to the questions that people ask. Please note that YMMV (your mileage may vary) is the motto of every homeschooler offering advice, so someone else may have different answers. I may have different answers tomorrow. But hopefully today’s answers were enlightening!

The best website for your school

For a number of years I had a specialization I didn’t really seek out: designing websites for educational use. It started when I was consulting for the Small Business Development Center at Cabrillo College and created a career-research website for Cabrillo. Then a Cabrillo teacher hired me to make an interactive website for his class. This was in the late-90’s and as far as I know, distance learning was hardly talked about yet.

From there, I started to help the various schools I was involved with create better websites and more efficient electronic communications. Then I started doing similar work for for-profit educational businesses. Until recently, I still had clients hanging on, but since my life has been going off in a different direction, I am now only keeping my pro bono work for schools we’re involved with.

Over the years, I noticed how really awful most schools’ websites were, and how chaotic and complicated their communication systems were. Whenever I could, I’d help a school try to work this out, though there was almost always a lot of resistance. I won’t tell you how long it took me to get one school to use a single calendar that could be jointly administered.

Since I am now officially free of my paying clients, I thought I’d try to reduce my experience to a few tips that educators can use to make their electronic communications better and more efficient.

Websites:

1) Your website is your face to the world.

Perhaps, when I started doing this in the 90’s, a school could say that their website (if they had one) was superfluous. Now it’s almost always the very first contact parents have with your school or program. And it amazes me how many schools leave this very important entry point to uncommitted parents or incompetent semi-professionals. You need to take your website very, very seriously. It should meet the needs of all your “clients”: current parents, prospective parents, prospective staff, and even alumni. And as a journalist, I can’t emphasize how important it is to have good, well-written information on your website. Journalists who get lost in a maze or find outdated information on your website may just choose to feature another school in their articles.

2) Your website showcases the sort of education you offer.

If your website is boring, your school looks boring. If your website has lots of typos, your school looks ineffectual. If your website has outdated information, your school looks like a place where things only happened in the past.

3) Your website is flexible.

Don’t think of your website as one thing: consider all the ways you can use it to reach your community. The front page should have clear links for the different types of users: parents, students, staff, community.

4) Your website does not have to be fancy.

Have you ever gone to an educational website and faced a 30-second flash extravaganza that you had to sit through? Music that blared out of your computer without warning? Lots of pretty pictures but no information? It’s frustrating and off-putting. Get to the point and get there quickly.

5) Your website is informative.

What do people want to know when they go to the front page? Is that information front and center? It amazes me how many schools don’t have their address and phone number on the front page. And schools that, for example, list an e-mail address that no one is in charge of responding to (true story), or have contact forms that don’t work (this on a website for a Cabrillo College program for kids that I tried to use a few weeks ago).

6) Your website is dynamic.

If you aren’t willing to keep the website up-to-date, don’t put current information on it! But really, you need to make the commitment to make your website dynamic. The public is going to use it, whether you want them to or not.

7) Modern web tools are easy to use.

My last paying client was a school that I’d built a website for years before. We built the website at that time in a way that required knowledge of web design to edit it. Last month, I transitioned them to a Google Site. OK, it’s not nearly as pretty as the original website I designed, and it doesn’t have the cute animations an artist mom made for the original site. But now the staff has direct access to all the information. They aren’t depending on remembering to tell me when something changes — they own the site and they go in and make the change. I really encourage all schools to look into Google Apps for Education — the set-up was quite easy and the maintenance couldn’t be easier.

Communication:

There is no reason why a school needs to communicate via the old-fashioned monthly print newsletter anymore. Electronic tools are free, easy-to-use, and can be adapted for the few “off-line” parents you might have left. Here are some tips:

1) Don’t make an e-mail address optional on your registration form. Declare that you communicate electronically and demand an address. Lots of parents will leave this blank if you give them the option. (Of course, always include a checkbox for “I don’t have access to electronic communication and will need paper copies or access to a school computer.”)

2) Create ways for the school to communicate both formally and informally. A blog or discussion list allows parents and teachers to exchange informal information. In these days of budget cuts, a blog by a teacher about an upcoming project might just tweak a parent’s memory that she’s got the materials you need in her garage. Formal communication needs to be teacher-controlled and trustworthy. If you have an online calendar, it must be correct and show schedule changes on a daily basis.

3) Some staff will be very resistant to change. When you make the transition to electronic communication, it has to be non-optional. Resistant staff eventually come around…. or retire! 🙂

4) You can create so much good feeling in a parent community by keeping everyone connected with what’s going on in school. Photos, student projects, descriptions of events… anything you put up there will give them confidence that your school is a vital, exciting place for their kids to be.

5) Online information is free. Nothing you can do about it — free information is here to stay. So rather than fight it, use your website to give away as much information as possible. Don’t make parents come to the office to get a piece of paper they need — make it available online. Recommend web tools. Have your librarian (if you’ve still got one) blog about new books in the library. Draw your community in, and use all these great new tools to build even better education and community for everyone.

 

What’s up with the science fair?

Regular readers will know that we are big fans of the science fair. Ever since the first time we wandered in, having seen an announcement somewhere, we haven’t found any local event cooler for our kids to take part in. My husband and I marvel at the fact that we didn’t even know about science fairs when we were kids, while our kids enter it every year. [See: A few words about scientists and inventorsScience inspirationsWinning and losingScience Fair… And I’m sure I’ve written more but that’s what you’re getting right now!]

The thing that was particularly interesting about the science fair this year was the lack of high school division projects. We couldn’t find them, and thought perhaps they had split them off due to high demand. No such luck. There were “only about 16 projects (out of an eligible population of about 12,000 high school students)” (from my fellow parent-of-science-fair-kids Kevin, who is also a judge). In other words: we didn’t find the projects done by high schoolers because they were lost in the sea of elementary and middle school projects. Kevin points out that getting 1% of our high school students to do science fair projects seems like a fair goal—and that would mean “about an 8-fold increase over the current situation.”

There are plenty of reasons not to do the science fair. It takes lots of time, parental involvement, teacher leadership and determination on the part of the students. The thing is, I can’t really believe that everyone doesn’t do it—at least at their school science fair. It’s so fun! But apparently I’m a bit out of touch. As far as teens in this county goes, the science fair is nothing special.

At the stream
A future scientific breakthrough in process?

I think this probably reflects the general trend in our society away from a culture that “does” toward a culture that “watches.” It has shocked me to see how few kids are willing to sing these days—they have gotten the message that if they don’t have a hit song, no one wants to hear them. It’s not like science is as dorky now as it was when I was a kid: With cool science-based shows like Myth Busters, it’s possible that more kids now have a positive view of science than before. It just seems to be a general lack of interest in actually “doing” anything. Kids are content to watch.

It probably also has to do with what’s been happening in our public schools (though I do note that in our county at least, it’s the public schools who send the most kids to the science fair). Since NCLB doesn’t test for science, it sends that general “science isn’t important” message right down the line. Teachers in schools under program improvement in this county have pretty much had to cut science from K-8 curriculum, even though studying science improves the scores in math and language arts tests in an enjoyable way.

And for high school kids, it probably has a huge amount to do with our culture of homework which has so bogged down today’s students. (See Race to Nowhere.) More and more homeschooled kids are turning up at the science fair, and it’s easy to see why. We allow our kids the time to relax into science and really be able to explore it. Without hours of worksheets due every night, a kid has time to dream and create—time that is necessary for real scientific exploration. When kids have hours of homework every night, and then more on weekends, how can they possibly follow through on a high-school level project? That takes not only a deep interest, but deep learning, deep commitment, and most importantly, supportive adults who mentor the student through a difficult process.

Today it was finally raining in the way we expect on the Central Coast—steady wet ranging from drips to downpours all day long. Mid-morning, my daughter said she’d had enough of percents and wanted to go for a rainwalk. I could have insisted that the worksheet was not done and that was her commitment to math today, but instead I said, well, OK. I know she loves rainwalks.

And so we went out and splashed down into the redwood forest, where she sang and wandered and wondered about the things we saw. For all I know, that was the time in which a scientific idea coalesced in her brain. For all I know, by planting my boot in a puddle and getting a soaker, I may have planted the seed for next year’s science fair.

Crippling self-doubt

I had a conversation recently with someone whom I respect greatly. She’s a great person, a loving mom, and has a successful career. But partway through our conversation, I had a realization: She suffers from crippling self-doubt.

I didn’t mention it to her. Perhaps it’s just me projecting, but I’m somewhat of an expert on crippling self-doubt.

I used to mull over everything anyone said to me, trying to find the hidden insults and innuendo. I used to stop myself from doing things because I’d step outside of myself and think, Who would want *me*, of all people, to do *this*? I used to worry about what “people” would think.

I don’t know who those people are, but they ruled my life.

Some good things happened in my life:

I married someone who supports me. Even if it’s something he has no interest in himself, he will congratulate me and say I did a good job. Even when I start doing my “negative self-talk,” he’ll tell me I’m full of it. When I think something is no big deal, he’ll make a big deal of it. He points out my successes, when I see that I haven’t yet reached my end goal. He tells me he believes in me.

Another good thing that happened is that I ran out of time. Literally: I just simply don’t have enough time to do everything I need, want, and must do. So a few things had to go. Organized closets? Gone. Clean fingernails? Often not the case. Crippling self-doubt? Don’t have time for that today.

Finally, I became a mom, and the first time you hear your kid doing that negative self-talk thing that you do…. that’s when you realize how awful it is.

I guess I’d say I’m still ‘recovering’ from my crippling self-doubt habit. Tonight I am reading — for the first time ever — at In Celebration of the Muse, a huge Santa Cruz event that celebrates the feminine muse. Years ago, I wanted so desperately to read at the Muse, and was devastated that I wasn’t chosen. This year, I saw the call for entries and I popped something in e-mail. Frankly, when I received the invitation to read, I didn’t remember what I’d submitted! So in that way, I am ‘recovered.’

But as I was dressing, I got out my fabulous red dress, the one I bought second-hand one day when I was feeling fabulous, and I thought, Hm. Can I carry this off? Perhaps I should wear sober black.

But In Celebration of My Muse, and In Celebration of Overcoming Crippling Self-Doubt (for tonight, at least), I am typing this now all dressed up in my red dress.

OK, so I cut out the shoulder pads. I wasn’t feeling quite *that* fabulous.

I hope I will see my friend there, and I will give her a hug, and I will pass her some of my anti-CSD love.

From one busy mom to another: Just do it. When are you ever going to get the chance again, to do today what you want to? Tomorrow, you’ll be on to something else. Something else to love, fear, and conquer.

Ganbatte!

D.I.Y. Bar Mitzvah

When my husband and I started talking about having kids, the first thing he said was, “I want to raise my kids Jewish.” I answered, “What does that mean to you?” And we’ve been trying to figure that out ever since.

We are not a religious family. I was raised Catholic by scientist parents who stayed with the church for the sake of tradition and community, but made it pretty clear that (like most American Catholics) their views didn’t align with the edicts coming down from Rome. My husband comes from a long line of Jewish rabble-rousers — socialists who expressed their Jewishness in the spirit of tikkun olam — “heal the world.” He had a Bar Mitvah, but they seldom went to temple otherwise.

So what does it mean to us to raise Jewish children? For me, it meant education. Although I’d always had Jewish friends, and I had a vague sense of the basics of Judaism, I had not scratched the surface of a religious tradition that goes back before written history started. As soon as our kids’ Jewish education started, in preschool, I felt lost amidst a body of learning that Jewish children absorb slowly, through practice in their households. At preschool, we learned the basics of celebrating Shabbat and the major holidays.

Then our son aged out of preschool and it was on to Temple school. We’d fit in pretty well at preschool — one teacher in particular was such a perfect nurturer for my unusual little beings that we still keep in touch. But Temple school was a different story. Most of the kids found it fun; our shy son usually ended up in tears. This is not to criticize our local temple for how they run their school — it works great for most kids. It just didn’t quite align with our needs. We tried out another school, which was better but didn’t work out for location and scheduling reasons. And then we were on our own.

I guess our Jewish schooling story is a bit like our schooling story in general: We tried out all the possible options, and though we could see that the schools we tried were great schools for some kids, they didn’t work for ours.

We ended up doing the same thing with our Jewish education that we did with the rest of their education: cobbling up something that fit with our family’s needs. It was not orthodox, but it’s been a wonderful experience for our family.

Last weekend was our son’s Bar Mitzvah. He has been working with a wonderful tutor, whose job was not only to prepare our son for his Bar Mitzvah, but also to help us as a family figure out what our son’s Bar Mitzvah was going to mean to us.

The B’nai Mitzvah (that’s for either gender — for girls it’s Bat Mitzvah) is the rite of passage into adulthood for Jews. By becoming a Bar Mitzvah, a boy declares that he is taking responsibility for his actions. When we started the process, it seemed forced. How can you get a kid to get meaning out of this process? But as we approached the actual event, it seemed that the event itself was bringing about the change that it required. Our son, after a year of intermittent gritted teeth resolve and pleading not to do it, became committed to the process. He read, studied, and learned. He started to take responsibility for his actions.

Ours was a pretty unusual celebration. Usually done in a temple, our son became a Bar Mitzvah in a tent in an olive orchard on my parents’ farm. Usually surrounded by a Jewish congregation, we invited the people who we felt would most appreciate sharing the day with him. We couldn’t invite everyone we wanted to, so it was winnowed down to some of our closest friends (few of them Jewish), teachers from 3 periods in his life, relatives who had been a part of his life (most of them not Jewish),  relatives we wished we could spend more time with. Three of my husband’s cousins came to take part in the ceremony, which meant a lot to us.

In the end, the Bar Mitzvah we made was probably rather different than what we ever would have pictured. But it was perfect for our son and for our family. After a nail-biting couple of months, sure it was going to be pouring that day, we got a gorgeous, mild winter day. Coming back from the house just after sunset, I saw the tent lighted from within, the moon a sliver so small it doesn’t show up on the photo, flanked by Venus and Jupiter, shining brightly over the scene. The kids were blowing bubbles and chasing each other down the hillside. The adults chatted over homemade wine and olive oil.

A little off-beat, on familiar turf, it was the Bar Mitzvah that fit our family.

 

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