Who is at Home?

Genevieve Kinecke has posted some interesting thoughts on the "Wifely Duty." She's exploring the toll that the two-career marriage has had on intimacy.  And there are certainly some very good points there.

Most of my readers here aren't from two career families. They are moms at home, many of them homeschooling.  So, the tendency is to reason that Genevieve's post has nothing to do with us.  Ah, but it does.  There is a mother-at-home corollary. And it's far more insidious because it creeps up on you when you think you are doing your duty and you scarcely know you are falling into its terrible claws. 

Genevieve quotes the following, writing about the husband of a wife who is at work in the world all day:

So pity the married man hoping to get a bit of comfort from the wife at day's end. He must somehow seduce a woman who is economically independent of him, bone tired, philosophically disinclined to have sex unless she is jolly well in the mood, numbingly familiar with his every sexual manoeuvre, and still seething over his failure to wipe down the worktops after cooking the kids' dinner. He can hardly be blamed for opting instead to check his email, catch a few minutes of Match of the Day and call it a night.

I offer another scenario:  The husband, home from a long day at work, checks with his wife via cell phone.  There is no inviting smell meeting him as he walks through the front door. She is not at home, cooking dinner. Instead, she is shouting instructions over a bad cell connection to order pizza.  He is to pick up two of their three children from soccer practice at the school across the street.  She wants him to feed them, bathe them, and get them to bed.  In the meantime, she will gather their daughter from band practice at school and rush her to her evening dance class.  She'll dash through the grocery store during dance lessons and be home around nine.  From there, the scenario will look much like the one quoted above, except for the economic independence.

Ladies, we don't have to be employed outside the home to lose the focus on hearth and home.  We don't have to be employed outside the home to leave our homes devoid of a feminine presence. We can be lured away by the busy-ness of suburbia. We can be persuaded by coaches and teachers that one more class, one more practice, is completely necessary. We can feel insecure as we compare what our children are doing to the many and varied activities of the neighbors. We can find our own meaning of success in the extracurricular successes of our children. This just might be a trickier problem to solve. We want our children to have extracurricular opportunities.  We want to be able to offer them chances to grow and explore. We want them to "succeed."  But how do we do that without completely destroying the fabric of family life, making family dinners all but extinct, and rendering ourselves so exhausted and so unavailable for intimacy or conversation that we can do little more at the end of the day than roll over and go to sleep?

How's that for ironic?

The school year is not going to start as planned.  I've gotten distracted.  I am distracted by a series of books that I purchased to help me better understand Attention Deficit Disorder.  I have been derailed and distracted by Delivered from Distraction!

It all began innocently enough.  I was feeling sick late one afternoon and began to channel surf to distract myself from the nausea.  I happened upon EWTN and Johnette Benkovich was talking to Ned Hallowell, author of several books on ADD and crazy-busyness in general.  His descriptions of ADD adults so fit a person I dearly love that I stopped clicking the remote and listened.  My newly diagnosed teenager wandered in. He listened.  The show ended; I went to the computer; the books were on their way in minutes.

One thing I knew before the show was that I needed to spend some time thinking about how to structure Christian's day, week, year so that he has the necessary support.  But I also know that there are other people in my household who need serious structure.  And I had a sense these books could help me to help them.  So, instead of starting the school year and then scrapping the program after reading the books, I decided to take another week, read the books, and start really well prepared.  The neighborhood kids don't start until next week anyway.

For me, the most riveting point that Dr. Hallowell made was that we are not to strive for independence.  Instead, we need healthy interdependence.  The ADD adult needs support people. The wife of a man with ADD can foster healthy interdependence and really be an asset to her husband.  There is difference between supporting and enabling though (and I'm still reading to learn more about that).  As I pondered this whole dynamic of interdependence and I thought about countless struggles to "fix" or "change" those very prounounced ADD tendencies, it occurred to me that part of the vocation of a woman whose husband has ADD might just be to fill that support role in a deliberate, tangible way. Similarly, the mother of a child with ADD needs to look not so much towards making him tow the line like everybody else but to embrace how he is wired an dharness that uniqueness for something good. My role is to coach and to do what I can do to make home as structured for success as possible.

Dr. Hallowell also makes the point that just as there is true ADD (a neurological condition), there is envronmentally induced pseudo-ADD.  The environment in which we live--to which we are wired--feeds frenetic activity, muti-tasking, and distractiblity.  We are Crazy Busy: Overbooked, Overstretched and About to Snap. I'm just guessing here (haven't read that book yet), but an ADD individual living in a crazy-busy world might not be the best scenario for success.

The last nine months have been slow.  Really, really slow.  Every time I think I can add things in, up the busyness factor, God slows me down.  This morning, my son Stephen told a friend of mine that he wasn't going to play travel soccer this fall because that would really make mom pass out.  It's a little extreme but the truth is that every busy day we have had has been followed by two or three "pass out" days. I have spent nine months saying, "I can't."  And every time I'm forced to dial back, I ask what God is trying to teach me.  Now, close to the end (please Lord) of this extreme form of reminding to slow down, I am beginning to understand that crazy busy isn't ever going to do any of us any good and little and hidden needs to be my way of life well past this baby's birthday. I truly believe that the success and the happiness of this family depends on my ability to take seriously these principles of Dr. Hallowell's in my own life:

10 Key Principles to Managing Modern Life

Do what matters most to you (the most common casualty of an excessively busy life):
Don't spread yourself too thin - you must choose, you must prioritize.  In order to both do well and to be happy, you must say , "No thank you," to many projects, people and ideas.  "Cultivate your lilies and get rid of your leeches."

Create a positive emotional environment wherever you are:
When the emotional atmosphere is less than positive, people lose flexibility, the ability to deal wtih ambiguity and complexity, trust, enthusiasm, patience, humor, and creativity.  When you feel safe and secure, you feel welcomed and appreciated, you think better, behave better, and are better able to help others.

Find your rhythm:
Get in the "zone", follow your "flow" - research has proven that this state of mind elevates all that you do to its hightest level.  When you find your rhythm, you allow your day to be taken care of by the automatic pilot in your brain, so the creative, thinking part can attend to what it is uniquely qualified to attend to.

Invest your time wisely so as to get maximum return:
Try not to let time be stolen from you or let yourself fritter it away - use the Time Value Assessment to guide you in what to add, preserve, cut back on, and eliminate.

Don't waste time screensucking (a modern addiction - the withdrawal of looking at a computer/BlackBerry/etc. screen):
Break the habit of having to be near your computer at all times by changing your environment or structure - move your screen to a different room; schedule an amount of time you are allowed to be on the computer; plan mandatory breaks.

Identify and control the sources of gemmelsmerch in your environment:
Gemmelsmerch, the force that distracts a person from what he or she wants to or ought to be doing, is as pervasive and powerful as gravity.

Delegate:
Delegate what you don't like to do or are not good at if you possibly can.  Your goal should be not to be independent, but rather effectively interdependent.  You do for me and I do for you - this is what makes life possible.

Slow down:
Stop and think.  As yourself, what's your hurry?  Why wake up, alrady impatient, and rush around and try to squeeze in more things than you should, thereby leading you to do all of it less well?  Your hurry is your enemy.

Don't multitask ineffectively (avoid frazzing):
Give one task your full attention.  You will do it better.  You may eventually get so good at it that your conscious mind can attend to other aspects of the task other than menial ones.  This is the only way a human can multitask effectively.

Play:
Imaginatively engage with what you are doing.  This will bring out the best part of your mind, focus you on your task, and make you more effective and efficient.

What I did with my computer vacation...

On Monday evening, as we were eating dinner, we saw a huge bolt of lightning out our sunroom window.  With it, a simulataneous clap of thunder and...the ringing of a toy microwave and telephone??

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Yep.  Apparently, there was so much static in the air that it jolted the battery-operated toys in Katie's kitchen into action.  We thought it was pretty cool until it occurred to me that a jolt that could hit the play kitchen just might have hit the computer in the room above it.  Michael went up to check and he didn't come back down promptly.  I took that as a good sign--must have gotten distracted by his e-mail.  No...he was up there trying to get the computer to even turn on. Long story short, the computer was fried and so was the cable modem.  We fought with the cable company (who graciously said they'd be out August 30th) and Michael spent hours fetching, installing and troubleshooting a whole new system.  And here I am!

So what did I do with my computer vacation?  I remembered that Meredith had invited us to celebrate our kitchens and I turned my attention to making it something worth celebrating.I started by clearing the clutter off the refrigerator door.  I don't really like a lot of busyness there. I've got some magnets of liturgical art that I love (they were a gift from a friend) and some others that are tiny little miniatures of the art from my aunt's collection, hanging in the gallery that bears my uncle's name. These are paintings I want my children to recognize immediately as familiar friends.  That's about the extent of my "Fridgeschooling." I've also got a MomAgenda family calendar and a posting of the family rules and a current chore chart for this week.

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I had some art work up but, truthfully, there is not room for everybody's art at one time and it was always getting caught up in the doors. So, I looked around for an alternative.  My eyes lit upon a woebegone fabric sample hanging from the blinds in the sunroom (which is our eating space).  Hmmm...make drapes before the Carnival?  Nah, it's been 4 years since I hung that swatch; I don't want to rush things.  Instead, I taped artwork up to create a valance. Well, I didn't, but Michael and Christian did. Now, the children's art is beautifully displayed, safe from rips and tears and it adds a happy note to the kitchen! (All the photos are thumbnails--click to see it bigger.)

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The table in the sunroom happened a year or so ago.  The eating space in the kitchen proper is precisely in the middle of the house.  Our table is large and there are lots of chairs around it.  I felt like I was always bumping into it.  I also didn't really like looking at the prep mess while eating dinner.  So, we moved it into the sunroom.  While disscussing Simple Elegance, Molly mentioned angling a table.  I tried it and it's so much nicer that way! Before moving the table into the sunroom, that room was mostly a play space.  My children like to play close to me and I'm usually in the kitchen.  We've left the play kitchen and some baby doll accoutrements and in the corner are a wooden castle, some trolls, a basket of wooden train tracks and trains, and some Lincoln Logs.

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There is not an abundance of cabinet space in my kitchen, so we hung a pot rack above the center island.  I also use the high counter between the kitchen and sunroom to display and store stoneware serving pieces. My sink has a beautiful, wide view of the backyard and I frequently stand there watching family soccer games while cooking and cleaning up.

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My kitchen sits squarely in the middle of my house, a fact that rather irritates me sometimes because it's rarely as neat as it appears here.  But there is no denying that it's the heart of my home!

All together now!: The Beauty of Unit Study

We've talked about the little ones and we've talked about special needs, but we haven't really addressed the organizational underpinning of learning in the heart of my home.  We haven't talked about "Rabbit Trails," more familiar to some as "unit study."

In the spring of 1987, I read everything I could get my hands on about marriage and weddings.  I clipped magazines, scouted stores, talked to florists, made silk bouquets and tiny little favors. I recorded everything in a beautiful journal.  No one assigned this reading and research and hands-on work. I was driven by my own very intense interest;-)  There was a culminating event at the end of my unit study and many pictures were taken to record what I had learned.

In the spring of 1988, I found myself doing a similar study on pregnancy and babies. And in the spring of 1990, yet another self-driven research project on cancer. All three times, I learned more about a topic than I'd learned about any topic in school. And on no occasion did I learn it from a textbook. Each of these are examples of how we learn in "real life."  It's integrated, driven by delight or need to know, and founded upon living books written by people who are passionate about the topic at hand. And it's meaningful. It's real life learning.

Textbooks present difficult material in a condensed, yet broad manner.  They are notoriously dry, with a few exceptions, and they go broadly over the whole subject matter instead of plunging deeply into a narrower piece of it.  Living books, on the other hand, are infused with the breath of the matter.  They are interesting and compel us to want to know more.

The traditional approach to education relies heavily on textbooks and age-segregated learning.  The approach in my home relies on living books and learning all together as a family.  For my "grammar school aged" children, I plan math and language arts individually and the rest is left to family rabbit trails.

There was one time when I ordered carefully laid out lesson plans for each of them. I thought they would simplify my life. I stayed up almost all night reading those plans.  I reveled in their order, in having "it all done for me." I took comfort in the idea that each day was planned for each child. Then I wondered what I would do when Stephen was interested in the continents Nicholas was studying and Patrick wanted to study the human body with Mary Beth and they all wanted to get in on liturgical art picture study.  My children have never learned in a little box and as I studied those perfect little boxes, I realized they'd never work for us.  The lesson plans, which could not be returned, stayed on the shelf.  The price I paid was the price of my tuition for lessons learned. 

What does work for us and works very well is to plan on math, language arts and Latin at the earliest part of our day and then to leave two chunks of time later--one for the rabbit trail and one for nature study.

We choose a topic, gather lots of books related to that topic, research the topic on the web, ask other folks who have studied the topic and then take as long as we need to get our fill of the topic.  We spent three weeks studying China and creating a lapbook.  We spent ten weeks on Colonial America.  We spent about a week on ants. The building from the littlest up approach works well here (though most unit study enthusiasts advocate a trickle down approach).  I've found that my older children and I can learn a great deal about a topic from a Magic School Bus book or a Gail Gibbons book or a Jean Fritz picture book.  And when the material is presented simply and memorably, they retain it.

So, we start with the content-oriented picture books.  Then we add the picture story books.  Then I add a a read-aloud novel for everyone.  Then I add a read-alone novel for the older children.  From there, we see where the subject matter takes us.  Sometimes there are handicrafts and sometimes there is art.  Sometimes there is music and sometimes there is a great deal to be done outdoors.  I don't force those things.  As a matter of fact, there are times (like when a new baby comes) that I deliberately plan rabbit trails that are limited to the books alone.

One of the greatest joys of learning this way is that academic experiences become family memories.

Remember when we studied apples and we did nothing but peel and cook and can apples for days and days and we had an apple pie contest with the Stantons?  Remember when we worked so hard to put the gardens in?  Remember when we went to that Japanese restaurant?  Every time I see those old split rail fences, I remember when we studied the Civil War.

Who needs review sheets?  We have each other and the vivid memories that come with reading interesting books and doing interesting things.

What this kind of learning means for me from a management standpoint is multi-faceted.  I can't look at five different lesson plans, with five different sets of science plans and five different history time periods and five different geography ideas and know them all well. And that's just the grammar-school-aged children! I can't supervise that kind of learning and I can't give it the kind of depth I want it to have. Granted, it's all there for me, but I still have to plan, because I have to figure out how to ensure that it all gets done.

On the other hand, with rabbit trails, I do have to make an investment of planning time. And sometimes the investment is rather large.  I will sit for hours and pull together different facets of a study.  I don't think I have to do this, though.  I think I want to do this.  There are unit studies out there, pretty much already written and I hear they are quite good.  I just can't seem to keep myself from adding and deleting and tailoring to the tastes of our family.I often say that mom's teaching style is as important as a child's learning style and this teaching style feeds the creative spirit in me.

How do I know what to study next?  I don't really think order is all that important.  And I think it's natural that children in different locales will study different things at different times.  Fourth graders in Virginia schools study Virginia history.  I remember studying New England history in the third grade in Rhode Island.  I'm not sure a child in Arkansas will study either in very much depth, but he'll know a great deal more about the history of the deep south. I don't remember ever studying fossils or dinosaurs.  I studied plants at least three times.

The body of knowledge is so huge now, that children will never know everything there is to know about history and science and geography.  What he really needs to know is how to learn.  He won't get that from reading textbooks and taking the comprehension test at the end of chapter provided by the textbook committee.  When we design a unit study or evaluate one already written, we do it with an eye on what such a study should include in order to provide for real learning of a topic.

There should be:

  • Plenty of reading related to the topic.  Looks for books that engage you. A quality children's book is one that can be enjoyed by an adult as well.  If it's a picture book, the pictures should enhance the text.  It it's a content book it should be written by someone with an engaging writing style who is passionate and knowledgeable about the subject at hand.  If it's fiction, it should captivate the reader and works its way into his memory.
  • Vocabulary:  Every subject matter has a vocabulary of its own.  If you know this vocabulary, you have pegs upon which to hang the rest of the information.  Choose short lists of vocabulary to study daily.
  • Recording:  Children need ways to record the information they learn.  Sometimes this is narration--a child will tell me what he's read and I will record what he says at the keyboard or an older child will write about what he read.  Narrations are kept in notebooks and often embellished with stickers or illustrations.  Another method of recording is lapbooks.  We've had some wonderful successes with lapbooks.  They are both memorable and labor-intensive.  Well worth the effort if you have the time.
  • Some kind of hands-on experience.  This might be a field trip to a historical site or the building of a birdhouse.  Just bring the learning out of the book and into the three dimensional world of the child.
  • Music and art related to the topic.  It usually doesn't take much to find an art or music connection or both.  Don't force this fit--just look for the obvious connections.
  • Poetry:  These are the best of times for memorization and there is always a poem out there perfect for the occasion.  Use them for copywork and for memory work.

I am firmly convinced that children learn best this way.  I am also firmly convinced that I couldn't manage any other style of learning in my home.  It suits us and one of the beauties of home education is that we can choose a style of learning that suits us.  People who know Charlotte Mason are quick to point out that she wasn't a unit study advocate.  I know that.  But I'm not Charlotte Mason (and she didn't have eight children and a traveling husband). I take many of her ideas about learning and apply them to my own household situation.  We use narration and copywork and dictation in our homes much the way it was advocated by Miss Mason.  And we are out of doors whenever we can be--also a pillar of a Charlotte Mason education.  Sometimes our units are nature study units, but always we have nature study going, whether it's unit related or not.

I think that unit study guards us from being intellectually lazy.  We have to ask "What do we want or need to know?  How should we find out?"  It's not all spelled out for us in a lesson plan--Read page 26 and answer the questions.  This will ensure you know what you need to know. Life doesn't work that way.  We need to teach our children how to find out.  Furthermore, we need to inspire in them a desire to find out.  Unit studies inspire that real approach to knowledge acquisition and retention. I wouldn't have it any other way.