STYLE
Quiet
Loud
Muted
Whisper
Scream


RECENT ENTRIES
Can You Feel A Little Love?
Just Like Every Day
Holes In The Head
He Said She Said
Your My Best Friend


ARCHIVES
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
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April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
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April 2003
March 2003
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January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
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March 2002
February 2002
January 2002
December 2001
November 2001
October 2001
September 2001
August 2001
July 2001
June 2001
May 2001
April 2001
March 2001
February 2001
January 2001
December 2000


OTHER VOICES


MISCELLANEOUS
Webcam

Talking To Myself

I can't sleep again. I don't know why. It could have been that pint of Ben and Jerry's. It could be that I have a million and one things I want to think about, read, learn, and do before I die. I have been so close to death and am still alive and it is all still swirling around in my head and there aren't enough hours in the day to live, or to think about it, or to love it all.

Little clear glass votive cups sit on my marble window sill with their tiny dancing yellow-orange flames. I don't know why but that makes me very happy and comforted and warm inside.

Everything is still in my world. Everyone is at peace in my little bubble. Even though I can't sleep, I am happy. There is the low hum of the air conditioner units outside of the building and the sound of my fingers tapping the keys. Occasionally, he breathes in deeply and I pause to wait for him to exhale.

I have been having more doubts about what we are doing here, what my role is in this whole process. I am trying to regain my strength and confidence. I have been looking for guidance and support. I am quite alone in so many ways. Even in the world of home schooling there are minorities. People who honestly believe in child-led learning and self education through interest are not in the majority, at least not where I am. I don't think it is because it doesn't work, I think it is because people are afraid of empowering and encouraging children to think for themselves. It is extremely difficult to trust in your children's abilities to choose their own education. It is scary to go completely in the opposite direction of traditional methods of teaching. However, it only takes a few minutes of reading the words of John Holt or John Taylor Gatto before I find that courage again. I believe that I am a good mother. Even with all of the floundering we do as parents trying to figure out the best way to handle everything, I believe I do everything I do because I want my children to be strong and smart and healthy and have a true sense of themselves and who they are. My heart is there. It has always been there. Even while I am still holding on to the occasional workbook, even those moments when I am ready to give up and send Logan and Savannah off to school and just not have to deal with it anymore. When I feel like I have to push them and I don't want to push them and I can feel that they don't want to be pushed. Those selfish and confusing moments. My heart keeps me doing this thing I do. Whatever it is that draws me to it is strong. Even in my moments of doubt, I feel the importance of what I am doing and stay true to my heart. It is the moment when I see a spark in their eyes that comes from complete imagination and their own creativity. It is when Hope brings me a handful of drawings to staple together for her very own storybook and one of them is a very accurate drawing of a cow with a horn in the center of it's head that she has called Polly the Unicow.

I have to start putting into practice my true role as facilitator and quietly get the hell out of the way of some completely amazing things going on in the kids' lives. I have to figure out what has happened that has halted Logan's voracious appetite for reading. I have a feeling it was either assigning him Black Beauty or the mention of book reports. It totally defeats the purpose if it is going to make him not want to read. I don't need proof that the kid reads. I watch him. I don't need proof that he knows what he read. I usually have to listen to a very indepth description of every single chapter of the story. Way to go ruining all of that by making it both boring and a pain in the ass for him. Isn't it enough that he has chosen to bypass the whole book report concept and started using Word to write his own story inspired by all of the great novels he has been reading?

Anyway, talk about going off on a tangent.

I may be the rogue mom. I admit that I do not think and do and say everything motherly all of the time. I am not June Cleaver. Who would want to be? There are different sides to everyone. I don't want to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't want to be someone else's expectation. It has taken me twenty-eight years to figure out that I don't have to be. I don't want it to ever be an issue for my children. The cycle has to stop. I have found this to be true in lots of different areas of my parenting, not just the ideals behind traditional methods of education.

So here I still am, waiting for the Ben and Jerry's to stop waging war on my stomach as punishment for being so freaking stupid. Hashing all of this out like someone is actually listening. Like someone cares. Listening to him breathe. Catching the last little bit of orange glow turn black on the window sill as the candles burn out.

Posted by gwendolyn on May 12, 2003 at 05:11 AM