This has been a long, tiring week. Month, even. This is the time of year that I always see, to feel off balance, out-of-sync. I believe it has to do with the amount of time spent indoors, idling spending time under artifical lighting. For me, at least, I also seem to spend a lot less time with other people. I must get out of practice, because when I finally do get together with others, I inevitably end up feeling like a dufious. You're wondering, what does this have to do with education? Be patient, I'll explain.

I've really never wanted to do "this" on my own. I couldn't imagine having the sole responsibility of coming up with everything my kids needed to learn and do. I had heard of cooperative preschools, why not homeschools? Well, if you were reading back in the Fall last year, three mothers and I began a cooperative kindergarten of sorts, once a week, which we called SPIRAL DAY. Each of us would host one Friday a month, and assist one Friday a month, while the other two had about 3 hours to themselves. I felt that although it could be stressful and overwhelming at times, all the kids were enjoying it, and it was enriching our lives. However, things seemed to disintegrate in December, and SPIRAL DAY didn't resume after the New Year. Last week we decided we'd try just have play days instead of specifically themed, educational days.

Well, earlier this week, one of the other mothers called to talk with me. Somehow the conversation wound its way to SPIRAL Day. Several of the kids had expressed disappointment at the loss of the activities. What it seemed to come down to was that after this mom had analyzed HER feelings about SPIRAL days, she felt that Jade wasn't interested in the activities and that she caused the other girls to feel conflicted about participating in the prepared events... She seemed to just want to play, and was sad when the other girls didn't want to play with her.

I have had worries about Jade's lack of attention span and INTEREST in learning about any specific topics. She's always moving, often forgetful, etc, etc. So naturally this conversation (combined with my mental state at this time of year) practically tossed me into a crisis mode. Not that it was specifically this conversation, you see, but I suppose it was a bit of a catalyst. After lots of writing, and reading, and conversing with faceless women on message boards, I've come to several conclusions.

This is not a competition. There is nothing wrong with my child. She is an amazing, intelligent, spirited, charamatic, charming, thoughtful FIVE year old. She's a YOUNG five year old. Yes, she was eligible for Kindergarten this year, but I deliberately made the CHOICE to keep her home for at least one year. I'd already made the decision last spring that I'd keep her home from 2003-2004 for a Pre-K/ Early K homeschooling year. She does not need to be reading at a third, or even first grade level for at LEAST two years.

Her mind does not need to be prodded, pushed, or forced open. I've been intriguiged by The Well Trained Mind approach. I thought that maybe I would enjoy something like that. A curriculum with structure, but flexibility. But it just isn't a FIT. I picked homeschooling, in large part, because I felt it would give Jade an oppurtunity to learn and do things on her own terms, to her own abilities and interest levels. Pushing her to read before she's ready or interested, or forcing her to parrot factoids when she doesn't want to, just do not fit with that goal.

I am not going to compare my child to other people's kids. All that it does is hurt people, my friends, their kids, strangers kids, myself, and ESPECIALLY Jade. She doesn't deserve that. I do believe that she will learn what she needs to know without textbooks or worksheets, or staged lessons. **I** long for structure and routine, but that needs to come from inside of me. **I** am the one who needs to strive for a rhythm for our days. **I** am the one who needs to get away from the house and moving out in the world. There is no quick fix.

Here is what I have decided to do. Though I am allowing myself to grieve for something that I wanted, thought I had, and feel I've lost... I'm going to move on with our days. We've started reading a lot more. The past few weeks, we have started reading chapter books! My Father's Dragon, The Chocolate Touch, and now, Mary Poppins. In the car, we've been listening to Charlotte's Web on CD. Next on the list is Pippi Longstockings. There are several others that I have written down that I'd like to check out after that. And of course, we are continuing to check out and read picture books.

We haven't any "classes," per-se, this semester, but I'm glad about that. We will do storytime at the library, and our Tuesday AP playgroup, plus TCH Park Days on Fridays. That leaves plenty of time for trips to the park and library, and play dates and kid swaps, if we decide to have them. And of course, that allows us plenty of time for us to pursue our own interests. (Jade has recently become entranced with photographs of women giving birth in water! Unusual interest for a five year old, but it's all good.) :-)

Puddle Jumping: Reflections on Homeschooling my Little 'Uns

It's 2:30 in the afternoon. My head aches vaguely. My kids are quiet- for the moment. It's been raining off and on all day, and we're all feeling unsettled. "Cabin fever," my mom calls it. It always strikes sometime between January and March. It isn't quite so bad here in the Bay Area as it was when I was living in the Midwest, but it's enough that I feel like tearing my hair out.

It's days like this that made my heart pound with dreadful anxiety last August. Each time I drove past the local elementary school, my breathing would accelerate and my blood pressure rise. I'd envision long, exhausting days, my young children fighting and complaining that they had nothing to do. Would I grow weary and depressed, increasingly frustrated? Was I crazy to keep my daughter home from kindergarten? Would it be a catastrophe?

I glance out the window as the baby begins to shriek in the other room, her voice piercingly rising and falling. My five-year old joins in the chorus. Resolutely, I walk to the door. "I'm going to the park; is anyone coming with me?" I announce. The yelling stops and they both come running to join me at the door.

"Mama, isn't it raining?"

I open the door and tug our wagon out. I look at my tall, amazing daughter. "Eh. It's only drizzling, lets go." We head to the park, the girls suddenly chipper. "Go run in that puddle," I instruct. I'm looked at as if I've grown a third eye. After thinking about it for a few moments, both girls are splashing gleefully in the muddy water. They run back and forth, pulling the wagon behind.

The knot in my neck, which I had been unaware of, came loose, and my headache blissfully vanished. I wondered what my daughter would have been doing that afternoon if she'd been enrolled in the local public school. I reflected on this as we walked slowly around the park. As we started to head back home almost an hour later, I concluded that it didn't really matter. Everybody has rainy days. It's what you make of them that counts.