Curriculum & Weightlifting

 For all the things I love about homeschool, curriculum is certainly not one of them.  To say that the number of options for homeschool curriculum is overwhelming is an understatement.  The compartmentalization of learning into subjects makes the whole undertaking absolutely daunting.  Sure, you could buy a "box" curriculum that's somewhat all-inclusive, but chances are you won't like everything about it, and they never include things like math, spelling, grammar, writing, etc.  By the time I complete all of the hurdles that the curriculum guide orders me to jump for the day, I've got no legs left for anything else.  My kids are bored, I'm discouraged, and nobody's even learned to read or add yet.

This year, we've gotten off to a bit of a rough start.  I decided to try out a new curriculum--a curriculum that's not completely written yet.  It's kind of a train wreck.  I have to print a crap-load of worksheets off the internet, half of which I don't end up using because I think they're lame or we don't get far enough into the lesson to cover the material.  It takes a ridiculous amount of work to get the school day started in the first place.  The kitchen table or couch needs to be cleared, notebooks and pencils gathered, lesson materials prepared, someone needs to find the hole puncher, and without fail, somebody always decides that he's gotta go spend 20 minutes in the bathroom right when it's time to sit down and learn.  Once started, our lessons are always choppy.  One kid takes longer than another to write, the others start to wiggle while waiting, then wrestle, then box.  Someone gets hurt, the band-aids come out.  Something gets spilled and has to get cleaned up.  And then, of course, there's the intensely cute and terribly demanding two-year-old.  He does not like it when I pay attention to the older kids, or try to get a lesson in edgewise.  He hates books on CD, and screams nonstop whenever I try to play them in the car.  He bangs on the piano while anyone is practicing, he turns the pages in the book before I've finished reading, and he leaves the lids off the dry eraser markers so they're all dried out when I try to write on the board.  Eden turned five last week, and is ready to learn, but I'm not ready to teach her.  I try to include her in as much as I can, but it's never enough, and she gets frustrated and bored and often ends up covered in chicken poop after an effort to entertain herself.

Today was a particularly difficult day.  I've lost track of how many weeks behind schedule we are on the curriculum.  My temper was short, the lesson was long, and we of course didn't get through it all before throwing in the towel and skipping grammar for the third day this week.  I started crying, and then the kids were all angels.  (I asked Eden if all I had to do was cry to get her to behave and she said yes.)  Luckily I've figured out enough to know that when I break down, it usually means that my perspective is off.  I decided we needed to take a walk around the lake to refocus.

During our walk, a beautiful thing happened.  My tears stopped flowing.  My baby stopped screaming.  Well, for a little while anyway.  He started again about halfway around the lake when he got tired and didn't want to walk anymore.  But for the briefest instant, I remembered why I homeschool.  I do it because I love my family.  I want to be with them.  I want what's best for them.  Most days, it seems, I doubt whether or not I really am the best teacher for them.  I'm not patient or kind or fun when I'm teaching a curriculum.  But then it occurred to me that I don't homeschool for the curriculum.  I homeschool for my family.

We found a cantaloupe hiding among the weeds in the garden, gathered a few straggling cherry tomatoes off the vine, and cracked open some kind of nuts we found on the ground.  They looked kind of like pecans, so I tasted one.  It was disgusting.  We watched the duck moss swirl on the pond, noticed how the leaves on the trees had started to change, and studied the anatomy of a fallen butterfly.  Brandon picked up some acorns and pointed out the brilliant orange color inside the cap of one of them.  It reminded me of a lesson we had last week--about how God is an artist.  I reminded Brandon of the lesson, as we studied the texture and design of the acorn cap, and found a nut that had the same brilliant orange on top, like a matching piece.  At that moment, something clicked.  I realized how curriculum is kind of like weightlifting...

I've recently started a new intensity of weight training.  No more girly machine weights for me, I've moved onto the big old barbell Olympic style weights.  I've learned that the whole idea behind weightlifting is to develop physical strength in a controlled setting that prepares us for real life.  Truth be told, I don't particularly like weightlifting.  It's awkward, difficult, not very girly, kind of boring, and requires technique-- something I'm still developing.  But I do like the strength I gain from weightlifting.  I like being able to carry my baby around the lake when his own legs are tired and he can't walk any further.  I like to be able to mop my floor and vacuum my house without fear of throwing my back out.  Weightlifting gives me strength so that I can improve my quality of life.  In a similar way, curriculum gives me tools in a controlled setting that I can then take and apply to the real world--doing things I actually enjoy.  I still don't particularly enjoy weightlifting, or following a curriculum.  But maybe with practice, I'll eventually master the techniques and end up stronger because of them.