Isles Bridge

A perfect home ed day. Really. It doesn't get better than this.
My eldest son is preparing for his first GCSE exam on Friday and the twin priorities this week are practicing differentiation and keeping him relaxed. We did an hour of maths at the table, packed a bag and walked 10 minutes to the river. Paddling, it seems, is irresistible.

It wasn't long before my middle son had waded to the other side with his sister anxious to join in. My eldest sat down with me while I painted and we talked over the things on his mind and he drew a little. We had lunch and I read to them from the Science book (he is also revising for Biology GCSE) and we discussed genetic engineering and genetically modifed food. There are frost-resistant potatoes with the DNA of Antarctic fish which they thought was "cool" but were concerned about whether they were vegetarian.

The younger two returned to the river to dare each other to swim and my eldest and I read more about cloning and developed the dystopian idea of  football clubs cloning their best players and training them from birth to be even higher levels of brilliance. Who would the parent be? Would corrupt clubs produce clones with defective DNA and sell them to rival clubs? What if the child did not want to play football? My son's DNA clearly hold more novel-writing genes than engineering genes! I left him revising Biology on my iphone app as I responded to the calls of the younger to to watch them swim.
By this stage they were blue with cold, even in the bright summer sunshine, so we headed home and sat in our garden with hot chocolate and cake and read our current chapter book pausing only to gloat when tourists strolled passed, quietly and to ourselves of course, that we actually live here.
The younger two went out to rehearse for their play after dinner, I had some time to head out on a long run and my eldest enjoyed a solitary couple of hours.
Everything I had planned to do was done: Biology and Maths were revised, chapter book was read, art was available and so much more importantly, emotions were heard, attention was given and life was lived!

12x12

I love new year resolutions. The turn of the year presents the opportunity for me to reflect on how I want to be different and to make attempts to become what I want to be. There is a danger of the resolution becoming the law, exerting a pressure to be fulfilled that becomes an end in itself and no longer produces the helpful encouragement to change I would like; They need to be viewed as prompts to remember how I want to live. I am a sucker for patterns and themes and so have chosen 12 this year, either to be done once or twelve times a month:

1) to host local neighbours to eat at the house once per month (dinner, lunch, poetry tea, just a cuppa and a slice of cake ...)
2) to run 12 times per month
3) to bake 12 items per month
4) to choose not to use the tumble drier 12 times per month
5) to take my son out for a coffee and a chat about his latest writing project once per month
6) to practice navigation skills once per month
7) to take the children on a day-out once per month
8) to complete one painting project per month
9) to sort out one area of my personal admin once per month
10) to finish one book per month
11) to do one thing towards developing my workas a Breastfeeding Counsellor once per month
12) to blog 12 times per month

Together they are a mixture that encourages me to live the way I want to live: none feel over-ambitious and yet there is a challenge there to stop dreaming about how I want to be and to be that way, consistently, month in, month out for a year and see where that takes me.

The Name of Names

Just this morning I finished reading "Inheritance", the last in Christopher Paolini's "Inheritance Cycle" which started, for me, in the summer of 2008 with "Eragon". A beautiful and powerful story it has filled my mind with incredible images and powerful ideas. Inherent to the plot is the concept of one's true name, the name that sums up one's entire being, flaws and brilliance, accomplishments and weakness. If another person knows your true name, they can assume complete power over you, subjugating you to a mere slave, unable to exercise free will and bound to follow their command. To volunteer your name to someone else is the highest sign of trust, of regard, even of love.
The hero of the tale, Eragon, can only achieve his aim if he understands his name: it is the key to the power, wisdom and guidance which he needs to fulfill the destiny, towards which he has been travelling throughout the saga. And in the moment of climax, it is one true name that brings victory and another that brings freedom. For one's true name is not static, not fixed, not dead. If you change and grow, if you increase in experience and knowledge and, as in the case of the tragic anti-hero, you experience love, your name changes too. Once enslaved by who he was, he becomes other and is freed from his bonds.
I have changed. I have lost and I have gained, I have experienced and I have grown. Who I am has changed over the years and over the months. I am wondering if my name has changed too?

Chapter Book

Already it is time to be looking ahead to January, and that inevitably means looking at the term just gone and asking myself what went well, what we enjoyed as a family, what we long for more of, and what we can't wait to be rid of. Reading a chapter book has always been hugely important to me and to the children. Through all kinds of literature we have learnt so much, not only about historical events, geographical places, mathematical ideas and classic literature; not only about good writing, story structure and well-crafted sentences; but also about being a family, the value of all stopping and being together at the same time and the extra-special feeling of a long hug on the sofa with mum and the dog.
But somehow it hasn't worked so well this term. The book I wanted to read in September wasn't in the library and, although I placed a reservation, was a long time coming. I picked something unknown by a famous author and it didn't take long to realise why it was unknown! We tried and old favourite of mine and my eldest son's, but the other two children found it boring. Having a looser time-table and working more hours myself meant that we found it hard to make the time to read. 
However, in just the last few weeks, we began "The Eagle of the Ninth" by Rosemary Sutcliff, a book I had had on my "to read" list for a long time. After a slow start (oh please, not another to give up on) the story got going and is now racing along at an exciting speed. Today, for the first time, I had a request to go straight on and read the next chapter! Reading it has reminded me how important this shared experience is, how much I love reclining on the sofa, the dog's head in my lap, one son listening in stillness, two other children drawing and colouring, interrupting with the occasional question or observation. It has been warm and precious and not only contributed a huge amount to our knowledge of Roman Britain, but has deepened our emotional connection, soothed scratchy relationships and reminded me again of so much that I love about our lifestyle of home education.
Books for January are already on order!

Learning to read

My little girl is learning to read. Each of my children has learned to read in a different way and I am very relaxed about the pace of her grasping this particular skill. My first taught himself at around five and has never looked back. (In the last 24 hours he has read 'The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy' cover-to-cover.) My next son took a little longer and, as I was inexperienced having only been through it once before, I began to worry. However, the expert I took him to for assessment told me that he was 'very advanced' so I laughed at myself, backed off and left him to it too. He does not have the same love of a good book as his brother but he does spend hours poring over the rule books for The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game.
My youngest is just on the threshold of reading and she is very excited. She is also beginning to be frustrated that she cannot write enough words to write down her own stories and poems. So, I am actively working on her reading with her. It seems to me that she is a much more visual reader and sounding out words doesn't work so well, even when it is possible, so I bought some flashcards which she enjoys. We've gone back to some Ladybird phonics books and this morning I dug out a set of easy animal stories and offered her the goal of being able to read them by Christmas if she practices hard.

Vampires

My eldest son is a voracious reader and long gone are the days when I could make sure that everything he read was 'suitable'. There is little I would feel uneasy with him reading, although he did go through a phase of nothing but fantasy and magic books and I intervened by insisting that at least half the books he got from the library were reality based: not non-fiction, but just non-magic. I know many Christians who are uncomfortable with the Harry Potter series, but I cannot imagine that I would be able to keep him from The Boy Who Lived for ever and I happen to think the books are fabulous. We have made them into a family affair and, in my husband's school holidays, I read them aloud to everyone. The children associate this very much with camping and I know that their childhood memories will be full of hot chocolate, snuggly sleeping bags and adventures at Hogwarts.
The Alex Rider series was one I felt I should check out first, if only so I could discuss any tricky issues with him. I was completely gripped and we raced each other through the whole set.
His last trip to the library brought Twilight into our house. So far I have been left cold by the craze surrounding in these books, tagging them as dark young adult fiction for teenage girls. My son knew that I might not be happy and asked if it would be ok to read it. I said I would have a look first, there is much in both High School America and gothic horror that I feel 10 is too young for. I am won over, hook, line and sinker, and have found myself sitting down mid making the bed to sneak in a few extra pages. I have seldom read any book that has had such an effect, and I have fallen hopelessly in love with a fictional character, feeling weak at the knees and light in the stomach at his romantic and heroic exploits, his tortured passion and his super-human power. It's taken a while for my son to get a look in, and the book needs to be back at the library on Saturday, but he seems to be enjoying it so far. For totally different reasons, I'm sure.

Another Lens

My eldest son is a voracious reader. Anything and everything he can get his hands on. We stagger back from the library, burdened with a bursting backpack, and he would prefer not to speak, sleep or eat until he is done reading all his choices.
My middle son is different. He likes the idea of books and usually brings many home from the library, but seldom reads them, preferring to pore over the latest Lego catalogue or the Star Wars Visual Dictionary.
Last week we ordered a set of history books. He disappeared to his room with them, was frequently seen carrying one around and within a couple of days he had read all eight. He has related numerous facts to me that he has read, asked a number of questions and is now re-reading them.
So often I feel as if I am working against resistance, forcing the children to do what they don't want to do. I am learning in a deep way that motivation is internal and with the right approach, the right lens as Julie puts it, anything is possible.

Right and Wrong

I always find it easier to notice what doesn't work and what doesn't go right.
My daughter, initially excited at having the lyrics to a High School Musical song to copy-write yesterday, found the word "together" too long and too much repeated and tearfully floundered, needing letter by letter encouragement and she completed one verse.
I have tried to increase our read-aloud time by having two books on the go at the same time. We are currently trying to read "The Hobbit" and "Little Women" and I, for one, am actually finding it hard going. I was struck by inspiration, and yesterday we picked up "Little Women" on cassette from the library. We put it on and started a jigsaw, and I got to play too. My mistake was to listen to both chapters which we have already read and then a new one. Attention spans weren't quite that long. However, later in the day we had our part-chapter from "The Hobbit" and the children all asked for more when I stopped.
The trap I most often fall into is expecting too much: of myself, of the children, of the time available. There is the insidious voice of the imaginary Local Authority Inspector whispering in my ear, "You aren't doing enough" and I feel driven to do more.
I spoke to a headteacher friend at church this week and mentioned that we were slowing right down now that summer is approaching, much of my Grand Plan of September laid aside. She nodded along and then added, "Of course, there's really a lot of weeks left to go and you could get a lot done before the summer break." I agreed and took on more of the message that I don't do enough. But on reflection, I believe it is a fallacy to artificially segment our children's lives: time to work and learn, time to play and kick back. It's not a few weeks to go until it's time to stop learning for the year, they have the rest of their lives both to learn and to have fun.
Now, if only I could get that inspector to pipe down, I could get on with enjoying it!

Poetry Books

In the photo of our tea-time, you can see 'I Like This Poem' which I picked up in a charity shop. Kathy asked me if I would recommend it and the answer is yes. My son in particular likes it and often choses a poem from it to share. It's divided up into age groups, and the poems are chosen by children themselves, and each comes with a little explanation of why they like them. There are some quite high-brow poems in here and also a lot of favourites.
'One Hundred and One Favourite Poems' is another one I like. In this, it is poets who've done the choosing and each have chosen one of their favourites from their own writing, again each with a comment on their choice. This book has introduced me to some new modern poets. We also like 'The Puffin Book of Utterly Brilliant Poetry' which we bought because we borrowed a friend's and tore it! It is filled with colourful pictures which helps with the poem choosing for those of us not reading yet.
I like 'The Nations Favourite Poems' and we are working through these one at a time as I think it's good to be introducing some more 'grown-up' poetry! Although I did skip over the five pages of 'The Lady of Shallot' and Stevie Smith's 'Not Waving but Drowning'.
I did used to try and read mostly 'proper' poems, believing in the need to 'educate' my children in great literature. I have now, finally figured out that, at their tender age, enjoyment of poetry is the point and loving poetry will naturally lead us, as they mature, into deeper waters. So my real tops a the moment are 'Now We Are Six' and 'When We Were Very Young' (both still bearing my childish scrawled name on the first page) although I'm sorry to say the my middle son is now getting bored of my rendition of 'The King's Breakfast', complete with silly voices for all the characters, especially the cow! Oh please, just one more time!

Thoughts on Christmas

It is less than five weeks until Christmas. With no discernible middle ground, I feel as if I have gone from a state of Christmas being too far away to think about, to there being too much to do to be ready in time!
I did my first Christmas shopping this week, thanks to my parents-in-law who had the children for the afternoon. I was a Woman on a Mission. I went with a list of six things, knowing that any more would overwhelm me. From leaving the car to the last ker-ching of the till, I was done in 50 minutes! No dithering, no pondering: I was a present-seeking missile. This compares well with my normal rabbit-in-the-headlights shopping persona!

We are enjoying "Little House on the Prairie" as our current chapter book, and last night Mr Edwards met Santa Claus and brought Laura and Mary's gifts home from Independence.

"They had never even thought of such a thing as having a penny.Think of
having a whole penny for your very own.Think of having a cup and a cake and a
stick of candy and a penny.
There never had been such a Christmas."

I do not think that my children would be overawed by four such small gifts, and I know that I would not. And yet, part of me longs for a Christmas of such joyful simplicity and of such gratitude, for, in Laura's words,

"They were too happy to speak."

Tuesday Tea-time

(This is a scheduled post. I am on retreat until 25th October.)

The Land Where the Bong Tree Grows

In our last visit to the library, I picked up a copy of Edward Lear's Gromboolian Poems. 'The Owl and the Pussycat' is one of my most favourite poems and I have read it to my eldest ever since he was tiny. I knew a couple of others in the collection, but some were completely new to me.

I love the rhythm and the rhyme, the excessive emotion ("O Timballo! How happy we are...") and the glowing, nonsense descriptions of a fantasy land. These are superb poems to read aloud.

This version of the book is charmingly illustrated by Jenny Thorne. Each page has a colour picture reminiscent of botanical drawings with numbered and labelled specimens such as the Bacons Andwichis (a large pig), the Furrimbombus Buzziflora (a bumble-bee), the Tutancowmun Orientalis (the Orient calf from the Land of Tute mentioned in the Quangle Wangle's Hat) and the Mollusca Oblonga (the oblong oyster which produces a unique square pearl). The poems and the pictures made me smile and the children pored over the illustrations, my eldest explaining the puns to the two little ones.

An excellent find and one which I may well be tempted to buy my own copy of., if only for my own pleasure and delight!

Learning to Read

My little girl is five and a half. If she were in school she would be being taught to read; she often asks me to teach her to read. Initially I was enthusiatic: I bought a scheme I had heard about and we tried it; I used the books I had used with her brothers; I sounded out words with her. But she doesn't seem to quite get it. Random sounds and guesses appear, it all becomes hard work and I get frustrated and lose my joy. I never, ever, want one of my children to say that they hate books or that reading is boring, so I have backed right off. I cannot believe that a child would grow up, loving stories, delighting in books, surrounded by text, and not learn to read.

Yesterday, as I finished our tea-time chapter of 'Our Island History', she pointed to the last word: "S-E-N-D,' she sounded out, "send." She could see it. She had heard me read the word and she could see how the letters made it, even with the blended consonant.

So often, their learning reminds me of bulbs. You can't see anything happening, but somewhere underground, in private, in the dark, growth is occuring. Sometime those tiny green shoots will appear and all you really did was plant them and water them; they grew because that's what they do!

Poetry Tea

We love Poetry Tea Time:I was so proud of myself yesterday. On Tuesday I was actually organised enough to make cookie dough in advance so that all I had to do was slice off cookie shapes and bake! The boys read poems they have written for a local library competition and my little girl 'read' from her handwriting book. We all chose a few from books, my middle son liked 'Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble' and I just had to get a picture of him reading Shakespeare:

This is the best part of my week!

The Road Not Taken

One of my favourtie parts of our Home Ed schedule is Poetry Tea. Yesterday, we make peanut butter cookies and had our first tea time of the year. The children brought some poems which they had written and I chose a couple from books. I had to share one of my all-time favourites, 'The Road Not Taken' and I tried to explain to them that this, for me, speaks of my choice to Home Educate.

I asked my children if they had any idea what it was about. My little girl told me that the man wanted to chop himself in two so he could walk down both paths. My middle son explained that you couldn't go to school and be Home-Educated. Seems to me they got that pretty well.

Having looked for the link to post here, I found in Wikipedia that my literal understanding may be naive and that there is an ironic interpretation - oh shucks!! However, I still prefer to think of it as a 'a paean to individualism and non-conformism' and it still inspires me as I walk the path I have chosen.

Chapter Books

Part of my Grand Schedule is the plan of Chapter Books to read. It seems to work out that we read around one chapter book a month and I already had a number of books sitting on the shelves earmarked for this purpose. I have to tell my eldest in advance what we are planning on reading together because otherwise he might read them himself and then he is bored listening. I have tried to organise a plan for the coming year so that I can tie in issues of The Arrow. The Arrow works well for us. I like the fact that it is based on books we have read and enjoyed and the children are learning so much from using it: careful handwriting, punctuation and grammar, good writing skills, literary appreciation. I have woven together some of my book ideas with some gleaned from the Arrow backlist or 2008/09 list to create this reading schedule:

The Secret Garden
Little House on the Prairie
Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH
Why the Whales Came (This is on at a local theatre in February and I plan to take the children to the show.)
On the Banks of Plum Creek
The Trumpet of the Swan
Tom's Midnight Garden
The Eagle of the Ninth
Just So Stories

As with my Grand Schedule in general, I strongly suspect we will wander off this path before the year is out: I am bound to find some irresistible book on the shelves of a charity shop or have some title recommended which I just can't wait to read, but I feel so much more confident knowing that I have a clear route to follow if inspiration does fail me!

Reading aloud to the children is one of the few consistent things in my Home Ed life and I place the highest value on it. The benefits are manifold: hearing good literature, enjoying fantastic stories, sharing the experience, discussing the plot and characters while we wash up. All these make a rich vein to mine. However, I am blessed with a 'kinesthetic' learner who loves, even needs, to be doing something with his hands. It used to be a real problem for me how much he wriggled and fiddled and played with things while I was reading and I would take away his toy and tell him to sit still and concentrate. Much grief could have been saved if I had come across Julie's wisdom earlier:

For kids with busy hands, dump out a box of Legos or blocks and let your young
ones build while they listen.

It was a moment of revelation. Using his hands enabled him to concentrate, it did not distract him. Now I encourage him to have something to play with while I read. I have produced yet another A4 sheet and pinned it up in the toy cupboard:

What can you do while listening to a Chapter Book?
A jigsaw
Threading Cards
Screw ball or Rubik’s Cube
Nuts and Bolts
French Knitting
Knitting
Lego
Plasticine
Colouring-In
Drawing
Blik-Blok (building blocks)
Pattern Blocks (coloured blocks which fit in a tray)

He discovered it with delight on his return yesterday. I think this, of all my lists, may be the one used the most!

Blogging for Dummies

I finally started reading 'Blogging for Dummies' yesterday. It is full of great ideas and I discoverd a whole chapter about RSS feeds. Not that I read the chapter, mind, but I know it's there! I did read the chapter called 'Ten Cool Tricks for Making your Blog Shine' and soon felt pretty overwhelmed and inadequate - again! Twittering, Mapping, Tag Clouds, Big Footers, Digging. It conjures up images of a fantasy novel, rather than anything I will ever be able to get my head around and actually use!

In the afternoon I spent some time trying to wrestle my photos into submission. At the moment I have them all in My Pictures on the PC. Although this doesn't take up as much room, in reality it is little different from a few shoe boxes of muddled photos. I thought getting techy and downloading Picasa might help. This has had the equivalent effect of ordering re-prints of all my photos and dumping them in boxes too! I think it is a glitch on my nearing-retirement PC or technophobia on my part but I can't actually get Picasa to do anything. So I tried Photobox. After discovering that it would take 13 hours to upload my photos but that I could do it 'quickly and easily' from Picasa, if only I could get Picasa to work, I just uploaded one 'box worth'. This seemed successful. But when I got overambitious and tried to make a photobook, my internet server gave up the ghost and shut down! I really don't know if it was a server problem or that, as my husband keeps telling me, my PC is old. (It is much younger than my youngest child, but perhaps I should be thinking in terms of hamsters rather than cats!)

I know that all this technology is wonderful and I love the world of blogs and e-mails but I do struggle to keep it in its place as slave rather than slave-driver. I fantasize about being this lady - I cannot imagine her stressed because her letter-writing table had 'crashed' or she had 3o letters in her 'inbox' after a weekend away!

Packing, Again!

It's never going to happen, it's never all going to fit in the car!

I am starting to pack, again, for yet another holiday! I have never before been on 3 holidays in the same month, and intend never to do so again. We are setting off tomorrow to Wales. The main point on our agenda is to visit Skomer Island to see the puffins. Unfortunately for our timescales, the puffins are only on the island from mid-June to mid-July, hence packing up so soon. This time all five of us are camping and space in the car is at a premium. At the rate I'm going, I have visions of strapping the children in, surrounding them with bags and cases and giving them snorkels to breathe through!

I have narrowed my selection of books down to 5! This does not include the 2 guide books, the children's books (probably around 15), 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets' which I will read aloud to the family and my husbands 2 books (which I doubt he will even open, but I think he felt left out on yesterday's library visit)!

My choices are:

In My Own Words: Henri Nouwen (for spiritual reflection)

The Power of Creative Intelligence: Tony Buzan (self-development!)

Young Children Learning: Barbara Tizard and Martin Hughes (the research I mentioned in a previous post. It looks interesting.)

One Good Turn: Kate Atkinson ('A Jolly Murder Mystery' - looks like good quality light relief!)

and, of course, Eldest: Christopher Paolini (the sequel to 'Eragon')

It looks like there might have to be some tough choices about what else we can take. Can I get away with only one outfit for 11 days?

Outside lies magic, and zebra spiders!

While I was away, I finished reading 'Outside Lies Magic'. While the initial chapter had excited me, the middle chapters were merely interesting (although I think I lost something in being British as it is an American book.) However, I was out running this morning and the fact that I hardly ran while away and then have tried to make up for lost time over the weekend meant that my legs were not lovin' it today. My faster, fitter partner continued with our planned session while I slowed to an easy jog. Just as we split, I noticed the most beautiful Victorian Almshouses. I have run past these before and never seen them. This reminded me of 'Outside Lies Magic' and so I set off at a leisurely stroll to explore. I found, hidden behind a high corrugated iron fence, what looked like a travellers community; an empty warehouse with one car parked outside and pot plants in the front window; I wondered what park Park Road and New Park Road had replaced and why some roads still had telegraph poles; and I smiled at the house builder's sign with a painting by his son aged 3 in the corner. It was fun!

'Discovering bits and pieces of peculiar, idiosyncratic importance in ordinary
metropolitan landscape scrapes away the deep veneer of programmed learning that
overlies and smothers the self-directed learning of childhood ... and enables
the explorer to navigate according to landmarks and inklings and constellations
wholly personal.'

As we were having a cup of tea in the garden yesterday, my friend Joya, my eldest son and I were delighted to see a zebra spider scuttling across the table. I didn't know it was a zebra spider but my son recognised it at once and dashed off to get 'Garden Wildlife of Britain and Europe' to find out more. For a while we watched it as it jumped over the gaps in the table until it learned that it could reach and, despite our cheering and encouragement, it completely gave up jumping. In an effort to make it perform its entertaining trick again, I gently tapped the table in front of it. It then jumped straight onto my finger! I did not react like a calm, collected naturalist but I embarrassed myself by squealing jumping back and I dropped it, (although once we'd finished laughing at my antics, we found it on the chair and continued to watch.) I am still impressed as I consider this tiny creature both at its intelligence, demonstrated by its learned behaviour, and its considerable eyesight. I don't know what it thought my finger was, but it quite clearly saw me and decided to jump on me! It was only little, but I had the distinct sense of contact with another sentient being.

I have just finished reading Eragon. Originally I chose it from the library for my eldest son, a voracious reader, especially of fantasy. He did not like it and in retrospect I think it is perhaps a bit old for him (he is 9) but I loved it and was gripped.

After all his adventures the hero, Eragon, has defeated the evil Shade. A rite of passage for him, through it he accepts his destiny and becomes ready to fulfill his role as a Dragon Rider. The final chapter held some words that really spoke to me:

'He had lost much that was dear to him, yet fate had given him rare and great
gifts; for the first time, he was proud of simply who he was. As if in response
to his brief self-confidence, the Shade's smothering blackness assaulted him
anew. His indentity trailed into the void as uncertainty and fear consumed his
perceptions. ... He fought against the Shade's sinsister thoughts, weakly at
first, then more strongly. He whispered words of the ancient language and found
they gave him enough strength to withstand the shadow blurring his mind.'

I am not thinking of those adult, rational, re-considerations of a choice or of direction, but of those insidious doubts, the 'demons', that snake out from the dark recesses of my mind in lonely or stressed moments and threaten to swallow me.

I would like to learn to 'words of the ancient language': perhaps some of Philip Yancey's, ' I am not yet made perfect and I am already forgiven'; perhaps the love notes sent me by my husband and children; perhaps making a note when someone offers me upbuilding or encouraging words; perhaps even my own assessment of a job well done. I would like to be proud of simply who I am.