Daffodil Whisky Pigeon anyone?

Having taken the plunge to get back into my blog, I think it's important to keep going. It's just that life is so, so busy right now. Having arranged an Easter Revision week with my students in London a long time ago, I have now taken on many more students in the local area and so am fully booked this week too. Not that I'm complaining and we have treated ourselves to a coffee machine as an Easter "bonus". It's so lovely to be working from home, the sun is shining, the Dale is beautiful and the lambs are frolicking.
The children are happy to be home and kept us amused on the last part of the journey home with wild tales based on three random nouns chosen by the others - chocolate lamp-post muffins, ginger raccoon jumpers, daffodil whisky pigeons...
It's a little thing, but moments like those give me a warm glow - somehow I think that our lifestyle and home ed has nourished these imaginations, this confidence and these easy relationships in a special way, and the fruit of that is three laughing children in the car at the end of a long journey,

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.

Nine!

My little one is nine!
She is such a big, grown-girl. She's handled some tricky stuff this year and come out smiling. She rises to a challenge and overcomes her fears. She's responsible, careful, compassionate and passionate. Fiery, fiesty: she'll make a great lawyer.
And she's just a little girl. She worries about it raining next week for her horse-riding lessons 'cos it spooks the horses and she's frightened. There are lots of words still too big for her to read. When I go in to kiss her good night, she is baby-like in her beauty.
She's nine: still young enough to be my baby.

Crying Out

It's a familiar sight: she stands, weight on one leg, hip jutting out, eyebrows tense, not quite catching my eye. Her voice is hard and she fights her corner. I am, she claims, being just as rude to her as she is to me. I have two other children who need my attention, a few minutes left of the half-hour I had allowed myself for a coffee and catch up and I have not yet switched on the kettle. Water is trickling from the bottom of the washing machine which just spun as if it had a house brick in the drum. I don't have the patience. I don't have the time. I suggest, firmly, that she goes to her room, stops winding her brothers up and tries to calm down. She deserves my attention I tell her and I can see that she needs some positive parenting, it just isn't going to happen right now.
Later, flood abated, new washing machine ordered, bread rolls shaped by my middle son and dictation and graphs completed, I do sit down. I'm curious, I say, as to why she is in such a bad mood. She admits that she can see now that she has been very rude, but that it's hard to see in the moment. She is fed up and frustrated. Her eagerly anticipated bath was ruined by a fresh and sore knee graze and then she had to shower after anyway because she'd forgotten to rinse her hair. It can be tough being eight. I express sympathy, commiserate with her frustration and she softens. Her shoulders drop, her face relaxes and she slithers from her chair to climb on my lap. We all need to be heard.

Sharp

New sharpeners: sharp pencils, sharp colours.
Children's self-expression valued: what they draw matters, how they draw matters, having sharp pencils to draw with matters. They matter.

Creating a path II

My middle son is not such a natural writer, he does not have such a natural affinity for words, he does not particularly like to read and seldom spontaneously writes. It’s not that he is reluctant, but just that it isn’t something he feels passionate about.
He is a funny and happy child and likes to put humour into his writing; he tends to write as if he is chatting to a friend and tends to put in jokes and asides. He does not delve much into ideas or expand on his topic but his is quite happy to free-write for 10 minutes. He can write (or at least print) very neatly and is happy to do copy-writing, although he would always prefer a shorter passage and it takes him quite a time. His spelling in freewrites is very original but he can usually spot and even correct mistakes.
I would like him to write in joined-up writing and then to work on writing a bit quicker but still neatly. I would like to see his automatic spelling improve. I would like him to develop his ideas and write more about one topic or point. I would like to encourage him to write about factual things (his interest in cars or what he learned about in his history lesson or how to play his favourite computer game) in a more ordered and logical, “followable” way.
I think this last goal is a good one to focus on. I think that talking through the topic with him, encouraging his ideas to be more step-by-step and slowing down his free-writing would be the way forward. Perhaps I will start with post-it notes, and then alternate sentences, then move on to him writing three or four sentences before I interject, or me adding words to his sentences to encourage more idea development and I think lots of good conversation before-hand will be key as I try to understand what he wants to write so that my writing makes sense and encourages him.

Creating a Path I

Our four week course is drawing to a close and we have been encouraged to reflect on each of our child writers and to look into the future as to how we will continue to work with them. These are my thoughts today on my little girl:

My daughter is a natural story-teller. She talks and talks and talks. She loves to tell stories and she loves to listen to stories. She usually asks for CDs from the library to listen to and is usually very engaged in our chapter books. Her reading skills are not yet strong enough for her to be able to enjoy the kinds of stories in books that she likes to listen to. Her writing skills are increasing daily. She enjoys copywriting and is happy to edit her work.

I would like to support her in developing her concrete skills (spelling, handwriting, punctuation) so that she can comfortably write the stories in her head. Also, she needs to learn to type so that she can edit her work on the computer and publish it more easily. I would also like to help her begin to develop more complex or deeper ideas.

I loved doing both the alternate sentences and the dialogue with her. We both had fun and it felt very connecting. She commented on my spelling which showed me that she was reading what I was writing as well as listening to it, and noticing how I wrote. By being "in the middle of her writing" with her I can encourage her to develop her thoughts, I can draw out more of her ideas and gently challenge her.

I am committed to returning to copy-writing and will approach the editing of it more systematically, encouraging her to hunt out her own spelling mistakes and gradually to look for punctuation errors (5p a mistake found certainly increased motivation!). I will also gently and lightly edit her free-writes: a quick once over for tricky spellings and tidying up the punctuation.

I will move on to the idea of introducing words to her sentences, words such as “therefore” or “for example” or “but” to help her extend her ideas. I would like to move on to her writing three or four sentences and then me adding one to encourage more writing from her while keeping it focussed.

I am excited about next half-term's writing!

Dialogue

My kids are amazing. Every mum says that, and I'm sure yours are too, but today I have really seen and felt and enjoyed that.We are continuing on our journey of Dynamic Revision and one suggestion for this week's assignment was to write an imaginary dialogue. My little girl chose the cat and the dog. She wrote from the dog's point of view and I from the cat's. It made us both think about writing in character, how would the cat reply to our dog? Not very nicely. It's not what I would say, but our grumpy feline wouldn't mince words! With my boys we chose people from the chapter book we have just finished and wrote "behind-the-scenes" dialogues, what might have been said but we, the readers, were not privy to. We extended our sense of audience by reading the conversations aloud to a lunch-time visitor. My children have been witty, careful and fun. Their spelling and punctuation wasn't too bad either! Much more that "good" pieces of work, these were fun times, a joint effort, a connection between mum and child. It is experiences like these that make me love home ed!

Winter Sunshine

Sunshine in the park.

Partnership

Partnership writing:  a Bravewriter idea. The family on-line course is refocusing me, reminding me that it’s about being alongside my children; about figuring out what they need and how I can support them in their writing. It’s about letting them dictate or doing conversational freewrites where we take turns to write back and forth or by taking time to read what they have written and engage in their work or seeing what they are doing well and building on it  andseeing their areas of weakness and looking for activities to strengthen them. Alongside – my children’s cheerleader, partner, guide.

My eldest gets in quite a state about maths. He can motivate himself to write 20,000 words in a month , finding the time each day, holding the entire story arc in his head, making himself sit down and type day after day but maths is another story. It is clearly painful and his description of it as pointless and dull does not seem to me sufficient to explain the depths of anguish he genuinely seems to feel. Maths has always been something of a problem especially at this time of year. I have noticed that all maths books seem to be arranged in the same way: number comes first which is simply adding up and the like and then comes algebra. This totally throws him. He can’t see the point and finds it hard. This is the time of tears and of wanting to give up. Once we’re through this we hit shape and space, which seems to make so much more sense to him: home strait, all the way to summer.

So yesterday had us having one of those, “You just have to try harder...  if you were in school...you don’t know you’re born,” type conversations. Not really a conversation:  me telling him and him gradually shutting down and feeling more and more a failure. Finally the voice of sanity managed make itself heard above the panic that my son will never get a maths qualification, will fail in life and it will be all my fault. Sanity reminds me that he is my little boy; and I love him; and he needs my help. He needs me to partner him: to sit next to him, to model solutions, to talk it through and to explain: Partnership Maths!  He needs me alongside, not the adversary but the friend, the supporter, the cheerleader. 15 minutes a day I have promised him throughout February. Alongside.

Words

 Words have weight. They are not light and insubstantial but can be heavy and indigestible. Words are sharp. Some stay stuck in places that hurt, barbed arrows lodged in the heart. Words echo in the empty moments or scream in the stressed places. At times of uncertainty and panic - hanging on the end of a rope at the rock wall, the voices of failure take hold of those words and fling them about, the chaos and fear of a riot. An ill-placed word can topple the precarious structure of self-esteem and set-off, like a firework display, an explosion of past words:  words from childhood, words from adulthood, words spoken by people who have forgotten they knew me and words spoken by loved ones.

Words can be whispered because they are so hard to say. Words can be shouted in anger and hurt. Words can be promises made and vows sworn and yet can prove impossible to keep.

Words can be a comfort, a safety, a thread to follow back to safety. Words that are spoken softly in the darkness of tears can remind and reassure of love, of hope, of life. Words can explain, used gently and intentionally, treading with great care around the pot-holes of misunderstanding that upset life’s journey. These are words that set things right.

 And I speak words over the lives and hearts and minds of my children. My own arrows sent flying to lodge and hurt, my own comforts, safety or reassurance.

And I write words in a blog post, tentative and exploring. Not holding all the answers, not even to myself, but discovering and seeing what my thoughts sound like caught in time, dressed in words and held up to view.

New Year

Swaledale is an amazing place to be: barren, beautiful, windswept and boggy. I have run on this moor almost everyday for the last two weeks. The first day I was slipping on ice but since then the bridle paths have become stream-beds and the ground a series of marshes and puddles. I have seen stunning sunrises and bowed my head into the howling wind and rain. I walked across the moor on Christmas Day, arriving half-an-hour late to church, wet and cold with mud spattered trousers into a congregation of locals in their festive best. I have walked up Calver Hill with my three children in cutting wind and stinging hail, to come home to hot baths and hot chocolate. I saw a barn owl yesterday, swooping over the heather, day-light hunting, its wings broad and sweeping. I have laughed and cried, played games, watched films and read my book. I am tired and rested, relaxed and still-humming. This year has been tumultous and up-ending, my foundational relationships have shifted, my life will never be the same again and my view of myself has been challenged, undone and is being rebuilt. I have hopes and dreams for 2012: I am scared, insecure and excited and in many ways I feel that I have a lot of growing up to do but it looks like being a good year.

Lego

Yesterday saw us in Aldershot at a Lego building workshop with a Certified Professional Lego Builder. Professional Lego builders? Who knew? Apparently there are only 13 of them in the world. These are not the designers of the new sets, but people whose job is actually to build stuff out of Lego! The designers apparently all work in Denmark and you need to study Art and Design and 3D Modelling to become one. My eldest came out asking where he could study these subjects ...

They started by building bridges out of all one type of brick and then went on to make their names with guidance sheets showing how to make each letter of the alphabet. After that they went back to all one type, the basic 4x2 and were to be creative. My little girl built at boat and my eldest a foot with five toes. My middle    son constructed a tall and fragile spiral which he then doubled-up to make it stronger. The workshop leader asked him what it was, a string of DNA he replied. I had no idea that he even knew what DNA is!

A boat, a foot, a strand of DNA: three products of a life of home ed. I have my moments of fear, what am I doing, keeping them out of school?, but it seems that they are quirky, independent and leaning about the world. Doing alright, I think!

Goodnight kisses

It's a wonderful thing to be a treat for someone. Last night I was lucky enough to kiss my god-son goodnight and he thanked God for my visit. His mum had only told him and his brother and sister that I was coming half-an-hour before my arrival and they were full of excitement to see me. I was enveloped in hugs, showered with stories and had fancy-dress costumes thrust at me for my amazement. I did not bring gifts, I was not going to take them out anywhere, they were just excited to see me and wanted to hug me. I do not have to worry about the million minute decisions that make up their lives in the way that I do with my own children and was free to enjoy their affection without concern for their bed-time.
Their reaction to me spoke deeply of my being loved just for being me. It is hard for me to hold on to these simple feelings in the midst of my own family life, my own tiredness and sense of responsibility, my own fears and failings. Last night helped me to see what those around me who love me and tell me that they love me, not for what I do but for just being me, really mean and, maybe, will help me experience that just a little bit more.

Daddy's Girl

Sometimes even a Mr Man story isn't enough to keep you awake!

What a picture of safety and love. Of prayer.

First Freewrite

We are having a chilled Sunday morning. My little girl has a cold and I prefer the evening service at church so we have stayed home. She has just brought me her first freewrite. It is beautiful and I am so proud. The spelling is creative and phonically accurate, the character endearing (and just a little familiar!) Here it is:

Hi. My name is Rosie Butterflynest. That's my full name. Yes, I know it,s quite odd. My mum, her name is Miss Ann. Dad's name is Max. If you go into Rice Road and then go left, you find a road called Honey Road. You will find a number 42, that is my house with the red door and the blue gate. That's my house. I have yellow hair. I have light skin. My favourite colour is yellow, yes, yellow. My favourite clothes are a pair of red socks. Do not tell anyone but I wear pink pants.

(Apparently is was okay for me to share that last bit with you!)

Super Boy!

My middle son completed his 50th parkrun on Saturday; not only that but he took a massive 14 seconds off his previous personal best! Very soon he will be the proud owner of a red T-shirt with a silver 50 on the back, reward for his incredible achievement - he is only the 4th parkrunner under 10 to have reached this number. parkrun is a 5k race every Saturday held all over the country: a brilliant running event with all the atmosphere of a race, but free, thanks to the volunteers who give up their mornings to marshall, time and organise the runs. My son first took part in the original parkrun in Bushy Park in May 2008. He then did a couple more the following year and then a new event began at Bedfont Lakes, much closer to home. He has completed 45 of his runs at Bedfont, he has run in blazing heat and bitter cold and, after a number with me to get him going, runs alone. I am so impressed at his sheer determination, his persistence and the 250 kilometres he has run. Well done son!

Wild Thing

Our sewing skills are going from strength to strength. This is a 'T-shirt creature', doubling up as a "Wild Thing" as my daughter's project for her book group on "Where The Wild Things Are". It will also be a pillow for her doll and scare away any nightmares. We are now decorating her no-sew doll outfit from last week. The thread is coming out of the needle a little less often and my daughter is getting to grips with cutting out shapes round the pattern and we will be planning our next project soon.

Fairy Godmother

This is what qualifies you as a fairy godmother!

Creative friend, happy child, new non-sew dress for dolly.

Hoo-ray!

Well, we're not rivalling Cath Kidston, but we are both very proud.

I have never sewn anything from a pattern before so I am rather pleased with the end result, a collaboration between mother and daughter. Even better is my daughter telling me that she is so glad I am her mum.

Next week's project: T-shirt creatures!