"" Mental multivitamin: Fine Art Friday




Established in October 2003 for readers, thinkers, and autodidacts
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11.10.2006

Fine Art Friday


This image is a common one; that is, I've seen it on several home education sites and blogs. I love that the mother-teacher has plump arms; I have plump arms, too, now. And I love how the daughter-students lean in close to look at the book. I'd like to imagine it's an art book or a bird book. The Misses M-mv and I sometimes sit in the library, leaning against each other to look. Together.
Related and long aside
Recently, in another forum, I read an article that appeared in the monthly newsletter published by a popular Christian homeschool curriculum provider. The article details the many changes one woman made after listening to teacher-training tapes available through said curriculum provider. These changes included rethinking her wardrobe ("I'm a professional teacher. I simply don t get paid monetarily. However, now I dress like one.) and adopting a longer school-day schedule ("We commence around 7:30 a.m. and end by 4:30 p.m. whether we re finished or not.").

I share neither the writer's religion nor her commitment to to the curriculum provider. I do, however, share her conviction that there's nothing wrong with inserting some, for lack of a better word, professionalism into the pursuit of home education. I wouldn't go about in the ways in which she has. Still, she makes some excellent points.
To me, coming to the home education table (or couch or front porch or whatever) in the same way in which you would arrive at a more conventional job (i.e., washed, dressed, and prepared) is a terrific idea. I haven't much (any?) use for charts and elaborate planning, but I have great regard for arriving at the daily with my game face on and the playbook memorized.

In the article -- "Musings from a Mom" (link currently unavailable) -- Deidre Salmon writes, "It was surprising to hear that [insert private school name here] often tests homeschoolers for admittance and finds them lacking. We all think our children are brilliant and several grade levels ahead of where they should be. Apparently this is not so. More homeschoolers must hear that."

I agree. We are ill-served by the false impression that simply because we home educate, we are providing a superior education. We need a periodic reality check, and the fact is that some homeschoolers are un(der)prepared for more conventional academic success.

And you know what? I'd prefer that my students not find themselves ill-equipped because of my poor planning or inadequate preparation. Treating this endeavor with the same commitment and, yes, professionalism I bring to my more conventional work may help me avoid failure -- mine and theirs.

I've long maintained that a successful homeschooling experience begins with the parent-teacher. See "It all begins with me," for example, where I wrote, in part:
When the work is taking forever to complete, when the quality is less than expected, when enthusiasm has waned, etc., I don't need to look much further than the example I've been setting. Have I been on-task? Have I been doing my job(s) with attention to detail? Have I conveyed my love of the subject and of the family-centered learning project?
For more than six years, here and elsewhere, I've written about the joy of discovery, the mornings in Nick and Nora sock monkey pajamas, the field trips, and all of the M&M moments that make me so glad for this adventure. But I've been just as quick to assert that this, to me, is a job -- one to which I bring commitment, skill, and, again, a sense of professionalism. When I taught in more traditional environments, my students had me -- 120 percent of me, as the cliche goes; some days, more. I see no reason to offer my own children anything less.

Now, that said, I have never had any desire to replicate a school environment in our home. Not. Ever. It is important to me, however, that my children give their studies as much consideration as their art, their imaginative play, etc., and the way I've communicated this is by modeling the behavior I want to see. In other words, I read, study, think, write, learn, and discuss. I work. Right there beside them. How else can I hope to communicate the importance of this pursuit?

May I add that I'm not altogether sure how one engages in Socratic dialogue if one is not present. I mean, I'm all for encouraging academic independence, but I am the teacher, tutor, coach, and (often) discussion leader. Um, 'hard to teach, tutor, coach, or discuss if I'm regularly in another room (mentally or physically), no?

Yes, I manage our home. And, yes, I work (hard, in the interstices parenting and teaching and homemaking permit). And, yes, my family has, over the last decade of homeschooling, dealt with its share of medical crises, relocations, absent spouse syndrome (a.k.a. a lot of business travel), death (of friends and relatives), even a major automobile accident -- so I know (as well as anyone else, anyway) that "life happens." It's just that, like Ms. Salmon, perhaps, I'm pretty convinced that school must keep happening, too.

She has decided that the way to ensure this is by adopting a certain schedule and a new wardrobe and whatnot. Someone else may accomplish the same with schedules or plans. Someone else may do so with a certain academic program. And so on. I do it by approaching the family-centered learning project as work. Good work. Work I love. But, still, work. And if, as I said, I'm on the job? I'm generally dressed for it, and I'm always prepared for it.

And it works for me.
(Sorry, CED. I know how you loathe that phrase. Heh, heh, heh.)


Added later: If you've arrived here via the Carnival of Homeschooling and you liked this entry, you may enjoy some of the posts collected in "Thoughts on education and parenting."