It's all been leading up to this...

Tomorrow ds1 takes his first ever exam.

This morning I woke up feeling like I'd been booked to give a poetry reading to a group of 20 Hells Angels.

The two are not unconnected.



Since September, ds1 (age 14), has been studying Chemistry with a group of home ed teens in another county. Each week we've driven over an hour for his 2 hour class.

Before joining the group we'd done quite a bit of basic chemistry. Mostly we'd used the Ellen McHenry chemistry downloads (which, incidentally, are fab). When we moved on to IGCSE-level work at home we found out that doing stuff from a textbook with your mother is darn tedious.

If I'd had the energy to make it interesting and hands-on, I would've, but I didn't. And with the best will in the world I'm not going to. So the chemistry group has been a godsend. Ds1 has had plenty of larfs with kids his age, and along the way he's learned heaps too.

It's been a steep learning curve. Less than 3 years ago he was still writing his letters backwards, putting capitals in the middle of words, and had to concentrate just to spell his own name. He'd had some help with his 'dylexic' symptoms, but when we started chemistry he'd never written more than a short sentence. And very rarely ;)

When we started I knew ds1 would have to work harder to prove himself on paper than many other teens. If reading text is hard...and writing is hard...and spelling, punctuation, grammar - and just remembering what you were writing when you're halfway through your sentence - is hard...then however bright you are, exams are going to be hard.

When we started IGCSEs he didn't know how to title a page, where to put the question number, how to mark points on a graph, how to label a diagram or even how to draw a straight line with a ruler. Sure, he had lots of knowledge and skills, but unlike in school, where you have to do the tedious stuff every day until it is engraved on your brain forever, he'd found no need to learn this particular skill set.

And then there was content. CONTENT. (There was so much of it I have to write it in capitals.)

And learning how to apply that content.

And then, towards the end, there have been exam skills to learn -  jumping the hurdles of the mark schemes...the art of educated guessing...how to tick those exact boxes. It's been a long hard slog for him, and exhausting for me.
 
And the worst thing is that it feels as if everything we have done - everything we have ever done in our home education - has been leading up to this moment.

Ridiculous, of course, because there is so much more to life than exams. Exams are hoop-jumping. Box-ticking. They are not truly representative of  the worth of a human being and they do not demonstrate the extensive skills a person may have.

But exam results are visible proof that we (I) have done a good job. They are something the rest of society looks at and judges.

They are tangible things we can hold up and say 'There! See! I told all along we were doing fine!'

They are the equivalent of blowing a large fat raspberry at all the doubters who ever questioned our decision to home educate our children.

The pressure on home educators to do a good job - that responsibility not to screw up our children's lives through choosing an alternate route - is immense. Even when we don't think about it, we think about it. It becomes an integral part of us. The need to prove, to demonstrate, to defend our choice. However wonderful our home ed day is, however much we or our child achieves, however happy we are with our education choices and beliefs, there is no getting away from the fact that THE BUCK STOPS HERE.

And that's a biggie.

Since we started GCSEs I've had lots of doubts along the way. I loathe the box-ticking world of GCSEs. I know it doesn't *mean* anything. I have enough certificates to paper a wall, but I'm far from a "natural" in the workplace. And, last time I looked, no job description requires you to pass exams for a living.
 
I ummed and ahhhed for a long time. I swung this way and that. But in the end I wanted - I want - to give him choices. Doing a few exams gives him those choices. He may never use those bits of paper, but at least when he's 16 or 18 or whenever, he will have the chance to take some different paths. Along the way I've developed a nice thick skin ;) to the criticism and judgements of our more autonomous HE friends as we've moved towards more structure and parental direction in our HE style. It's not all been plain sailing and when this exam is over we will need to restore some balance :)




Tomorrow ds1 is taking his first exam.

Hopefully I wont be reading poetry to a group of Hells Angels.

And what will the new year bring?

Now is the time traditionally set aside for reflective thinking and planning (or mulling over the train wreck of the previous year if you're a 'glass half-empty' sort of person).

I am a compulsive planner.
An addictive thinker.
And not so much of a do-er.
This is my downfall: planning, thinking, weighing up pros and cons, making little lists and diagrams and charts, researching all the possibilities...and then...not doing.

But this year it WILL be different (I think). Yes I will plan it to be different. I will plan to DO more and think less. Hmm...already I'm heading for a headache.

First thing to tackle is our home education strategy. At the end of last year our home education was heading way off the rails. Somehow the 'autonomous' part had got lost among the 'I need to tick some boxes' part and the 'I need to tick some boxes' part gradually became the 'sit down there and do this or else you will make me feel like a crap mother and I'll cry and make you feel guilty' strategy. Not an approach to be recommended.

So this year? Well I'm still undecided. Truth is we are rarely completely autonomous, yet most of the time I am pretty relaxed about what the kids do. That is until little Jonny down the road can say his 9 times table backwards while riding a unicycle and playing grade 8 level flute and discussing Shakespearian tragedy. Then the anxiety sets in.

So a few days ago I asked the kids for some things they wanted to do/places they wanted to go.

Wow! I must have been such a scary mummy these past few months. How do I know? Because ds1 said
'I quite like doing maths'
and ds2 said 'my maths books were ok'.
Uh oh!
So I say, 'Ok, boys, you can be honest now, I wont mind.' They look at me as if this is a trick. 'No really. I want to know what you want to do.'

It took about half an hour and some prompting and reassurances and suggestions, but eventually they came up with a list that looks something like this:

ds1
Handwriting & punctuation practice (yes he actually wanted to do handwriting!)
Science: Biology/microscopy; Gases; Rocket science & big bangs
Learn to make pancakes & other cooking
Use metal detector at allotment
Build a raft/boat

ds2
Leonardo da Vinci project
WWII project and outings
Weekly science, e.g. Krampf
Find a park for using mountain board

dd
Knitting/sewing
Cooking
Basic science: growing/plant biology
Bike:Getting off stabilizers!

All
Cooking from the Posh Boy's Family cookbook
Get hold of the Horrible Histories Cds - Tudors? Georgians?
Make ginger beer, beer and wine
Build bird boxes
Meteorology/Weather - make barometer, hygrometer, clouds, weather vane, rainfall

So, all in all, not a bad list to start the new year. I just have to keep those anxieties at arm's length and focus on where we're heading.

Er...where are we heading? Anyone got a map?

Not reading? Don't Panic!

Was sent the link to this blog entry on the Tiny Grass blog; a post from earlier this year on child-led reading.

As a parent of a 7-yr-old non-reader (or rather, a not-yet-showing-any-inclination-to-read 7 yr old) I am always reassured to hear other parents' encouraging words on the subject.

I consider myself privaleged in the world of home education for I have had personal proof that reading really can happen without intervention. I've had the benefit of seeing my middle child teach himself to read when he was 6 years old (though 'teach' is a very misplaced word in that sentence, it was far more an osmotic process, a neglect of intervention).

This helps me keep the faith; enables me to thicken my skin against the parents who insist on giving me a check-list of their child's literary achievements every time I see them. I don't care if little Jonny was reading age 4 and at age 7 was happily digesting Harry Potter at a rate of one novel a day.

Er...actually that's a lie. I do care, but only enough to want to smack the other person. 'Home Ed Hag Hits Pushy Parent with Tescos-own White Loaf' - not a good headline, so I must resist.

So, this article, helps. Just a little.

"Basic Formula for Parents:

Stay out of child’s way +
Don’t try to be a teacher +
Don’t hijack your child’s learning +
Wait….wait…wait (and be patient) +
Don’t stress (talk to other unschoolers when you worry!) +
Read lots of books out loud when your child wants to +
Have lots of interesting books available +
Be ready as a resource when you child asks for it
____________________________________________________

= A child that reads. Eventually. On his own timetable."


_______________________________________

P.S. If you do nothing else today,
Do do do vote for Grit's Day in The Brilliance in Blogging shortlist here (it's under the 'make a difference' category).
I've even found large text and coloured font to highlight this...that shows how important it is - vote NOW!!!
Get home ed noticed (and, besides, it's a fab blog).

The perils and pitfalls of a home educator (no it's not always fluffy as butterscotch Angel Delight, sometimes it's decidedly like burnt rock cakes)

You know when you feel like you should be blogging and somehow life, lethargy or that sore patch on your nose where it's been on the grindstone for several weeks and you've forgotten to take a step back, gets in the way..? Hmm.

Winter has arrived. It's cold. I mean more than a slightly temperate English dreary cold, a Father Ted fecking fffffrrreeeezing cold.

What is happening with the weather? It's only December! We don't get our usual freeze til Easter after 3 months of complaining about the mild miserable British global-warming winter. Did someone up there hear me when I said I was economising? When I said I was going to set the heating to be off all day and only come on at 7pm, because I'm broke. Oi! You up there! Are you intending on thinning out the population by tipping all us low-light sufferers into a perpetual cycle of self-harming gloom?

Back to home education. Or not. This week it is fair to say that I have thrown in the towel. My ambitiously-manufactured project on Polar Explorers (yes, highly appropriate for our minus temperatures) has gone mammaries up. It's a common outcome of good educational intentions.

'Let's do lap books' I say. 'I'll print off stuff, all you guys have to do is put a title and add some pritt stick'.

Who would suppose that two pairs of scissors between 3 children would be enough to start World War 3 in a suburban semi. Fifteen minutes of felt-tip pen missiles, sellotape tear gas, and a farting cloud the size of a nuclear mushroom later I return. The lounge resembles a pillow fight with a paper shredder in ToysRus.
'Have you finished then?' I ask.
'Finished what?' They say. 'What was it we were supposed to do?'

And so I rant at great length about how long the hours would be at school. What time they would have to get up. How little play time they would get. How many maths workbooks they would be forced to fill in. Yes. I'm on a roll now....How easy it would be for me to get on the phone and call a school now. (It's been a while since I've threatened school, but some days...)

There's no stopping me...How I have put time and effort into finding something vaguely interesting for them to do and how they can't even be arsed to fake some effort. How even though I am so very proud of the many things they do, I'm embarrassed to tell people - ordinary people - how we spend our days, and when people come, I hide evidence of the children's writing, because I'm tired of defending their apparent lack of progress in what others think is important.

Nope, there's still more....'When relatives visit they might want to know what you've been doing.' I say 'And what will you tell them? Eh? What have we been doing?'

It takes some thought...'Well we went to Scotland.' One brave soul attempts a guess.

'3 months ago! 3 beeping months ago! Anything else? You know, has anyone noticed anything we've been doing?'

No. They can't think of anything...ANYTHING we have done in the past 3 months. The fencing and martial arts...Scouts...Museum visits...Workshops... Animation projects...Film-making...bike rides...poetry...firelighting in the woods...Perhaps they think it is a trick question. Perhaps their only hope is to stay silent, so I'll slunk off and leave them to their exclusive children-only war.

I try a new tack. 'What is it you want to do, if you don't want to do this? Well???? And don't say you don't know!'

Ds2 says 'Go on the computer.' He sees my eyebrow hackles and knows it was the wrong thing to say.

Silent teary faces sniff. I slam the door, fall over the dog, growl at it, storm upstairs, feel guilty, sit in contemplation of my guilt for half an hour, drink half a litre of coke and raid the baking cupboard for chocolate and then, shamefaced, I return.

I am about to apologise. But then I am greeted by tumbling children hitting each other with cushions, drinks cups flying off the table, home-baked cookie crumbs dispersed along the length of the sofa, books, papers, wii-game cases littering the floor, the tv on full blast; three children, pulling hair and twisting limbs, blissfully unaware of the ton of parental guilt, resentment and weariness I am shouldering.

On Saturday I attend a HE adult discussion group. We contemplate autonomous education and other HE dilemmas over cheesy doritos and tea.

When we think about 'auto' are we refering to the child, or to us? is one question posed.

I think some more on this. It is particularly poignant to think about it while I'm spending my precious study time - the time I need to make this course worthwhile - picking up the pieces of my lounge and worrying how I'm going to make a low-budget dinner in time before I go out to work. I listen to the kids now arguing over the computer. One wails. Tearful recriminations follow. I am mum again. Which means no writing today.

Truth is, even if the aim is for all of us to be autonomous, even if that were humanly possible, history tells me that it wouldn't work. There will always be someone - most likely a woman -who through guilt, loyalty, love, or buck-stopping-here responsibility, has to sacrifice their autonomy in order to clear up the massive pile of crap that all those happily-autonomous beings leave behind them.

Golf and the world of home education

I think the world would be a better place if everyone played golf like this. Those tedious golf championships on tv would take a fraction of the time and we could have some good ole sleepy Sunday films on instead.

[By the way, in the world of Home Education this is not called 'cheating'. No, it is called 'using your initiative', or 'thinking outside of the box'...or 'doing it quick so you can get to the ice cream van'. ]

I've been thinking recently about the concepts people have of home education. So many seem to think that home education equates with 'school at home'. Of course there are a number of home edders who do home educate like this, particularly in the US where it seems there are two sorts of home edders: the structured home schoolers, and the autonomous unschoolers.

But in the UK there are many, if not more so, of home edders who do not do 'school at home'. And there are many who have a sort of eclectic mix of home education methods, constantly in flux, somewhere between 'school at home' and a totally child-led education.

For the record, we do not do school at home. We tried. We failed. We didn't conquer. (We chose another path).

But, what you might ask, do we do?

Well, there are days when I do not know what we do.

There are weeks when all I remember is the mounds of washing in and out and in and out, and the muddy footprints, piles of sand and dog hair down my hallway. There are weeks when I can't see beyond the boot rack and I despair over flat fruit cake and cry over lumpy mash.


There are weeks when my children whizz through the kitchen on a mission to something or somewhere, grabbing food on the hoof, hardly stopping for breath (and certainly not to grunt anything as civilised as 'hi') before they disappear off to something 'important'.

There are weeks when learning just happens, in its own wonky unpredictable way, without me teaching, interferring, guiding, enthusing or doing any of those things that are supposedly 'essential' for children's education:

And there are weeks when I am needed, on hand, that very minute, every minute of the day. 'Now Mummy!' they yell alternately from the bottom of our twenty million metre long garden and the highest point of our roof

'Come here!'

'Watch me!'

' Help me with this!'

' Look at this!'

and I'm pulled back and forth like a tired overstretched bit of knicker elastic.

And there are weeks when we play around with experiments from http://www.thehappyscientist.com/ and make sparks out of plain old aluminium foil:

And there are weeks when we go pond dipping

(It was this big, honest)

(no it wasn't, he's a liar)

(who cares, I have a great hat)

And there are weeks when we have fun at museums:

or listen to stories, or play with friends

There are days (not often weeks) when we (I) get the maths books out, encourage the kids to copy out poems to improve their handwriting, use 'Sequential spelling' in some desperate attempt to instil some sort of spelling sense into them.

What will happen to you little children if you can't spell? I wail.

How will you survive in the world without knowing your nine times tables? I wail.

We'll use spellchecker and a calculator, they wail in return.

And I say, fair point, and decide we should instead go out and do important things.

Like flying kites:

and playing golf (our own way):

and seeing the world with fresh eyes:

How Children Learn

Amidst my turmoil about workbooks and curriculum, about what my children know compared with other children, there are times when I have to just stop and see what is in front of me. Oh yes, it's LEARNING! And this learning is happening now: like a secret underground volcano, all this stuff all bubbles to the surface. And I'm gobsmacked. How did the child know that? Where did that come from?

Of course we never get to see much of the learning that happens: a child can go from apparently knowing nothing, to knowing lots; from not understanding, to full comprehension.

Perhaps in a school environment, under a routine of externally-imposed one-size-fits-all learning, many of these moments get lost, drowned, smothered or distracted. Perhaps they happen and nobody but the child is there to notice. But in home education, especially when children are left to learn without interference or well-intentioned teaching, these teeny bits of magic are revealed. And if you're still enough and resist interfering, you can tiptoe up and witness wonderful things happening.

The biologist in me would say it's those neurons firing off, making connections, links, mapping the world of information and making sense of it when nothing much appears to be happening on the surface.

When learning happens and I can't see where it has come from I realise what John Holt was saying about autonomous learning. I see how learning is not a direct route from a to z, or a series of routes a to b, b to c, and so on. Often it is a random, higgledy-piggledy, unplanned journey. It is like one huge 3-dimensional jigsaw that doesn't always need all the pieces to make sense, and you don't have to start at the corners or the sides to make out the picture. And, besides, your picture will be different to everyone elses.

Today, I've been watching my 6 year old make sense of maths. I've never taught her maths. She has doodled her way through a few sticker maths books because she begged to, but I do no formal, schooly learning with her. I don't sit and count with her. I don't read counting books to her. We don't have posters of numbers on the walls. We've never practised adding up. I have no idea where her mathematical knowledge comes from, except that it has somehow evolved from her personal experience of the world and the problems she needs to solve. I find it difficult to step back. Maths makes me anxious. I hate people saying 'but maths will come naturally, in day-to-day activities'. I think ' Yes, but I dont' care what you say about your children, I need to see it happening, in MY children.' And it does happen. If I stop worrying and just be still for a moment.

Today dd wanted to find out how much money was in her money box. She emptied the piggy on the floor and spent an hour of counting out piles of tens and piles of pounds, coming to me with occasional questions:
'What comes after twenty?'
'How can I add these ones to these twos?'
'Do these make ten?'

She made a dog design on the floor with the piles of tens and pounds and, satisfied with her work, left them there for us all to trip over.

She never did find out how much was in her money box. By the time she'd got to that part, she'd built on whatever knowledge and experience she already had: her curiosity was satiated. The journey had been far more important than the end result.

Therein lies a lesson for all of us.

Ok, not 'what do you do', but 'how do you do it?'

So, how DO you home educate three very different children who are at three very different stages of development, with very different needs and an unpredictable, sulky and disorganised mother?

The truth is, I don't know.

For a while, when I had a baby, a toddler and a young child, it was horrendous and to be honest no observable home education took place (although miraculously lots of learning did). Then, finally, when I had a 5, 7 and 10 year old, it became manageable: the youngest was old enough not to be a constant drain, the 7 and 10 year old were reasonably interested in some things some of the time and we could do stuff, whatever that 'stuff' was.

But now I have a 6 yr old girl who is very precise about what she will and wont do, an 8 year old boy who is at the right age to be led to the water to drink, but is lacking from maternal time and focus to feed the sponge-brain, and I also have a slightly sulky, show-off, but lovely really, 11 year old teen-child who is beyond being 'led' to the water to drink and wants everyone to know it.

As a friend of mine said - as soon as you focus on one child and take your eye off another they stop thriving. It's true. I am constantly flickering like a manic torch from one child to another trying to fulfil unmet needs (or work out what those needs might be), while putting the others on hold.

Now if I was a rigid, non-autonomous, or even slightly more structured home educator, then perhaps it would be easier. But though I like the idea of routines, somehow, according to some unwritten law, my routines, systems, timetables, plans etc always go udders-up. Sometimes it is because my stubborn group of goats are digging their hoofs in and refusing to budge. And often it is because of my inability to screen out all the other distractions of life. I wonder...do I really want to supervise, half an hour of maths, half an hour of literacy, half an hour of French etc especially when it takes certain children exactly 1.5 hours to find a pencil, sharpen it, lose it, break it and go looking for another pencil, then lose the piece of paper, tip over the chair, feel hungry, raid the kitchen, then burst into tears when I ask them why they haven't written anything... No this is not what I want.

But neither can I, with my natural unpredictable personality, easily accommodate total autonomous education. I don't want to be on call 24/7, ready and willing to be interrupted (whatever I'm doing) and keen to provide an answer to a question, help to make a cardboard looroll tower, fix the pc, find a missing jigsaw piece, play snap, make chocolat muffins with a child (arggh!), discuss whether Roman Centurians wore underwear, buy wax for candlemaking, or play football. I like my children to discreetly disappear for at least part of the day, so that I can have some semblance of a life. GIVE ME A MINUTE, I'M THINKING! is a common phrase that emits from my lips. Is that too much to ask? I mean, even in paid employment it is a legal requirement to have a break during a working day.

Anyway, a while back I came across this article about Eclectic Home Education, which is a way of describing that place on the spectrum between autonomous and non-autonomous. And the article struck a familiar chord with me. Of course I aspire to have wonderfully autonomously-educated children, but I just can't seem to achieve it. It's not through lack of trying, or even lack of not trying. And I have for the most part deschooled now (apart from the occasional psychotic twitch).

Anyway, here is an excerpt from the above article:

"Our detour into "school at home" nearly derailed us entirely as homeschoolers. By the time all was said and done, I was ready and willing to send my kids to school, any school, just so long as I no longer had to be responsible for their education. Disillusioned and weary, I was completely confused about homeschool in general, and my own methods of homeschooling in particular.

Right about now I hear the chorus of voices crying, "Unschool! You needed to unschool! Relax and let life take over and allow things to proceed naturally. Allow your children to be responsible for their own education!"

But the problem was I had tried unschooling. While it may be natural education for many, for my family it was a natural disaster. I am not by nature an interactive person. People, including my own children, get in the way of thinking and creating. I begin writing, and everything else goes out the window. The house is a mess; the kids are unwashed and unfed. My husband wonders if and when his wife will check back in. It's not natural for me to focus on providing educational and learning moments for my children any more than it's natural for me to stop and clean the toilet the first or fifth time I notice, vaguely, it needs scouring.

Nor am I able to leave my own pursuits and follow someone else's at the drop of a hat. That sort of demand tends to make me cranky. My kids, curious as they are, given the choice to be responsible for their own education would quickly choose Lego blocks and computer games over biographies of great world leaders. In short, nothing about me or my family translated well into an unschooling lifestyle.

In my desperation and guilt--after all, I'd now failed at two of the "best" methods of homeschooling, albeit at opposite ends of the spectrum - I took Hermione's advice and went to the library...

...And when I was done, I had drawn what was for me a clear generalization of unschoolers. Most folks who adhere to a true or complete unschooling method are naturally outgoing, with entrepreneurial personalities. They're organized and scheduled from within, not without. Me, if I don't draw up a schedule for basics like housework and cooking, they never get done. If they're not highly scheduled people, unschoolers are flexible, able to go with the flow, adapt their course and accomplish necessary tasks without a schedule. (See above comment on my life without a schedule.) In many ways, I believe unschoolers are born, not made. And the evidence from my life and my five years of homeschooling was irrefutable: I was not born an unschooler...

...My trip back to the homeschool drawing board took well over a year. In the end, as is usual for such trips, I wound up about where I began. A little higher up the spiral, and a little more confident of my decision to honor my own personality and my children's, more certain of my ability to create a method of homeschooling that fit my family's individual learning styles and beliefs.

...Despite conventional wisdom, unschooling isn't the answer for all homeschoolers. Most families better define their method of homeschooling along a spectrum than in a box. Many unschoolers use curriculum here and there with their children; many structured schoolers study at least one or two subjects that are completely driven by the child's interest. There's no shame in not unschooling, and there's nothing wrong with not using a school-from-a-box program. The only shame is when homeschoolers are left feeling like they are less than other families because they follow a different path for their learning adventure."

Blood and cardboard

My kids definitely prefer it when we are in an autonomous education phase.

This morning I encouraged (forcefully) them to do a page or two of maths and to continue with our project on Ancient Greece. It's not asking alot. Especially when 'doing' ancient greece this morning comprised me reading a couple of paragraphs about Troy and Homer and then them assembling (or not) cardboard model of Trojan Horse. See - how hard can that be? Apparently the words blood and stone come into it. Or blood and cardboard.

Well we got as far as sticking together the background - the Troy bit. And I was feeling so generous I didn't even make them cut any of it out. Last night, well into adult time, I sat watching CSI cutting out the various items required and labelling each with the order of assembly. I actually cut out 12 - or was it 16? - tiny wheels each with little tiny cog-like flaps on the outside. I am such a martyr to home education. Needless to say they didn't appreciate it. And neither did I when my late night slaving away at Troy was rewarded by a cockeral waking me up at 5.45am and some grumpy children thinking they were so hard done by because they had to stick together some cardboard. 'It would be very easy for me to phone up the local school,' I threaten with a malicious grin.

You see, this is why autonomous education works for us. And enforced 'let's be educational' stuff doesn't. There were the kids, happily engrosed in dismantling something on the conservatory table (I think it was the old video player that they'd been using for catapult target practice). Ds1 was painting parts silver to stick inside a large cardboard box which he explained (in technical terms) was going to be a spaceship simulator (you what?). Then I went up to them and said that they had to come and do something educational. Now what's that all about?

Then I fed them lunch. It has to be healthy lunch, which is difficult. Well it doesn't have to be healthy, it's just that ds2 is doing a food diary for his fitness challenge at cubs and I don't want everyone to know that I feed my children crap. Even if I do (sometimes). The thing is, even ds2 is getting the hang of this 'let's pretend we eat healthy' lark. This morning he asked for All Bran (rather than chocolate spread sandwiches which is his staple diet). And then I gave him orange juice which I always mean to but usually never buy. And for lunch he had carrot sticks with his healthy meal. And I am writing HOME MADE next to everything on the diary. Because it is and because even if it is rubbish food at least it's HOME MADE rubbish and not PROCESSED rubbish. Well except for the chocolate spread.

The exercise diary is proving more difficult. I've realised that ds2 is probably the only one of us that does very little - except under duress - exercise (unless you count moving the computer mouse or running around hitting his brother). When I looked at the diary and couldn't think of any exercise he'd done for 3 days I decided we needed to do something. I mean, we're home educators. Not only are we meant to be nice to each other (for the record, I'm an intolerant vicious old crow), but we're also meant to be happy outdoorsy people whose children run through the hills on a daily basis singing the sound of music, while reciting their Latin homework and doing energetic back flips.

So we took the dog to the library, the very long way round. No back flips, just alot of dog poo to avoid through the park. As usual I had very nearly overdue books to return (what again??!!). And the dog barked and barked and barked really loudly outside the library while the adults inside ho hummed in that irritated ho humming way that not very polite adults do. I know because I do it sometimes (except mine is more of a ho huff followed by an irritated sighing noise). And once more I spoke to the librarian about getting a special card for home edders so we can have extended loans, because when you've got 80 books overdue for a week you need to remortgage your house to pay off the fine. And she said 'did you know you can renew them at home on the computer.' And I said.'Yes.' In my nicest politest tolerant voice.

So we're back now from the library. En route Ds1 collected a new supply of red elastic bands that the postman always drops, plus an empty Bob the Builder plastic tub for doing bicarb rockets, plus other assorted crap that will be swilling around my washing machine in the near future when I forget to empty his pockets. And now the kids are all watching Stormbreaker DVD from the library because none of them wanted to take a book out (probably cos I've ranted to them so much about the huge fine that I had to pay last time).

And I can't find the second packet of chocolate chips in the baking cupboard. Perhaps I have already eaten them? This is most distressing.

I am going to go and shout at the cockeral.

The Trojan Horse method of home educating

They are digging up the High Street again.

'They' are little men in fluorescent yellow jackets and bright orange diggers with trigger-happy traffic lights and a power-hungry need to control the main entrance into the City. If ds1 was 4years old he would be wetting himself with the excitement of it all (and I would be standing there impatiently trying to persuade him to come home). Instead it just made me late for work...on my first evening back this term.

[We once had an appalling video 'Diggers and Dumpers', set to really dreadful music. It lasted about 30 minutes. But it was played at least 4 times a day. I think it may have contributed to my maternal mental state and my dislike of diggers.]

Today I stapled the kids to the table and we did some work. Actually, no, only kidding. What I did was very gently guide them towards some maths books (ignoring the groans) and then I fed them cake and then read some stuff about Ancient Greece while they coloured in pictures of Ancient Greek things and then I encouraged them to make a Greecian pot out of clay(only ds1 took up my offer). So, as you can see, I am only very gently imposing my will upon my offspring. And the cake does soften the whole process, a bit like a Trojan horse being let in through the walls of Troy.

But I am still very pro autonomous learning. I am a big fan. But we- I - swing from totally autonomous, to semi-autonomous (never as far as totally coerced/imposed) and back again. I think, perhaps, there is a place for all systems in moderation, though deep down I would love to relax long enough to go totally with the flow. And to be fair, it's only when 'the flow' is 8 hours playing in the Wii that I feel some gentle guidance coming on. I do tell my kids, most days, that they are very very lucky compared with the kids at school. Secretly I'm hoping that one day they'll show me a sign of gratitude (fat chance!).

The introduction of more guided activities has come about because I've realised that ds2 is wanting something a bit more than to be left to his own devices all day. Of course 'child left to own devices' isn't actually what autonomous education is about, but it's a very easy trap to slip into, especially when mother is in the mood to lock herself in the bathroom and eat a family-sized bar of Dairy Milk while growling like a rotweiler at small child who has suddenly decided they need a wee 'No you can't come in! Go pee in the garden! I AM BUSY!'

And the imposition of some sort of structured activity has also come about because of ds1. There is a rising panic in me that realises he is now almost of Secondary School age. Why that should make any difference I don't know, but it does. To me Secondary School Children are big scary children who can write essays and spell and do complicated maths and actually know their times tables (though I do wonder if that myth I have in my head is actually true). When you have a child who still writes many of his letters and numbers back to front and puts capitals in the middle of words because he can't remember how the lowercase letter goes...well, I just have to chew that panic 20 times, swill it around and do my best to swallow it, with a large gulp of hope.

But if ds1 hadn't been home educated...oh I dread to think how school would have been for him. Knowing someone who is currently going through the SEN route for her 8yr old who can't read (and therefore can't access ANYTHING in the school system), I suspect we may have been in a similar position had we 'done school'. So I am thankful for my decision. I need to tell myself that I have a wonderful,confident, happy, knowledgeable and articulate 11 year old, who just needs to work a bit on his spelling {g}.

'I don't really believe in School...'

Sorry...grovel. No photos or blurb about our fortnight away or HESFES yet. Seemed to be bogged down in the washing basket. Spent the whole day today doing housework and apart from the lack of male pee on the toilet seat I don't think anyone would notice a difference.


Anyway, positive article from Peter Duncan, of Blue Peter fame at

http://www.tes.co.uk/article.aspx?storycode=6018488

"If I’d had a better education, I guess I’d have had more inspirational teachers. As it was, I went to Hawes Down Secondary Modern in Kent and it was dull compared with my life outside.

My parents were travelling entertainers, moving around seaside resorts such as Scarborough and Blackpool in the summer before moving to Kent for the Christmas pantomime season. The house was always full of performers and acrobats, men dressed as women and circus people - then I’d go to school.

I went to so many different schools around the country but I spent three years at Hawes Down - by far the longest stretch. I was certainly aware that we were the 11-plus failures. People had their future defined by the fact that they went to a secondary modern. I remember most of the leaflets in the careers office were to do with the military. That’s where we were expected to go, I suppose.

But there was one teacher who stood out. Mr Marples taught history, although that was never really relevant to his lessons. His dynamic debates and exciting discussions shone out. He managed to bring about a mind shift in us dogged children...

...I left school at 15 for my first acting job and I was joyous to get away. I remember the headteacher announcing in assembly that I’d got a job. It was a real achievement at that school.

I’m struck with a raging jealously when I look at my four children’s education. Still today, the school system classifies people when they hit 11 years old. It says: “This is what you are, you’re not one of the clever ones,” and children believe it. It was only when I got older that I dismissed the whole idea of cleverness. It’s all a load of tosh really - there are so many other things that you can click with that aren’t as quantifiable as tests.

I’m not naive enough to say everyone can be what they want to be, but society should be more open to the idea of trying new things that aren’t necessarily academic but are perhaps more productive and fulfilling.

If I had to come down one side or the other, I’d say I don’t really believe in school. Or perhaps I just think they need to be recalibrated. I took my kids out of school to make documentaries around the world and they learnt more in those six months than they would have done in three years at school.

I like to think of myself as a free spirit and that children need to be inspired and have a reason to learn. I never really had that at school, apart from my brush with Mr Marples."

Peter Duncan is an actor, ex-‘Blue Peter’ presenter and documentary maker. He works with Creativity, Culture and Education as an ambassador for the Find Your Talent programme. He was talking to Hannah Frankel.

The Rebel Forces are at work - and they're sat at the table!

Ok, ok, so it's been a while since I've posted.
And we've done loads of stuff (honest!).

So let's start with today..

ds1 started writing a letter to his penfriend this morning (it usually takes about a month of hard slog before he completes a page), ds2 did a few pages of his Miquon maths (all easy stuff at the moment) and dd decided she wanted to join in. So I had to rummage around and see if I could find something for her to do too. I'd thrown away most of the preschool educational stuff as I thought it was a bit pointless. And then I had a girl and realised that some under 6s can sit down for longer than 30 seconds without destroying everything in the immediate viccinity. Funny that...

And there we were, all sat at the table - yes, sat - SAT! - SITTING DOWN! - AT THE TABLE - doing worky - WORK! - sort of stuff. I wish I'd taken a photo, cos it's such a rare event in our house. But then one click of the camera would have spoiled it all wouldn't it?

Oh horrors! Am I really celebrating that my kids are doing what they're told to do? Am I really singing hooray because they are writing and doing workbooks? Hmm...my autonomous education body is turning in it's autonomous education grave. I guess balance will be restored to the universe in due course ('Help me Obi Wan Knobe, you're my only hope'). Watch this space.

And then around 9.30am a friend's kids came round and everyone plugged themselves into various electronic devices: computer, Wii, etc. But, hey, my children haven't come off the set of 'The Railway Children', so what else could I expect? As I said, balance will be restored to the universe, and in this case it only took about an hour (and the wrinkly guy with the pointy ears and a fondness for lightsabers didn't have to turn up after all)

In the afternoon ds1 went off to a friend's house, and later to an ongoing workshop thingy where he learns behind-the-scenes stage/theatre stuff [don't ask me what, cos I only get monosyllable replies when I ask him - it's his age, you know]. And the remainder of the circus troupe helped me put up beanpoles at the allotment. The beanpoles look very rustic (sorry no photo yet) as they are real willow poles from real willow trees that I chopped down (no, I didn't chop the tree down, just the poles you understand). I'm just hoping they don't start growing - willow has a reputation for this - as I don't think the allotment committee will appreciate 3 willow teepees growing on my plot! (They don't like children, so they certainly wont like willow sculptures. Sometimes you just know these sorts of things.)

And what other stuff have we been up to? Well lots. But until I load up the photos I wont remember it all.

So...be patient. I just need to upload some photos and then I'll tell you all about it.

Ok?

Are you sure?

Good.

May the force be with you.

The decorating, painting, fishing, pancake-cooking, hill-walking, playing, fire-lighting and 'looking excited for the camera' family

Bit of a catch-up to do on the blogging. Why is it that the longer you leave it the harder it is to get back into posting?

Anyway, we've been up to a few things recently and I've just uploaded some of the photos off my camera. These are in no particular order, but give an idea of what we've been up to over the past fortnight. It looks reassuringly like we've been very busy when I post a whole load of stuff like this.

As mentioned in my last posting I've been decorating the kitchen. I had a little help from dd, who has now got the decorating 'bug' and wants to paint all the walls everywhere...

Anyway, the kitchen is looking good, or at least better than it was. All clean(ish) and new(ish). Seeing as I only usually bother decorating when I'm pregnant (no I'm not) it's nice to actually have a saner un-pregnant perception of colour. Previously any rooms I've painted in this house took on a certain orange or bright yellow 'theme' (see above for an example!). It seemed a good idea at the time.

This bad taste when pregnant thing reminds me of a friend of mine who whenever she was pregnant would buy the most hideous clothes or shoes, something that she would never normally choose. On at least one occasion I had to say 'take the shoes back, they're gross and in a month's time when you're less hormonal you'll regret buying them'. (If this sounds harsh, don't worry, she's still a very good friend of mine, and she wouldn't hold back from giving me the same advice lol). That's not to say that either of us are fashion victims - far from it - just that pregnancy does weird things to your taste, and not just the tasetebud sort of taste. It's a kind of brain rot that sets in. I'm not sure if I ever recovered fully; I've been buying 'comfortable' shoes this past year...

Last week we took up an offer for a local 'palace' whereby you could swap a day ticket for a year's pass. The day ticket is extortionate (something like £40 for a family) , but it is worth it for a whole year. Although the day was cold we made use of the adventure playground, the train, and butterfly house, in the palace grounds. Hopefully it will be warmer next time - I plan to get lots of book reading (and maybe some writing) done there over summer while the kids entertain themselves.

On the train

Ds1, just hanging around in the adventure playground

A butterfly (I'm guessing you worked that one out for yourself).

Ds1 freaked as they kept dive bombing him

And , true to our non-resolution of going somewhere different each week, we went to The White Horse, a chalk horse on a hillside, with friends. This is the horse's head:

It was a bit of a hike up the hill, but not as bad as I'd remembered from BC (before childbirth) which was probably the last time I visited (yikes! Over 10 years ago). I even lugged the storm kettle up the hill in our cowprint granny trolley, just to prove a point. And yes the kettlelit beautifully in the hill-top wind, though I think I smoked out all the other hill-walkers!

Dd was rather frustrated that she couldn't see a horse - I told her it was more of a stick-figure dog than a horse, which probably confused her even more lol.

Proof that I pulled the cow trolley to the top of the hill.

(That's the castle mound in the background)

And here's a view of the walk to the nearby castle mound:

So what else have we been up to? Well we've been to the woods and done some fire-lighting. Here are the kids toasting marsh mallows:

In the woods

And ds2 cooked pancakes for us on Shrove Tuesday. In the background you can see the new colour of the kitchen walls (we haven't done the gloss at this point, so the yucky yellowy-pink is still on the door frames)

A couple of weeks ago we went to a local garden centre that has an animal farm and a small stream. The kids played for ages (and got rather wet feet) while I sat and nattered with a friend who was visiting from Nottingham. And yes, the storm kettle had another outing. Here is ds1 fishing for shrimps with a plastic bag on a stick. These home ed kids like to improvise!

And we visited a science history museum. Here is ds2 after I told him to look 'excited' for the camera.

Ok, well I'd better go now. Will post more soon.

Treasure maps, ds2 knits, and 'when is a school not a school?'

Well we seem to be regulars down at the sailing club. Each week I've been taking along an activity for the kids (and anyone else who turns up). It's usually just something I leave on the table, a little temptation for them to dip into if they wish. This week I took some old paper, all yellow-brown with age, and pens and paints, along with an atlas and a few books on pirates and explorers. It didn't take long for the kids to be painting treasure maps, rolling them up and setting off to the West Indes with their fellow pirates. Hmm..did I spot a bit of geography there...And no adult intervention at all...

It looks like there will be a regular nature group of some sorts at the sailing club: a monthly Saturday one for all children, and a weekly one for home ed kids to join in. There is so much conservation work to be done around the site - plenty of bramble clearance and apparently lots of plans for the woodland area - so we'll not be short of things to do. I think the only difficult thing will be trying to curb all that adult enthusiasm: we don't want to scare the kids away! Among the plans is a session to make some lanterns and have a torchlit procession around the lake for Halloween/Bonfire night. It sounds wonderful! A big project will be mapping the other, smaller, lake: the kids will have to go out on boards/boats to explore the unknown territory. I think they'll like that idea {g}.

Ds2 caught me knitting at the sailing club and wanted to have a go. He was making quite a good job of it, but got a bit bored after a few rows. Maybe I should teach him how to crochet? It grows much faster and it's not so easy to drop all your stitches!

Today the kids tried out an afternoon session at a local Montessori school which is opening up some of it's primary lessons to home educating families. Ds2 had a great time, primarily because he got to use some technology in the music session (always a bonus for techno-head like him). Ds1 wasn't quite so enthusiastic, but then even the shrug and a grunt in response to my questions was more than I was expecting. Thankfully they are in different groups for music, so they got a chance to do something independently. I guess this is one of the main problems with home educating kids that are close in age: they get to do pretty much everything together, whether they want to or not, and tend to get pretty sick of each other's company.

I think we'll be signing them up for this session for a term. I'd happily sign them up for a few sessions, but finances just don't make it feasible (I haven't yet worked out how I'm going to afford to send them for this one weekly session yet!). It's a bummer when such good opportunities arise and there just isn't the money around to make the most of them. I need to find a good money-making scheme.

Ds1 was funny as we were leaving the Montessori school.

Ds1:'Is this place a school?'
Me: 'Well kind of, but it's very different to a normal school'
Ds1:'Oh. So if I went here would that mean that I'm going to school?'
Me:'No, it's just like when you were going to piano lessons. You're just coming here for a few hours and you'll still be home educated'.
Ds1:'Oh that's alright then. I don't want to be a child that goes to school'.


Ds1 has decided he wants to buy a nintendo ds lite. I'm surprised cos he doesn't normally fall for peer pressure stuff, but this is definitely motivated more by his mates and fashion than his desire for technology. Now if it was ds2 hankering after a nintendo I could well understand it:given the choice he would be permanently plugged into his gameboy advance or the computer lol! So, ds1 has decided he is going to sell his ELC wooden castle and knights to make some money towards it. It'll be wonderful if he does sell it - not only will he make some money, but there'll be alot more space in their bedroom! Don't suppose anyone out there wants to buy a castle do they?

The boys are READING!!!

I put a video on before the kids went to bed, turned round and what did I see..?

My two boys were reading!

At last I'm in that wonderful position of being able to say: 'Hey, get your nose out of that book!' (but of course I didn't).

I feel like cracking open the champagne (except that I don't much like it). My boys are reading! Not just reading, but reading voluntarily...willingly...and even choosing to read rather than watch a video. Whooo hooo! At last, reassurance that autonomous education has really worked for us, for them.

[So, sorry boys, but I just had to take a photo of the moment]

And here's a photo of dd1, drawing hearts. They did look rather like giant worms (she wasn't that offended when I pointed it out), but it was still sweet of her to draw them. It makes a change from pussy cats and doggies, which are her usual subject.

The show goes on...(smug mother moment)

Normally I would only post photos/videos that my kids agree to let me post, but this time I've had to sneak this one on. This is probably the only exception so far, and I'm only posting it because I think it is such a wonderful demonstration of what autonomous home ed can lead to. Sorry, boys. Smug Mother's perogative. [Ah well...no doubt you'll blame me for everything anyway. That's what parents are for. When you're older you can go out and get a job to pay for the therapy to repair the damage my slack parenting has caused {g}]

This little scene was planned, and 'choreographed' by ds1 and ds2. They agreed on the 'costume', the 'script', and ds1 created the music. I knew absolutely nothing about it until they showed me the finished result on ds1's little 50 quid camera that he bought from his savings. It's a one-off. Unique. And fun.

If you were to ask my kids whether they are interested in dance or drama you would get a firm 'no'. No amount of persuasion or bribery would get either of them to sign up for a drama, dance or music-related workshop (believe me, I've tried!). Yet, here they are, demonstrating so many skills. I guess sometimes the best things are created just because they are fun to do.

Hey, who needs those overrated and expensive Stage schools...?{g}

Oh, and here is one of the out-takes...

The big fat chrysallis, a broken cooker and The Vikings

Well, it seems a while since I've had a chance to post on the blog, so I guess we must have been busy.

We spent last weekend away on the south coast visiting relatives. It was rather windy for spending alot of time on the beach, but we did some kite flying and the kids managed to collect half the beach in some plastic bags (cos we need more shells, don't we?). On the Sunday we went to a village fair with vintage vehicles and stalls.

Can't resist a bargain! A huge tray of geraniums for £1. Haven't got a clue where I'm going to put them, but hey, still a bargain lol. Nice armoured personel carrier too.

The boys look interested at things with wheels - even better, a thing with wheels AND weapons.

Chocolate muffins!!

I catch ds1 reading!! It feels like the whole of my home ed journey has been waiting for this moment...

So, he's taken a liking to a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon book and over the weekend finished it off.Now I just have to resist the urge to log on to Amazon and buy every single Calvin and Hobbes book ever published.

We came back home on Tuesday, and on Wednesday morning I lashed myself into a frenzy of baking, trying out a new bread recipe and making some apple scone too. Went to light the oven only to find it wasn't working! Grrr... But...then I realised this was a fantastic opportunity, the opportunity to buy a nice new big shiny cooker! Having never had a new cooker (all have been secondhand), and having previously patched up/repaired/made do with the various quirky cookers over the years, I think perhaps it's time to invest in a new one.

So, I spent Wednesday afternoon and a couple of hours on Thursday dragging the kids around the main stores and looking at cookers. And yes, they were thrilled...Spent the rest of Thursday hunting on the internet for yet more cookers, while trying to deal with kids' interruptions every few minutes. Still, the thrill of the chase is all part of the shopping experience...

By the way, it turns out that the Hawkmoth caterpillar (see previous post) that we adopted hasn't died. Instead, it's turned into a huge brown chrysallis! If it wasn't so huge it might actually be quite pretty. I'm relieved that we didn't actually kill it off and that it may eventually hatch out into large moth. I just need to check every day to see how it's doing.

I started doing some stuff about the Vikings with the kids today, after ds1 had asked to do some more structured things. We'd had a discussion about what he might like to do and I suggested the Vikings might be interesting. I had lots of hands-on/interactive sheets for the kids and some books already so we were ready to start up, but it was all met with some resistance by ds2, and ds1 was so easily distracted it was difficult to get going (not helped by dd1's constant interruptions). Ds1 ended up lighting magnifying glass fires while I was trying to get him enthusiastic about colouring pictures of Vikings! Reminds me of previous attempts at any sort of structured or 'table' work..lol..which is why we ended up choosing a mostly autonomous path. I don't know how other families manage to do structured work with more than one child. Perhaps they spend their whole day chasing them around and then when they catch up with them they staple them to the table lol! I guess we'll see how it goes.

Hawkmoth caterpillar, ice cream making and the messy house

We've had a house full of people today, mostly children, and consequently the house shows all the signs of child exploration and discovery (gulp!). Still it's always nice when we have a bunch of kids and they all get on together and do lots of experiments. Today it seemed to be the turn for setting light to cardboard in the garden! We had a family visiting today who are contemplating home education. Thankfully I don't think we've put them off the idea as it's their second visit lol. I guess they'll see for themselves that having a tidy house is definitely incompatible with home education!

Do you think we have a reputation for being a slightly crazy family? Two days ago a neighbour knocked on the door and brought us a huge weird-looking caterpillar. She found it on her decking, put it in a jar, and then didn't know what to do with it. So she thought of us! We are obviously the home of all things odd and bizarre.

It's a lovely caterpillar, a type of hawkmoth, but unfortunately we couldn't identify exactly which type it was. We put in some apple leaves and some other tree leaves, but it didn't eat anything. Sadly a bit too late I discovered that it might need some soil for pupating in and I think now it has stopped moving altogether. Not sure if it's dying or if it is pupating. I've put it on some compost in its tank and I guess we'll see. If it starts to smell, then I'll know that it's not pupating!

Haven't got a picture of it, but it looks really similar to the poplar hawk moth on this webpage: http://www.photographersdirect.com/buyers/search.asp?search=poplar+hawk+moth+caterpillar&sz=0&maximages=40&l=on&p=on&s=on&w=on

(if this link doesn't work, try 'poplar hawk moth caterpillar' in the search box of www.photographersdirect.com)

Did I tell you that we made ice cream the other day? Not in an ice cream maker, but in a plastic bag using ice and salt (and in our case, some chocolate milkshake powder). We found the idea on www.krampf.com . I think it's only members who have access to the instruction video for this particular experiment, so here are the instructions taken directly from the website:


<To try it, you will need:
- milk- sugar- vanilla extract- one quart plastic bags (the "zip to close" kind works best)- a one gallon plastic bag- ice- salt- a small dish
Start with the quart sized bag. Pour in one cup of milk, one tablespoon of sugar and 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract. Close the bag and shake it a bit to mix the ingredients. Open the bag and pour a little of the mixture into a small bowl. Reseal the bag.
Put the bowl of mixture into the freezer. We will let it sit undisturbed as it freezes. Put the sealed bag with the rest of the mixture into a larger plastic bag. Add enough ice to fill the larger bag about half full and then sprinkle about half a cup of salt onto the ice. Seal the large bag. Shake the bag for about 3 minutes. If you hands get cold, you can wrap the bag in a towel, or you can get a friend and play "cold potato" by tossing it back and forth. Of course, if you do that you will have to share the ice cream. Keep going until you can see that the ice cream mixture is frozen.
After it is well frozen, open the large bag and pour out the ice and saltwater. Open the small bag and use a spoon to taste your results. Yum! You now have some homemade ice cream. As you eat it, pay close attention to its texture.
By this time, the mixture in the bowl should be frozen. Try to eat this with the spoon. Not as easy is it? And the texture is much different.
What is the difference? The biggest difference is that the mixture in the freezer sat still as it froze. When the mixture is undisturbed, the ice crystals grow quite large, making the ice cream very hard and icy. By constantly disturbing the ice crystals, you wind up with lots of small crystals instead of a few larger ones. This makes the texture of the ice cream much smoother and more pleasant.
If you are a dedicated scientist, you could also test to see whether adding chocolate syrup to the mixture changes the way that it freezes. Of course, you should also test it with fresh strawberries, diced peaches, blueberry jam, .............>>

It worked quite well, though it took a while for the mixture to freeze and was really really cold while we were doing it. We had to keep passing the bag to each other because it got so cold! I'm not sure it had the same texture as ice cream, it was a bit weird really, and could have done with some sugar, but it kind of worked and we were all chuffed with the result. More experimenting needed I think. I don't think dh was that impressed, 'oh yeah, using ice and salt, I knew about that'. Sigh! Next time I'll get him to do the experiments with the kids!

ds1 has recently been asking to do some more structured things ('structuredish, but not TOO structured, kinda hands on'). I had to do a double-take when he said this. Perhaps we've kind of drifted a little recently and need to structure our days more. He's interested in doing some history stuff, but doesn't seem to know what. I'm not sure he wants to continue where we left off in 'Story of the World' (a history 'curriculum' with an accompanying book of associated activities), so I might just pick a couple of interesting chapters in it and expand those into more of a 'project'. It needs some thinking about. Autonomous education doesn't preclude structured activities, if this is what the child wishes to do and if it isn't something imposed from an external source. So at the moment I'm not sure where this new revelation will take us. Watch this space...

Doggy visitors, scrapstore visit, and that darn machine again!

Over the past few days we've had a large, but very friendly, lodger staying with us. His name is Arlo.

Arlo is a lurcher crossbreed and one of Jack's friends. He's the one dog we've found that truly puts Jack in his place (usually on his back in 'submissive' pose) and who tolerates his 'puppiness'. No matter what Jack does to annoy, Arlo can bite his ears (quite a large surface area to get hold of there) and literally squash him into submission. It all makes for a fairly good relationship.

Arlo does have the distinct advantage that he can easily outrun Jack. A few gentle strides for Arlo is equivalent to a 100-metre sprint for Jack. Poor chap, no wonder he's been so exhausted since his friend arrived!

Jack 'discovers' Arlo's bone. Nope, not giving that up.

Jack 'discovers' Arlo's food. "Mmm...tripe...yum.

Much better than that dried dog food I get fed."

"Ok, ok, I'll share it. Darn it! Got my ears in it now!"

We took a visit to the local scrapstore on Thursday and I bought 3 carrier bags of material with the intention of making some new cushion covers (cushion covers currently in use are pretty scuzzy, even by my not-very-high standards). Of course, I'm totally ignoring the boxes and boxes of material we already have in the loft and which I also bought under the guise of making cushion covers/curtains/clothes for the kids/bags to sell. As dh says, reassuringly, 'It all makes for very good loft insulation'.

S0, while the kids were quiet and otherwise occupied I thought I'd sneak into the conservatory and start making a cushion cover. Bad idea. Or perhaps a good idea. John Holt says in one of his books (I forget which one) that the best way to encourage kids to learn is by doing the things you love. Not doing these things with the intention of 'teaching' your children, but purely because you enjoy doing them. Holt predicts that if you do this children will see what you are doing and try to emulate it. Or...in my case they will spot that I'm no longer focusing on them, but that I've sneaked off to focus on something that I want to do. They will immediately want to interfere/destroy/ sabotage the activity or - if I'm fortunate - want to do it too!

So, I got as far as measuring and cutting some material and that was it. Then they were begging me to get the hand sewing machine out and I was cursing it, trying to thread the darn thing, untangle the bobbin and master it's stubborn, antiquated personality. The neat pile of material on top of the newly-tidied art cupboard, was pulled down, cupboards opened, and my finally-clear-after-3-weeks table was once more full of stuff. Home education and a tidy house just don't go together.

Ds2 decided he was going to make a sleeping bag for dd1's toy dog. As you can see, it all went fairly smoothly (thank you scrapstore for felt! I don't think I can cope with stubborn sewing machine AND trying to show a short-tempered child how to hem fraying material in one lifetime).

Just had to take a film of it doing what sewing machines are meant to do, cos usually it's angrily chewing up thread and rucking up material.

Dd1 helps

A whole new meaning to the phrase, 'Losing Your Marbles'!

It's amazing what kids can create, given some junk and a hands-off approach by adults.

Yesterday, at the home ed group, we brought some 'junk' along for the kids to make marble runs. The results (and the processes involved) were very impressive. Apart from a bit of help with the cutting and sticking, the kids came up with some wonderful designs, limited only by their imagination (and the stickiness of the tape). Ds2 even had an idea to create a crane mechanism which would lift the marble up in a flowerpot and then deposit it through a hole in a tube to continue on its way. Although not all of the plan was feasible in the time frame, but with a bit of help he made a start. The others ran marbles through tubes and boxes taped to the wall, periodically re-engineering them to improve results. The teamwork involved would have put most adults to shame!

Working as a team (with a bit of help from the dog)

So, where's it going to come out?

Hmm...think I might need a hand here...

Fixing the glitches in the marble run

"The marbles are MINE, ALL MINE!"

The home ed group was running an 'India Day' for charity, so the kids entered some colouring competitions (ds1 and dd1 were chuffed when they won something). The chocolate mints won in the raffle will also be much appreciated while we're camping this weekend.

After the home ed group we rushed back, unloaded some of the car and reloaded with bbq stuff and swim kit to go to the sailing club. It was a beautiful evening, still warm even at 9pm as we left. We took a couple of boats out, but mostly the kids were happy, fishing and paddling. This is going to be a great way to spend the Summer.

The children managed to catch one of the many small fish swimming in the shallows. Dh reckoned it was a Dacebut looking at the picture above and reading the info on http://www.maggotdrowning.com/fish/gudgeon.htm I'm rather more convinced that it's a Gudgeon (see picture below), because of the spots. The British record for Gudgeon was 5oz which doesn't sound particularly large, enough for a fish finger or two I guess.

The fish the children caught (a gudgeon?)

Dd1, enjoying the sunshine

Fishing off the jetty

Percentages at the Dinner Table

It's funny how much simpler some things are when they crop up in everyday life than how I remember them being taught at school.

Somehow a conversation about percentages cropped up as we were all sat at the table eating dinner tonight. I'm not sure how it started but it was something along the lines of ds1 saying he'd had a certain percentage of 100% 'because it's always out of 100% isn't it?'.

Me: 'Percentage just shows how many of something out of 100 there are. So if you had 100 donuts and ate 5 of them, you would have eaten 5% of the total number of donuts.'

Ds1:'But it doesn't have to be 100 of something, does it? If you had 25,000 donuts you could still work out the percentage couldn't you?'.

Me: 'Yes, percentages are good because you can apply them to any amount. So for example if something you bought was 50% off, how good would that be?'

Ds1: 'That's half-price!...So, is that like "buy one get one free"?'

Dh: ' Yes it's still 50% off, or half price'.

me: 'well unless you only wanted one of the items and not two!'

Ds1:'Then it's 100%.'

Me: 'So what if it's "buy 2 get 1 free"?'

Ds1:{groan}'That's too hard.'

Dh: 'No it's not, it's just division.'

Ds1:{groan}'Division!Maths!'

Dh: 'But it's like when you had your tuck shop and you had to work out how much each pack of crisps cost when you bought a pack of 24.'

me: 'That's just division and that was ok.'

Ds1:'But that's different: I used a calculator'

Dh: 'I use a calculator alot at work.

Ds1: 'That's one of my MOST favouritist things in technology - the calculator!'

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I think I've just undone all the good work of my recent frugalness (is that a word?). After years of camping with just a basic cool box (or, more often, a simple bucket of water) I have blown some cash and bought an electric cool box. I've always resisted - it seemed such a silly luxurious waste of money. Hey, what kind of fair weather camper needs an electric coolbox?! Well, apparently, it seems that we do :) We've always managed camping by having to buy new milk and other food every day, or putting up with runny butter and gone offish humous! But now, having spent 40 quid, it looks like this spells the start of middle age and the end of my minimalist camping days. Well, that's a lie...we've never had minimalist camping days, not since we've had children.

So, here we go again. Once more, we'll be the family that turns up at the campsite with everything but the kitchen sink - but this time WITH an electric coolbox! And once again we'll probably be embarrassed by our charming minimalist neighbours who'll turn up with a simple yurt, a stove and some rugs! Ah at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that among all their minimalism, they'll have some very runny butter and some going-offish humous!