Still Learning How to Homeschool

I've been wrestling with thoughts of making big changes in our homeschooling for the next school year. No, we weren't thinking of sending our kids to school. In fact, we were thinking of eliminating some outside classes they've been taking for the past seven years. (Like I said, big changes!) My husband and I discuss whether or not we need to make changes nearly every year. As homeschooling parents, we are all too aware of our own deficiencies and those of our children. We know who needs to work on their grammar or penmanship or reading. But this year I felt more unease than usual and felt a stronger than usual desire to make radical changes to the way we've grown accustomed. That is, I wanted to bring my kids home and just do school without any outside distractions.

That's great when you have little kids or very docile children. Mine are neither little nor docile. The female teenagers, in particular, weren't at all happy with that solution.

I investigated starting a co-op, since there aren't any Catholic co-ops for high school kids in our area. But I'm not sure if I have the energy to start the type of co-op I'd like to join, while still homeschooling six kids, ages 8 to 16!

I needed to sit down with my husband and write out our educational philosophy and goals. In reality, I'd been keeping him up late at night for the past few weeks talking about it. For me, writing it out helps clarify my thinking. Plus, I like to be able to look at what I've written and refer to it later.

Here's what we came up with. This is the order with which we came up with the ideas and not necessarily in the order of importance:

--more challenging and broader studies (particularly for our teenagers);
--more classical education;
--challenge them without nagging or punitive grading (grades should be a way to test if the student has mastered the material, not punish them);
--give glory and honor to God using the talents He gave us and learning to use those talents;
--strive for mastery of material (see the note about punitive grading);
--don't waste time doing busy work;
--expand learning opportunities
--more experiential learning, i.e. gardening, camping, hiking, nature study, cooking with Mom, field trips, etc.
(this is more for the three youngest boys at home, but should also include the older kids from time to time);
--prepare for college-level work, (goes with the challenging and broader studies idea);
--more memorization, especially poetry, but also important names, dates, Latin roots, states and capitals, etc.
--grammar and handwriting (weaknesses of particular kids).

As you can see, these aren't anything profound, but they are especially meaningful for us because of some of the issues we've had to deal with this year. Also, these goals could be achieved at a brick-and-mortar school or at home, but for us, the best environment is home. In fact, two of the issues we have dealt with this year (punitive grading and busy work) are from classes taken outside the home. Our kids don't want to give up that time with friends and learning from another teacher, so we are going to try to arrange their outside classes so that they minimize the wasted time and maximize the learning. We also want to balance the amount of outside homework they have with the learning that we want to take place at home.

We included the teen girls in our discussion, since teen boy was off reading his Aeneid homework and the teen girls always like to be included. Once they understood we didn't want to take them away from their friends and put them in a convent (do all teen girls worry about this, or is it just Catholic homeschooled girls?) they were much more relaxed and willing to listen to what we had to say.

I'm particularly excited about one idea we brainstormed together (after teen boy sat down with us). We are going to have the two girls and boy study the same literature and history next year. On tap: Shakespeare, Canterbury Tales, Song of Roland and other Medievel European writings. We'll also have the three of them do the same era for history, in order to maximize our learning time at home. I don't know why I hadn't thought of this before. One of the great things about homeschooling is the flexibility it affords and kids of different ages can study the same things, but at different levels. High school (and junior high) kids have very similar reading abilities, so having them study the same thing for history and literature is no big deal. In fact, now it seems like a big DUH!

It just occurred to me that the 2010-2011 school year will mark our twentieth year of homeschooling! Yep, I must be a slow learner, if it's taken this long for me to figure out something so basic. Maybe by the time my youngest graduates (in 2021), I'll actually know a thing or two.

A Real-Life Love Story

Since today is my 23rd wedding anniversary, I thought I share a little story about how I met my husband.

We were both naval officers stationed in Naples, Italy. I had recently graduated from the Naval Academy, so I was a newly minted ensign and this was my first duty station. It's difficult to describe what one experiences when first arriving in Bella Napoli. It's a beautiful city on the lovely Bay of Naples, situated across the bay from the active volcano, Vesuvius. One cannot help but notice the steam that constantly vents from the top of Vesuvius. When I first arrived in Naples, it was only four years after they experienced a devastating earthquake, and many of the buildings and homes were severely damaged by the quake. Some people took to living in make-shift tents in the city of Pozzuoli, where much of the damage occurred. The U.S. Navy didn't escape damage to its WWII-era buildings, which were conveniently unfortunately located in and around the edge of another active volcano: Sulfatara.

Sulfatara was just as the name implies: a sulfur volcano. If you've ever been to Yellowstone and seen (or smelled) the sulfur pots, you have an idea of what Sulfatara is like.

Evidently, the Italians decided to lease space along the outer rim of Sulfatara to the U.S. Navy sometime during WWII. The Navy quickly erected buildings and Quonset huts, (more about that shortly). I was staying in the American Hotel, which was perched on the outer rim of Sulfatara. I only remember being bothered by the rotten-egg stench the first morning I woke at the hotel. I suppose I got used to it like everyone else.

Anyway, back to my love story. I had recently arrived in Naples and was waiting for the shuttle bus after work one day, which would take me from the NATO base where I worked, to the US Navy base on the other side of Sulfatara, which was near my hotel. I was wearing my summer whites, with skirt and pumps, and probably looked very young and awkward and naive (at least that's how I felt). I was carrying a package which I had mailed to myself that contained some personal belongings I couldn't fit into my suitcase.

As I waited for the shuttle inside the NATO compound, I heard the sound of harmonica music. Not a recognizable tune, but more like someone just playing notes up and down the harmonica. I soon spotted the musician, who happened to be a young man, in bleach-stained jeans and flannel shirt with a knapsack slung over his shoulder. He proceeded to get on the shuttle and sit in the back of it, so I made sure to sit near the front, holding my package on my lap. He continued to play his random notes as we rode the short distance to the navy base.

I got off at the base and started walking up the steep dirt path to my hotel. (Yes, it was steep and it was a dirt path...and I was wearing white pumps). I heard the sound of running feet getting closer behind me and a voice called, "Miss! Excuse me Miss! Is your name Debbie Miller from the Naval Academy class of '85?" I froze in my spot and turned to see who could possibly know me. My fears intensified when I realized it was the harmonica man!

I cleared my throat and said nervously, "Yes?" (I thought to myself, he must've read my name on my package.)

He introduced himself as Joe and put me at ease when he said he'd been told of my arrival by a mutual friend whom I trusted. We chatted a bit and I thought maybe he wasn't so strange after all, but I didn't see him again for another month or so.

The next time I saw Joe was around Christmastime. He was working long shifts and barely had any time off. We worked on different bases, so I didn't see him much.

It wasn't until Valentine's Day, when our mutual friend made a rather strong-armed suggestion to Joe that he ask me out, that we had our first date. I won't bore you with the details of that first date, but let me just tell you that we sat at the table of that Italian restaurant (in Italy, of course!) until they pretty much had to throw us out because the staff wanted to go home. They were very nice about it, fortunately, and I think they felt bad about it because you could tell by the look in the head waiter's eyes that he was a romantic and could spot a blossoming romance a mile away.

The clincher for me occurred many months later when we were invited to the wedding of some American friends. The wedding and reception took place in a real palace in Naples, that happened to be owned by a real prince who needed money so he rented out his palace. Talk about romantic! And of course, any couple in love who goes to a wedding together is just asking for it.

At the reception, there was a wonderful jazz combo that was made up of some very talented musicians whose day jobs were being in the Sixth Fleet Band and who regularly played for heads of state throughout the Mediterranean. When they weren't playing for big shots, they would play private gigs. When the lovely bride and groom were leaving to go on their honeymoon and everyone went outside to throw rice, my beloved and I stayed inside the palace and he requested the band play a favorite song of his. They complied and we had the entire dance floor all to ourselves, with an incredible singer and jazz band to boot. It truly was like something out of a romantic movie. I had never heard the song before, but I knew as soon as I heard it that it was "our song."

Here it is, sung by the Manhattan Transfer. Their outfits are dated, but their version is still the best one out there (except, of course, the one we heard that night).





We were married in a Quonset hut on March 27, 1987. The Navy chapel was in a WWII-era Quonset hut that was supposed to be a temporary building, but it was still there in 1987. I heard they've since torn it down. It wasn't as romantic as a palace, but it makes for a good story, nonetheless. The day before our "church" wedding, we had to get married in a civil ceremony by the Italian mayor of Bagnoli because that's what the Italian law required. The mayor's office was situated across the street from an old steel mill and above an auto mechanics shop. We had to climb over piles of garbage on the street to get inside the building. Yep, that's the Naples I know and love.

At least our reception was in a nice place. We had it at the Allied Officer's club on the NATO base. We were fortunate to have another Sixth Fleet combo play at our reception. The guy who sang for us that starry night in the palace was unable to come. He was singing for the king of Saudi Arabia that night.


After our honeymoon in Ireland, we flew back to Italy via London and made a visit to Berkeley Square. No nightingales were heard, but we made sure the square was still there.

Photos: Spring Blizzard in Colorado

We got about 20 or so inches of new, wet spring snow on Tuesday night. These pictures were taken on Wednesday afternoon. The temperatures soared up to 50 degrees F, but it felt warmer since the Colorado sun at a mile high in elevation on a cloudless day with no wind feels nice and hot! 

 Peeking through a snow cave

Outside in shirt sleeves!

Spring is just around the corner

Spring snow is the best kind for making snowmen.

Nature's beauty

He's supposed to be shoveling the driveway.

Colorado sun melts snow quickly

Tasha Tudor's Garden and the Joy of Beauty

Tasha Tudor's Garden by Tovah Martin


My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong century. I sometimes fantasize about living in a hand-hewn cozy cottage with a wood-fired cooking stove apart from the noise and congestion of city life. I would love to bake my own bread, raise my own laying hens, milk my own nanny goats and make yogurt and cheese. I would love to rely solely on my hardy pioneer stock and bypass technology (save for the ease with which I could obtain the basic necessities of life…and probably indoor plumbing…and central heating). Hey, it’s my fantasy world.

Yet, here I am, blogging mommy; a Twittering, Facebooking, Linkedin technology embracing 21st century inhabitant.

There are some modern pleasures to which I haven’t succumbed. We don’t have cable or satellite television or a flat-screened TV. I don’t have an iPhone, iPod, Blackberry or a space-aged looking device permanently stuck to my ear.

I do bake my own bread from time to time with grain that I grind myself (in a modern, convenient and easy-to-use electric grinder). I make my own yogurt occasionally and I have sour dough starter on my kitchen counter. I grow an excessively huge vegetable garden each summer, with varying degrees of success and I like to make jams, jellies, pickles and preserves with the abundance. I sew, knit, quilt, cut my kids' hair and in general try to make the world a more beautiful place. (I said try.)

I sometimes feel torn between the two worlds—my fantasy world, which I would love to inhabit, and the real world that I actually do inhabit.

My recent musings were brought on because I just finished reading
Tasha Tudor's Garden, by Tovah Martin, which is profusely illustrated with stunning photographs of Tudor’s Vermont hilltop home and her 250-acre botanical heaven-on-earth. (An aside for those of you who are ignorant of Tasha Tudor, as was my husband. His response when I told him I was reading a book about Tasha Tudor was, “Who’s Tasha Tudor?” This from the man with whom you never, ever want to play Trivial Pursuit. He’s got places, dates and geographic locations permanently etched in his brain. Need to know the capital of Burkina Faso? The capital is Ouagadougou. It used to be called Upper Volta, he tells me. Anyway, Tasha Tudor was a prolific illustrator whose illustrations transport you to another time and place. She was born in 1915 and died just recently, in June 2008. Although she lived in the 20th century, her lifestyle, dress, home and garden were deeply rooted in the 19th century, if not earlier).

This is a visually stunning book that transports the reader to another time and place. I would liked to have read more about Tasha Tudor, but this book really isn’t about her, it’s about her garden, and ultimately about beauty. The pictures transported me to a time and place that is so different from my own, which perhaps is why I find it so appealing. My Colorado garden could never compare to her Vermont hilltop garden. She has moisture and rich soil whereas I have dry clay and rock. She evidently relies on nature to water her garden most of the time, whereas I pay double for Arvada water since I live outside city limits. Because of this, if you come see my garden in late July or August, you’ll usually find my grass a dull green, if not brown-tinged because I’ve diverted all the precious water to the vegetables.

I was disappointed the book didn’t have pictures of her heated greenhouse. It made mention of its lovely camellias which brighten her home in the winter, but no pictures. I can only suspect the greenhouse doesn’t follow the proscriptions of imitating 19th century. It’s probably the technological reason for the stunning beauty of her flowers.

Really, the book is about beauty and not about living a certain lifestyle. Her eccentric dress and lack of 21st century technology may be about her own quirkiness, but they are also beautiful in themselves. Because she spent so much time nurturing her garden by hand, collecting and arranging lovely vases of flowers and painting the exquisite scenes before her, we, the readers, get to enjoy the many images of beauty.

Technology (like this blog I’m writing right now) has done much to spread ideas and information. But we can’t live authentic lives if we don’t allow ourselves to be nurtured by beauty. It easy to be distracted by the technology itself: flashy images, surround sound, instant access. But without beauty in our lives, we are only half-human. If I learned one thing from this charming book, it is that I need to be more mindful of the beauty around me; to nurture and protect it like Tasha nurtured and protected her lilies, roses, peonies, poppies and even the lowly pansies. She cared deeply about each of her botanicals, often calling them by name and always ready to give a history of their planting and heritage. When a frost was predicted, she’d hasten outside to cover the vines of her Concord grapes with laundry, or she’d lay a deep layer of mulch around a tender plant like a mother covers her sleeping child with a blanket at night. Tasha Tudor understood beauty and our human need for it.

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That Sordid Stupak Affair

picture from Facebook "Stand with Stupak" fanpage by Peter John Resweber

Pro-lifers across the country are disheartened today after last night's eleventh hour cave-in by Michigan Democratic Representative Bart Stupak. Many of us had looked to him as a courageous pro-life Democrat who would stand up to the liberal pro-abortion politics of President Obama, Speaker Pelosi and the vast majority of the Democratic party. At 3 pm local time in Washington DC yesterday, it looked like Bart Stupak was going to be the hero of the moment, but by 4 pm, pro-life lobbyists saw all their hard work melt away as one by one, Stupak and his coalition succumbed to the charms of Pelosi and the Prez. (Not to mention political favors and kickbacks, of which I'm sure we'll be hearing more about in the coming weeks).

I couldn't stand to watch the coverage, but at the same time I couldn't keep from sneaking a peek at Twitter, to see what others were saying about the vote. My heart sank when I read that the health care bill had passed by a landslide tiny margin. Not a single Republican voted for this sweeping bill that gives the government control over one-sixth of the US economy. And thirty-four Democrats voted against it. Not a single Republican!

This bill, as The Wall Street Journal calls it, is the Democrat's baby. They made it. They own it. They'll pay for it come November.

If you want to read a great synopsis of the political shenanigans that took place to get this bill rammed through Congress, read Inside the Pelosi Sausage Factory by Kimberley A. Strassel in today's Wall Street Journal.

Here's an excerpt:

Never before has the average American been treated to such a live-action view of the sordid politics necessary to push a deeply flawed bill to completion. It was dirty deals, open threats, broken promises and disregard for democracy that pulled ObamaCare to this point, and yesterday the same machinations pushed it across the finish line.

So much for transparancy, bipartisanship and all the other empty promises of Obama. It will be interesting to see if he holds his end of the bargain with his Executive Order. Not that it matters, according to Planned Parenthood and pro-abortion Colorado representative Diana DeGette.

I guess I should stop pretending there's such a thing as a pro-life Democrat. That's now gone the way of childhood fantasies just like the tooth fairy. I don't believe the Democrats have room in their inclusive, tolerant party for those who believe the unborn are entitled to human rights.

At least I can take solace in the fact that we pro-lifers are having more babies, we're homeschooling our kids and teaching them about the history of the United States and our Constitution; something I don't believe kids in the Democratic-controlled public education monopoly are getting.

They may be Goliath, but we're David. And we all know who won that battle.

Colorado Dems destroy 5,000 jobs with the stroke of a pen

And I'm one of them.

Those supposed friends of the common folk, the Democrats, have blundered big time and angered at least 5,000 of us common folk in Colorado by their passage of House Bill 1193, which requires online retailers like Amazon.com to collect information on purchasers and provide that information to Colorado so that the government can then collect sales tax on those purchases.

Amazon made a business decision to cut ties with all Colorado Associates (of which I was one) rather than comply with the burdensome mess which Colorado Dems have imposed.

Colorado Senate Majority Leader John Morse has gone so far as to pledge to get rid of his beloved Kindle, once he saves enough money. He can send it to me to make up for the business he cost me.



If only I were savvy enough to figure out how to incorporate in Wyoming...

My son's last spring tour with the Beatitudes

is going on now in the DC/Northern Virginia area. He's a senior now and this will be his last tour with his men's acapella group. I'd love to hear from anyone who was able to go to one of their shows this week!

When all the world seems to be falling apart

...remember He loves you.



Better sound on this one but no video.

It happened again

Another school shooting in Colorado. Praise God no one was killed this time.

I'm so hungry I could eat a buffalo

Lent may be a time of simpler, meatless meals, but Sundays are always a day of feasting. This past Sunday I cooked up my first bison roast. My dad has started raising bison in southern Colorado, on a 200 acre ranch on the Rio Grande and this was from his very first one. I searched online for a recipe, then tweeked it according to our tastes and what we had on hand. The result was delicious! Want the recipe?

Bison Roast with Garlic

3 to 5 lb bison roast
olive oil for searing
3 sm pkgs frozen pearl onions
1/2 c cooking wine or Italian dressing
1/2 c flour
2 12 oz. bottles beer (we used Coors Light...what else are you going to do with light beer?)
2 T Worcestershire sauce
1 t dry mustard
2 to 3 cloves garlic, minced
black pepper
salt
garlic powder

Pepper all surfaces of roast and sprinkle liberally with garlic powder. Sear roast in hot skillet with olive oil until nicely browned. Place roast in slow cooker at MEDIUM temperature with pearl onions. Douse with cooking wine or Italian dressing. In the meantime, use drippings from skillet to make gravy. Heat drippings; add flour, salt and pepper to taste. Stir in beer. Add extra flour or liquid as necessary to make a good gravy. Season gravy with Worcestershire sauce, dry mustard and garlic. Cook just enough to blend thoroughly. Pour gravy over roast and onions. Make sure roast is completely covered. Leave the lid in place for 6 to 8 hours at MEDIUM setting. (Or cook longer at LOW setting).

Catholic Culture: Epiphany to Mardis Gras

Most folks have heard of Mardis Gras, but how many know what it means? I don't just mean literally (it's French for "Fat Tuesday"), but historically and liturgically? For example, did you know that Mardis Gras actually has its roots in Christmas?

I did a little research and found out some more tidbits that I didn't know before.

Mardis Gras isn't just the one day before Ash Wednesday (though the folks in New Orleans could've told me that, I'm sure!) It's actually the entire celebratory season from Epiphany (or Twelfth Night, January 6th) until the Lenten season of penance begins at midnight of Ash Wednesday.

a traditional King's cake--yummy, huh?

The King's cake which is a mandatory part of Mardis Gras in New Orleans (another thing I hadn't known before), commemorates the route of the three kings (also known as the three wise men) who traveled from the East to seek the Infant King of the world, Jesus. They took a circuitous route in order to evade King Herod's men. (Hence, the circular cake). Herod had instructed the three kings to return to him after finding the Infant King in order that King Herod might come and pay homage to Him. (Yeah, right, Herod!) The three kings weren't called "wise men" for nothing. They never told Herod where He was.

The colors are significant too. The purple stands for justice, green is faith and gold is power. The Church uses these colors throughout the liturgical year as well. Purple is the color worn for Advent and Lent and signifies penance; green is worn during Ordinary Time and represents the hope of life eternal and new life; Gold represents something highly valued and esteemed.

In Catholic Europe, the period from Epiphany to Ash Wednesday is known as Carnival: from the Latin words carne vale, meaning "farewell to meat," signifying the period of abstaining from meat during the Lenten fast.

Speaking of fasting: Mardis Gras doesn't mean you indulge on Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and thus you get fat (as I used to think). The "fat" part of Fat Tuesday means all animal fats were used up, since they would not be used during the six weeks of the Lenten observance.

The English also used up their animal fats (and dairy products, including eggs, which were forbidden during Lent from about the seventh century until fairly recently). Even though Englishmen can now eat butter and eggs during Lent, the tradition of "Pancake Day" or "Shrove Tuesday" remains. Shrove Tuesday refers to the tradition of being "shriven" of one's sins on that day by making an examination of conscience and going to confession to prepare for the season of penance. Though not as boisterous a holiday as Mardis Gras or Carnival, the Brits are just as wed to the traditions of Pancake Day as are the rowdier crowds wed to their King's cake in New Orleans. Pancake races, whereby the runners must also flip pancakes in skillets whilst running, are a popular event in the villages of England even today. (When we lived in North Yorkshire, our parish priest was a frequent winner of these races).

My kids insisted upon eating pancakes for supper last Tuesday, even though I assured them they would be available to them for breakfast throughout Lent. (I opted for a nice helping of leftover lasagne with a glass of merlot for dinner that night).

Always wear your seatbelt

Public Safety Announcement

A friend sent me a link to this lovely video.