The more time I spend playing Leap Frog among the many inspiring blogs I have the privilege to get my hungry eyes and simple mind on each day, the more I am convinced that each and every home school is as unique as the families that are providentially fashioned together by the merciful hand of our Creator.
Even during the turbulent and frustrating years spent finding our own path, I was long convinced that a cookie-cutter education wasn't going to slice it in my home ((ridic pun totally intended)).
No, I love that a delightful education can be had on an organic and intimate path, which is why I adore the principles of Charlotte Mason, who argued that Education is an atmosphere of environment, a discipline of habit, and a presentation of living ideas ((efficient albeit not poetic paraphrase mine indeed)).
Although far from unschooling, I do consider myself more of a Guide instead of a Teacher. Instead of having a hardcopy of daily lessons that we will work out during relentless hours spent around a cold and hard table, I have a weekly agenda, things which I hope to accomplish through a balance of books and play, but with plenty of wiggle room for the not oft occasional bunny-trail.
For example, last week we listened to Peter and the Wolf on Kiddie Records Weekly. Although I provided some context for my younger children, who had not yet heard this composition, and a few prompts while listening, such as, "Ooo, who do you think that is?" or "What do you think is happening?" I did little else. Really, I think I picked the ugly lint from our sofa's pillows and that's about it.
My eldest daughter, being uber-verbal, talked through the entire recording--yes, she's THAT girl you hate to take to a movie in public, while Sassafras narrated without prompt during every "record change," proving without a doubt that she was hanging on every lovely note. But, lo and behold, when the tale was spent, my eldest son, The Negotiator, who said not a word during the entire production, asked, "How can I make a lasso?"
Of course, a few Google minutes later, as well as a very serious and much needed exposition about the similarities between a lasso and a death-noose, the kids were roping not only every piece of furniture but each other, too ((hence, the "talk")). As of today, we're three days deep into a delight-directed study of rodeos, and my son can rope an ox-chair from seven feet and in record time. Don't ask me what the record is for roping ox-chairs; just trust me that he can do it and fast.
So, how do you keep your home school organic--a living and ever-changing education? What most shapes your expectations for learning in the home? Do you too give the poisoned evil eye to incessant all-through-the-movie-talkers?
