Learning At Home: Our First Term

Well the first term is over and from the results of my son’s first report card, we seem to have adapted well to the unfamiliar concept of home schooling.

I am the first to admit that when we started this program I was not sure how this journey would work out.  I was anxious about my role in my son’s education.  I had no formal teachers training, and was full of questions.  Had I bitten off more then I could chew?  How would I fit his school schedule into my regular busy day?  Would our relationship change with him home all the time?  If it did would it change for the better or worse?  Would we both be up to the vigorous schedule?  Most importantly would he accept me as his teacher? 

What was I getting myself into?

The beginning was definitely hard; we had to establish a pattern and a school work schedule.  I had as much learning to do as my son.  There were online courses, live feeds and movies on the internet for him to watch, textbooks, workbooks, art projects, reading, spelling, math, social studies and science.  The list seemed to go on and on!

My son was resistant at first and there was a power struggle between us.  I was not surprised.  Children often have the same feelings about change as we do.  He probed every direction for a weakness in my resolve, (his tummy hurt, bathroom breaks every five minutes, daydreaming and toys at his desk) but I knew that with every challenge we came to, we would persevere.  We had to.  We were committed for at least a year.  As long as I was consistent, and didn’t give in, I hoped that this would be the recipe for success and things would get easier. 

As time passed it did get easier.  Through trial and error and through observations I found out what kind of a student he was, and what methods were best to keep his interest and focus.  I also found out what subjects he liked, and which he liked to avoid.  The internet was a great source of ideas on how to get him to work on the things he didn’t like as much.  He gets bored easily I had to keep him on his toes and challenge him daily.

Both of us have grown throughout this first term, both as people and in our relationship.  There have been frustrated moments, flared tempers, stomping feet, and temper tantrums, but there have also been surprises, moments of discovery, renewed confidence and amazing successes. 

I won’t tell you that it is not a ton of work, because that would not be the truth, it is work.  In the long run though, if you were to ask him, or to ask me, we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

My Pulp Baby...

          There was a sharp brisk knock on my front door today.  I found, upon answering it, a man bearing a gift and good news.  I signed my name to the package he held and looked at the address of the sender.  A broad, wide smile broke through my quizzical gaze. 

          My pulp baby had arrived, swaddled in cardboard and screaming my name.  I held it up to the light as thrills of excitement and waves of satisfaction crashed over me and I couldn’t resist a dance of celebration in the kitchen.  My son came out of his room to question the noise and my java jig, and soon joined in.  Afterwards I showed him all the parts he was in, and where he could find his name.  His joy could almost be felt physically.

          This copy of the book is the first hardcopy and had travelled all the way from Tennessee, for my final proof and approval before its final stages on its way to shelves and the mass market. 

          Holding the book in my hands, touching its smooth cover and the texture of the pages, and reading my words in an actual published book brought on a potpourri of thoughts and feelings.  Some were quite surprising.  I felt happy, proud, nervous, anxious, and amazed all at the same time.  What else but amazement for a dream that actually transformed into a physical form?  I also felt exposed.  After all, this book was me between the pages, my thoughts, my emotions, even my photography on the cover.  Would it be liked?  Passed over?  Had I made the right choices in color and design?  Would readers enjoy the font?  All these questions went through my head as I went over each word looking for typos and other mistakes. 

          Upon reaching the last page of the sixty-poem volume, I sighed and thought of my Dad.  I thought about the fact that he had started the ball rolling in my childhood by instilling a love of the written word within me, and a dream of my own published book in his hands developed not long after.  He had been my biggest supporter, always asking for the next story or chapter.  I am saddened that he is no longer here to share in my celebration.  This is a bittersweet experience.  Even so, I like to think that even though he is no longer here physically, he still looks in on me from time to time and the next time he does he will be sitting on the other side of things, with a proud smile.

5 Things That Make Me Happy...

5 Things that make me happy...

Lazy saturday morning moments.
Childrens' laughter.
Baked Brie with cranberry hazelnut crackers, good friends, and great conversation.
Dark chocolate, candle lit bubble baths and lazy Jazz (Yes that is to be enjoyed all together).
Sunsets over sand swept beach slopes.

5 Things That Make Me Giggle...

5 Things that make me giggle...

A cat brushing up on my bare toes.
My son and his silly moments.
People falling down..(only when I know they are ok).
My niece and her belly laugh.
Snowball fights.

Mosaic Beings

When we come into this world we are broken and shattered.  That is why so many of us cry at birth…

Sure the Doctor smacking our asses at birth stings, but knowing where we came from and that we can’t go back until this life is over stings more.  In these moments we are aware of what we have given up to be here, to breathe what we cannot touch and revere what we cannot see, such as love, joy and compassion.  So we scream, bawl and mourn.

Many believe that these sojourns have been planned and trials meticulously chosen for the benefits of their lessons.  So that upon completion we may pick up another shard of our mosaic that is our soul; moving one step closer to becoming whole and complete, becoming in tune and in balance with our souls light and healing.  They believe that all of this is for healing; healing individually and as a society moving towards the “age of awareness”.  That it might move us closer to a society that is conscious of intent sent into the world and one that is fully aware of those intentions.  Is this what we are moving towards?  A society who thinks of consequences of actions before acting?  Who thinks of said repercussions?  Who of us, if they are honest with themselves, do this now? 

Personally I think we are closer now then we were… but we still have a long way to go, some of us more then others. 

Some would say we are perfect just the way we are, “perfect in our imperfection.”, because our imperfection is only an illusion.  We have no faults; we are merely incomplete in our understanding, in our healing, in our mosaics.  We have all of our pieces within reach; we just can’t see where they best fit the puzzle.  Experiences in the “University of Life” will show us the way.  Some will learn quicker then others, some souls are “older”—some mere infants—but all are looking for the same conclusion, to end the cyclic healing process.

A woman once said to me:  “Life is about give and take, we could not live without this concept.  We take air and give carbon dioxide, wild animals take the lives of others in order to survive, and mothers devote their lives to their young.  These are just examples of the necessary balance in the world, and of give and take.  The key word being balanced, there are always times when someone is taking more then another wants to give, and there are always times when one is giving more then they should.  These examples are not apt to last long because the imbalance of the circumstances will often bring collapse to such relationships.”

Another woman in the conversation asked if it was not better to give then to receive.  The first woman answered: “Both are of equal value because you can not have one without the other, you can’t take something from someone that isn’t providing it.  Whether they want to or not.  Essentially each supports the other like the brain supports the body and the body supports the brain.  You can have one without the other, but they cease to function.  More importantly, by taking something from someone who is giving it freely, you are empowering them and thus receiving positive energy yourself.

The person gives something to you and by receiving the said item you benefit in someway.  Even if it is something small, you feel great because someone thought enough about you to give you something.  So in turn, because you are happy, all those you come into contact with will benefit also from the item given, because of the way you interact in the world when you are happy.  No matter how big or small the event, the ripples in the pond are born and the energy keeps moving outwards.”

What if there was no edge to the pond?  What if more people understood the power in give and take with balance intended?  What would our world look like?  What would it be like to live in such harmony?

My New Years hope and wish is that more people in the world work towards balance in their lives and in the lives of their loved ones.  Most of all though, I wish that in the pond of 2011 there are more ripples of “happy, joy awareness” that reach each and every one of you.  There is no one who deserves it more then each and every one of us.  After all, we are all in this together.

Namaste

Viva La France

I admire France.  Or should I say I admire the people of France; I like the way they deal with their intolerance of their politician’s actions. 

When they were upset that their government wanted to raise the retirement age.  What was their response?   They shouted out their reluctance to such an increase.  When their government didn’t want to listen and cited all sorts of reasons why the rise in retirement age would be beneficial, what did they do?  They stood together and they gathered converging into the streets; they forged together and rallied against the government stopping shipments of fuel into the country with an energy strike.

France is a country that knows how to get its voice heard.  It knows how to get the snake to pay attention by strangling it a bit, and then threatening decapitation.  It brought the big oil companies to its knees just by coming together and doing something about it.  Is it surprising?  This is the same country that boasted the word revolution the loudest during the years 1789-1799, and devised the Guillotine.  This latest protest only proves that time and time again, over the centuries, you can not take the fight out of France.  I suppose once you take down an absolute monarchy, a regular government is more like a bothersome mosquito.

So what is our excuse?  Why do we, as a country, sit idly by while our government says one thing and then does another?  More importantly, why do we let our government get away with turning a deaf ear?  It seems we stand by while they outsource jobs, sell premium government lands to foreign countries; or deplete our precious resources.  Sometimes we are outraged enough to voice our opinions to the person waiting next to us in the coffee house line up.  If we are really peeved we send around a paper petition, and pat each other on the back congratulating ourselves on being a peaceful nation.  I wonder what other countries think of us when they see such actions.  Are they looking through telescopes of their own?  Would they care or only shrug shoulders and smirk, expecting no more from us?   

Canadians just seem to look through Margret Atwood’s one way mirror into the United States, our noses pressed upon the pane and our breath condensing.  For the most part it seems we are just content to act and respond accordingly to whatever our neighbor is doing.  We seem to be lulled to sleep by the lumbering giant next door and its entertaining escapades.  Until we are hypnotized lazy-boy tater tots, assimilating more of its culture into our own, becoming carbon copies of its broken shadows.  It seems the mirror between us does not protect us from N1H1, or the economy viruses, that threaten to drown. 

Nor does the window protect us from Hollywood actors who seek asylum from the dreaded ‘Star Whackers’ and the promise of free healthcare.  Not that I can blame any man, woman, or child who wants free healthcare.  Up here we think it is the bee’s knees, there are the long waits for MRI’s mind you, but when you consider the alternative I will gladly sit in the waiting chair with my volume of literature. 

Three cheers for revolution, mirrors, and Viva la France.

(References made to Margret Atwood’s essay “Through the One-Way Mirror”)

Chocolate Fixation

My mouth starts to water as

The waitress saunters

In my direction

My gaze fixated

On the plate

That looks like

An extension of her hand

I can see a little piece of

Chocolate heaven

Peeking over

As she draws closer

Finally

After what seems like an eternity

The culinary masterpiece is before me

I drink in its beauty.

The cut

Shows the brilliant confidence

Of the server

Knife in hand

Searching perfect dimensions

Chocolate

Gives bursts of scent

Pleasuring my senses 

Awakening longing in my taste buds 

I lift my fork

Knowing that with this instrument

I will wreak havoc 

I plunge into the soft layers

Drawing down chocolaty cheese layers,

Until I hit Oreo crust

Then with a flick of my wrist

This too

Is on my fork

I lift it

My tongue glistening

To my mouth

An explosion of taste occurs

Leaving my face with a smile