In Society of Homeschoolers

The Adventures of Amazing Mom

by Hillary Harvey, November 11, 2008

You know you're a homeschooler when everything you do would make an amazing photograph. I was thinking about photographs all day as I watched Zoë wait on line for the rope swing.  It was beneath this beautiful tree behind the house of the horse farm where we were doing Writers' Group. (I was impressed when the 9-11-year-old boys, who performed indescribable feats of bravery on the thing, offered to let Zoë and another 5-year-old go before them so the younger kids wouldn't grow impatient.) As they swung from the highest point of the hill to the lowest, they careened over the enormous vegetable garden that was in full bloom.

As I watched Zoë race down the lanes in the orchard where we went after Writers' Group with a mom and her 5-year-old twins, the sun chasing the kids, and the hills and hills of apple trees filled with round, red fruit, I saw another picture I could have made. Another when we got out of the car at Karine's house, where everyone was standing with badmitton racquets in the last, long rays of sunlight and speaking French. In some ways it's more satisfying to see a picture and not take it, to hold it in mind, along with the smells and the echoing sounds.

When we wake up now, in the morning we see stick bugs crawling along the screens of our doors and our windows. As Zoë sat down to breakfast one day, she exclaimed, "There's a stick bug on the window." And then, "What do they eat? What eats a stick bug?" And we began to Google her questions. So that by the time we arrived at our class that day, we were already in the thick of explorations.

In the beginning, the classes were a little bit over Zoë 's head. In French, Karine and her kids think of all these great things to make it especially fun, so Zoë almost doesn't notice she's even in a class. We start out with a game, like badmitton or a French board game.  Then we read French books and watch French cartoons.  All the while, Karine's kids and an 8-year-old friend are speaking French together.  Now, after a few weeks, Zoë has picked up some words and peppers her conversation with them.  Karine was confident from the get-go that this would happen, having taught both her children this way.  And she was right.  This morning there was a tea party for all the stuffed animals in the house, and everyone was speaking French while eating banana slices.


II.
I know, I'm marveling at the amazing homeschooling moms. And that's part of my problem. The society of homeschooling moms is made up of these really energetic, intelligent and inventive women who work hard to make things happen for their kids and their friends' kids. My husband, Owen, says he can't even think about all of us because it makes him tired. And because there are so many classes and groups to choose from, it can be a bit overwhelming.  I have such a hard time saying no to anything fun or interesting, I almost wish there were less available. But since this is our first year homeschooling, I'm much more glad that there is so much so we can really meet a lot of people and learn how different families get things done.

Most of the homeschooling moms I've talked to have said that I've started homeschooling at a really great time, that in recent years there hasn't been as much to choose from. I have to credit the particular moms I've hooked up with. While there exists a group in New Paltz who have collectively homeschooled their kids for years and years, creating classes and activities to address their kids' needs and interests, when Owen and I first started homeschooling, I couldn't imagine how they'd put it together. I was so excited to jump aboard their ship. But since their town is about 45 minutes drive from my own, and most homeschoolers try not to spend all day in the car, many of the moms who are closer to us have begun to coordinate similar things. Seeing this in action, it occurs to me that forming classes is entirely serendipitous.

The way the Young Explorers playgroup happened was that we were all driving to Rosendale every week. The group met at a playground where the older kids played soccer. Two moms got together and said, "Why don't we try to put together a play day near us geared toward the younger kids?" So they put out a day and time to the email list, and spent the summer trying out various playgrounds in various nearby towns. Eventually, they created their own email list and settled upon a playground to go to every week.

In another instance, after driving for three or four weeks to Gardiner for Writer’s Group, I realized that I was secretly dying inside. I'd even gotten a French language CD for us to listen to while we drove, which Zoë loved. But still, driving for two hours to get to a one-hour class where Zoë wasn't really participating was becoming really frustrating for me. I was ending up putting pressure on Zoë to read better, write better and talk more during class. All Zoë seemed to want was to play on the rope swing after class with the kids. And I get it.  I mean, it's true. It's a killer rope swing.  But not worth two hours of my life!

I talked to some friends from the Young Explorers group about my dilemma. And there started a buzz. It turned out that two of the YE moms had a desire to have a reading-writing class closer to us for younger kids. One of the moms had experience teaching writing and another mom had an interesting book we could use for curriculum ideas. Within one day, a class was put together. I talked to the mom who taught Writers’ Group to see if we had her blessings, not wanting to step on her toes. She was in full support, noting that that's how Writers' Group started - because she'd needed something for her son. We had her blessings and her help.

It turned out we could use the YE space before YE. So a note was sent to the email lists and, before I knew it, we already had four families of about five K-1 participants. And Zoë started her new reading-writing class the next week.


III.
We went over to the calendar one day. (This is Zoë's favorite thing to do now that Halloween is so near. She's counting down the days to the pumpkin magnet.) She had asked me to make another magnet which would say, "Pumpkin Carving Day", and she had added it to a Thursday. I wanted to honor the one thing that she got to put on her calendar but, being me, I didn’t remember to plan for it either.  Serendipitously, we'd gone to the health food store to pick up something for dinner, and Zoë had asked if we could go for a walk, noting what a lovely evening it was. Being the stress case that I am at this time of year (fall is my busy season with work), I was distracted and anxious and thought that'd be a good idea. We happened upon the market that was selling local pumpkins, and I absently said, "Maybe we should get a pumpkin..." Zoë was so excited she started to run at them, through the parking lot.  And I followed, making a mad dash to the shelves of pumpkins.

In previous years, we've gone to one of the pumpkin patches in New Paltz, and Zoë always picked the smallest pumpkins because she thinks they're the baby ones. But this year, Zoë chose the biggest one there. It was almost thirty pounds! So our walk was cut short as I lugged the pumpkin back to the car.

As we carved it on “Pumpkin Carving Day”, we talked of roasting pumpkin seeds, whether pumpkins were fruits or vegetables, and how to achieve various facial expressions with a knife. I thought about how nicely it all comes together when I let it.