From homeschool to school

A friend told me the other night that she was eagerly awaiting my next installment of our ongoing school saga. After homeschooling kindergarten through fifth grade, my daughter decided to try out public school this year.

Probably the most surprising news for most people is that there is so little news. Because it was her choice and she knew that it was her responsibility to follow through on it, we’ve had little trouble with the daily details that many homeschoolers find difficult. She sets her alarm and gets up each morning 10 minutes before we do. (This is to allow for the quiet reading time that she always had at the beginning of the day.) She is actually eating a [mostly] healthy breakfast each day. (As opposed to our less successful homeschool approach, which was to let her read until she was finally willing to eat, as breakfast is her least favorite meal.) And she doesn’t enjoy having to do homework after being at school all day, but it’s never a lot and she puts in a decent effort.

But the big question for her was never whether she would be able to deal with the daily grind. The big issue that comes up with any child like her, whether homeschooled or not, is fitting into an education approach that is at odds with her needs as a twice-exceptional learner.

We have been very lucky that her teacher is a caring and flexible educator, so we haven’t had to overcome the barriers that so many teachers set up in front of their unusual learners. But at its core, the American public education system is very unfriendly to kids like her in a variety of ways. Here are some of the major differences we’re noticing between school and homeschool education:

1. The focus on weakness
When my daughter was young, I found that contrary to what I’d learned during my education, she learned much more when we focused on her strengths rather than her weaknesses. For example, she has strengths in science, reading, and conceptual math, so we focused on those almost exclusively in the early years even though she was clearly behind in writing and math calculation skills. Rather than subject her to “drill and kill” methods of inserting math facts into her brain, and rather than making her write more and more because it was difficult for her, we either went easy in those areas or at times ignored them altogether. Using this approach, she eventually brought her weaker skills along because they were required to fulfill her goals in her areas of passion. Though she seldom wrote an essay the way she would have in school, she willingly wrote long reports for her science fair projects. And realizing herself that math facts would help her do other math more easily gave her the internal motivation to work on skills that were hard for her.

The public school approach is quite different. She is in a class of 32 students who have all been taught to expect a teacher-led classroom in which they largely do the same assignments in the same way. Inevitably, this means that my daughter is required to do assignments that focus on her areas of weakness, rather than doing them in the context of a strength. She’s been pretty game to try (again, the influence of a caring teacher), but I know (and I suspect that she does also) that this isn’t the best way for her to learn.

We’re early in the process, but we’re also looking at whether we want to pursue the public school fix for this focus on her weak areas: getting an official stamp of approval on letting her have accommodations to help her learn. In homeschool, this is just how you do things. In school, you need official permission to let a child learn in the way that works for her. Quite a change for us!

2. The focus on “school skills” vs. “real-world skills”
American schools have a long tradition of having kids learn things that seem to have little or no application in the real world. One of the reasons for this is just historical: It takes us a long time to take something out of the curriculum once it no longer has a practical application in modern lives.

Another reason is that we can’t predict which kids will need which skills, so we make them all attempt to attain all skills. That’s why we make our budding actresses and chefs pass math and science classes that are not geared toward their future careers, while we force our budding engineers to enrich themselves with “fuzzy” classes that are aimed at teaching them college-level skills in a discipline they’re not going to major in. (As an aside, I will say that I heartily approve of encouraging people to become well-rounded learners – my beef is not with the concept but rather the execution of this goal.)

So to look at this through the lens of my daughter’s homeschool science projects, in the past she learned all sorts of things – history, writing, letter-writing etiquette, scheduling, geography… – in the context of a project that had a real-world goal. In school, all of these subjects are split up and taught, often isolated from each other, in the same way to each student. So the student who is passionate about geography because she has the goal of traveling to different countries gets the same assignment as the student who goes home and takes apart her household appliances.

In school, therefore, my daughter gets an assignment to write a Venn diagram about two of the characters in the novel she is reading. In homeschool, either she would have just read the novel, enjoyed it, and moved on, or she would have been so inspired by the story that she would have decided to write a screenplay or another story based on it, in which case she would have needed to master the goal of the Venn diagram exercise as an integral part of reaching her goal. No child will need making Venn diagrams as a skill in the real world, but many will need to understand how to compare and contrast in order to fulfill other real world goals. In school, this translates to Venn diagrams. In homeschool, we would have learned the same skills through self-led projects in her areas of strength.

3. Following rules because they are rules, not because they are right
When our children were smaller, we had to deal with the inevitable result of the parenting choices we were making: If you raise your children to question authority, they will question your authority as well. In homeschooling, you deal with this by developing a “authoritative” rather than “authoritarian” relationship with your children. You welcome your children’s questioning of rules as part of their education.

In school, my daughter comes home daily with tales of school rules, how she likes them or doesn’t, how they make sense or don’t, how the children and adults follow them or not. One day I was waiting for her at the fence and she pointed out that I wasn’t standing in front of the area bearing the first letter of her last name. I protested that this was a rule for the children, not the adults, and then she cheerfully agreed that although it was a rule, she’d seen few children and fewer adults following it. She tells me about kids who don’t follow rules and don’t get called on it, and rules that she follows but she clearly thinks are unfair. The homeschooler/anti-authoritarian in me says that she should try to challenge illogical rules, but the practical me (the one who went to and dropped out of public school) tells me to advise her just to let most of it slide.

*

So it does seem as if our year-long social science experiment is going swimmingly. Her learning has largely been centered around social and cultural learning, and the homeschooler in me says that’s just fine. As long as she isn’t concerned about how her grades reflect her weaknesses much more than her strengths, and as long as she doesn’t come home demanding to go to a Miley Cyrus concert, I’m pleased with how much her time in institutional learning is teaching her lessons that aren’t necessarily in the curriculum. When she returns to homeschooling, I hope she’ll have a new respect for how homeschooling allows her to follow her passions, shine in her strengths, and use her strengths to address her challenges.

Note: Today’s reading included this article on asynchronous development, which touches on some of the problems that kids who aren’t developing at a normal rate can have at school.

A behavioral diet toolkit

I am not what I would describe as a great enthusiast for the alternative health craze. I remember reading when I was a child about the “snake oil salesmen” who precipitated this country’s need for a Food and Drug Administration. Although I’d love to believe that all of our modern snake oil salesmen are well-intentioned, I know that many of them are just out to make a buck from a sometimes desperate and often gullible public.

Fish pills
Fish pills are a simple addition to your child’s diet that may make huge changes in mood regulation.

At the same time, some of our most interesting research on children’s behavioral health is coming out of investigation of things that many in the alternative health world have been saying for a long time: We don’t necessarily have an epidemic of new “disorders” for kids—ADHD, high functioning autism, allergies—what we have is a coming together of various strands of our culture to create problems in our children’s growing bodies.

I will only briefly mention how our children’s lives have changed: from most kids walking to school a generation ago to few walking now, most children playing outside a generation ago to most playing inside on a screen now, from kids getting dirty and engaging in creative play to kids stuck in fluorescent-illuminated classrooms now.

What I want to focus on here are a few dietary changes that can be life-changing for kids with behavioral problems. If your child has behavioral problems, it’s worth considering trying any of these changes to see if there is an improvement.

1) Reactive hypoglycemia and omega supplementation

Omega-3 is so helpful for so many kids, but especially for those fast-talking, fast-metabolizing kids who seem to go up and then crash mid-morning. I wrote an article on reactive hypoglycemia, and another on the effects of omega-3. There’s no reason not to start your child on fish pills today, except, perhaps, for the screaming at the yucky stuff goes down. Some people say that their kids like flavored chewables. My kids hate the flavored ones so we’ve settled on Pure Formulas, which they swallow whole. But I think parents should use whatever their kids are willing to take. You may also encourage your child to eat oily fish, which happily, my children love but many children are unwilling to try.

2) Impulse control and iron supplementation

There is a lot of new research coming out linking behavioral issues with iron deficiency. I have a forthcoming article about this in the 2e Newsletter and I will post a link on my Facebook page when it’s out. If your children have trouble with impulse control and mood swings, get their iron tested, and make sure the tests break out ferritin levels, which is only done if specified. Kids who get ADHD diagnoses seem prone to low ferritin levels, and ferritin is what helps the brain regulate serotonin levels. If their ferritin is low, choose an easily digestible supplement. We use Pure Formulas, but only because it was recommended and doesn’t give my daughter an upset stomach. If she could swallow bigger pills, I might want to go for one of the “real food” based supplements, but they taste awful and are large. (Nope, Pure Formulas isn’t paying me, but perhaps I should send them this blog and see if they will!*)

3) Gut bacteria and probiotics

I have been reading recently, especially in research on autism, about emerging evidence that gut bacteria actually play a huge role in behavior. This was very interesting to me because our daughter’s greatest difficulties happened when she was taking an antibiotic for a congenital urinary system disorder. There are new and very expensive ways to diagnose and treat gut bacteria imbalances, but the easy thing you can you is either have your kids eat lots of live culture yogurts, pickles, and sauerkraut or have them take a probiotic. One of the most interesting papers I read about this showed that kids with gut bacteria imbalances actually seek out the foods that are worst for them, which is something I’ve seen as well. I know that there are a lot of very expensive treatments out there, but as far as I’ve read, their efficacy is not yet proven.

I’m not a doctor or a nutritionist, but it seems to me that the suggestions above should fall into the area of common sense. I find it shocking and more than a little depressing that doctors are willing to diagnose drugs to treat a problem before they suggest trying lifestyle and dietary alterations. I have read that France has a fraction of the number of ADHD diagnoses that we have, simply because they always try lifestyle, education, and dietary alterations first before putting what may be unnecessary drugs into a developing child’s body.

I’m not fond of the snake oil salesmen, and in fact I hate all the noise they make which drowns out the sensible voices in alternative health. But parents can take their own proactive approach, even if their pediatricians persist in sticking with a 1960’s view of medicine and treatment.

* Note: My joke above was just a joke. When I am approached by companies wanting me to hawk their products, I always refuse. I only recommend products either because they happen to fit my family’s needs, or as an example so readers know what to look for. In most cases, a variety of brands will have similar characteristics.

A yearlong social science experiment

As I wrote last week, my daughter decided that this year she wanted to check out school. As homeschoolers, we were never completely out of the school world since we took part in a public homeschool program. But she really wanted to find out what schools are like, and she’s the sort of kid who doesn’t just want to read about it—she wants to get in and get her hands dirty.

Kids in school
Isn’t this what your child’s classroom looks like? Amazing how every one of those kids knows the answer…

So this week she went to school every day and seems thrilled with all the novelty: Getting up early and actually eating breakfast without having time to sit in bed and read before. Riding her bike to school or getting a ride and sitting in the long line of cars in the drop-off lane. Meeting 31 new kids all at once. Taking a class with a complete stranger who didn’t have to audition for the kids. Having homework 3 nights out of 5. Having folders for different subjects. And the biggest novelty: Mom caving in when at Target buying the folders and letting her get a commercial tie-in (Angry Birds).

I may be a diehard fan of Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood. But sometimes having folders with Angry Birds on them is an urgent matter of self-expression. Or so my 10-year-old tells me.

Partly because of the novelty, and partly because this a path she chose completely independently of everyone—her parents, her homeschool program teacher, and all of her homeschool friends—, the week went well. Ironically, however, it ended in my speaking at the inaugural Online Homeschool Conference. I had the uncomfortable feeling of being half-imposter, speaking so glowingly about an educational choice my daughter has rejected.

The thing is, I’ve trod this path before and I know it doesn’t lead to Homeschooler Purgatory. There are homeschoolers who say that any and all structured learning is evil and will ruin your children. I love some of these people and I have to respectfully say that they are wrong. School will not ruin most children. Think about it: If your kids are so weak-willed that school will ruin their lives forever, don’t you have a much bigger problem than your educational choice?

School is an integral part of our culture, and I applaud my daughter for going into this with her eyes open and with the intellectual curiosity that we nurtured in homeschool. For the most part she’s still enjoying the novelty and getting to know so many people. (Unlike the rest of her family, she is a happy extravert, and the idea of getting to know 31 new kids at one time didn’t send her to hide quivering under her bed.)

But the things she hasn’t enjoyed are also learning experiences for her, knowledge that she will bring forward as she continues to choose her educational path. This week her teacher needed to get to know the level of math that his 32 students are on, so he sent home some worksheets. The worksheets had, of course, impossibly small spaces in which to write the answers, and my girl with her handwriting troubles became furious and inconsolable at not being able to fit the numbers where they were supposed to go. We discussed her dilemma, and then I left her to make her choice. In the end, she wrote in microscopic writing that, she was sure, her teacher wouldn’t be able to read. But she did in fact do the assignment…her way…and learned that there are ways to cope.

I haven’t heard a lot about what’s happening at school outside of a description of the cafeteria food. But she did tell me this anecdote about math class. Her teacher was teaching the kids about number lines, “which,” my daughter points out, “I taught myself in kindergarten.” (Actually, I think it was first grade, but she’s pretty much on target.) So she got out her new graph paper notebook, purchased for school—and heck, she had to buy it so why not use it? She plotted a parabola on an axis, and then, heck, if you’re going to plot one parabola, why not its inverse?

Then she wrote “For Mr. X” on top and presented it to him as a gift.

I have heard teachers talk about the trials of having former homeschoolers in their classes. How they respond to the challenges these kids raise is a measure of how much they really value the individual learning of each child. My daughter says that Mr. X thanked her for the gift, which is about as good of a reaction as I could hope for.

The fact is, asynchronous learners like my daughter are the hardest kids to fit into a classroom, no matter whether they’re former homeschoolers or not. Yes, my daughter can plot a parabola, a skill which most kids her age haven’t been exposed to yet. But I desperately hope that he doesn’t ask her to do long division on a worksheet with a small space and instructions on how to do long division “the right way.” This skill, which most kids her age can do without thinking much about, is quite a trial for her.

I’ll probably be able to hear the screams wafting up the hill the day he tests that skill!

The longer children homeschool, the further they get from a school-based model of learning. As I pointed out in my conference session this morning, waiting for instructions and giving the teacher what s/he wants are two important aspects of being a good school student. Neither of those is an asset to a homeschooler. The will that led my daughter to learn about negative numbers at the age of 6 and to be fascinated with Fibonacci sequences at 8 did not lead her to enjoy long division. The will that leads her to invent and create is not strong enough to keep her sitting in a chair and following instructions if she’s bored. I know that she’s going to be a challenge in a classroom—that’s why we homeschooled in the first place.

Some may think that I am no longer a homeschooler because I’m allowing one of my kids to go to school, but I know better: My daughter is a homeschooler whether she goes to school or not. She has chosen a goal and she is applying all her skills to attaining and succeeding at that goal. Her yearlong social science experiment is going along splendidly, all planned and orchestrated by herself.

And if that’s not a description of a homeschooler, what is?

When little kids become big kids

It’s not something that happens on a specific day or with any identifiable milestones. You go along for years with “little” kids, who need at first to be cared for in every way: you feed them, bathe them, dress them, soothe them, talk to them, sing to them, teach them, and amuse them.

Then as time goes on, one of these jobs will drop away. One day your toddler grabs the spoon and now all you have to do is set the food him front of him. Another day your preschooler will decide to dress herself (and you get to live with the mismatched consequences). Like magic your children learn to walk, fix their grammatical errors, and no longer need help with the remote control (that probably happened first, though).

Boots
My blue-eyed girl in her motorcycle boots.

But still, you have little kids. You always know where they are in the house even if you aren’t directly taking care of them. You might still hold their hands crossing roads and help them with their seatbelts. Whenever they are not with you, you make sure that someone else is directly responsible for them.

Then one day you realize you’re not exactly sure where you child is. You know that she went to a friend’s house to play, and then at some point she’ll end up at another friend’s house where you’ll pick her up. Or he went over to a friend’s house to “do stuff,” and that stuff could involve anything from going to the beach or to the movies.

You realize that when you have to go do errands, you just yell “be back soon!” up the stairs and leave. You realize that when you try to grab her hand at a crosswalk, the look on her face reminds you she hasn’t been willing to do that for two years at least. You realize that you aren’t choosing your clothing in the morning based on whether it hides baby drool, can stand up to being embedded with ooblick, or has enough pockets to hold all the treasures your kids find on a walk.

You realize that you have “big kids.”

I broke one of my longstanding rules recently when I offered a photo of my daughter to accompany an article I had written. I asked my daughter if it was OK, given that she was half-naked in the photo. She was fine with it, and so was I: If anyone could recognize my big kid from that photo, I’d be shocked. Her curly blond hair is gone. (Straight now, and recently dyed black just for kicks.) Her bright blue eyes are now more of a light green. She’s twice as tall and you’ll never find her, these days, wearing a diaper like in the photo. Though she still does like to wear fun rain boots, she no longer calls them her “motorcycle boots” as she did back then.

After I asked her, she pointed out my own rule about not using photos of my kids if they are recognizable. I asked her to find a similarity in the photo, and it was hard. Yes, the photo looks just like her, but if it were on the cover of Time Magazine, people would hardly be stopping her on the streets to congratulate her.

It’s a strange thing to realize that your little child is gone and will never come back. Certainly, she’s in there somewhere. One of the things I love about the photo is that you can see her personality shining through. But big kids build containers for their inner little selves. If we parents do our jobs right, we and others who have loving relationships with our kids will still know that inner little self. But out in the big world where our kids spend more and more of their time, it’s necessary to keep the little person contained and protected.

While I’m writing this, my daughter is off at another summer camp (see this piece, this one, and this one about why we love summer camp so much), and I actually don’t know what she’s doing, who she’s with, and what she’s learning. She loves this independence, and likes to tease us by pretending when she comes home that she’s not going to tell us anything about her day. We are experiencing that feeling of letting go, our little kids growing into their big kid selves, and onward, watching our teen growing into the man he will be.

It’s a bittersweet time: On the one hand, I am happily wearing a dress today and not worrying about ooblick. On the other, that little kid time is so sweet and so irreplaceable. It seems like forever when you’re in it, but once it’s gone, you realize how fleeting it was.

Skyline to the Sea

Saturday my husband, son and I completed something I’ve wanted to do since moving to Santa Cruz County: We started up in Big Basin and hiked the Skyline to the Sea trail down to the ocean. It was a glorious day and we are now very tired. But I have the Santa Cruz Metro bus system (and a friend who alerted me to their new service) to thank for being able to do this great hike.

A beautiful vista opened up as we approached the ocean.
A beautiful vista opened up as we approached the ocean.

For those of you who don’t know, the trail from Big Basin breaks off of the Skyline trail (which I have also never hiked – something for another time!). The problem with doing this hike normally is that if you leave a car in Big Basin and hike down, you have two pretty difficult solutions: Either you hike back up to get your car or you do the crazy preparation of leaving one car at the beach, driving up, hiking down, driving the beach car back up to Big Basin (over an hour drive) and then back down again in two cars. Not exactly your best solution. However, a friend alerted me to the fact that the SC Metro had reinstated their excellent summer service that extends two bus lines out to the two end points of this hike. At 8:30 in the morning, we took a Metro bus up from Santa Cruz, and at 5:15 we grabbed the bus down at Waddell Creek State Beach. It cost $12 for the three of us, and worked like a charm. It was sort of amusing, also, to ride up in the morning with largely the same folks we rode back into town with in the afternoon (including a family that did the hike with a jogging stoller – don’t ask me how!).

The hike starts in redwoods, first the old growth of Big Basin and then younger second-growth forest. Part of the way through, you can go up to Berry Creek Falls, a lovely little waterfall with a nice overlook platform. Because we went on a Saturday in the summer, it was pretty full. There were about a dozen people at the platform with us, and as we started to leave, and enormous group started to come up the trail. (They turned out to be a group of older Vietnamese American adults from San Jose who regularly do trips together. This time they parked at the beach, hiked up to the falls, and then back to the beach.) So if you’re looking for solitude, this isn’t the trail for you, at least in high season.

Berry Creek Falls offer a nice place to sit and rest.
Berry Creek Falls offer a nice place to sit and rest.

Not far below the falls, the trail became much wider and was maintained for bikers and horses. There is a bike rack there for bikers who want to park and hike up to the waterfall, which is another option we discussed doing at a later time. From that point the trail was quite easy and almost all downhill. We got to the beach about 3:15, which left 2 hours to kill before the bus came.

At the beach, there’s a nice little nature center, Rancho del Oso, which is open until 4 p.m. To get there, once you get down to the ranger station which is on the mountain side of the highway, take a left to the marsh trail and follow that for about 10 minutes. The nature center offers very nice bathrooms, some exhibits about the local animals and plants (including some impressive taxidermy, such as the grizzly and mountain lion), and free filtered water.

The beach is a favorite place for kiteboarders, which made the rest of the wait pretty fun. We got to watch them struggling into and out of the water (the wind was quite brisk) and while in the water, sailing above the waves.

The payoff at the end of the hike: a gorgeous natural beach equipped with entertaining views.
The payoff at the end of the hike: a gorgeous natural beach equipped with entertaining views.

I highly recommend this trip. We paid for parking ($5 all day at the garage at the corner of Soquel and Front), but theoretically you could park further out for free and walk in. The bus pretty much filled up at the Metro station, though, so if you get on at a later stop, you’ll probably find standing room only, at least in high season. If you’re not a family of serious backpackers, this hike will be strenuous enough to make you feel like you’ve achieved something, and definitely doable for younger ones who like to hike. Watching as the ecosystem changed from redwood to chaparral to beach was a lovely way to spend a day.

Read more details about the hike and bus service in this excellent article.

Friendly banana slug
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