Fall is my favorite season. There is something about crisp fall days that is like none other. Last weekend, we drove out to a beautiful location for a recommended fall hike. The hike was super easy (I actually wouldn't really call it a hike, as the entire route was only a mile and it was paved to help with preserving against the harsh wintry elements; the toughest part was actually driving over a gazillion huge pot holes on the way there with our tiny sedan), but it was absolutely Pacific Northwest postcard gorgeous.
I am semi working on keeping my anonymity on this blog -- which is to say that if you know me personally, you could probably figure out that this blog is mine based on its content, but I could still write whatever I feel like writing about, without it bleeding over into my professional life. So, this is the best picture I could find where the faces are not clearly seen. You can see how clear the water is and it just constantly takes my breath away to live in a city, but to have access to such natural beauty. Nature fills me with wonder and gratitude in all seasons.
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Besides the state of our country and the world, I have also been thinking a lot about home-schooling my preschooler. I began the home-schooling journey back in March, when we first decided to keep him at home. We are still paying for his daycare now, so it was always intended to be a temporary home-schooling setup, but this fall we decided to continue home-schooling, as I will not be returning to teaching in a classroom this year. (I am still doing some virtual/no-cost tutoring just to help out with families that have greater learning or financial needs than us, but it only happens a couple of times each week, while my two kids are napping.) We are still paying for his daycare for now, but emotionally I am prepared for the possibility that my son would be at home with me at least through January, and possibly through the end of the school year, which would land him straight in Kindergarten next year.
To begin with, I was a reluctant home-schooler. I feel confident about my ability to teach my child anything that I know, but I think 1. he needs the socialization that comes with being in a formal school setting, and 2. it is not necessarily good for him to advance too quickly in any academic area, because it could result in boredom with school down the road, or a fixed mindset about learning. But, given that my son was already home with me for months on end, I decided that we needed a little bit of structure to our days, in order for him to not start jumping off the walls. I followed his school's general structure of going outside twice a day to play, and designating regular lunch and nap times, and reading lots of picture books throughout the day, but I wanted the days to have a little bit of academic focus to tie the days together with meaning and purpose. I already had a book from my neighbors, called Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, which I had kept because other teacher friends of mine had raved about it in teaching their own preschoolers to read. I am all for trying to do what I can, with what resources I have, so I started to slowly make our way through that book of reading lessons. Flash forward, my 4-year-old did finish it, but it was a bit of a painful process. It was a combination of his stubbornness and mine; on the days when he struggled with the mechanics, he would push himself to read two lessons instead of one, because he did not want me to tell him it was time to stop; and on the days when he was just clearly defiant, I would power through half a lesson just to stick to the daily routine. In hindsight, I should have obviously mixed up the extremely boring book lessons with hands-on activities and Bob books -- which I did incorporate subsequently, and I saw my son's engagement go way up, as did his reading fluency. Hindsight is always 20-20, but it is a little embarrassing to say this as an experienced teacher, that it took me so long to realize the format was not really working for my son and that there were better alternatives. In the beginning of March, I was just trying to survive each day. I came up with a daily schedule that was incremental by 45-minute blocs of time. I knew at all times of the day what we were supposed to be doing, and having a detailed schedule quickly brought routine and comfort to both me and the kids. (My baby was still home with me, but it was a big adjustment for her to have her big brother around all day, everyday. It was also a big adjustment for me, because my daughter had to receive help with completing PT exercises multiple times each day, because of her gross-motor delays.) I also decided quickly that we should do a variety of activities. Besides being outdoors regularly and reading lots of books, I also incorporated hands-on science activities and bought a book on how to use scissors for daily preschool cutting practice. Those first days flew by quickly, until the scissors lessons ran out and I was exhausted from trying to do super innovative science lessons everyday. So, we entered Phase 2 of homeschooling. I dropped science, and started working in more extensive actual play activities. My son was starting to enjoy jigsaw puzzles, so we spent a couple of months really working on his skills of thinking strategically to assemble new jigsaw puzzles. He was able to independently play for longer and longer, and we also worked actively on learning to ride a bike when we were outside everyday (with some bribes on my part, since my preschooler really is physically risk-averse). During this second phase was when we introduced a lot of dancing and singing, at first everyday, and then it tapered to when my son was feeling really in the mood for it. As my daughter grew older and more mobile (a little after her first birthday), I began to remove the play pen for a period of time everyday, to ease both kids into sharing toys together. Eventually, she dropped a nap and they got on the same nap schedule, and the play pen was stored away. I would say that, right now, we are in Phase 3 of home-schooling. The kids do a pretty good job of alternating between individual play (in the same space) and communal play. In the mornings, I still do an academic lesson with my son -- we alternate between practicing reading and doing some math each day, but the lessons only last about 15 or 20 minutes. (I will write about the math that we do on another day.) I am trying to incorporate more creativity into our days, because I don't want my son to grow up to be too rigid. A few weeks ago, we painted rocks and shells, and I was thinking up mime scenarios to act out with the kids everyday, to encourage my toddler's artistic risk-taking. Last week, we had a group chalk session, where I asked my son to contribute ideas to my drawings, and he in turn took some pieces of chalk and added on his own abstract contribution. (The baby also scribbled on the side, which is good for her fine-motor development. A few weeks ago she was not able to hold the chalk to make any mark, but I could see that she is getting stronger recently after a lot of fine-motor practice / OT.) In another post, I will talk more about the math that we do, because as a math teacher, I feel so passionate about exposing our young kids to math (either informally or formally, whatever you feel comfortable with), the same way you would expose them to early reading experiences! But I am also curious what has worked for you, if you have tried to "homeschool" your young kids? Growing up, I was always extremely close with my mom. I have so many memories of talking to her for an hour at a time, while she was cooking in the kitchen every night. I would tell her every small thing that had happened at school, and she would help me to reflect on who I am and what my observations and opinions said about my values. Even though I moved away from home after high school and proceeded to live in different states, countries, and even continents than her, I always maintained a very close relationship with my mom. After she was diagnosed with cancer in 2013, I made it a priority to visit her regularly, in order to spend as much time with her as possible; I did not want to feel any regret after her passing. I wanted to make sure that she felt loved and appreciated by me, and selfishly, I also wanted to make more memories with her before it was too late.
When my mother passed away in 2018, it was the end to five years of surgery and treatment. She had missed physically being present for the birth of my son and her first grandchild (in 2016), because she had been undergoing chemotherapy at home. By the time she passed, she had been confined to her couch and bed for a while; she had grown incredibly thin and could not stay awake for long stretches of time, and it was terrifying to wait for the last goodbye that could come at any time. In that slow, excruciating journey of loss, we had said goodbye both explicitly and emotionally so many times, that I felt there was simultaneously nothing left unsaid, and yet everything still to be said, once she was actually gone. When I read Michelle Obama's Becoming, one of the parts that hit me in the gut with raw emotions was her description of the loss of her father. The slowness of that loss, the incredible resilience of her father, and the way that loss forced her to reflect upon her own mortality and legacy, were very real experiences that I had myself in experiencing the loss of my mother. When my mother passed, besides feeling a deep sadness and trying to smooth over a gaping hole in my family, what I felt was an immediate question about my own life choices. When it came to the end of my life, would I feel satisfied with how I had lived my life? The loss of a parent forces this question upon you. In uncertain times like the one we are living in now, I both draw strength from the strength that I witnessed in my mother, and question sometimes my own decision to have children. I have a feeling that I might not be alone in questioning this. Well, I share my thoughts on that reflection here, to perhaps assuage your guilt in being a parent. 1. Human kind has always faced great adversity in different periods -- famine, war, poverty. If our ancestors had decided that they would only have children when everything seemed smooth-sailing, I can be fairly confident that most of us would not be here today. To have and rear children is both an act of radical hope and a commitment to pass on our humanity. I think there was a dystopian novel The Children of Men, where the premise is that no more children were being born on earth? I never read that book, actually, but I think it is true that children serve a very important purpose in our society. They are both a symbol of radical hope and they bring more hope and joy -- not only to their parents and family members, but to the greater community, whoever gets to witness that hope and joy. Until the last generation of humans on earth, I believe that each generation will continue to make and raise babies, against all odds. As they should -- else, what are we fighting for? 2. Humans are resourceful. My extremely optimistic husband believes that humans have the tools necessary to solve the great challenges we are facing currently. No, it is not all solvable by one person. The climate change problems we are facing are huge and complex. They require hundreds and thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of people working collaboratively to solve. They require a tide of public pressure for the government to change its agenda and priorities at all levels. And even then, it will likely take generations of work, in order to reverse the harm that has been done. If today, all of the left-leaning, science-believing friends decided that they will not raise children, we have already lost that fight. It is our job to raise human beings who are willing and able to move that dial and to continue that fight into the next generation. 3. Maybe this is just me being sentimental, but I think the three main components of my own humanity are: my relationship to my parents/sibling; my relationship to my greater community; and my relationship to my own created family (eg. my marriage and my relationship with my children). Through those three elements, my life gains meaning and is worth living, which comes back full circle to losing my mother and the reflections that I have had since. In being part of this long line of human existence, we are like a butterfly that goes through its own life cycle. It seems silly to question why a butterfly should procreate, simply because we don't know what life will look like for the next generation of butterflies? It was my hope that this post could bring you at least some comfort in these uncertain times. I am not sure if it accomplished that or was actually a downer, but I wanted to say simply that I see you, all the struggling parents out there. It is not easy balancing work, marriage, our own mental health, our idea of justice, climate worries, a pandemic, and trying to raise healthy and happy kids. I see you doing your best and holding on to radical hope. You are not alone. I have been reflecting a lot about self-limiting beliefs.
It all started when we made these new friends a couple of years ago. They are a married couple, and their kid was in the same toddler soccer program as our big kid, L. My husband, G, started getting friendly with the dad during the soccer program, which annoyed me initially because they were always off in the corner chatting, so I had to run around with L during the soccer program while being fairly pregnant. But then, we met his wife, and it was all good because I liked her right away. We have been hanging out more with this family over the course of the past year, and we just really like them. Besides being incredibly down to earth and genuine, the thing that has made the biggest impression on me is how both of them DO NOT seem to have self-limiting beliefs! The husband is learning to swim currently, because he has set a goal to do a triathlon when he turns 40. Have you ever met a person who has decided to do a triathlon, before they know how to swim?! The wife has had a spotty academic record because she had to care for her younger siblings financially when she was in college, but she is applying to a prestigious MBA program so that she can advance her tech career while on upcoming maternity leave! This lady bikes up and down the hills in our city while being 8 months pregnant, while carrying her 30-pound toddler on the back of her non-e-assisted bike. So incredibly inspiring. I just love everything about them, and they have helped me to examine my own self-limiting beliefs. Because of them, I started practicing biking with my younger toddler. (Before this, my husband gladly rode with both toddlers on his non-e-assisted bike -- on a crazy bike rig that weighs about 80 pounds including both kids.) I started riding my bike with a sack of rice, training three times a week when both kids would go down for a nap. I started with 10 pounds, then upgraded to 20 pounds. Recently, I started carrying my actual toddler, which has been amazingly gratifying, even though I was a little too ambitious and we fell on a slippery gravel trail last week. The whole idea of self-limiting beliefs is one that I have been really thinking about. What can we accomplish, that seems currently impossible? It is an idea that I have been talking extensively to my oldest kid about. L is at a wonderful age where you can really talk to him like a real person. He is 4, which has its challenges for sure (recently, before I noticed, he was throwing fist-sized rocks over our fence onto the sidewalk, which is incredibly dangerous and almost hit a passer-by), but he is also capable of holding some big ideas in his head. During our COVID-19 homeschooling, the idea that everything always seems impossible until it is done (a quote from Nelson Mandela) has come up again and again. L is naturally risk-averse, which is both a blessing (for me, as a parent -- he has never tried to climb anything dangerous or tried to run into the street) and a challenge (he is scared to walk down tiny hills sometimes, or to climb play structures that he had done a year prior). Being at home with me, we have had the chance to work on taking risks on a daily basis, which has had a huge noticeable impact on L and his growth mindset over the course of several months. He learned to ride a pedal bike (before COVID, he had never agreed to be on a bike of any kind, either balance bike or bike with training wheels), learned to jump off of benches and rocks, learned to ride a two-wheeled scooter, and learned to read in English. In acquiring each new skill, L has had self-doubting moments where he felt like the next stage of achievement was simply impossible. And then, what seemed impossible would become achievable after some risk-taking (bribing), a lot of pep-talking, and a lot of repetitive, low-pressure practice. In response, he now says things like, "Everything takes practice, and you will improve!" and "Everything is impossible, you know? Until you do it, and that's it." To me, that is everything; that mindset is way more important to me than the actual skills he has gained. But, as I work with L on these skills and his growth mindset, I have been reflecting critically about where I practice what I preach in my own life. How can I teach my child to take risks, without modeling it myself? It seemed impossible to carry a child on my bike. It seemed impossible to home-school my defiant toddler while managing a baby with developmental delays. It seemed impossible for me to take on teaching my child to bike, when my husband is the best biker in the family. It seemed impossible to get my child to speak Mandarin, when I am the only person who speaks to him regularly in that language. For a long time, I was anxious to improvise music with my husband, because I felt like I was not musical enough. Each time I have had a self-limiting belief, if I worked at it steadily, I have been able to show myself that that limiting belief is not actually accurate. So, my new goals (which currently seem impossible) are: I want to get comfortable with taking my children out on the water, in a kayak, all by myself. I want to start a business (for profit or non-profit, I haven't decided) to provide tools to help average parents with reinforcing mathematical understanding at home. Will these goals be achieved? I don't know; but what I can do is to take teensy, little steps towards realizing those goals, and hope for the best. What are your self-limiting beliefs, and in what ways are they holding you back? |
About MeBorn in Asia, I have spent more than a third of my life living outside of the U.S. thus far. I currently reside in the Pacific Northwest with my techie husband and two biracial children. Categories
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