Allowing Advantages

Our homeschool this week has relocated to the coast near Bairnsdale. Here we have 6 days to learn from and with grandparents and a large property on which to run around, fly kites and ride bikes. And of course we're not far from the Gippsland Lakes and 90 mile beach - a treat for those of us who live inland.

Our decision to homeschool this year was certainly not made lightly and we value the need for solid literacy and numeracy instruction, but we also recognise the advantages that homeschooling allows - more camps, more excursions, more experiential learning. That's what we love and live for as parents.

Thus, it would be remiss of us to not take advantage of the freedom that homeschooling offers. We've set our lives up to be flexible with our time as much as possible, and learning while we travel is a big part of the appeal.

This week is our 'mid-term camp' to the beach - to enjoy the ending of Summer, to learn about other parts of our world , to really take experiential learning to its fullest definition.

Today we spent some time at the beach in Paynesville after some morning reading at the house. I made our 'word of the week' out of shells on the sand (our word IS shells) - to infuse some impromptu creativity into our learning and to help it stick in Rosie's mind. 

We then took the free ferry to Raymond Island, walked the 1.2 km Koala Trail and sighted 7 sleeping beauties up in the Coastal Manna Gums around the homes. I highly recommend this to everyone.

A lovely day of beachschooling had by all. Xx

A picture of our homeschool

Quite a few requests have come my way for a description of how our homeschooling looks. And I must admit that I'm curious to see our bigger picture too - for the day to day, moment to moment is where I've been for much of our first two weeks of this new learning adventure.

Of course, I have a plan - for the year, each term, and a rough plan for each season's focus and each week. And even if some of these are still in my head and some are down on paper, the intention is there for soul-filled learning.

But what it has actually looked like these last two weeks isn't quite the same as the plan (which was often the case when I was teaching in schools too).

This is a good sign, though. For the ability to adjust a learning program, to 'go with the flow' is an integral part of being a good teacher. And because so much of Rosie's (and Bethany's) formal learning is one-on-one now, a flexible approach that follows their leads and enthusiasm is both sensible and effective.

How can I tell?

Well I could set up elaborate assessment wheels, graphs of daily writing results, compare what we're doing with what school is doing right now....

But I'd only by trying to meet other's standards. And that's not what our homeschooling is about.

I can tell that things are going well in the way a regular Mama can tell if her child is healthy:

- I see smiles more often than before
- I see sisters building a more understanding relationship
- I see ease and grace in the way they play
- I see Rosie taking new risks - a sign of comfort and ease
- I hear her intelligent questions and see her enthusiasm for science and the natural world growing daily.

So I know.

I know with my heart, as well as my head, that its going okay. And that we're right where we need to be.

As for a picture of our homeschool....

We wake with the sun, and then doze some more

We breakfast on homemade goodies and the fruits of our garden

We use our heads in the mornings, but sometimes just get outside and pick berries

We use our hearts in the middle of the day, through art, or music, or helping others

Some days we go on an adventure somewhere - fossil-hunting, visiting a gallery, visiting a chocolate shop!

We lunch and rest and read books, and sometimes watch nature documentaries on iview

We use our hands in the afternoons - we play and cook and craft

Sometimes there is tennis, sometimes little aths, soon there will be horse riding

And as the sun goes down we share dinner, talk, play some more, read more books, clean up.

Another day is done, we wind down, time for rest.

 

Hope you enjoy the pictures. xx

Raw, honest, open, vulnerable faith

Lately I've become more aware of the problems of those around me. It as if, in releasing my own true self to the online world (in 'letting it all out there') I've somehow become more open to hearing others' pain.

And I've come to feel that helping someone in need requires faith. It calls for a trust that, with loving intentions, the right words and gestures will flow and that I might be able to help them.

Being open and honest about my own feelings requires a level of faith too. Faith that releasing this information, honestly and with integrity, will lead to understanding, learning and growth for all.

But expectations can sneak in there too. They can set themselves up in our minds when we're allowing ourselves to be our most vulnerable - like fencing or crash barriers that give a short-term feeling of security despite the speed we're travelling at. And when those expectations aren't met the force of feeling vulnerable, of leaving ourselves open, can take our breath away suddenly.

This is how I've been feeling at times: on the edge as I become more and more honest with myself and those around me, making the effort to rely on faith and trust as I listen to others' stories and do what I can. This is where I practice saying to myself BRING IT ON - just like the delicious Tara Bliss suggests. I allow myself to feel fully vulnerable and uncomfortable and walk through my resistance (to failure). And then I can see my fears for what they are...and can learning from the lesson as it passes by.

My last post about our marriage was honest and raw. And it needed to be that way for us. Life is full and busy and the residue of post-natal depression has left us with little to say sometimes, or little time to say it.

The big things, the important things; about love and dreams and feelings, get put aside to deal with day-to-day dramas and practical considerations. This is what we manage at the moment, but its not what I want and I think I can see - I know I can feel - that its not what Ian wants either. That's what I hang on to.

And so what matters most is what action we take to work towards that better place - that place where communication is clear and free-flowing, upfront and loving all at the same time.

Sometimes the best way to open a new conversation, a more open dialogue, is to take a risk and go about it in a very different way.

Soon we will shake up our daily life with 100 days of travel around Australia - and if that doesn't bring back the best of us and more then I'm out of ideas.

And in the meantime....

Well I might just continue being raw and honest with myself and the world through my writing, and urge Ian to take a look when he has time.

Unorthodox? Perhaps....

But who says normal is worth aiming for anyway?

Cleaning windows

"In the end...liberation must be an inner question, a search for quality of life which cannot be arranged, but only discovered and lived"

The time is ripe for talking about our marriage (did I just mix a metaphor there?)

Up until now I've been very good at keeping it behind closed doors. And behind thee scenes of my blog and social media.

And I guess to be fair to myself, this is the status of a lot of relationships - both marital and otherwise. I almost always find myself deeply surprised when a marriage ends. And I find, irrationally, that I tend to think everyone else's marriages are healthier than ours.

And now it feels, or at least I need, to be open. I need to talk about how things really feel for me. Why now I'm not entirely sure, but its like I'm cleaning out my inner house, one window, one room, at a time. And as more light pours in I see the hidden recesses more clearly. And then these too need to be seen, evaluated, cleared up.

That's how it feels right now. Just a need to be open. An introduction to another part of me, rather than a startling revelation on the inner workings of us.

But I think, also, that turning the light on and pulling back those curtains is both vulnerable and healthy. It begins the process of detoxification and understanding. It re-starts connection and clarity.

And although I feel sad that the commitment I made to my man years ago has waned, our connectedness threadbare and practical, it feels reasonable for things to be this way after the ravages of post-natal depression.

As I clean another room in my house and pull back the curtains my wish is for greater clarity, light and understanding. For all of us.

xx

Loving the ugly parts

I've come to the end of my last packet of antidepressants. It's been a slow process, stepping down the dosage bit by bit, monitoring the side effects week by week.

And here I am, 10 days after the last dose of medication, feeling proud of myself but also experiencing dizziness each afternoon and general tiredness.

I thought I would feel elated, like I'd reached a milestone. But I've been feeling angry, teary, and a little out of control too.

I've found myself back into negative thought-habits, berating myself for being angry, scared that maybe now wasn't the right time to come off the meds, and ultimately confused about how to tackle all this emotion.

For its a time of transition to be sure. We're beginning homeschooling, I'm now dealing with the full range of my emotions (hidden partly by the medication for the past 18 months) and finishing up my coffee-making role at the the Mount Beauty Bakery.

One-by-one my 'identities' are dropping away - no longer a traditional teacher, no longer a 'normal' parent, no longer a victim of depression.

It feels right for this to be happening but my ego doesn't like it and I'm scared of what may come. I can't 'see' it. I can sense of growing inside of me (no, I'm not pregnant), inside my heart mostly. Like there's an explosion of love and gratitude and success coming up. But my ego argues, insistently sometimes, that I'm crazy - and that this is all just dreamy nonsense.

So here I am, sitting by a river in still on a hot Summer's morning... feeling a kind of nothingness...a sign of an ego that's not being listened to anymore. A sign of a soul being heard.

So dramatic.

Yet so.....


Nice. xx

Being True

        

          Suppose that life in the family is recognised as a path, a school for the soul and the spirit? What does this bring for the individual parent, for the family, for the child?

- from Lifeways by Davy and Voors

Speaking my truth is becoming more familiar for me these days. I'm practising expressing my gratitude for things in my life and speaking from the heart whenever I can.

And the truth this week, as the beginning of the school year is upon us, is that I'm feeling lost for words when asked about our decision to homeschool this year.

I clam up and freeze. I search for heartfelt words that lead to connection and understanding, but end up saying nothing, or perhaps mumbling a little about something if nothing feels too rude.

Its not what I expected I'd do for something that feels so right to me.

What am I to do? I found myself thinking.

And what I did was sit with the torment inside, rather than resisting it. I listened to what it had to say, immersing myself in its tension.

This is what I heard:
- that I'm sad to not be a part of the primary school this year
- that I'm scared of damaging Rosie's education and self esteem in some way
-that this beginning time of year is a time of great expectations for everyone
-that its okay to freeze and be unsure, for that's how I learn and question and look deeper.
-that homeschooling still feels right despite these fears and grieving.

And that we are all on the same educational journey, whether we homeschool or allow our children to attend an institution - we all want what's best for them.

We all want self-directed learners who question and seek answers. We all want joyous, happy little ones who grow in all their glorious ways, uninhibited and owning their own interests, passions and gifts. We all want our children to be true to themselves.

There is no right or wrong way when these are our goals as parents and educators. There are just different ways that feel right to us.

These words help to calm my panic. They soothe and let me take that much-needed step back. And I'm grateful for that.

Wishing you a beautiful new beginning and the blossoming of your children.

Carolyn x x

A milestone on the road to wisdom

Last week we celebrated the much-anticipated 60th birthday of my Mum. And it was a wonderful weekend filled with hot, sunny beach mornings, chats with my siblings who had gathered with us for the big event, and lots of coffee. A new jigsaw puzzle was begun, just like the last time we all gathered two years ago, but unlike last time this one was BIG, and didn't quite get completed by the time we said goodbye.

The three cousins played together with gusto - sometimes in accord and sometimes with a distinct note of discord. But play that was filled with love nonetheless, no matter the outcome.

Flags were strung from the newly completed decking, the BBQ had a workout and new clothing was paraded around during a special birthday dinner one night.

And as for Noni (as my Mum is known by her granddaughters), well she was very relaxed and happy. It was a Noni that we loved sharing time with. A Noni who shone with the wisdom of time spent learning upon this planet. A Noni who has come of age.

Thank-you Mum, for a lovely weekend and a special glimpse of that wise woman that you are.

Xx

Ease and peace

We'll, it's official. Homeschooling has begun. In earnest. For a whole year.

Part of me is terrified - my mind often filled with ceaseless negative chatter (what the f@&k are you doing Carolyn? You were the most enthusiastic teacher at your school. You lectured in education. You can't possibly keep this up. What if you damage Rosie in some way? What about her friends? What about...).

And part of me, a deeper soul-filled part, feels ease and peace. Feels like things have fallen into place. And I am, quite frankly, relieved that I don't need to get psyched-up to get Rosie to school that first week back, or make lunch boxes, or tick-off readers, remember to return her library books, remember that she's mountain biking straight after school and that we need to rush....

I feel weird, it's true. And very, very vulnerable. 

But as I've written before, I think these are good signs. They're signs that I'm listening to that important inner voice that gently, but insistently, says this is what you need. And indeed, this is all I need to say to myself to feel calm descend and the chatter quieten. For vulnerability, I'm coming to realise, is how it feels when my soul is in charge. There's no certainty, or set schedule, there's no evidence or overt logic - that's where my ego excels. No, a soul-led life feels softer, more rounded and, yes, more open and vulnerable. 

This is where I go now - I listen rather than plan. I ask for guidance rather than analyse. I love rather than just live.

And I'm happy.

Wishing you all vulnerable, soul-led days,

Carolyn x x