Lists, Lists, Lists

Hello, my name is Patty and I'm an obsessive "lister."

My to-do lists are often as long as my must-read lists, and believe me, those are long ones, often further cataloged by genre. One list per genre, obviously. What's the point in keeping all of those lovely books unsorted? My Amazon wish list, until just the other day, included a whopping 876 titles. I have self-improvement lists, task lists, curriculum lists, long-term goal lists, short-term goal lists, menu lists, grocery lists, character development lists (I dabble in a bit of creative writing on the side), and well, the list (ha ha) is endless. Today's list contains directives on making a few last Christmas-related online purchases, reminders about pending appointments, last-ditch motivational pleas to myself to complete and/or start a handful of homemade gifts, and of course, a daily affirmation or two--itemized of course. Do these all keep me on task? Well, of course not, but I'm always hopeful that they will help me stay on task whenever I begin a new one. At the very least, I like to think of them as reminders. I have a terrible memory, and if something is not written down, I'm apt to forget it. Writing things down, whether these are plans, goals, or whatever, makes them more concrete, and therefore seemingly more attainable. Seemingly. Now, writing them on this blog means another thing entirely--accountability.

I obsess about any number of things really, but listing things is high up there on my, um, LIST of quirks. I am certain to never consciously leave home without a paper and pen handy, as I'd surely be lost without them. (Oh, and it must be a pen. The right sort of pen, too. But that's a whole other issue. I swear I can write yet a whole other blog post or two about my fascination with pens. I'm less stuffy about the paper I use, although I do drool over nice quality paper stock, a symptom I think, of having worked in the publishing industry years ago. But I digress...) I write lists, keep lists, and even contemplate future lists. I have even been known to recopy lists. These are things I do practically non-stop.

I first realized that I had a "problem" a while back when I stepped out of my home without, (Gasp!), a writing instrument. Seems as if someone, possibly a little someone, entered my purse and extracted my pen. After a thorough search of my purse which ended with most of its contents poured out onto my lap (that's a lot of stuff, by the way), I came to the realization that I didn't even have anything I wanted to write down. Nope, not a single thing. Perhaps if I had wanted to write a list at all at the time, it would have included just one item. "Double-check purse for writing instrument before leaving home." But of course, one item does not a list make. I reference this story because along with the "not-having-anything-to-write" realization, came another more enlightening one. Had I been in possession of a pen, I would have just come up with something to write. Yes, possibly in list form. So for me at least, having the right instruments, or vehicles of expression at my disposal, can sort of goad on a bit of list creativity. And seeing as most, but not all, of my lists consist of tasks that need to be done, I invite yet another factor into the equation. I am also seeking to sort out priorities and organize the "to-do" chaos that is often undecipherable in my head.

What can all this mean, and what does this say about me? Well, some people seem to think it's a sign of artistic genius, or rather that incidentally, many great artists have had this obsessive list-making trait. Seriously! Oh boy, you better believe I considered jumping on that bandwagon immediately as I'm a wannabe great artist and all that! More likely however, as boring as it may seem and as much as I hate to admit it, perhaps it's just all part of human nature to catalog things on personal lists. And perhaps those who consider themselves list-writers can be further divided into groups, as the BBC article I've hyperlinked suggests. If I had been in charge of dividing them, I'd have done it differently...perhaps classifying these as occasional list writers and obsessive list writers. I just happen to fall into the latter group. Yes, perhaps this list making trait is all haphazard and ultimately meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but then again, maybe it's not. I mean, perhaps the level of obsession is relative to the level of genius?

Should I develop an insatiable urge to paint something magnificent, I'll be sure to come back and update.

Personalized Learning and Finding Joy in Life

Entertaining and spot on, as usual.



If anyone has missed Sir Ken Robinson's first TED talk on creativity in schools, you can view it here.

About Those Phonograms...

In my last post, I mention how reading didn't come easily for my daughter. What I didn't mention, was that teaching reading didn't come easily to me either. I was a voracious reader as a child, and I just assumed, wrongly so, that my daughter would just naturally take after me. She loved to be read to, and I spent many days, cuddled with her on the couch, reading through countless books. She memorized several stories line by line, and often begged me to read her favorite books over and over again. I was thrilled that she loved books so much, and was certain that she would enjoy reading all on her own just as much. Of course, as per my last post, that just wasn't the case.

I went through several reading and phonics books, and I can't really say what eventually worked. I'm sort of leaning toward it just having been due to her readiness, but I may be wrong. We used Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, and that was a bust. I know it works for many children, but I kept getting annoyed with their orthographic method. Perhaps that was just my hang-up, but we dropped it after a while. Next came Phonics Pathways. I liked it. It was traditional, and straightforward, but my daughter found it boring. Then we tried Reading Reflex. That worked much better! I was getting warm! All the while, I had been "hearing" about the Spalding method, but reviews out there describing the method as difficult to wade through, really intimidated me and I kept passing it up. Eventually however, I built up the nerve to try, particularly when I found a helpful companion program called Reading Works. Thanks to that program, and the consistent hand-holding it offered, I was able to wade through the Writing Road to Reading (Spalding). The program made sense to me, and my daughter was progressing.

In working through the phonograms, I was finally cognizant about just how difficult the English language can be to learn. In this post, I'm referring specifically to English language reading, but spelling is also a stumbling point for many. Take the phonogram OUGH for instance--bough, though, through, rough, bought, cough! None of these is pronounced the same way! While I pronounced them properly, with nary a thought to their differences, seeing them listed all together like that really made me a lot more able to understand my daughter's confusion. I realized that it would take some work, and I ceased pressuring my daughter to understand something which was quite illogical to her at the time.

All of the above has reminded me of an episode of I Love Lucy, in which Ricky aptly illustrates what he regards as the "problem" with the English language. I quite agree with him.

Classical Education or Bust

When we first decided to homeschool our children, I was filled with all of these romantic thoughts of how joyous it would be to educate them. Actually, I probably would have not even used the word "educate." I preferred saying that I would facilitate my children's learning. Somehow, that seemed less controlling in my view. I remember having read John Holt's Teach Your Own, and being completely enthralled by the idea of unschooling. Heck, I still am! It made sense to me. It was organic, and wonderful, and yet really really tough--at least for me. Within a few months of starting out as "unschoolers" (in quotes because I'm sure there will be those who may believe, as even I do, that I went about it all wrong, and therefore wasn't technically a practicing unschooler), I was stressed beyond belief. A large part of it was because I didn't trust the method would work for me. I still wholeheartedly believe that it can work for nearly any child (if not all children), but perhaps not for every parent, as was the case with me. So I branched out and my homeschooling library grew to include books on other methods.

I think I ascribed to the "better late than early" philosophy for as long as it took before I was inundated with questions from well-meaning friends and family regarding my daughter's progress. Some people are able to field these questions effortlessly, but I was still working on thickening my skin in all matters related to home education. And frankly, the only reason I decided to jump on board with the whole "better late than early" view to education, was because I had already tried pushing early academics and made absolutely no progress. I guess you could say that personally, I was a reluctant advocate of the "better late than early" approach to homeschooling. Choosing to wait wasn't my preference, but it made me feel better to know that there was a school of thought out there that saw nothing wrong with waiting. Still, I felt conflicted.

I went on to read about the Charlotte Mason approach, and then moved on to other books on classical education. That's when I became interested in The Well-Trained Mind. It was the sort of education I wished I had had. I  quickly fell in love with the method, and tried to follow the schedules perfectly. I later learned that those schedules were only added to the book at the insistence of the publisher, and that they were only just loose suggestions. Still, I wanted to do it all. But I ran into a wall. My daughter was not learning to read as effortlessly as other children I read about on homeschooling boards. She struggled so much. I found that my perfect schedule was getting left behind. There was no time for all of the cool and interesting things I had planned to teach her, because our days turned into hours-long reading lessons. It ceased to be fun, for her and for me. And here's where I feel very ashamed of myself. I built that initial difficulty up into this insurmountable obstacle. I wasted precious time getting my daughter to excel at reading, without realizing that I was making it all such a tedious chore. Thankfully, it was around this time that I started to seek out support again online. And go figure, there were several other homeschoolers out there who were experiencing the same things! These homeschoolers also wanted to give their children a classical education, and were finding ways to do so, regardless of their children's struggles with reading. This was a major a-ha moment for me, because in my mind, I was still regarding the task of reading, and writing, to be prerequisites to a classical education. Once I eased up my expectations, and we started to conduct a lot of our lessons orally, setting aside a decent amount of our time each day to reading and writing instruction, things started improving. Those romantic ideas I had when I first started out, were not wholly unfounded after all. Granted, among our good days, were a smattering of difficult days. And as good as the good days could be, the difficult days were HARD, often bringing me to the verge of tears. But we pressed on. (Note: We eventually made our way into a more Latin-centered classical approach, but that's another story, best kept for another post!)

My little girl is now fourteen years old. She's a reader. She's still a reluctant writer, but she's making progress. She works very hard, and has taken ownership over her education. Yesterday, as we were discussing John Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men," and really getting into our literary analysis, I was just struck by how much she's matured. She's grown to be such a sweet, mature, and introspective young lady. I don't think I've ever enjoyed homeschooling her as much as I do now. She is such a pleasure to be with, and discuss things with. This is exactly what I had hoped to get out of our homeschooling, all those years ago when I first romanticized about setting out on this journey. She may not be getting a "by the book" classical education, but she certainly seems to be no worse for the wear.

Smile, You're on Candid Camera!

Note to self (and whoever else may be reading out there): Think twice before getting your children a video camera. I'm only half-serious here of course. I would never dream of stunting my children's intellectual growth by planting obstacles keeping them from their chosen mode of artistic expression. But today, I came >thisclose< to doing just that, right after I heard the unmistakable sound of my own voice coming at me from the living room. I peered over in the direction of my voice, now emanating loudly from the television set, and there were my two youngest children, having a nice laugh over what they had candidly captured. And what did they capture, you may ask? Why, an embarrassingly frequent episode of my freaking out over yet another misplaced item, of course! In the video, I accuse my prankster daughter of hiding the item (this time it was her kung fu shirt that I had only just washed and dried). Don't worry guys, I'm never forceful when making these accusations, even though I'm seldom off-base. If something is awry, you can pretty much assume "prankster daughter" is behind it, but really, that's beside the point.

Anyone who has, ahem, ever had the pleasure of knowing me for more than a nanosecond, will have undoubtedly witnessed many such episodes. I lose everything. I lose my glasses daily. Well, it's not like I can see them when I'm not wearing them! Pencils mysteriously go missing. My keys? Heck, I lose those in my own purse. I'd be hard-pressed to turn up a matching pair of socks, particularly if they're patterned ones. Oh, how I love just plain white socks! Anyway, I know I haven't written much, but surely this post will clue you into the chaos that has currently unpacked and settled into my own head. And now I have digital proof of it all! There's nothing like seeing and hearing of your faults in full color and surround sound. Perhaps I should thank the kids for bringing this to my attention. But that would just encourage them to keep taping. I guess I'll consider my self-improvement in this area an early New Year's resolution.