Renae | Heart of the Matter

June 3, 2010 By Renae 7 Comments

I’m thinking about homeschooling. My husband and family keep talking me out of it. I never considered the possibility before, but since putting my daughter in preschool she’s become angry. I don’t even know how to begin homeschooling. Your views would be helpful. ~J.K. in FL

Dear J.K.,

First of all, I want to encourage you. Homeschooling isn’t as scary as it sounds. So many messages in our culture come against the idea, but, especially in the early years, homeschooling is pretty simple. I didn’t say it’s easy, but it is simple.

Your child needs to learn to read.

Because homeschooling is very centered on family, I would not try to do it if my husband wasn’t in unity. Is he open to trying it? What are his concerns? As you explore this option, continue praying and communicating about it.

Another thing to consider is your state’s homeschooling laws. It looks like you have more restrictions than I do in Idaho. However, you don’t have to start any formal education until your child is 6. You may have a year before state requirements come into effect, and by then you will have found support.

Honestly, I think homeschooling during the beginning years is more crucial than later. It is a time of laying foundations.

While our children are young, we need to teach them, not their peers. Then when they are older and capable of discerning good from evil, they have a foundation to stand on.

I hope this helps. You have already been teaching your child. And no matter where she attends school, you are still her most important teacher.

Peace to you,
Renae

What would you have said?

Renae Deckard has prepared lesson plans, enjoyed children’s literature, and delighted in discovery with her three children for over seven years. By studying Principle Approach philosophy, she realized what she always suspected: the Bible lies at the heart of all subjects. Find her reflections at Life Nurturing Education.

April 28, 2010 By Renae 10 Comments

For the first time, I wasn’t overwhelmed by the plethora of choices at the homeschool convention. A few art supplies were gathered as gifts to take home to my children, but no curriculum grabbed me. Our shelves at home contained more than enough.

After six years of homeschooling, I felt settled. I finally realized there was no perfect curriculum. I understood there was no system to replace character.

The view from my new vista looked so promising. My faith was stronger than in those first faltering days of kindergarten crying. My children were learning and growing. Homeschool was working.

Then a new season crashed in on us. A season of selling our house and moving across the country.

School became exploring the backyard while I painted window sills. Field trips morphed into treks to Home Depot. Lesson plans faltered and ended up tucked away out of sigh. Certain phone calls initiated “house drills” in which we cleaned furiously and jumped in the van just before potential buyers toured our home.

It was months until our school books were pulled out of blue, plastic bins. The books I chose two years ago. The books that continue to tell me we are behind schedule.

My heart beats faster as my brain spins through the list of neglected subjects. My heart tries to hammer down the fear. What happened to the feeling of peace I experience after last year’s homeschool convention? How was it buried so quickly?

I quiet the internal crashing by considering all my children learned through the process of moving. The math books waited, but we measured rooms for flooring and estimated areas for paint. English grammar languished, but my son questioned the electrician and read about plumbing.

I, also, realize there are some things history books can’t teach.

My children experienced Providence in the here and now. They know how many times the Lord acted on our behalf. They were there when our church sent someone over to finish repairing our house. They shared the joys and stresses of selling our house and buying a new one. They recognized answered prayers as we stepped out in faith.

And isn’t that what this whole process of homeschooling and parenting is? An exercise of faith? Without faith, I can’t win the war against fear. With faith, I am convinced my children will never forget the lessons learned while the books were packed away.

Renae teaches her eleven-year-old son and two little girls at home. She has prepared lesson plans, enjoyed children’s literature, and delighted in discovery with her children for five years. By studying Principle Approach philosophy, she realized what she always suspected: the Bible lies at the heart of all subjects. Find her reflections at Life Nurturing Education.

March 25, 2010 By Renae 30 Comments

My husband leaves for work early in the morning, but the rest of us are here all day, every day. Before breakfast, toys are dragged into the living room. I sling bowls onto the table and notice the library basket being emptied. The rug is covered with books as I pull out the cereal. Breakfast explodes all over the table and my coffee has disappeared in plain sight.

Balancing messes and lessons is a daily struggle.

Photo Credit: Melissa, A Familiar Path

I used to hide our homeschool stuff. I love libraries, but I didn’t want my house to look like a classroom. My lofty goal was sort of possible in our last home. We had a separate room for desks, bookshelves, and a closet full of craft supplies. It didn’t take me long to give up notions of a hidden schoolish area in our new house.

There is no extra room. Our school stuff is everywhere. After stumbling around the coffee table for a month, I threw it out and dragged in the craft table. We needed the work space for three students and their teacher. The table top is constantly covered with colored pencils, Lego bricks, and paper. Oh, the paper! My six-year-old can’t stop drawing.

It only takes a few things out of place and this home appears a wreck, but this house will not be here for eternity. Only what happens within these walls can be carried into the future. That is the joy set before me. The joy of seeing my children learn and grow.

And to keep my sanity in all this growing and learning, I figured out what gives me a sense of control in the spiraling chaos. I must deal with clutter daily.

Before dinner, everyone picks up. The ream of new artwork is stacked underneath the craft table in the largest basket we own. Toys are toted back to children’s rooms. Books are put back on shelves. Then since the floor can actually be seen, it might get swept or vacuumed. Another busy day tucked away. The house is clean enough until morning.

Do you have a chore that helps bring homeschooling and homemaking into balance? How to you deal with the daily book explosion?

February 11, 2010 By Renae 3 Comments

Melancholy settled in as the hours passed. My to do list unmarked except for what I’d deemed most important: prayer, Bible reading, school lessons, and home-cooked meals.

Those things took all day. Literally, all day. What about the pencil-scratched trail of obligations and ideas for things I wanted to pursue?

My brain tried to focus in the quiet of the night, but darkness and sleep shut out the whispers of failure. That was enough for one day.

I am task-oriented by nature, so my spirit lifts when I can stand back and look at accomplishments. The dullness comes from my weary eyes. They glance around the room and get caught on the undone and the messes. Yes, meals are consumed, but the smiles and laughter linger. Lessons are, hopefully, stored in the hearts of my children. My little prayer book is stashed away to collect even more memories later.

This is my life now. This is what is important.

The lists in my notebook grow each day, but the time I have with these children is short. Oh, some days feel like they last forever. The truth is they don’t.

Now is the time to make messes, so I brought the craft table in off the porch.

Now is the time to read great books, so I let my son devour a biography during our normal math time.

Now is the time to make a home, so I close my eyes to the missing boards around the windows and the torn up bathroom. Those things will be fixed in time, but I don’t want to miss the eternal for a nagging piece of paper. The truly important things I do in a day are hard to check off as done.

December 28, 2009 By Renae 4 Comments

My daughter received a doll house for Christmas complete with family and furniture. I wish she received a time machine instead, so the hours this toy has scattered across the house could be retrieved. Grandpa hides in a vase. Grandma faints under the couch. Sister peeks from the bookshelf. Mommy and Daddy search for Baby in the laundry basket. And lamps roll around the bathroom.

I didn’t get into this pick-up game completely clueless. While inserting screws for hours, I glimpsed a hint of the minutes this house would consume. It was worth it though. The finished product was perfect, the highlight of all the toys.

Two months later, the abandoned house sits in a corner. The furniture constantly gathered to make “soup” or “presents.” Will this nemesis of housekeeping be missed? Can I sneak it out during the night?

Maybe it’s an issue of perspective. Webster’s 1828 Dictionary defines perspective as “a glass through which objects are viewed.” Sometimes, the glass needs a good cleaning.

Gazing through the mist of life, requires imagination and hope. I clearly see the tasks of the day, but there is an unseen picture, of utmost importance, easier to forget. Sally Clarkson, author of Educating the Wholehearted Child, encourages me to continue overcoming my myopia.

“Often, I find that in the absence of a clear enough vision for their children and homes, mothers replace conviction and vision with lots of activities and distractions for their children. This hyper-activity and rushing around to an endless list of expensive lessons and experiences and the buying of the newest expensive curriculum and technological options make moms feel like they are accomplishing something. However, when the home-life of children is rich with excellent, classic literature, passionate Biblical devotions, rousing dinner-table discussions around sumptuous, tasty meals, lots of love and affection given and household chores attended to—a child will become committed to all that is good and excellent and develop a moral and compassionate soul for all the divinely important values.”

Moving the classic toy on top of the dresser brings everything into focus. My girls are now eye-level with the miniature world. Complaints turn into delight as Polly Pocket visits Sister Laura. Grandmother uses the stove to cook soup, instead of the kitchen table and chairs being stirred in a pan. The family and furniture often stay home now. Peace to us all.

Renae teaches her eleven-year-old son and two little girls at home. She has prepared lesson plans, enjoyed children’s literature, and delighted in discovery with her children for five years. By studying Principle Approach philosophy, she realized what she always suspected: the Bible lies at the heart of all subjects. Find her reflections at Life Nurturing Education.

November 11, 2009 By Renae 5 Comments

Because the lyrics of my life include Rich Mullins’ songs, someone gave me a twenty-six page magazine about the self-proclaimed ragamuffin. There are many pithy quotes in the Release Extra, but this one echoes.

I don’t feed my ego by wearing pretentious clothes or by cutting my hair in pretentious ways or by snubbing people in hotel lobbies. That’s not the way I feed my ego. The way I feed my ego is much more insidious and sneaky, but just as real…

I relate. Otherwise, these words would loosen their grip of my heart.

My family tries to lives simply. We bought an ugly house and make lists of what we’ll fix someday. Dreaming about converting the garage and remodeling the bathroom is easier than actually doing it. It’s cheaper, too.

One of our cars is an old station wagon. It isn’t held together with duct tape (yet), but most of the paint is gone.

My wardrobe consists of t-shirts, jeans, and a few skirts. I do not like putting on make-up. My hair is short, because I don’t want to mess with it every morning. Those external things don’t make me humble. I inflate opinions of myself in other ways.

My pride gorges itself with thoughts of invincibility. I am strong. I like to think I can keep the house clean and children laughing, while speaking gentle words of wisdom. Then the sun rises, and I pull the quilt over my head.

I want to be regarded as thoughtful, smart, and capable. But just when I’ve got things under control and figured out, children grow, seasons change, finances squeeze, or the dryer breaks. The laundry stacks up and the floor collects dirt.

It is easy for me to see when others put extra pressure on themselves, but if the load is on my back I often miss it. Glancing over my shoulder, I am astonished by the tangled weight of expectations. The extra fat I carry is from feeding my ego. God intends for me to run with the foot soldiers, but I lag behind wriggling the pack on my back. Instead of carrying the messy mass, I need to let it go.

There is a weight to carry. It is the weight of God’s glory, not mine.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

October 25, 2009 By Renae 14 Comments

Throughout childhood, I read a chapter of the Bible every night. My good habit was challenged in high school. Routine became hypocritical, so I stopped. I only read the Word of God when I felt like it.

I cannot recall a specific teacher who introduced this twisted idea of hypocrisy. But somewhere along the way, I concluded feelings revealed how to be true to myself. This decision didn’t affect my school work. For some odd reason, algebra assignments and history essays were completed in spite of grumbling.

The disconnect remained for years. Sometimes I wonder if emotions and reality were shoved together and are still mismatched.

Washing 895 loads of laundry a month, preparing 302 meals a week, and cleaning floors 101 times a day had no place in my youthful dreams. My prince would build a cottage beneath the mountains where we would enjoy sunsets and thunderstorms. I didn’t realize how many floods would come.

Emotions are a gift from the Lord, but we are not designed to live according to the mood of the moment. Right now, I don’t feel like homeschooling. The honeymoon has worn off. The excitement of our first steps into learning brings a smile of remembrance. Our library overflows the space allotted to it. The first books return to the top of the pile.

I’m not excited to teach phonograms again, but joy is set before me.

The joy of hearing words leap off the page.
The joy of reading my little girl’s love notes.
The joy of seeing my child read the Word of God.

It is not hypocrisy to choose love no matter what feelings say. My emotions kick and prod, but they are not Lord.

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him…, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

Photo credit: amulligan

September 21, 2009 By Renae 4 Comments

At three thirty every afternoon a dingy yellow school bus rambles past our house. My oldest and I are invariably working on math lessons while the little ones sleep, or, at least, are in their room supposed to be asleep. My son gazes wistfully out of the window wishing he could be finished. Then I hear the dreaded question,

Can I go to school?

Honestly, this hasn’t been much of an issue. Once my son stated he wanted to home school in college. I replied, “That is not going to happen, but can I attend university with you?” My son laughed, but I think he got the point. Someday it is time to leave home.

How do I address this question on the occasions it does arise? First I remember that his request is based on a false perception. Multiplication problems are not his idea of fun. The children bouncing on the bus are on their way home to eat, to play, to relax. Or are they?

Reviewing reality, I discuss our daily schedule versus wake up at 6:30 a.m., eat breakfast, leave, and return home at 3:30 p.m. with homework. Granted, sometimes this idea sounds nice to me. Those days that I want to quit. Those days the dog slurps the spilled milk off the table, and a toddler doesn’t quite make it to the bathroom. Those days lessons stall, because of interruptions.

Then I think of what my days would resemble if my son did attend school elsewhere. My house might be clean, but I would miss sharing the daily stuff of life.

My son acknowledges this, too. He realizes we have time. Time to enjoy breakfast. Time to watch the birds. Time to reason. Time to rest. Time to imagine. When I hear the bus coming, I no longer cringe. Remembering the reasons we home school benefits both of us. We do have time. I don’t have to rush. I want to cherish the joy of the moment.

August 25, 2009 By Renae 8 Comments

A couple weeks ago, the Heart of the Matter Homeschool Conference became my talk radio. Fellow homeschoolers encouraged while I painted cabinets, dressed dolls, washed dishes, folded laundry, and skipped around the internet.

There were so many helpful ideas. So many passionate speakers. So many foundational truths. How do I sort it all? Even encouragement becomes cacophony unless the grains are sifted for a few sweet morsels to gnaw.

It is easy to get overwhelmed. Full-color magazines with 185 pages of glowing reviews tempt me to purchase the latest, greatest curriculum. Veteran homeschoolers elaborate on what works for their families. Friends gush about the latest book they read. And I wonder,

Have I chosen the right lessons? Should I change our schedule? Why don’t I add more crafts? And timelines? I need to read more, and plan more, and organize, and…

Questioning is not bad, but running after an illusion is detrimental. There is no perfect curriculum. There will be gaps in understanding. We cannot give our children everything they need to know to fulfill their purpose, but we can start them in the right direction.

Somewhere along the way, we need to learn and teach grace:

The free unmerited love and favor of God, the spring and source of all the benefits men receive from him
Favorable influence of God; divine influence or the influence of the spirit, in renewing the heart and restraining from sin (Webster’s 1828 Dictionary)

Grace for ourselves. Grace for our children. Divine influence renewing my heart and restraining me with gentle, quiet truth.

Truth revealed in many ways. Sermons, speeches, friends, children, nature, and even my dreaded mistakes teach me. Quieting the opinions, I reflect and realize I have a guide who loves and knows me and my children. He led me here, and His influence matters most.

The conference speakers shared great ideas I look forward to reviewing, but they cannot all be adapted into our homeschool. Hulling the grains reveals the golden gems worth savoring.

June 30, 2009 By Renae 10 Comments

While reading Little Homeschool on the Prairie’s review of the documentary Grown Without School, a quote captured my attention:

There is a myth that through homeschooling you can achieve…more than a normal life.

I want to raise the next George Washington, Albert Einstein, or, for a current example, Ravi Zacharias. In my dream, my children are famous, and make a positive impact as salt and light in the lives of multitudes. Maybe this will happen, but, most likely, they will live a normal life.

They will grow up to be employees, business owners, parents. They will struggle when making life-altering decisions. Their clothes will get dirty, and they will experience pain. Hard work is before them.

How do I best prepare my little ones to value this earthly routine? Can a quiet life ebb with joy through the trials to come? Proverbs 4:23 admonishes,

Keep your heart with all diligence,
For out of it spring the issues of life.

According to Webster’s 1828 Dictionary, the Latin root of the word diligence is to love earnestly; to choose. Love takes constant effort, steady application, and exertion, but without it life is meaningless. Heroes love whether or not acknowledged by the crowds. They walk amid the common things and extraordinary events knowing that even an ordinary life is worth sacrifice.

Salt is meant to be sprinkled, not poured. Light illuminates, but even the sun does not shine everywhere at once.