betrayal of disengagement

I finally finished reading "Daring Greatly". There is a passage that haunts me, from the beginning of the book when she talks about vulnerability myths. I keep coming back to it again and again.

Brene Brown uses a marble jar analogy for trust, how trust is a collection of marbles slowly gathered over time, one marble here and one marble there. One cannot wait for it all to work out to start collecting marbles, but one is entitled to dump the entire collection and smash the jar when betrayed.

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"When we think about betrayal in terms of the marble jar metaphor, most of us think of someone we trust doing something so terrible that it forces us to grab the jar and dump out every single marble. What's the worst betrayal of trust you can think of? He sleeps with my best friend. She lies about where the money went. He/she chooses someone over me. Someone uses my vulnerability against me (an act of emotional treason that causes most of us to slam the entire jar to the ground rather than just dumping the marbles). All terrible betrayals, definitely, but there is a particular sort of betrayal that is more insidious and equally corrosive to trust.

In fact, this betrayal usually happens long before the other ones. I'm talking about the betrayal of disengagement. Of not caring. Of letting the connection go. Of not being willing to devote time and effort to the relationship. The word betrayal evokes experiences of cheating, lying, breaking a confidence, failing to defend us to someone else who's gossiping about us, and not choosing us over other people. These behaviors are certainly betrayals, but they're not the only form of betrayal. If I had to choose the form of betrayal that emerged most frequently from my research and that was the most dangerous in terms of corroding the trust connection, I would say disengagement.

When the people we love or with whom we have a deep connection stop caring, stop paying attention, stop investing, and stop fighting for the relationship, trust begins to slip away and hurt starts seeping in. Disengagement triggers shame and our greatest fears--the fears of being abandoned, unworthy, and unlovable. What can make this covert betrayal so much more dangerous than something like a lie or an affair is that we can't point to the source of our pain--there's no event, no obvious evidence of brokenness. It can feel crazy-making.

We may tell a disengaged partner,"You don't seem to care anymore," but without "evidence" of this, the response is "I'm home from work every night by six P.M. I tuck in the kids. I'm taking the boys to Little League. What do you want from me?" Or at work, we think, Why am I not getting feedback? Tell me you love it! Tell me it sucks! Just tell me something so I know you remember that I work here!

...Like trust, most experiences of betrayal happen slowly, one marble at a time. In fact, the overt or "big" betrayals that I mentioned before are more likely to happen after a period of disengagement and slowly eroding trust. What I've learned about trust professionally and what I've lived personally boils down to this:
Trust is a product of vulnerability that grows over time and requires work, attention, and full engagement. Trust isn'\t a grand gesture--it's a growing marble collection.

(pages 51-53)

The Outer Limits

A few weeks ago, we participated in the Shabbos Project. Originally meant as a Shabbat to encourage your non-observant Jewish acquaintances to give Shabbos a try, it seems to have taken a life of its own and now turned into a communal Shabbos celebration of "We are here. We are keeping it. Yay us!" Ok, I will admit that there is good coming out from the sense of not doing it alone, but it leaves me wondering what is lacking.

Our shul held a communal lunch where members were encouraged to share their "Shabbos at the outer limits" stories. I had one come to mind and was prepared to share it. However, I have waited for a clarification that explained that stories are to be heard by the Rosh Kollel and he will give feedback on how appropriately one acted, given the circumstances.

The stories came pouring in: wine brought over on Shabbos, electronic appliances malfunctioning, fridge lights turning on, naughty babies unplugging essential components threatening to cause major damage, menorah fire... Each participant shared and Rosh Kollel nicely explained what was at stake and how it could have been solved halachically.

I found myself feeling glad that I did not go first, and then unable to share in this format because my story seemed a world away from the concerns being voiced. I also felt that my story was not a halachic shaila, but in some other category.

I am fifteen. I have been to the States for two years, attending a Jewish high school, learning about Judaism and observance. Now, finally, as originally promised, I am given a ticket to go back to Moldova and visit my parents whom I have not seen in those two years. I am excited because I have been very homesick. But I am also very nervous: in these two years I have decided to become observant. My parents can be simply described as atheists. Now, I am going back to post-Soviet Union country in the middle of the nineties. The globalization had not reached that far (yet), so there is no kosher packaged food, no paper goods. There is no Google, internet is in its infancy. And I am going back, determined to keep Shabbat and kashrut among my family that expects me to come back and be the same person that I was when I left two years ago. I am supposed to eat my grandma's cooking. I am supposed to milk those precious two months for every opportunity to be with my parents and do what they do, Shabbos and all its prohibitions getting in the way.

I fought a lot with my parents about shabbos, on kashrut, on beliefs, on observance, on being brainwashed, on tears that this is not what they signed up for. I kashered whatever silverware they had that was all metal. I cleaned all glass/pyrex containers and plates that they had. ( I felt terribly guilty for not toveling those dishes). I became a vegetarian because there was no kosher meat, short of going to the Chabad rabbi with your own live chicken and then plucking it yourself. Besides, it was easier, kashrut-wise, for everything to be dairy and parve. I brought four cans of tuna from the States and those cans were my way to honor Shabbat. The local rabbi told us that the baguette bread could be eaten, so I ate lots of bread, vegetables, pasta, milk and dairy.

I had a list of candle-lighting times, so I knew when to light the candles. I made havdalah based on when I saw three stars. Instead of the elevator, I used the back entrance to the apartment buidling with the stairs. It reeked of urine and worse and was pitch-black for the two flights of stairs.

And I stayed away from the always-booming TV that drew me in. I used the bathroom in the dark because someone always forgot to leave the light on, or turned it off not to waste electricity.

I made kiddush and hamotzi. I spent time with my long-suffering family that was far from the enjoyable shabbat seudah that comes to one's mind. We did not discuss Torah unless I was called upon to defend it, with my total of two years' of learning.

The truth is, nobody would have known whether I kept Shabbat and kashrut when I went back home or not. I sort of wonder whether the assumption was that I WILL NOT keep it and we will all be quiet about it, don't ask, don't tell sort of thing. But I knew that G-d will know, and I wanted to be pure before G-d.

Ironically, that same summer, I had a meeting with a senior rabbi who was in charge of the program that brought Russian Jews to study in America and Israel. I showed disobedience by refusing to be a pawn and to go to a new city that he picked for me to go. I wanted to stay in the same school and with the same community that gave me the fortitude to keep Shabbat by myself halfway across the world at the age of fifteen. He was not pleased, and he was going to punish me by withdrawing the funding to continue going to the same school. I wonder how he will be judged after 120 for abandoning a Shabbat-observant girl in Moldova to fend for herself... I wonder if he also thought that I was not keeping Shabbos.

Looking back, I don't know how I did it. I would not eat nowadays by the level of kashrut that I kept at that point. I don't think I knew enough to keep Shabbat 100%. But given the circumstances, I know that I gave it my best shot.

How could I bring this extreme situation to the judgment of Rosh Kollel? How could I share it publicly when the biggest emergency meant simply finding a non-Jew to turn something on or off, and aah, breathe in the spirit of Shabbat, make a good story about it?

I sometimes wonder why my outer limits always end up so far outside of everyone else's.

Indian consulate and Shemitta

We were passing an Indian consulate this afternoon when 12 yo asked me what is a consulate. I explained that it is an official representation of a country on another country's soil and the consul is the person who can conduct his country's business. I also mentioned my favorite fact (learned from my father) that a consulate is like a small piece of India right here and the laws of United States do not apply inside it. 12 yo wondered why there is a consulate here, why not just in DC, and how many more Indian consulates are there in the US. I told him he can look it up later. I also said that we live in a big enough city that this is probably a regional consulate. I mentioned that there is probably an Israeli consulate here too, or maybe in Miami. (I am not sure). Then he asked me whether the land of the Israeli consulate is the same as the land of Eretz Yisrael. I asked whether he meant halachically and he said, yes. I laughed, come on, it's a legal technicality, it would not affect halacha. He launched into what if Israeli consulate were to grow produce on its roof, would it be subject to the laws of shemitta? I retorted, of course not! He set up a precedent: the land conquered outside the boundaries of Eretz Yisrael still has to observe shemittah as long as the land within Eretz Yisrael is within Jewish possession. By this point, I realized that he might have a case, so I suggested he ask a knowledgeable rabbi.

This is unschooling in action. This interaction happened because we were both in the car, in good mood, he was next to me, he was looking around instead of being lost in an electronic device or a book, and he had prior knowledge to apply to a little tidbit that I supplied. Sometimes I feel like we get so little "work" done. Then I need to be reminded that my most important goal is to produce thinking human beings, who can converse and be open to learning. For that to happen I need these small casual spontaneous interactions.

Do we need testing in Judaics?

This week I came across the article regarding lack of standards and testing in Judaic learning. I read it with interest and then shuddered: the testing battle has come to the Jewish education and the educators are believing that more rigorous testing and standards will produce better prepared learners.

There are a few fallacies about learning that the article assumes.

Fallacy #1. Learning is linear.
This works very well for schools that have to keep track of a large number of students. Set up a curriculum, stick with it, slowly, yet steadily progress to more and more difficult material, and the knowledge and skills will follow. However, most students can attest to either being bored out of their minds when they already grasped necessary skill, yet the teacher is still spending time on it, or being lost when the material is not understood and the teacher does not spend enough time reinforcing. Most educators know that occasional detours are necessary to help those who are left behind, and enrichment material is needed for those who have mastered the skills.
Outside of the classroom, students tend to learn those areas that interest them. If an area will require a certain set of skills, as long as the fire and motivation is there, those skills can be acquired in an astonishingly short period of time. If this were not true, baalei teshuva would never be able to catch up in reading Hebrew, mastering Rashi, gemara learning. Moreover, many yeshivas and seminaries find that motivated students can master in a year what their peers spend six years learning in day schools.

Fallacy #2. Lack of skills at a college entry level is a reflection of insufficient day school education.
When I was entering Stern College for women from a small brand-new high school, I was assessed as to the level of my Judaic knowledge. Being a conscientious student, I tried my utmost to show the best that I could accomplish so that I would be placed in the higher level, more intellectually-stimulating classes. I overhead another woman, also coming from a small high school, planning on hiding her knowledge of Hebrew, so that she would get placed into lower, easier classes. Perhaps that is not the case for all students, but if one sees no value in furthering one's knowledge, and no use in their skills, then Judaic education has failed to impart a more important message than technical mastery.

Fallacy #3. Judaic studies can be compared to secular studies.
Math is the easiest subject to test objectively, so all the assessment and testing arguments tend to center on math analogy. There are clear advantages to being math-literate, and it is easy enough to test one's knowledge. However, to compare Torah learning to math does the former great disservice. More than one passionate educator has told me how Torah is our heritage; it is given to all Jews, and everyone has to strive to carve out a portion in it. Some will master Biblical Hebrew and learn it in depth with the commentaries. Some will have to read Chumash with translation. Some will find that Jewish history or philosophy is their passion, Some will love the intellectual rigor and back-and-forth of Gemara. Some will be taken with the poetry of HaRav Kook, or the logic of Rambam. To say that one is not meeting benchmarks in Torah learning is to cut one off from his heritage, from his portion of G-d's wisdom. There are many interpretations of Torah, cannot we allow one to tap into communing with the Divine on a track beyond Gemara? I have been told stories of students who failed davening because their lips were not moving fast enough. I have heard of students who are great at memorizing the material, spitting it back on the test, and then not being able to recall or apply any of their knowledge. By placing Judaics in the same category as secular studies, one lowers it to a subject to be conquered and put behind.

Fallacy #4. All day schools will benefit from the same benchmarks.
Where I live, there are three day schools: one is yeshivish, one is Modern Orthodox, and one is Chabad. Each one of them bills itself as a community school, so they are not rigid in their definitions. However, a yeshivish school would probably be interested in assessing Aramaic vocabulary and Gemara skills, a MO school would focus on mastery of modern Hebrew and Israel's history, and a Chabad school would lean towards knowledge of Chassidut. What will happen to the students when one system of assesment will be applied to all? Will they all bristle at the centralized planning instead of imparting their unique flavor to Judaism?

Fallacy #5. By high school graduation, the students must possess all the skills and the knowledge that they will need for the rest of their lives.
In America, we are obsessed with graduation. We make a big party, followed by infamous note burning of all the burdensome knowledge. Not only we graduate from high school, but we also graduate from middle school and even kindergarten. We love to celebrate the end. The Judaisms' view is the direct opposite. The Hebrew word לחנך means to educate. However, the same word also means to inaugurate. An inauguration is a process through which an object is designated for a specific use from this point on. An inauguration has a beginning, but no end. When we are truly educating students in Judaics, the message is that one can always grow in Torah learning, even if he does not have a specific set of skills yet. A high school student, while appearing very mature and set, is still quite early on in his quest of knowledge. The attitude towards learning that one carries out of his Jewish day school education is more important than the skills. If one believes that there is a whole wide world of learning waiting for him, one will not let a lack of skills in an area get in the way. However, if one is constantly assessed and held to the external standards, one might easily fall into the trap believing that once those standards are reached, there is no need to further learning.

Instead of promoting external standards, I humbly suggest pursuing initiatives which allow each student to explore material at his own pace. We need a Khan academy for Judaism. We need to support initiatives like  the Mercava and Sefaria. We need to invest in better apps and better infrastructure. We need to focus on building relationships between educators and students as a bedrock of מסורה transmission. But more than that, we need to teach all the parents and all the teachers that each student is unique and different and needs to be taught according to his needs.

songs on the radio

"Mommy, can you turn on Star 94?" Where we live, this is the cool radio station, playing top 40 hits. It's more like same ten songs over and over again, but I have to point it out for my boys to notice. They did not discover it on their own; it is one of my radio presets. I do not listen to it often on my own, I seem to prefer the sound of 80s and 90s. Those will be oldies very soon, but I pretend that I am back in high school or college, and still young and hip.


My boys ask for Star 94. I cannot be a hypocrite, listening to this music myself, but keeping it away from them, so depending on the situation, I will turn it on. We do a lot of driving to taekwondo when it is just me and the boys, no younger siblings requesting "baby song CDs". A song comes on. The boys crack up. Me: "Is it "Stitches"?" Boys: "No it's the other one, "I can't feel my face when I'm with you"." They know that I object to both of those songs. They ask me why, and I tell them how I think love should not require numb faces or stitches post-kissing. I ask them what they think falling in love feels like. They are still young, no crushes that I know of. 11 yo describes a scene from the end of "Inside Out". I smile, it is so innocent and sweet. He hits on the awkwardness and blushing. I tell them which other songs about love I do not object to: "Sugar" by Maroon5, "We Found Love Right Where We Are".

It hit me now, even though I object to it, I am speaking their language. I am in tune to what they are listening to. I can discuss it, and voice my reservations. I can state my opinions about love and point out which songs describe love that is worth aspiring to.

I remember realizing as a child that all songs were either about falling in love, or breaking up. (Patriotic songs are about love, too, love for a country or ideals. Religious songs were not on my radar, although they are about love of G-d and G-dly world). I also remember not having these discussions with my parents. My father listening to the radio playing "American Pie", me, dancing along, my mother entering, asking him to turn it off, it is too loud.

My husband hooks up his phone in the kitchen to a small radio stereo, playing Youtube playlists. By the end of the day I am in auditory overload, from all the kids screaming, from being talked to all day long, especially by my verbose oldest. I ask him to turn it off. "Mommy does not like music". No, Mommy needs her quiet so that thoughts can line up at least once a day.

But it is different there in the car, in the middle of the morning. I should be downloading shiurim onto the iPod, giving these kids some Torah, some learning. I could be checking out more audio books from the library. I ought to be exposing them to classical music. But I am rushing out of the house with the baby who has to be woken up to be dropped off at the babysitter. After she is dropped off, I get a request for Star 94. I can finally breathe, and I give in. They roll their eyes when every station plays the same latest song. I nod, and we exchange those brief remarks about the songs.

We are learning to keep communication channels open, and if music assists us, so be it.

subscriptions

This is the time of year when people pick out curriculum and resources, so I wanted to share which publications we subscribe to, and which ones got the boot.



National Geographic. When I was in highschool, one family I knew had the whole wall dedicated to old issues of National Geographic. I got to browsing the issues, enjoying vintage stories, and hungering for more. We have been subscribing for a few years by now. 10 yo thoroughly enjoys each issues, usually taking it before me. I used to prescreen them and remove the ones with disturbing content (graphic story on child brides comes to mind), but the kids read faster than me now. We also got a few years' worth from a homeschool acquaintance, so now we have our own huge stack. The subscription is pretty cheap, and if you have an iPad, it might be worth it to get digital edition. For a few bucks more, one gets access to archives.

Cricket, Ladybug and Spider. When 10 yo was leaving school, the librarian there was getting rid of a huge box of old periodicals, full of these child-friendly titles. The boys loved the magazines so much, that I asked my MIL to get them the subscription for a birthday gift. It is a fun publication, and I like how each issue mixes it up. I could consider it literature, but I will leave it in "fun" category. The subscription is pricey, though.

Time. I subscribe to Time for myself, but I found 10 yo browsing through as the articles catch his eye. Most of the material is way above his head, and is definitely not of interest to the younger ones, but I do find that here and there an article will spark a good discussion. Moreover, as I debate different topics with my husband (we are on opposite ends of political spectrum), he listens in. It is a good starting point to converse and be in the general know of where the world stands. For me, it is a must, as I do not listen to or watch the news.

Discover. Again, this one I picked for myself, but 10 yo also reads it. It is a science-lite publication, but it brings in cutting-edge material, just of the kind that sparks a kid's imagination.

Wall Street Journal. This is a recent addition to our house, a real newspaper with sections spread all over the kitchen table. The only reason we ended up with it had to do with some miles expiring, otherwise I do not want to think how much it would cost. I looked at the list of possible subscriptions, and since I know that I will not read beauty or star-watching magazines, WSJ looked particularly good. (I did get Martha Stewart too, but it just feeds into my insecurities about keeping a proper house). Our subscription started right before Gazan war, and the coverage by the Journal was pretty good. 10 yo has read some of it, and looked at some articles here and there. Again, this one is more of a grown-up publication, but there is a trickle-down effect to the kids.

And here is a list of publications that we have tried and nixed.


National Geographic Kids. For the price, there was not enough content and too many ads. Also, the ads masqueraded as information, which made it even more deceptive and confusing. If you want to subscribe, subscribe to the real thing.

Time for Kids. If I were not getting regular Time, I would consider it. However, there are two strikes against it. The price is quite high for a single copy going out to a household. If you are getting multiple editions, the price is getting ridiculous. Also, the different editions are supposed to take into account the different levels of reading and understanding. There is a clear reason to get a kindergarten edition, or a 1st grade one. However, last year when we subscribed to 3-4th grade edition and 5-6th grade edition, there was very little difference between them. They often covered the same news, frequently printing identical articles in both editions. The little quizzes in the back were different, but I cannot justify spending that much money on the same content. As much as having news tailored for kids sounds appealing, it is probably better done the old-fashioned way: select an interesting article from a grown-up publication and read it together.

This Boy's Life. In that box that we got from the librarian there were a few issues tucked in. The boys enjoyed them so much that I thought subscribing would be worth it, and it would encourage them to join the scouts. Well, joining the scouts never happened, and I found that the magazine has a strong Christian tone. I do not know whether others overlook it, ignore it, or explain it, but I did not like it. If the boys were an actual part of the scouts, I could see how the publication might be necessary for morale, but otherwise I felt it was voyeuristic to subscribe and not participate.

What are your family's favorite subscriptions?

odd questions at odd hours

Friday night, 10 pm.
A very tired mommy is tucking the kids into bed.

8 yo: "How do you divide a not even number in half? What happens when you divide seven in half?"
Me: "Do you know how you call not even numbers?"
"No."
"They are called odd numbers. Can you think how to divide three in half?"
"Yes, each one gets one and a half."
"So what do you think happens to seven?"
"I don't know. I can't do it."
"How do you divide six in half?"
"You get three."
"So what happens with seven?"
"Oh, you get three and a half. Oh, I get it."

Even and odd numbers were covered in 1st grade, I think. We did not do multiplication and division. We did not do math the whole summer. Here, shoot me, we will have summer slippage. But last night, for some reason, the divisibility of odd numbers was on his mind, and he was interested and willing to work for an answer.

I could have belittled him for not remembering about odd numbers. I could have scolded him for stalling on going to sleep. I could have deflected the question till the morning. But I realized that he was ready for this little piece of learning at this point in his life, which happened to be at 10 pm when he was eight years old.

I spoke to a friend today about holding boys back a year, especially young boys. My husband chuckled that it is very un-Russian of me to advocate that. My Russian friends tend to brag about how their kids skip a year, are ahead of the class, etc. However, I see time and again that learning happens more effectively when it's later and the students are ready rather than earlier.

I will have to keep reminding myself to sit tight on that writing and spelling.

on going to school

On Friday, I had a conversation with my sister about kids and she asked me, point-blank, wouldn't 9 yo be better off in school? I said that he does not want to go, but I figured it would be better to ask him directly.

As we were coming back from taekwondo, just the two of us (7 yo exhausted himself throwing a fit over reading a pasuk which took him two minutes to read, but one hour to be anxious about), I said:
"Would you want to go to school, where you would have normal teachers who get a full night of sleep and do not scream at you all the time?"
"No, I do not want to go."
"Even if you end up stuck with a mommy who is going crazy?"
"Yes, I much rather have mommy. School is not bad, but once you have homeschooling, you cannot go back. It is like trading a piece of paper for a lollipop. Would you trade a lollipop back for a piece of paper?"
"But wouldn't there be nice things about school?"
"No, I cannot do well with only half an hour of recess. It is not enough time outside."
"But you have not gone outside the whole day today!"
"Yes, but when I come home, I have a choice of going outside right away."

Then, abruptly switching topics, we found ourselves describing the forces acting on water inside a waterspout. He wanted to know how the water droplets manage to rise up instead of being flung out from spinning. I was just playing along, hoping that whichever explanations were coming to mind were sound. Next thing I know, he is talking about putting a water cannon on top of a highest mountain and shooting water out with such force that it "keeps on missing the ground. I have a science brain, mommy, not math nerdy brain."

I do not know exactly what kind of brain you have, dear child, but it is a thinking brain.

recognizing and appreciating my mentors

Homeschooling is a rough journey: there are no familiar signposts, and so much of the time is spent either reinventing the wheel or blazing a trail, that it gets exhausting. I found that over the years it helped to have others, further on in their homeschooling journey, to talk to. These people as a rule have been doing it way longer than me, and have older kids, so they have been reassuring: I've been there, I know how frustrating it can get, and this stage will pass.

I have to acknowledge these amazing women, and all the hours they put in, listening to me, giving advice, and just being there.

J lives in New York and has five kids, all of them homeschooled. Her oldest is in college. For four years, when my oldest was just born, I homeschooled someone else's daughter, and we did recess together: J's kids, this girl, and my boy(s). I was following textbooks back then, mostly recommended by this girl's parents, and it is easier to get someone else's kid to mind you (no tantrums), so the conversations with J used to be more technical back then: how to memorize multiplication tables, what about writing, etc. A lot of time had passed since those days: I've moved twice to different cities, J embraced unschooling more fully, and I've got more sage advice from her. Now that I'm home with my own kids, more in charge of picking and choosing what we are doing, I have more existential issues: am I messing them up? What will happen if they will spend a whole week on DS? How much discipline is necessary? Time and again, I call or e-mail J, and every time I walk away feeling heard and reassured.

C was also part of our "recess" crowd in NY. My 9 yo and her daughter were born three weeks apart, and we lived in the same house back then: we had downstairs while C lived upstairs. C has five kids, and her oldest is highschool-age. Luckily for me, C right now lives in the same city that I live in. Unfortunately, between her babies' naps and my babies' naps, her schedule and my schedule, we do not get to see each other as often as we should. However, over the years, she has been there for me. Since our kids are very similar in age, it has been good to discuss whether a particular challenge that I'm having is something that she is experiencing too. C is also quick to point out how many of the issues that I am having now have to do with having a small baby thrown into the mix rather than inherent inability to get things done. Somehow I keep on forgetting how little people can suck up so much attention and energy. And, living in the same city, it is nice just to be able to get together, let the kids play, have a semi-adult conversation...

I stumbled upon S's blog when I was planning on pulling 9 yo out of school. S has four kids, and her oldest is post bar mitzvah. All of them have been homeschooled all along. When I was reading about her days, I walked away inspired. I got a sense of what homeschooling is really like rather than a glossy, picture- and project-heavy shell some bloggers throw out there. Those overly perfect blogs made me wonder whether I should be doing more, and left me feeling depressed. In contrast, S's life sounded so normal and doable. I've met S at homeschool conference in Baltimore and saw for myself how "real" she was. She has also hosted a few webinars. We've spoken a bit through Facebook, but what I really appreciated is when she got on the phone with me and really heard my more recent concerns about the boys. Since she has an older boy, I felt so reassured to hear that some of the behaviors and attitudes which got me so worried are possibly just a stage. S is also very realistic, and kept me grounded when I was talking about nearly impossible expectations that trickle down from the yeshiva system to our sons.

These busy women were willing and able to share some of their wisdom and insight with me. If I did not know that I have someone to guide me, I would not have courage and perspective to homeschool. So wherever you are on your homeschooling journey, seek out a mentor or mentors. When the going gets tough, you will need that voice of someone who's been there.

getting a psychological evaluation

There is this beautiful example of getting ready for Shabbos early going around: have your table set and all the preparations finished by chatzot (midday) of Friday. While I appreciate the idea, it never worked for me: when I was working, I did not get home till a few hours before Shabbos, and now, with kids at home, we are often still using the dining room table late into the afternoon. And this week, my newly-crawling baby reminded me why I used to set the table only after my husband got home from shul: he got hold of the edge of the tablecloth and started pulling. So while the concept of going into Shabbos in an unhurried manner appeals tremendously, honestly, it is not happening to us.

I used to feel the same way about labeling and diagnosing, especially boys. I was very inspired by Boys Adrift and the theory that boys are overmedicated today, and normal boy tendencies are squelched. I have been careful to avoid labels, especially for 7 yo. I knew that there is something going on, but with individualized instruction and lots of freedom to move and be, he would be better off at home than in any other scenario.

Lately, I had been not so sure. We are butting heads and butting heads. He keeps getting triggered into fits: one day it's one thing, next day it's something else. He is anxious and stubborn. 3 yo started to emulate his sulking behaviorand repeat some choice phrases. A few weeks ago, after a particularly trying day, when both boys acted up and did not listen, and 7 yo decided to pull on me "you are making me do things that 7 year olds are not supposed to do", I yelled back "Enough! I'm sending you to school! Then you will see what other kids your age are doing!" They quieted down, but the thought stuck with me.

I told my husband the same evening that I'm seriously considering sending both boys to school. They do not appreciate the amount of freedom they have now, it is too much for me, and let them experience for themselves what they should be doing. I also said that I'm not even sure that the local dayschool will so readily take 7 yo, with his outbursts and refusal to write, they will send him to public school, and the public school with require educational testing and psychological evaluation to get a label on his problem. My husband thoughtfully said: "If we will have to do it anyway, why can't we get him tested ourselves? Why are we avoiding this?"

Very good question.

I have resolved to get him tested and finally see what is the proper name to this craziness. (And yes, I am still considering sending either or both boys to school. Call me a traitor to the ideals of homeschooling, but it has not been feeling warm and fuzzy lately. If it's not working, I am not so stuck up to keep on plowing through becausse I have a reputation to uphold). However, from my previous asking around, I got that we are looking at thousands of dollars in expenses, coupled with potential long waits and probably just a label slapped on, not practical solutions. I figured, we probably will need an exemption from the standardized test that he would have to take next year, or at least, an accommodation, so a label will have at least a limited practical use. This time, I confided in a friend, who sent me to another mutual friend, saying that she knows people. That second friend gave me a name of this person, and that person, and warned me that a lot of them do not take insurance. I was listening to her while simultaneously feeding mush to my baby strapped in a stroller and glancing over 3 yo at the playground. I meekly suggested that she e-mail me the names of these people. And then she mentioned, by the way, this psychologist friend of her husband is coming into town on Friday since he has to testify, and he does educational testing, but at less than half of the cost. He had to cancel all his appointments on Friday, so she is sure that he would love to get some work done. I said that it's a good option to consider. Then I looked at myself, covered in mush, and thought: am I going to have time to go home, look up these people online, call and ask around, and then decide? I said, please send me his number and tell him I would like to have my son tested on Friday.

We spoke on the phone, and agreed that the psychologist will come to my house after he's finished testifying. I told 7 yo that a psychologist will be coming. He asked me whether he will be able to read his mind. I laughed and said, no, but he will see what we can do to help you learn better. He wanted to know exactly what the psychologist will be doing. I said that I did not know, and I was very careful not to use the word "test".

On Friday, the testing took place. As a psychometrist was working with 7 yo, I chatted with the psychologist about my concerns. I had to fill out a few questionnaires. When I saw one of them, I laughed: a friend of mine just fumed on Facebook the other week about these ridiculous statements: "My child behaves like an angel", "My child is perfect in every way". Do people really answer "always"? So thank you for advance warning.

I was quite nervous whether 7 yo will sit still for three hours of testing, whether he will lose his temper and throw a tantrum. Well, he worked the whole time and seemed to be totally fine. This made me feel totally crazy: maybe he will work hard for others, but not for me? Maybe I'm in the way of his learning? He told me: "I had hard time with spelling but I just need to sound out the words". Sure, because I never tried to provide him with this piece of information. Silly mommy, just tell him to sound them out!

After everyone left, I asked 7 yo to tell me a bit about what he had to do. He described some activities, and he told me which ones he liked. He mentioned that he had to divide 7 by 2. I asked him, what was the answer and he said that he did not get to it. I asked him, was this hard? He thought and said that some of it was. I paused and asked him, but even when it was hard, you did not get angry and cry? He said, no, because then they would think that he's acting like a baby. I paused and asked again, so why do you scream at me, aren't you acting like a baby? He said, nobody is watching me and would make fun of me.

Right. So he feels comfortable at home to express his frustration, but he was too embarrassed to do that in front of the psychometrist. Did he dupe the system? What happens if I do send him to school? Will he keep it together there, bow to peer pressure only to melt down completely later, in the safety of our home?

This Friday night, my brother-in-law came over with his girlfriend, who is a music teacher. When we chatted a bit about this whole thing, she told me that a lot of parents tell her that kids do just that, rip off the mask of holding it all together as soon as they are in their parents' car. And on an unrelated note, watching 7 yo read "Winnie the Pooh" on the floor and giggle, she said that her students do not do that, because they don't understand what they read or enjoy it, they just get tested on it.

So I am waiting for results, and looking to see what kind of adjustments we'll have to do.

I guess my resistance to testing is in the same hypothetical realm as having everything set for Shabbos before chatzot: both are lovely to consider, but often impossible to pull off.

butting heads

Yesterday, we had one of those homeschooling days that look so good on paper and make people want to homeschool their kids. I had a dental appointment first thing in the morning, so I left my husband in charge of getting kids started on their schoolwork. So I got to get out by myself and take care of my health. The boys finished everything on their list by 11, before the baby woke up from his nap. Then we drove to JCPenney to take a family picture. My husband met us there. Afterwards, he went back to work and we went bike riding on a wooded trail near the mall. We saw deer. Then we came home, 9 yo played on his DS while I made tacos for dinner, their favorite, and one of my easiest meals. After dinner, my MIL came over, and I took 9 yo on a one-to-one outing to Costco.

Sounds so ideal, doesn't it?

Unfortunately, it did not go as smoothly as it sounds. While I was at the dentist, and my husband was in charge, 7 yo was supposed to copy number words for his spelling. My husband wrote them in script. 7 yo promptly threw a fit, since he cannot copy script. My husband wrote them all in capitals, and 7 yo copied them just like that. By the time I got back and saw this, I rewrote them in lowercase, and he copied those, too. He also threw a fit about a page of translations in Lashon HaTorah, while 9 yo objected to his mishna assignment. All the time, I was telling the kids that we will need to change into white shirts before we take this photo, and the kids were not listening. Next thing I know, we are running late, 7 yo is throwing a fit that he does not want to wear his shabbos shirt and he does not want to take a picture, while 9 yo is throwing a fit that he wants to be dropped off at home right after the picture because he does not want to go bike riding, he much rather play DS. 7 yo compromised by packing clothes to change into before we go bike riding. Then 3 yo is melting down in the car; she was wearing her jacket, but she does not want to be buckled up on top of her jacket. And I am trying to grab my sheitel and do some sort of make-up. Heck, we are only doing this picture because I got a Groupon and because the last (and only) family picture we took was when 3 yo was 9 months.

So we are driving in the car in silence, since I totally blew my lid. I did not have any lunch, either. And I forgot to pack up water.

When we got to JCPenney, we loosen up, but  now the baby is getting tired, so every time I hold him and try to face him towards the camera, he turns around, looking to nurse. Then I keep on blinking and ruining all those nice shots where everyone else is looking at the camera. Then the boys start making faces. Then 3 yo starts to sulk. Finally, there are some shots which would pass.

I take off my sheitel and tell 7 yo to change into his bike riding clothes. He discovers that he did not bring the bag that he packed. I take them all to the car, hoping that his bag was left there. 9 yo continues his whine how he much rather go home. The bag is not in the car, but I have a bag with emergency change of clothes for all the kids (too many summer wadings). 7 yo changes, strewing his shabbos clothes all over the van. The baby starts his pre-nap growling. We start driving, looking for the parking for this trail. Thankfully, I found it right away. As soon as we get there, the boys unload their bikes and hop right on.  Now 3 yo starts her thing about how she does not want to walk... the baby continues humming to himself, trying to fall asleep. The boys shoot ahead on their bikes, we are moseying along at our pace. Then the boys come back, asking how long it will be taking us to catch up.

I just want to stroll on this warm afternoon, and enjoy the last warm rays of the sun. I just want a bit of quiet. I just want someone to admit that they are having a good time.

We crossed a few bridges, saw ducks and deer grazing in the woods. A stag actually bounded right in front of us, crossing the trail. The boys talked and biked, 3 yo took her time to crunch up the leaves, the baby fell asleep.

Soon, we headed back, to beat the afternoon traffic. As soon as we got home, 9 yo went straight to his DS. I told him, for half an hour. When the time was up, I reminded him to save his game and get off. 7 yo came as an ambassador to notify me that he's in the middle of the battle and will not be getting off in 2 minutes. I said, he either needs to get out, or just to shut it down. He did not comply. I pried the DS away from him. He jumped up in rage, bumped his head on the upper bunk. Next thing, both boys are hysterically yelling at me about how the battle and the game are messed up. And I'm yelling back that I will put DS in the garbage.

I am trying to get the kids to set the table for dinner, but 9 yo is majorly upset. He tells me how deprived he feels of DS time, how other average homeschool kids get more time to play computer games. I do not  have a lot of patience at this point. 7 yo takes a different tack, that of appeasement: he keeps complimenting the food, and thanks me for all the good things that happened today. 9 yo says: "Thanks for the good AND the bad" and breaks down, crying. I give him a minute. Then he asks to do something one-on-one. I tell him how we need an adult to watch the other kids in order to go out.

That's when my MIL comes over and I decide: I need to go to Costco anyway, it is only 6 pm and I can take just him. I ask him whether he would like to do this as an outing, and he agrees. 7 yo's immediate reaction: what about me? But I am firm, and off we go.

We end up talking a bit, and hanging out. He pushes the cart and comments how light it is, without his siblings inside. He plays around, switching the carts in the parking lot. We watch a Vitamix demonstration, where the guy makes spinach "ice cream". I joke that next time I should put spinach in his smoothie and he giggles. He makes me compare the nutritional facts on the crackers and I discover that Ritz is just as healthy as nearby funky seeded cracker. We get to the diapers and we see that Kirkland and Huggies brand are exact same price per diaper and same amount of diapers in a box, yet the boxes are differently shaped. He starts figuring out whether this brand of diapers is more squished than that, and tells me how he would need to measure the area of one side of the box and multiply it by height. I sort of do not care at this point, so I pick the box that is easier to stick under the cart.

When we get to the car, he tells me how he wants to have a day with no rules, which translates into a day of unlimited DS time. I mull it over and tell him that I will let him know in the morning.

Well, the baby decides to throw a two-hour yelling fit in the middle of the night. I rock him, my husband rocks him, but I do not nurse. Around 6:30 am, the door to my bedroom opens, in marches 9 yo hauling his awake baby brother: "Here!' And can I have a day with no rules?" I am still trying to open my eyes. "Yes, you can, just daven and get dressed first."

He is calling it a day with not rules. I'm calling it a mental health day.

Do you end up butting heads with your kids that much?

why would anyone be doing this?

See these angles, studiously working together each in their workbook? No, this is not a posed photo, but it lasted a total of four minutes.

Today I had a visit from a friend who is considering homeschooling her older child. Shew wanted to see what curriculum I use. I warned her that we do not have much in the way of curriculum nowadays, but sure, come see what I've got. Since there was a bit of back-and-forth about when and whether she would come at all, I decided not to tell the kids in advance. We did not have a smooth morning, but I was hoping that things would calm down by the afternoon. I do not believe in whitewashing what homeschooling is really like, but I did not expect my kids to put the worst foot forward.

As soon as she got here, with her two sweet younger kids, my kids got off the wall. 3 yo was running around yelling, 9 yo was interjecting and I was having a hard time carrying on a conversation. Her kids clung to her. I suggested going down to the basement, where the toys are. Her kids would not go without her, which is totally understandable since mine were behaving like wildebeests. I got around to showing math (about the only subject in which we follow a curriculum) and she started telling me about the reservations that she has, but we did not get far. My kids started jumping and sliding down a mattress. 9 yo started fighting with the younger ones. 3 yo screamed into her baby's face. I tried telling her that this is not the way she would want to be treated, and she should not treat others like that, but she ran away laughing.

This lady looked at me and asked two pointed questions: is there any place I can send the kids for a bit, and do I get out to do anything on my own? The answer to both questions was no. I told her that I am not the best spokesperson for homeschooling at the moment. She had a look of someone not sure why anyone would be doing this in the first place. And I could not explain why this makes sense. I started trying to summon some of our better moments, but I kept getting interrupted by sulking 9 yo. As a final salvo, he removed the pedal off the baby gate, locking us in the basement. There I am, fumbling with the gate, while she is patiently waiting next to me...

Ooh, this was quite embarrassing. So why am I doing this? My kids have no middos, slack off, do not do their schoolwork and do not allow for a grown-up conversation.

Yet, just as I am despairing, everything gets flipped.

At dinner, 7 yo mentioned how he would like to have African Grey Parrot as a pet, since it is so smart and you can teach it things. He was planning to teach it mathematics, and everything that he knows. I probed what all this knowledge included, and he said something about Hashem. 9 yo said that African Grey has intelligence of a 6 year old, so he could be taught to think about Hashem. I said that animals cannot know about Hashem and cannot be taught such abstract ideas. That lead to a question: what does every kid at the table know about Hashem? 3 yo first demurred, but then said that we daven to Hashem. I asked her why, and she said, that's what we are supposed to do. 7 yo passed, saying that he is asking questions, not ready to answer. 9 yo said that Hashem created everything, and is in charge of everything, and was always here and knows why everything is the way it is. 7 yo wanted to know how Hashem was there before the world was here, and all of a sudden we are discussing dark matter (all of this while I am trying to feed the baby).

I got that distinct feeling of satisfaction, this is what homeschooling is about: a nice open dinner conversation, everyone is engaged and comfortable sharing or passing, religion and science freely mixing, and my children expressing ideas about G-d on their level, each of them true.

3 yo all of a sudden piped up: "Speaking about G-d... G-d bless America!" We were listening to that in the car earlier today. The boys cracked up, then 7 yo asked: "Why should Hashem bless America?" That led to another discussion about religious freedom. 9 yo knew that it is part of the Bill of Rights, and no, I did not teach that to him, he must have read it on his own. I also explained how Jews are not free to practice in every country, and this makes America special.

In a nutshell, homeschooling is tough. There are so many things to despair about, and so many things to feel good about. I just need to work on getting us more towards those feel-good moments.

meaningful Rosh HaShana

a fish names gefilte

I spoke too soon about waiting for next year to have a meaningful Yamim Noraim ( Days of Awe).

We went to shul, but not our regular shul. Our regular shul does not have babysitting for all ages and for the whole service, so we go to the other shul. 9 yo was unhappy to be missing his regular shabbos groups, but he did not seem interested to be in shul either. I got all the kids for shofar and then they went back to babysitting. Later I found out that 9 yo snuk out, because he was telling me about seeing people bow down on the floor for Aleinu.

I am always berating myself for not producing enough rich and meaningful experiences on Shabbos and chagim. Being a baalat teshuva, I have this nagging feeling that if only I knew how to capture that spirit, that moment, that opportunity for growth and spirituality, my kids would want to enjoy shabbos and yom tov more. I fret a lot about losing that yom tov feeling, not being in a zone and how that affects my kids. Then we'll have some sort of experience and I see that, somehow, we've still got it.

Yesterday morning, seemingly out of the blue, 9 yo asked me to forgive him for all that he has done wrong. It seemed very sincere, so I dropped everything, walked over to him, hugged him and said that I forgive him. I apologized to him for yelling at him so much, and he forgave me. It was a very sweet moment, almost Hallmark-y. Seeing this, 7 yo got agitated and said that he does not feel like it's Rosh HaShana and he does not know how to daven and he cannot daven. I think he was not ready to ask for forgiveness, or the need to ask for forgiveness did not hit him the same way, but he had hard time expressing it.

Later, when Shabbos already started, somehow the calendar discussion came up. This year, just by looking at the wall calendar, 7 yo figured out that Rosh HaShana is on rosh chodesh, and he's getting a really big kick out of it. Then we started talking about the days between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur and somehow the conversation segued into what it takes to do teshuva (to repent). I started going over the steps and asked for an example of a sin. 7 yo piped in: "You bought an etrog from a bad city". I guess he was listening closely to his brother's mishna lesson! We tried coming up with a more pertinent example, but the boys were running wild with worshiping idols or killing people or other, quite severe and inapplicable actions. My husband suggested hitting your brother, which hit a bit too close to home, as 9 yo asked not to use the word "you" in an example. We settled on a kid ice skating and tripping other people up, just for fun.

Finally I thought we got to the steps. I said that first you have to realize that you are sinning, then you need to stop sinning, then you have to apologize to people whom you've tripped up (people that you caused to die came up AGAIN, the gruesomeness factor is just off the charts) and then you have to say viduy (personal verbal confession). 9 yo wanted to find out what you say in that confession, so I opened up a linear machzor and showed him. He read it with great interest and kept on reading, but after a page he wanted to know where is the end. I explained how viduy contains all possible ways in which people could be sinning and that's why it is so long, to jog your memory to anything specific.

7 yo kept talking about the scales before Hashem and how he hopes that his scales tip crazily towards merit. 9 yo wanted to know whether it is better to do one mitzvah, or to remove an aveirah. In this manner, sometimes solemn, sometimes silly, but totally spontaneous, we established the spirit of Yamim Noraim.

choices

I could have peeled those eight potatoes in five minutes. But 7 yo and 3 yo were in charge of getting me the potatoes, and then they wanted to make a train of the potatoes to wash, like a car wash, and then 7 yo wanted to peel them on his own. He did, and 3 yo peeled one, too. It took them half an hour, but their look of accomplishment was worth it.


I could have assigned all different activities to 9 yo to fill up the afternoon, but I didn't. Instead, he opened up a map, commandeered 7 yo bring up Monopoly money, and wrote up an elaborate chart for playing some sort of world property game. Moreover, he had to make up rules which would satisfy his brother, so that he would be inclined to play with him. They did some fine negotiating, figuring out what's fair, and what will work and keep everyone satisfied.

I could have pushed Rosh HaShana worksheets, but instead I downloaded a Rosh HaShana shiur and we listened to it in the car on the way to and from taekwondo. I did it for myself, but I saw that the boys were listening, too. We had a small discussion during it about the pesukim surrounding Hashem remembering Noach, and also about remembering manna in the desert.

My cleaning people are not coming in tomorrow, so I could spend the day scrubbing the house, or I can rope in the kids, and let them do an imperfect job. Even when it feels that there isn't a choice, and we are cornered in, there usually is an alternative solution. The trick is to trust yourself to let go of preconceived notion of how things are supposed to be.

spontaneous learning

I was on an organizing kick, which led to a huge mess on the floor. I was pulling out all the books that the boys are not using from their cubbies. One of them was Yahadus textbook I got at the conference last year. It was browsed here and there, but it could be on a general reference shelf, not taking up space in a crowded cubby of 9 yo.

As I am trying to get to the computer tonight, I almost trip over 7 yo reading this Yahadus book. I am rubbing hands internally: see, I just need to leave it out, and they will come! Then he looks up and says, with those earnest eyes of his: "Mommy, tomorrow I want to learn about mitzvos. Can you teach me about mitzvos?" I say, sure, and sit down to write it down for tomorrow's to-do list, lest I forget. Then he asks me to read to him a story tale in Russian, and translate as I'm reading. Then 9 yo compares it to an English story tale that he knows.

Meanwhile, 7 yo asks if we can learn just one mitzvah tonight. I say, sure, and we sit down on the couch.(My husband is conveniently home, so he whisks away a fuzzy baby. 3 yo is doing her own thing, so 7 yo has my undivided attention). He read the first mitzvah. I got him to read some of the Hebrew. Then we discussed the difference between positive and negative commandments. There was a blurb on the side telling that some of 13 Principles of Rambam are based on these mitzvos. The whole book is following Mishna Torah format. I got excited and showed 7 yo in the siddur where the 13 Principles are found. I said that they start with Ani Maamin ( I believe). He started singing the one about Mashiach from 3 yo's singing siddur. I showed him where that principle fits, and read the first four. Then I flipped to Yigdal, and read the translations of the first four ideas there. I told he that by saying Yigdal, he is fulfilling these mitzvos. He said that he did not realize that. He actually felt good, since he had this idea of acting out (performing?) the mitzvos that we learn and I could tell that he was not sure how to perform knowing that there is a G-d.

I get asked all the time what curriculum I use for Judaics. When I leave things vague, or fumble for an answer, the assumption is that we have no idea what we are doing, since there is no script, and, consequently, my kids are lacking in knowledge. Yet how could I script a moment like this? How could I script the desire within 7 yo on this particular night to learn about mitzvos, and that it would carry over to the siddur and to imbue the familiar prayers with a new glow of meaning? As much time as I spend defending homeschooling, I spend even more time quaking in my boots and freaking out that my kids will not know some essential. All it takes is a pleasant interaction like this, the genuine quest for knowledge, and I am assured of the path that we find ourselves on.

eruv mailing

A few days ago our local listserve had a request for people to help with the eruv mailing. It was for stuffing and stamping envelopes. I figured it is something my boys and I could do, so I responded. I just asked for it to take place out of my house since my husband was on call and I did not want to commit and then not be able to make it. The person in charge agreed and said that another lady was coming to help, too.

They came last night. The mailing was going out to the members of both orthodox shuls, which consisted of a bit over 600 families (that's how many labels we stuck on!). I would guess that at least a half of those use eruv. We got one of those letters last year, so I asked what kind of response do they get. I was told that it is about one hundred responses. Obviously people here are very comfortable using the eruv and not contributing anything towards its maintenance: hey, somebody else will pay for it. Judging by the fact that only two people responded to help with the mailing, eruv is not on the list of communal priority. I suggested taking it down for a Shabbos, to raise awareness. The response was that eruv has barely been down ( true, in three years we were here, it has not been down ONCE), but when it goes down, there is no end to complaining.

My kids have never stuffed envelopes before, so we showed them how to do it. 7 yo was in charge of the first step: placing a response envelope inside a folded letter. He could not stop marveling at the assembly line and the importance of his work. He was fast and careful, and remarked again and again how each step follows another, to produce a complete letter. 9 yo was in charge of sticking on address labels. He was calling out every time we got to the next letter in the alphabet, or he got to someone we know. He also helped remove some for people who moved away.

Overall, the mailing took a bit over two hours, way past the boys' bedtime. My boys worked the entire time, not slacking. I had a little discussion with 7 yo on the halachic importance of eruv. Having not lived in a city without eruv, he was taking all his Shabbos carrying for granted. He also asked whether we will be getting paid for this job. The lady in charge told,him it's a mitzvah, and I said it is a chesed that we are doing, and Hashem pays us for our work. He beamed.

I am on the lookout for more chesed opportunities where I can be involved with my kids. I think doing meaningful volunteer work produces a sense of well-being that is hard to replicate otherwise.

E.T. phone home

Yesterday was a momentous occasion in our household: we pulled off a movie night! Our friends were making aliyah and gave us a whole bunch of video tapes, since we are probably the last people on Earth to have a functional VCR. One of them was E.T. 3 yo was mildly interested in watching it, and I was feeling under the weather, so this seemed like a perfect way to spend an evening. The boys wanted to watch Pokemon, and even started on it, but, due to some discoveries of broken objects by mommy, they were not allowed to finish. So I started the movie with 3 yo, and then 9 yo came to join us, around the time that Elliot discovers E.T. in the shed.


We did watch the whole movie. I was prepared for kids to be scared, and I was prepared for sadness. I have not watched this movie since the first year I came to the States, so my memory of the story line was fuzzy, and I was discovering it alongside my kids. I was prepared for tears, but I was not prepared for 9 yo asking me repeatedly whether E.T. will live. I was not prepared for the amount of times he asked me about what's going on, who is this, what are the doing, and why. I found myself saying: "Just watch" and "I don't know" probably a dozen times. After the movie was over, 9 yo asked why there isn't a narrator to tell you what's going on.

Right now my boys watch primarily Pokemon. I wrote previously about it, and how I dislike it. One commentator chided me for being too harsh on my kids and that this viewing is harmless. I beg to differ. The simplicity of Pokemon, the non-existence of plot, and the narrator constantly telling you what is going on primes their brains into such a passive state of watching, that they are not accustomed to think about what's on the screen, just sit back and enjoy the show. They expect happy endings; even badly defeated Pokemon will retreat and heal. Despite numerous destructions, Team Rocket is sparkling-new in each episode. Nobody gets hurt badly, and everything is predictable. In fact, it is so simple, that I am afraid they might not be able to handle a real movie plot. They are not ready to watch movie for cues and complexity.

I hope that there is also a matter of a developmental stage: now they like the world to be easily explainable, the good always trumping evil, and not too much pain and suffering along the way. I am hoping that with time they will mature enough to watch more complex plots, and read cues without everything being spelled out.

I also wondered whether our litigious society is contributing to the problem. We all laugh at pool signs which tell us that we can drown in a pool. Last week I went peach picking, and there was a sing warning me that it might be a life-threatening activity. Additionally, I had to sign a release, in case something happened to me while engaging in this agricultural activity. I can look at it, and call is ridiculous. Of course, it is possible to get hurt while peach picking. But what about our kids, who see these signs and think: oh, I did not know that I can die while doing this! Somebody else is telling me it is dangerous, therefore, it must be that I cannot draw this conclusion on my own and access the risks. Somebody always has to tell me what to do. If they are not telling me, I am lost.

Speaking of the risks, how many kids are allowed to come home one hour after sundown, as in E.T.? How many kids would be brave enough to investigate a noise in the shed? If E.T. was set in 2013, it might have been a different movie altogether.

unschooling judaics

When I started unschooling, I was quite anxious about Judaics. This week my kids lovingly proved me wrong. 9 yo pulled out Selected for You: Stories from Nach and reread it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he opened up Tanach and reread the same parts of Yehoshua and Shoftim. Since the books were laying around, 7 yo picked them up and read them, too. Apparently they needed to be not pressured about Judaics to get their own taste for them. Most recently, 9 yo recited the genealogy out loud from Divrei HaYamim.

We finished the second perek of Breishit with 9 yo. His new tactic is not to ask questions, lest I spring another Rashi on him. Although he did ask exactly when Torah was written, as I think he is trying to reconcile creation with what he knows about evolution. When we were reading about the four rivers leaving Gan Eden, he mentioned that the description is so detailed that he could draw a map. I lit up and asked him whether he would like to draw it. He said, nah. I gotta curb my enthusiasm.

7 yo did the first three pesukim of Lech Lecha from Bright Beginnings. I told him that my goal is to finish the first perek by the end of summer, and I showed him in the book where that would land us. He seemed agreeable to it. My goal with his chumash is very different from that of 9 yo. I want him to get comfortable with reading Hebrew, looking at shorashim on the side and picking out the shorashim. I do not expect him to memorize neither Hebrew nor translation. I want him to see that Chumash is not scary and mysterious, but is something that he is capable of doing. He decided that he can do two pages each day, and I ask him to read each pasuk twice: once in the beginning and once at the end. So far, he has been doing his work eagerly, as I think he is finding it to be easier than expected. Oh, and he is working on his fine motor skills by coloring in the lines. For this kid, this is quite a new and exciting development.

In addition to these more traditional Judaics, we have more of spontaneous discussions. This morning, on the way to shul, 9 yo stopped. He pointed to a worm wiggling on the sidewalk and he wanted to know whether he can pick it up and move it to the grassy area before it dries up and dies. I said, no, it is muktze. This led to lively discussion on what if one brushes against a tree and a bug falls on you and now you are carrying it. Or if one picks up a worm and carries it around the whole Shabbos, without putting it down. While these are not great philosophical discourses, at least they are showing me that the kids are thinking in halachic framework.

During the third meal, I asked the boys about what punishment and what cure from the parsha sounded similar to each other in Hebrew. 9 yo threw out a guess or two, and then sat down with a Tanach. 7 yo threw a fit: it's too hard, he cannot do research, why don't I ask him things that he already knows, he has no brain, why am I giving out jelly beans (I did not promise anything!) Having set the bar at zero expectations and almost leading me to go get a nice strong drink, he opened up his parsha book and started reading, Interestingly, he found the answer before his brother. My husband helped him with the Hebrew translation.

building a relationship

I have to leaf my way through Kedoshim now. How did we end up from Toldot in Kedoshim? 

Yesterday 9 yo came up with an idea for a large party, with balloons and cake, and he was planning to sponsor it from his own money. I stayed quiet, thinking that it is just a way to waste some money. Today he brought it up again during breakfast. This time I asked him why he wanted to do it. He said for happiness. I asked him whether these things would bring him happiness. He said, no, that's what it says in Ketuvim. I asked him to clarify. He paraphrased Kohelet that gold and silver do not bring happiness, only learning Torah. So I suggested that he do just that. I thought this would be a good launch into Vayeitze, and even brought up with first pasuk, but he had other plans. He announced that he wants to learn Kedoshim. I was stumped and asked him why. He said that it is the shortest parsha and it has the most mitzvot. I think he did did cost/benefit analysis and, in his mind, this produces the most bang for his learning buck. I wanted to start after breakfast, but he wanted to wait till tomorrow since today is Sunday and he felt it would be wrong to do schoolwork on Sunday. This is not the kind of logic I enjoyed hearing. I said that we learn Torah every day, but he lost interest at that point and I was not going to push. We will see what tomorrow brings.

Despite his desire not to do schoolwork on Sunday, the boys did do some work, unschooling style. We went to the Gem and Mineral Show. The kids had to fill out cards to enter for a door prize with their name, address, phone number, e-mail and school. Both of them stumbled through our long last name. 9 yo persevered and filled his card out, but 7 yo got stuck when it came time to write down the phone number. I know that he knows it, he dialed me before, but he absolutely got frustrated and could not recall it. Moreover, he did not even want to recall it and forfeited his card. 

At the show, the boys saw a demonstration of soapstone carving, polishing and faceting stones and of different sands. They made their own sand slides by cutting a window in a business card, putting a piece of tape across, and spreading sand on top. The slides were viewed under the microscope. Here 7 yo did not mind labeling his slide by writing where the sand came from.

Then we saw a dealer selling wire trees with stones and crystals as leaves. 7 yo really wanted one. This dealer was also selling kits for making your own tree with instructions, and all the supplies. 7 yo first gathered up stones and wire, then he chose a base and glue to hold it together. Now I asked him whether buying the kit was cheaper, or all the supplies separately? He looked and calculated. He had to add 7 to 8. Here is how he did it: if you take 5 from 7 and 5 from 8, that's ten, and you are left with 2 from 7 and 3 from eight, so you add them up and get 5 and 10 plus 5 is 15. My head was spinning. Then he added 2.50 and another 2.50, got 20, and figured out that buying a kit is cheaper than loose supplies. 

9 yo got a grab-bag , and a few separate trinkets. When we got home, 9 yo went about organizing his rock collection and making a Rock Land. 7 yo opened his kit, read the instructions, got the ruler to measure out the correct length of wire, and started on his tree. We stopped only when we glued it to the base and now the glue had to dry for a few hours.

I am thinking how important it is to have a relationship with a child before you can teach them anything and expect them to listen to you, and how much of my time is spent listening to them. They tell me absurdities, they tantrum at me, and they tell me so much of what I much rather not hear, but they feel safe telling it to me.  This past week, just about every night when I was tucking 9 yo in bed, he would say: "One more thing...", his lip would quiver, and something intensely private would come out, whether a worry, a wish, or a feeling. Is this learning? Is this teaching? Is this parenting? It is the building of trust, the building of a relationship.

By laying off the formal schoolwork, by letting them be, I am allowing space for their imperfections. I am making space for a relationship to grow. One of my private frustrations growing up was that I kept getting good grades, but I felt that nobody cared about them. I thought that I should be praised for my academic success, but my parents seemed apathetic to it. To them, it was business as usual; I was supposed to get good grades. Now, thinking back, I was expecting an extra dose of love in return for my success. Oh, how cruel! I do not remember any of the material which I supposedly learned so well, but I remember the feelings. That makes it easier for me to say that content of my children's learning almost does not matter, as long as they feel loved, supported and encouraged in their endeavors.