It’s time for a new educational model

While swimming at the Y the other day, I enjoyed watching a young kiddo getting swim lessons. Teacher and student alike were having a great time. The young teacher was offering gentle encouragement while their young apprentice mastered a new stroke.

I thought to myself what a brilliant picture of education in action. Here was a young adult who had already mastered a skill and was it passing down to an eager youngster who had the desire to learn.

Yes, I see that hand in the front of the class. Well that’s fine for swim lessons but kids need SCHOOL.

Or do they?

Daniel, my electrical/plumbing prodigy latches on to any service guy that will give him the time of day. Presently, he volunteers time at an Antique Mall where the owner is more than happy to show Daniel the ropes of the business. And you’ve already heard about his telephone expert friend, Jim.

This hand –to-hand, mind-meld sort of passing of knowledge is educating my son in ways I could never have dreamed of.

Yeah, yeah….I know. This can’t work for everyone. In a perfect world, we’d all have loving tutors and coaches. Parents would never divorce and politicians would serve the best interests of their people. Sounds like a pipe dream eh?

But I think it’s incumbent upon parents to rethink how we do school in the states.

Consider: In some Florida schools, it’s been ruled that…well, here. Read it for yourself. Here’s an excerpt:

Under a new policy up for a vote by the Hernando County School Board next month, the new grade for a missed assignment or test at the elementary level would be 40 percent.
Translation: no more zeros.
The goal, district officials say, is to give kids a statistical fighting chance to turn around their overall grade — something tough to do even with a couple of zeros or a few very low marks on the books.
If approved, Hernando would be the first in the area to set the kind of grading protocol that has sparked a feisty philosophical debate in the world of education.

Say what? Let’s see how this would translate into a life lesson. Johnny grows up….can’t make it to work in the morning because the party at Sally’s house last night was, like, sooooooo awesome…and now he’s, like, hung over. Well, tough nuggies, Mr. Employer….Johnny is expecting that his zero performance still mandates a paycheck.

What an insult to the human spirit. What a demeaning, arrogant way to treat a child. (We know you’re incapable of passing on by your own merit but we’re going to pass you anyway.) Now just turn off your brain and do as we say.

This bodacious policy is wrong on so many levels! But I come back to my point: We must rethink how we do school in America.

I love this comment Chris Davis, a home school dad whose kids are now grown said to me on an earlier post:

I hear young people say they want to live wholly unto the Lord and not by the world’s ways; but there seems to be such a strong urge to “play the only game in town”, meaning following everyone else into the systems set up by this age. Those who have left the Matrix need to show these young people that it REALLY IS POSSIBLE to do what is in one’s heart while holding tenaciously to what Jesus says in Matthew 6.

I know, I know….that pesky in a perfect world thing again…But I’m grateful for folks like Chris, who comes from a long line of public school teachers and possesses a Master’s degree, has seen a glimpse of how this could play out in real life. (And his boys are living proof.) And may I add…this wisdom is just as applicable for those outside the faith community?

It’s a tall order, I know. But like an alcoholic must first admit he’s got a problem, parents need to put down the remote and take fresh look at their child’s school and realize the emperor has no clothes.

And forty percent of nothing is STILL nothing.

The Mother Lode’s Guide to Navy Terms

So Jay and I are having this discussion with a friend who’s a Navy SEAL. Or more specifically, a SWCC (say, “swick”). SWCC stands for Special Warfare Combatant Craft Crewman.
Wowsers, I thought. If that doesn’t describe motherhood at a soccer game…
I felt a little wistful later. The Navy’s always had a special appeal to me. I almost joined the Navy out of high school almost 30 years ago. Perhaps it’s this midlife thing again…I begin the downward slide to 50 manana. Or maybe it’s my teensy weensy crush on Mark Harmon, the star of my current favorite TV show, NCIS.

Isn't he dreamy?

Or the way I say, “You have the bridge Number One,” to Jay when I’m heading out the door to get my hair dyed. (I’m pretending I’m Captain Picard and he’s Riker.)
Or the urge to yell out “MAKE A HOLE!” and barge through with my buggy when people are clogging the aisles at Walmart. (I learned that phrase from NCIS from a scene on an aircraft carrier. Its literal meaning: Get your big butt out of my way, I’m coming through!)
So, I wandered over to a Naval website and realized that while I am past the age for eligibility (thank goodness!) my life has a certain nautical theme running through it.
Consider this excerpt from an actual glossary of Navy terms and their shocking similarities to motherhood: (My thoughts in bold.)

Adrift
Loose from moorings and out of control. Applied to anything lost, out of hand or left lying about.
As in: Since motherhood, my mind has been adrift and loose from its moorings. Also refers to car keys or a child’s shoe.

Anchors Aweigh!
Said of the anchor when just clear of the bottom. Anchors Aweigh — the official hymn of the United States Navy and Naval Reserve.
You’ll hear me yelling this before I step on the bathroom scale..

Berth
Space assigned to a ship for anchoring or mooring.
As in: Since giving berth to my three children, they have been anchored in our house. I suspect this has something to do with being adrift from my moorings.

BUDS
Basic Underwater Demolition School
On a much smaller scale, this refers to swimming with the kids at the Y after enjoying a hearty serving of baked beans at the earlier BBQ.

Bulkhead
One of the upright, crosswise partitions dividing a ship into compartments.
This, um, refers to that pesky PFD (Personal Floatation Device) located on my midships that has a tendency to, um, inflate, with age.

Catapult
Shipboard mechanism for launching aircraft.
Be here the minute our kids turn 18 and you’ll see…

Cup of Joe
Josephus Daniels (18 May 1862–15 January 1948) was appointed Secretary of the Navy by President Woodrow Wilson in 1913. Among his reforms of the Navy were inaugurating the practice of making 100 Sailors from the Fleet eligible for entrance into the Naval Academy, the introduction of women into the service, and the abolishment of the Officers’ wine mess. From that time on, the strongest drink aboard Navy ships could only be coffee and over the years, a cup of coffee became known as “a cup of Joe.”
Nothing profound here. Just an interesting bit of trivia for fellow coffee addicts.

DDS
Direct Deposit System
This abbreviation, when written on the calendar, strikes fear in the heart. It means someone’s got a dental appoint.

Fitness Report
Written report of an Officer’s performance of duty.
They offered one of these to me at the Y but I quickly declined when I was told it would involve an analysis of my bulkhead.

FY
Fiscal Year
A tip of the hat here to my hubby the CPA. He likes abbreviations like that.

Knock Off
Cease what is being done; stop work.
Slight twist of common phrase used regularly by parents worldwide, “KNOCK IT OFF!”

Mess
Meal; a place or group of officers and crew who eat together as in “crew is at mess,” “meeting was held in CPO mess,” or “she was the guest of wardroom mess.” Mess comes from Latin mensa, or table
Description of my house 45 minutes after I’ve cleaned it.

Plan of the Day
Schedule of day’s routine and events ordered by Executive Officer; published daily aboard ship or on shore.
Fantasy held by every mother (the “Executive Officer”) Often cast aside because life happens.

Saluting the Quarterdeck
Some hold that the salute to the quarterdeck is derived from the very early seagoing custom of the respect paid to the pagan altar on board ship, and later to the crucifix and shrine. Others hold that the custom comes from the early days of the British Navy when all officers who were present on the quarterdeck returned the salute of an individual by uncovering (removing the hat). The original salute consisted of uncovering. The salute — touching the hat to the seat of authority, the quarterdeck (the place nearest the colors) — is as old a tradition.
Again, another bit of trivia I found interesting. But still, I wish my kids would do this with me.

Working Aloft
Working above the highest deck; generally performing maintenance on the ship’s mast.
This happens regularly when I announce “It’s house cleaning day” and the kids mysteriously disappear. As in, Once again mom finds herself in the kitchen working aloft. Again, this is not a surprise for one who has lost her moorings.

I hope you’ve found this little guide helpful. Now, if you’ll excuse me….I have to get back to the bridge.

Help! My 10-year-old is playing with her cell phone in class!!!!

Molly, age 13, read this to me from a local parenting magazine:

My 10-year-old got in trouble at school because she was playing with her cell phone.  What should I do?

My gut/knee jerk reaction wasn’t very nice. (And Molly had already beat me to saying a huge “DUH!”)  I thought about writing a snarky column here about the epidemic of stupidity out there but I thought twice.

I remember those early days of holding my firstborn watching Katie Couric and her interviews with “Parenting experts.”  It was pretty intimidating.  Did we have what it took to parent children?  Did we have enough education? How would I ever learn all that I need to know?

We read a lot of parenting books but that only deepened my insecurities.  And when our first born was diagnosed with an alphabet soup full of “issues” (ADHD, PDD-NOS, SID to name a few,) I was down right panicked.

Thank goodness for my awakening in the office of a developmental pediatrician who firmly told me, “That child needs to be in school and on medication.”  Mother bear was aroused….and she was pissed.

And I began questioning all of the experts.  I revisited my insecurities, and trust me….there were plenty of them.  I began to realize that my children would grow up just fine without the “developmentally appropriate” toys (Tupperware and wooden utensils delighted them) and just the *right* amount play dates and (gasp!) they would not die if I used the kitchen dish rag to wipe their grimy little faces. No longer would I agonize over the merits of cotton versus the much pricier organic cotton.  (Okay, I lied on that last one for the sake of drama.  I never agonized over that and only bought organic if I found it at a yard sale.)

There’s a lot of insecurity propagated when it comes to parenting.  I think, in part, it’s a fruit of a dumbed-down culture that is not trained to think.

One of our last experiences in an institutional church highlights some of the dynamics I see going on.  Example: We were invited to start a small group in our home….something that I’ll admit was a bit flattering.  We had arrived.

We started one.  And it wasn’t long before the phone started ringing from the church leadership.  Perhaps we needed to change the description of our group.  There were attendance polices that needed to be adhered to.  Yada, yada, yada.

We found piddley things being second-guessed. The control and micro-managing was ridiculous. It got so that we, healthy intelligent adults, were intimidated to do anything for fear for being corrected.

It’s was a sick interaction.

But I’m grateful for the learning experience because now I see that attempts to control people is one of the most detrimental things that can happen to the human soul.  And it is what happens anytime we allow a system of rules to trump over relationship.

And yet this is the sort of goofiness that takes place everyday in schools and churches….and homes.

When Jesus said, “Love one another” he meant, brace yourself: Love one another.  But yet we reduce that even to a list of do’s and don’ts.  (Or as a former pastor dude told us not too long ago, “Love is action.”  As defined by his suggested actions. We disagreed and pissed him off.)

As parents we’re told we’re not smart enough, haven’t read enough books or attended the right seminars.  (How about that obnoxious radio spot for behavioral therapist James Lehman, who promises in his Brooklyn accent, to “Turn your child’s attitude around in 30 seconds or less. And then another obnoxious voice says, “It’s like [dramatic pause]….an instruction manual on how to deal with your kid.”)

Parenting is NOT about having a flow chart and a how-to book on how to raise your kids.  (And sorry Lehman, I’m not interested in your instruction manual.) It’s an invitation to a relationship and hopefully, one that will reflect God’s deep passion for us.

We were created for freedom.  We were created to learn how to make decisions because, as Danny Silk said so succinctly, a person who can make decisions is a powerful person.

I think the flip side of that is, a person who is unable to make decisions will  be a victim and at the beck and call of those who ARE able to make decisions be it a boss, a teacher or a religious leader. At least until they’re ticked off enough to realize they don’t want people telling them what to do all the time.

I think it’s sad that this aforementioned mom was stymied by what to do over her 10-year-old’s cell phone misuse.

It is tempting to spit out an answer to her question….but that is the very thing I’m talking about NOT doing.  (Mind you, I’m not talking about more experienced moms encouraging younger moms. I hope you can see the distinction I’m making.)

I hope this mom can find the courage and time to reflect on deeper questions when it comes to her daughter.

College is a waste of time

For many people, that is.

This article from the New York Post blew my mind.

“The four-year college degree has come to cost too much and prove too little. It’s now a bad deal for the average student, family, employer, professor and taxpayer.”

As a home educator, curious parents will often ask, “what about college?”  Many are surprised by my answer when I tell them that unless my kids are interested in pursing nursing, engineering or some other applied knowledge field, I discourage notions of college.

This article packs quite the punch in explaining my convictions.

As parents, it is incumbent upon us to allow our children the time and space to explore their passions and giftings.  THIS is the foundation for education.  (Not to be confused with “schooling.”)

I was going to mention the Lemming phenomena here.  You know—those little rodents that will bungee jump off cliffs without the bungee cord?

Well, a quick Google on the topic reveals that they’re not quite as suicidal as once thought and I thought my analogy was finished.  But wait!  Look what else I found on Wikipedia:

While many people believe that lemmings commit mass suicide when they migrate, this is not the case. Driven by strong biological urges, they will migrate in large groupings when population density becomes too great. Lemmings can and do swim and may choose to cross a body of water in search of a new habitat.^[7] On occasion, and particularly in the case of the Norway lemmings in Scandinavia, large migrating groups will reach a cliff overlooking the ocean. They will stop until the urge to press on causes them to jump off the cliff and start swimming, sometimes to exhaustion and death. Lemmings are also often pushed into the sea as more and more lemmings arrive at the shore.^[8]

What a descriptive picture of the machinery of compulsory education which marches on urging our children to goosestep mindlessly into a losing proposition.

The MotherBorg

Thanks to the wizardry and skill of my friend, Dave Aldrich….we know have a deeper understanding of what I will turn into if I don’t amend my parenting ways.  Brace yourself; it’s shocking:

The MotherBorg

Be very afraid.

The Borg Model for parenting

The Borg Model of Parenting: Resistance is Futile!

What?  You’ve never heard of this model?  Well probably not, because I just made it up.  But if you’ve got chiluns I bet you’re familiar with the methods of The Borg Model for parenting.

But first….for my non-Star Trek buddies.  (And a tip of the hat to my Star Wars blog buddy Obi-Mom.)

The Borg was featured in several Next Generation episodes and was about an evil entity bent on dominating the universe.  (Which, minus the evil entity part, can describe one of my children, but I digress.)

Not exactly a new storyline I know.  But this creature was particularly malignant in its pursuit of humankind in a cold methodical way.  And not a talkative chap but when it did speak it was usually:

Resistance is futile.  You will be assimilated.

You may recognize the parenting parlance better:

Just do as I say.  You kids knock that off right now or I’ll…. If I have to tell you one more time….If you don’t straighten up right this instance young man, I’m going to….. Do you HEAR ME?!

Ugh.  I’ve been becoming more and more aware of how much I have followed the Borg Model.  It’s this illusion that I can control my children by barking out orders and demanding compliance to my demands.  And it’s at the cost of relationship.

It dumbs down my children because I’m reducing them to taking orders and not thinking. (Gee, sorta fits hand in glove with school and institutional church models, eh?)  And it damages my heart connection with them because I’m ruling by fear and manipulation.  And it’s results are more ugly than this:

The queen mother of Borgdom. I wouldn't mind however, having her cute figure.

Parenting with respect….and grace is where it’s at.  Offering freedom and the power of choice creates, as Danny Silk says on the current God Journey podcast, “a powerful person who can think.”

There's a lot to sort out as I head into this book for a second read

We picked up a Borg helmet several years ago at a yard sale.  It was hilarious.  You could push a button and it would speak that assimilation spiel.  That’s one piece of junk that I sort of regret getting rid of as it could serve as a vivid reminder to me of how NOT to parent.

Conform! Comply! Die.

I’ve long contended that most people shut down and die sometime between 5th and 8th grade. Those middle school years, in my opinion, are when the pressures to conform are greatest. Hormones are surging and the sorting process that takes place through the mechanism of institutionalized schooling is becoming more apparent.

God forbid you should stand out and be different. Shut up, color in the lines and be on time. Any differences are promptly met with ridicule or a label.

Being an equal opportunity critic…I find the institutional church is just as guilty in its propagating compliance and conformity- only we dress it up with spiritual sounding words like “submission” and “Who’s your covering?”

We are taught to blend in and not rock the boat and then to police others to do the same. (Read: CONTROL.) I’ve conformed and you should too. God forbid I live in my misery alone. What a fantasy! What a recipe for a frustrated life.

This wicked mixture of conformity and the false notion that we can control others leads to death. Death of dreams, passions and our precious God-given individuality. And the greatest tragedy—death to relationships.

Lately, I’ve been listening to some music that is outside my usual genre of country or classical. One song that was popular when I was a kid was Pink Floyd’s “Brick in the Wall” and right now….I’m listening over and over again to Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”

It’s the kind of music that was labeled as rebellious. Or as a believer in later years, “devil” music. (I always joke with Jay about how he loves his devil music.)

I find it a curious study to consider the music that appeals to kids. Granted, I’ve never really enjoyed heavy rock music but if one is open minded enough to read the lyrics, you may find your pulse quickening just a bit as you recall the dreams and emotions of being a kid again and the thrill of looking forward to the open highway of your life.

Children know intuitively that we were created for freedom. And as adults we go through life distracted and busy. I think we’re afraid to slow down long enough to confront the reality that, somewhere along the line, something died. Like a nervous housewife, you can smell the stench but you want someone else to deal with the dead mouse in the trap or simply hope it will just go away. (And get on some powerful anti-stench pills to dull your sense of smell so you don’t notice it as badly.)

To the brave young people that have been labeled and ridiculed in schools….

To the hungry church goers that feel “there must be something more”,,,,

You were created for freedom. And created to be loved. It’s your life.

Jesus’ real name?

Remember the “What if Jesus’ real name is Bob?” conversation the other day?  Now, I don’t really believe that Jesus’ name is Bob….but I do think we’re going to be in for some BIG surprises when we get to heaven.

Anyway.  Without further ado….Another Magnificent Molly Cartoon:

Quack!

Here’s a little design Molly’s made.  We’re going to turn it and a few other fun ones into tee shirts.  Doesn’t this make you feel happy looking at it?

Or how about this one:

The Cart

“OOOOOOH!!!!  Look at this,” I squealed to Jay.

“Oh-oh.  You’re on the internet again,” Jay said from the kitchen.

“What else is new?” I replied.  I felt a little hurt.

“It’s Craig again, isn’t it?” he asked.

Now I was hurt.  “I told you I’d stop cruising Craigslist,” I replied.  And I had.  Sorta.  Let’s just say I cut back on my rendezvous with the dear boy.

I was flirting with my other temptation: Amazon.  It started innocently enough….books, books and more books.

Then, like the spider to the fly, I was lured deeper into the parlor.  Household items.  Kiss My Face soap at a deep discount.  Wireless routers!  Vitamins!  And did I mention books?

So when I told Jay that I was on Amazon, I heard a deep sigh.

“Now what?” he asked sensing his budgeting efforts were about to be thwarted once again.   Jay, a CPA, has elevated the lowly budget to a high brow work of art.

He has created spreadsheets and detailed projected spending analysis’ that would bring order to the messiest finances.  That is, if you follow it.

“Well, I was thinking…..”

Jay appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“You know how pesky it is when we go swimming or to a blue grass festival when we have to unload the car?”"

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I was thinking….”  Oops.  I said that already.

Some women get tempted my cute young guys.  I get tempted by anything that suggests it could simplify my life a little.

“Look,” I said:

Look at the lines and curves on THIS puppy!

“You know how irritating it is lugging all that stuff from the van?  Get a load of this puppy!” I gushed.

No more banged up calves from those chairs thunking against us.  Nor more feeling like our family has become a camel train of coolers, chairs and bags of sunscreen.  (Especially when the camels are reluctant.)  Nor more HEADACHES for crying out loud! “

I went for the juggler on that one.  Ever since my crap should became a crap shoulder anything that promises deliverance from a headache gives me more spending leverage.

I pictured myself, cool…collected…no varicose veins, confidently navigating the swarms of unenlightened sweaty baby boomers in orthopedic shoes lugging their burdens.  They would longingly look at me pushing my Cart with its 10″ collapsible lug wheels.  I’d toss my head back and say breezily, “It holds up to four, did you hear me, FOUR lawn chairs.”

Even the young guys would be nudging each other while watching me stroll town square.  One would mutter, “Duuuuude, that is one hot mother…..”  I’d give them a playful little finger wave while my 48-ounce cooler merrily bumped along.

Right in the middle of my daydream, Jay interrupted me.  Dang him, anyway.

“How much is THIS thing going to be?”

I told him.

“And what is it going to be next month?  Your little quest to make life easier looks like a heck of a lot of work and costs a lot of money,” he said.

I made a little squeaking noise.

“Last month it was the Nu Wave Oven you found on craigslist that took two hours to clean,”  True.  The chicken was tasty but the clean up was a bug a boo.

“At least I sold it for the same amount I bought it for…”

“And then it was convection/microwave oven that made the exploding noises when it turned?”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know it would do that….and besides I sold that too for the…um…close to what I paid….”

“Hey!  I know!” he said.  Why don’t you buy The Cart and then…..” he made a dramatic leap, “You could write a book about this new thing you found that brought peace and ease into your life.  How it saved money and delivered you from headaches!  You could call it:

THE CART

He framed the words with flourished hands.

Hey!  That’s not a bad idea. (Shiny Object Syndrome is just things that shine…sometimes it’s just an idea.)

“Now what are you doing?’ he asked.

“Did you see my notebook?” I murmured.

So many things.  So many ideas.

Thankfully, we can to an agreement (meaning: I got my way).  I ordered The Cart.

It’s even got a special little pocket for small things like….like….notebooks.  Truly this was destiny.  I have a new book idea I’m working on.