What to Consider in Choosing a Homeschooling Curriculum

I’ve gotten a reader request to write up my thoughts on choosing a curriculum, so I’m jumping ahead to the end of the series, and then I’ll come back and revisit Math and Religion.

Can you afford it?  With a very few exceptions, I don’t ever recommend pursuing education you can’t afford.  End of story.  Kolbe and the like are not cheap (though Kolbe is less expensive than some of the other alternatives), and as with many good or convenient things, when you are short on cash, you have to find another way.  Sometimes the other way is in fact a better way, so don’t panic.

–> Don’t spend your whole book budget at the beginning of the year. Save some money for mid-year changes, because you aren’t omniscient, so there’s a decent chance you’ll pick one or two flops.  It’s okay.  Set aside the cash so you have it when you need it.

Does is fit with your real life?  That’s how we ended up with Kolbe, FYI.  I’m perfectly capable of writing and teaching from my own curriculum, and enjoyed doing it. But I’m not at all above outsourcing cleaning help, buying prepared foods, paying some other mom to drive the carpool to dance class . . . whatever it takes to make real life work. [I once started to ask my daughter to pray my rosary for me, then remembered, “No, that’s not something you’re supposed to delegate.”]  When I was at a point where something (else) had to give, on the long list of things I do, writing up weekly course plans was one I learned I could outsource.  So we did.  It’s been good.

–> My point here is to encourage parents to look closely at the time and energy and involvement different curricula require.  Don’t pick Math Made Easy By 60 Minutes of Absolute Silence if you just gave birth to quadruplets. It’s okay to pick the cheesy, low-intensity, lowest-common-denominator program, if that’s the one you’ll actually do.  Doing all (or most) of the work from a cushy program is better than doing little or none of the work from that majestic High Standards Because We Are Achievers program.

Do you like it?  You.  The parent.  When you read about the curriculum, or thumb through the book, does it make you smile?  If it makes you groan, or you think, “I guess I have to do this because these smart people say you have to, but how on earth . . .” that’s your warning.  Back away.  If you hate it, it’s not going to work.

Do you believe it matters?  If the student finds it fun, the student will do it.  Unfortunately, there’s a 95% chance you are going to try to teach your child something the child doesn’t think is fun.  Which means your willpower is the only thing that will make the learning happen.  Don’t spend a lot of money and space and guilt on a product you don’t actually think matters.

–> I am increasingly convinced that the reason Living Books or Nature Study or Memorization Of Everything or Latin First English Second or Name That Approach, Written About With Fervor And You’re Ruining Your Child If You Neglect This One Thing . . . I’m convinced they work, and work well, because of the teacher’s enthusiasm.  There are bad teaching methods, don’t mistake me.  And I have methods I love and firmly believe in, and that I think make for sound teaching and real education.  But ultimately some part of my success as a teacher isn’t about having found The One True Way, it’s about having found a way that I can run with, that matches who I am and how I teach and the way my brain works and helps me connect to my students.*

As you learn about curricula, look for choices that just seem so right.  They just seem to fit.  They make you smile and go, “Yes!”.  That’s your ideal.

Do you scruple?  Kolbe is very intent on subsidiarity, and I love that.  As the parent-teacher, I blackline some assignments, I add to others, some things I trade out wholesale.  I have a friend who nearly died of heart failure using Seton, not because Seton is a money-maker for cardiologists, but because she wasn’t comfortable with paring down the curriculum as she needed to do (and as her advisers at Seton said she should).  She does everything 100%.   Seton proposes a tremendous curriculum, and she didn’t know how to say No to the parts that were too much.  She needed a lighter program that she could plow through from start to finish, and rest knowing she had Done The Whole Thing.

***

Those are my main thoughts.  I know we have a number of other homeschoolers reading here. What else would you add?

 

 

*This, I believe, is why Math books are like a religion unto themselves.

 

 

 

Parochial Loneliness

Pray for Allie Hathaway, then click the picture for more quick takes at ConversionDiary.com

1.

Sarah Reinhard wrote about being welcoming over at New Evangelizers the other day. Posts like hers always make me cry.  The reason is because if I who should feel totally at home in a Catholic parish feel so utterly isolated . . . how on earth does everyone else feel?

2.

Yeah.  I just said that.

3.

It’s not about the people.  To a man my fellow parishioners, and everyone I’ve met in my diocese and anywhere I’ve traveled (except that one cranky priest one time, but come on, everybody has bad days) — everyone is really very nice.  Kind, caring people.  No complaints.  None.

Still, it’s lonely.

4.

And it isn’t a strictly Catholic problem.  I’ve had multiple Evangelical friends — and if Catholics are a little shy and reserved, trust me, Evangelicals are not — I’ve had a number of non-Catholic friends wander from congregation to congregation in search of companionship.  Someone to notice them.  To care about them.  To view them as something other than a potential nursery worker, or those people you smile at in the pews but really if they fell into a crevasse tomorrow, no one would much realize.

5.

Part of the problem is geographic.  I see church people on Sunday, but the rest of the week we retreat to our different neighborhoods spread throughout the city.  I can distinctly remember the last time I ran into an acquaintance from church outside of Mass — it was several months ago, at Publix — and interestingly, the time before that was maybe six months prior, same lady, at the library.  But they just moved to Seattle, so that’s over.  Oh wait — and I ran into the dad of one of my students at McDonald’s this winter — I had turned to look because I was struck at how polite he was, the way he spoke to the counter lady.

Part of it is structural.  Our parish has five masses in a weekend — if someone’s missing, for all you know they just slept in an hour, or decided they like the 8:00 AM organist better.  You might see an announcement in the parish bulletin if someone’s dead or nearly dead, if the next of kin notified the parish office. For all I know, I run into fellow parishioners everywhere, and never even know it, because we aren’t at the same Mass.

Part of it is architectural. You want to say to hello someone after Mass, but they slip out the other door.  I used to go down to coffee and donuts, but the room is acoustically alive — too loud and you can’t hear anyone, so conversation is strained.

–> Something my parish does right: We have a fabulous playground right next to the church building.  So the parents of young children do have a natural way to meet up and chat after Mass.  Which I love, and have made many friends that way.

Part of it is economic.  I keep befriending people who move away.  I’m sure it’s not me.  Sometimes I when I introduce myself to someone, I feel like saying, “Are you going to move or drop dead* in the next two years?  Because I’d sure like some friends that stick around.”

Part of it is personality and state of life.  I’m an introvert. I want one-on-one conversations about substantial topics.  Just throwing us all into the gym for a giant spaghetti supper or pancake breakfast, and calling it parish-togetherness because we’re all in the same room?  No thanks.  But I’m not at a stage in my life when it’s easy to get out for a small-group bible study, or meet someone for coffee, or pick up the phone and talk for ten minutes without having to break up three fights and answer seven urgent questions, two of which really were urgent, and one of which involved the dog throwing up.

6.

Loneliness is no reason to leave the Church.  It’s not a social club. It’s a place to worship the one true God, to prepare your soul for Heaven, to gear yourself up for serving others here on earth.  The little Christs come to serve, not to be served.

And this is why I’m such a thorn in everyone’s flesh about solid theology programs.  Because my goodness, I don’t care how wonderful your youth program is, or how great your ladies’ monthly luncheon is at making lonely widows feel at home, sooner or later as a Catholic you’re going to be in the pit.  You’ll be the odd person out, the one nobody remembers to call, the one for whom there is no parish ministry that fits your life and your abilities.

Faith formation can’t be all about relationships and togetherness, or there’s no reason to stick around when the group doesn’t meet spec.  If there’s one question religious ed needs to answer, it is: “Why should I bother coming to Mass when my parish is horrible?”

[My parish is not horrible.  Far from it.  I am usually so happy to be home after having to go visit some other place.  Like the church with the horrid dentist-office decor, or the one with the oppressively low ceilings, or the one with no vacant seats up front . . . but I do kinda like the neon lights in the ceiling that change to match the colors of the liturgical season, out at my Dad’s parish in Las Vegas . . . though their traffic pattern for the communion line is inscrutable.]

7.

Solutions, anyone?

I do feel an amazing kinship with the lady I always see at adoration and who I run into other places around the parish, even though we rarely get to talk to each other, but you can just tell she’s your friend, and she has masses said for everyone including my grandfather when he died, even though she’d never met or even heard of him before it was listed in the parish bulletin.  Most of the time it is enough to just see familiar people, to have that sense of home, even if you don’t really know them.

But sometimes you want more.  Real live friends that you see outside of Mass.

I know the playground-after-Mass method works.  And I’ve made friends teaching religious ed, volunteering is good that way.  Haunting the local Catholic bookstore will make you at least be friends with the owner there (they go to another parish). Slowly, slowly, we build up friendships with other families through trying to set up dinner together this week, a park date that week . . . but it’s long work, and we’re all so busy, and our lives so separate that every get-together has to be planned, and often the effort evaporates when some small thing throws a wrench in the works.

***

Anyhow, all that to say, that if we aren’t welcoming to our members — really welcoming, not just smile-smile handshake-handshake — how exactly are we perceived by outsiders?  As with catechesis, so with relationships: The new evangelization starts in the pews.

*Pleasantly few people I know actually drop dead after meeting me.  God bless modern medicine.

Gregory the Great Academy – Marketing Genius

Just arrived in the mail from the monks at Clear Creek Monastery, a free CD and this pitch for Gregory Great the Academy:

I was recently talking to a mother of two SGA graduates.  As her sons transitioned to college, she marveled at their development of character . . . Once, during his first home break from SGA, she asked her oldest son to help her with the laundry.  Without any comment or complaint, her son proceeded to gather up the laundry in the house and clean his own room as well.

Inferior schools talk about college acceptance rates.  Before you put down your tuition deposit, ask the questions that really count.

Theology of the Body Conference, Simpsonville, SC July 6th & 7th

Why is Church teaching worth standing up for?  I’d be remiss if  I didn’t tell you about the Theology of the Body Conference in upstate SC this summer – July 6th & 7th.  I won’t make it out this year — I’ll be home attending a wedding, yay! — but I was able to go to Family Honor’s TOTB conference in 2002, and it was top notch.  Speakers this year include Janet Smith & Ray Guarendi . . . you can’t go far wrong with talent like that.  Check it out.

Hey and if you ever wondered where my header and sidebar photos came from . . . yeah, upstate SC has a few little secrets in those mountains.  Good place.

Invalid Salad – Real Sacraments, Fake Sacraments, Illegal Sacraments

My latest at AmazingCatechists.com: “Invalid or Illicit? Keeping Straight the Sacraments,” in which I have more fun than I ought, talking about my favorite, rhyming way to keep track of whether a sacrament is illicit, invalid, neither, or both.

What I owe the world is a post about the fabulous Ela Milewsak and the National Initiative for Adolescent Catechesis.  That’s coming, soonish, along with an overdue book review (two here, one there), the end of the Kolbe series, all kinds of stuff.  But this other fun topic came up in conversation this morning, and I couldn’t help myself.  Invalid salad.  I just love to say it out loud.

3.5 Time Outs: Awestruck

Thanks once again to our host, Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy.

Click and be amazed.

1.

This week I learned that someone was in awe of me. I advised her to seek counseling.

Not actually.  I did tell her she has a vivid imagination. That explanation makes it a reasonable mistake – imagine you knew me only on the internet, and furthermore had seen pictures of my home when it wasn’t that terribly terribly out of control — it could happen.  You’d be deluded.  But an honest mistake.

2.

I saw the most amazing floors this weekend.  Clean.  You’re chuckling now, thinking you’ve seen such a thing before.  No.  Quite possibly you have not. I hadn’t. These were VERY VERY clean floors.  They shined.  They were smooth underfoot.  No tiny grains of sand (of course we removed our shoes at the door).  No coarse edges.  No lint.  No crayons.  Clean.  And my daughter who babysits for this family reports these floors are always this clean.  Always.

Now to my knowledge, this family has no cleaning help.  They do have a new baby, a preschool boy of the usual energy level of preschool boys, and a homeschooled rising kindergartner.  Yes, this family does crafts.  Yes, this family eats dinner.  Yes, the children are home all day. And no, the mom is not a powerhouse of non-stop energy.  She is just a very, very, clean person.

This is what she loves.  I think she spends as many minutes cleaning as I spend writing, and as many minutes decluttering as I spend reading, and those two facts explain her home, my home, and our respective literary outputs.

Other than that, we’re both normal people.

3.

Now if you have spent an evening in one of these homes, it is truly a marvel.  It was relaxed and comfortable — the furniture was simple and unpretentious, the food was home-cooking, the children chased each other in loops through the kitchen, changed into 70 different dress-up outfits (actually just three, rotated), and there was the rhythmic thud of a boy jumping off his toddler slide onto a pile of cushions into what would have been the dining room, if these were the sort of people who were interested in impressing rather than welcoming.

Instead it was just luxurious.  So clean.  So peaceful (to someone used to preschoolers). Plus: Jello-Whip Cream Salad, green.  And I did marvel.  Wow.  God made a person who loves cleaning this much.  It is truly a work of art.  A gift to the world, however small and humble.

But because I’ve known Mrs. E all these years, I wasn’t intimidated.  She’s a normal person who happens to have this one gift.

So that was great, and now I remind myself when I’m intimidated by someone, that it’s because I’m only seeing some small side, and not the whole picture. And when I’m unimpressed by someone — same story.  You know there’s another side that tells much more.  Just have to dig for it.

3.5

Chickens.  Just two.  Strictly as pets.

Pets you can eat.

***

Well that’s all for today.  Tuesday is Link Day for all topics, help yourself if you are so inclined.   Post as many as you want, but only one per comment or the spam dragon will eat you up and I’ll never even know.  Have a great week!

Faith and Morals: Willful “Confusion”

Via The Pulpit I discovered this great article at Catholic Lane on the morality of genetic enhancements: “Catholic Confusion on Enhancements” which is worth a read.  I’d never considered the question one way or another (we have no genes we are particularly keen to improve — want of ambition, as always), and now I know.  It’s not confusing at all — the Catholic teaching comes down to the old standby, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

But the cries of, “But I just . . . can’t . . . figure this out . . .” are so familiar.  It’s the line used to justify ignoring all the most obnoxious moral principles:

• Torture: I can’t tell whether I’m really torturing someone or not — I guess I’ll just keep at it.
• Theft: Is taking this one small thing really theft? Who knows — just don’t tell anyone and it’ll be okay.
• Lying: Is it really a lie, or am I just being deceptive?  Well it’s a good cause, so why worry?

You might also recall willful confusion was used back in the day for abortion — is this really a baby? — but now everyone knows it’s a baby, we just don’t worry about the very little ones no one much wants, that would be absurd.  Like worrying about little white lies and tax evasion and torturing people who surely deserved it anyway.

The most entertaining sort of pseudo-confusion is about NFP. Seriously, I kid you not, people will say with a straight face things like:

• “I don’t understand how NFP and contraception are different.”  Um, the part about not having sex, maybe?
• “But what’s the difference between using chemicals or latex to prevent conception, versus using time to prevent it?” I think if you can’t tell the difference between sex and abstinence . . . you’re doing it wrong.

These are excuses.  No one who is serious about avoiding immoral genetic manipulation, or torture, or theft, or lying, or contraception, asks these questions.

Excuses are different from honest inquiry.  When people are really trying to find out answers, they act differently.  Honest inquirers ask precise questions: Not, “I can’t know whether taking office supplies is stealing, I’ll help myself to this case of pencils,” but “Is it okay to make personal phone calls from the office phone?  I’ll e-mail the new boss and find out what the policy is.” And then are prepared to accept difficult answers: If the policy is no personal calls, I’ll wait and call later.

Excuses are different from honest mistakes.  A very, very common honest mistake is believing that the withdrawal method is a legitimate and morally acceptable form of NFP.  It isn’t.  But between some going jokes (now dated, but these things persist), the fact that no artificial devices or chemicals are involved, and the the insidious feeling that anything with as low an effectiveness rating as the rhythm method* must be okay, people get the wrong idea.

The answer is no — a very rough approximation of Catholic sexual morality would be more along the lines of “Don’t start what you aren’t gonna finish.”  The difference between the honest mistake and faux “confusion” is that the honest man might grumble about being corrected, but he won’t sit there acting like he can’t tell the difference between select body parts and a hole in the ground.

*Withdrawal and the Rhythm Method are both somewhat effective for avoiding pregnancy, though I wouldn’t want to bet on them myself.  The one is immoral, the other is not.  History buff though I am, when it comes to having babies, or not having them, give me nice shiny modern NFP over the quaint forbears any day.

Good Ideas, Bad Ideas @Bearing

Go tell Erin Arlinghaus she has a good idea.  I think she ought to make a blog fest out of it.

7 Takes on Modesty: The Case for Rules

Pray for Allie Hathaway, then click to find more quick takes at ConversionDiary.com

Whenever I gather with Catholic women, we all agree: Modesty is important, and we want more of it.  Especially at church.

But many of the same people who want more modesty do not want rules.  And there are some good arguments from the no-dress-code crowd:

• Modesty is context-dependent.
• Any rule can be “worked” to create an immodest outfit that meets the letter of the law.
• Unless the rules are too strict.
• Burkas burkas burkas.
• Pants.  Pants. Pants.  Paaaaaants.

Add to that two bad arguments that fill us out at seven:

• Modesty is all about interior disposition.  (No, it’s not.)
• Rules about modesty are sexist.  (No, not the ones we’re talking about.)

Today I give you seven reasons parishes, schools, and families ought to consider making some specific rules to define modest dress.

1.  Modest is not only about interior disposition. I refer you, for a start, to this excellent post by Rebecca Frech on how guys are different from girls.  Can a guy work himself into a sweat just imagining things?  Certainly.  But that doesn’t change the reality that having a woman’s body in front of his eyes provokes a physiological response — the same way putting a plate of fresh-baked brownies in front of a girl makes her . . . well, you know.  Put the brownies away.  Away.  Please.  Now.

2. You have to get dressed.  Everyday. Modesty is not some abstract principle debated by philosophers and mathemeticians.  Girls have to choose what clothes to buy, and then which ones to wear in which combination.  This is not some theoretical exercise, like wondering what you’ll do if a hurricane should hit your corner of North Dakota.  Either the clothes you put on today are modest, or they are not.  You have to know.

3. It’s not fair to leave girls with nothing but judgement calls, and no hope of getting it right.  Yes, there are many, many classy outfits on the border between modest and not.  At home with mom, or in the fitting room with a trusted friend, you can say, “Yeah, that skirt’s a smidge short, but it’s a heavy fabric that won’t fly away, and with opaque tights and a sweater, you’re okay.”  Given how hard it is to find decent clothes on short notice and a tight budget, yes, this is sometimes the reality.

But what if you’re a teen who wants to get it right?  Girls deserve reliable guidelines — a set of simple tactics for choosing an outfit that will work.  It’s no fair to tell teens “cultivate a sense of modesty,” but refuse to tell them what they need to do in order to avoid being gossiped about prayed for by the ministry team.   Modesty isn’t hard.  99% of the time, if you follow a few basic rules suitable to your time and place, you’re gonna be good.

4. Clear rules help you better judge the judgement calls.  Fashion is weird and unpredictable.  Pretend for a moment you have a rule along the lines of “skirt needs to touch the knees”.  Just pretend with me, it won’t hurt.  It’s only pretend.

Okay, so we’re pretending about our rule . . . and now we have a skirt with a slit up the side.  Having already said, “Well, this much leg is okay, that much is too much,” we have a basis for deciding whether the slit is revealing or just convenient.  How does it compare with other skirts we’ve decided are A-OK?

5.  Clear rules end arguments.  If you’re the youth minister charged with deciding whether an outfit meets spec, you don’t have to use your imagination.  You can say, “Shoulders not covered.  Go grab a t-shirt from the supply closet.  Not my rule, parish policy.”  End of argument.

At home, of course, you have to admit you’re the bad guy and just stick to your guns.  And of course your daughter is going to try to negotiate all the stylish concessions she can.  But at least she can shop knowing that no matter how obnoxiously tacky you think the new sequins-and-puff-balls day-glow-bubble-skirt style is, if it’s below the knee and not too tight, and she buys it with her own money, you have to let her wear it somewhere.  Not necessarily anywhere you, your family, or your nationality are known.  But somewhere.

6. Clear rules give girls something to stand on against their friends.  It’s not easy to be that kid who doesn’t get to wear what everyone else is wearing.  Yes, of course girls ought to have lots of guts and inner convictions, and be totally unafraid to stand up to their idiotic “friends” and get new ones if necessary.  Yes, of course a girl should rather face death itself than ever utter a single word against her honorable, admirable, eminently reasonable parents.  But seriously?  Give the poor kid an easy out.  “It’s the dress code for youth group events,” or “My parents have a rule against it.”

7. Clear rules sharpen the debate.  So your right-wing fanatic friend (or pastor, or DRE) swears that exposed ankles are the first step on the way to Hell, and that many a collarbone had led a man to perdition.  Putting together a tentative list of rules, and then opening it up to scrutiny, helps better answer the question.  You can flip through photos from the parish picnic and say, “Look, Sister Immaculata is showing some calf and it’s okay.  Let’s up our hemline rule a few inches, I think the guys can take it.”

You have to get dressed.  Every day, every woman in the universe answers a question with her body: “I think this outfit is just fine.” Why not do it with the confidence?  Make some rules.  Ask for input. Try them out.  Adjust as needed.

The right incentives.

The boy finishes his homework yesterday morning afternoon after a certain amount of, shall we say, boyishness?  Calls his grandmother to say he’s free, please come pick him up to go play with the cousin.

A few minutes later: “Grandma says to pack a change of clothes in case I sleep over.”

Homeschool Mom alarms go off.  Wait a minute — I’m finally being diligent, you are taking all day to do your work — and you think you’re going on a sleep over?  And this is going to keep you on track for getting your work done the next day . . . how?

Ha.  But I have a secret plan.  “Okay, son.  No problem.  Do you know what a ‘security deposit’ is?”

— Conversation ensues.  Assurances that you get your money back if the agreed-upon conditions are met.—

He’s skeptical, but relents.  It’s either that or no cousin time. Still, the feet drag . . . hard to quite remember to go dig out the wallet and hand over $10 to She Who Cannot Be Trusted to Remember to Give it Back.  (She who is somewhat untested on this point.)

I remember I still owe him for mowing the front lawn on Saturday.  (Hence, trust issues — the HR dept. at this castle is notorious for late paychecks.)  I fish out his $10 from my wallet, let him know that this is his pay, it’s going under Dad’s sword, and if his Thursday homework is completed by end of day Thursday, he’ll get it back.  If not, it’s ours.

Before Grandma even arrives, there are already two grammar assignments in my inbox.  Victory.

I feel like I’m living in one of those experimental labs at the economics department.