I am still alive...
...just very, very lazy.
I have (at last count) about a billion things to update here, but, well...LAZY. It speaks so succinctly for itself.
Okay. If I may just waive the white flag of innocence for a moment. "Lazy" is the word I have chosen to describe the 24 hour a day, 7 day a week, unassisted mothering of a very engaged 2.5 year old who has apparently taken my daring to sit before this other-worldly portal as some sort of personal insult of the highest and most severe degree - thus limiting my available blogging hours to those between her falling asleep and my carrying her to bed (ie, ZERO).
Okay. So not exactly zero, either. Because, if I'm to be truthful, there is that hour or so after she falls asleep and BEFORE I ferry her to bed...that self-same, blissful, peaceful, duck-free hour during which the white, ungainly blancmange I am so displeased to call my body and I, prostrate and mentally weak with the constant pressure to come up with the answers to all things beginning with "Why...?", am lying on the couch and mindlessly watching television (documentaries, I swear!!). I could choose to give up this sweet, precious, restful hour to blogging. I could choose to allocate this hour to vouchsafing the particulars of my day to you, the wonderful few who dare to follow my pointless ramblings. I could choose to conjur up the effort required to wax erudite...intelligent...even daringly political on subjects vital to my heart such as unschooling and treating children with respectful consent. I could also choose to spear out my own eyes with shards of glass. Because, at the end of the day, I WANT to be lazy. I enjoy being lazy. I have EARNED being lazy.
You mothers will understand what I mean. It's the kind of laziness that you will defend - suddenly and even terrifyingly against any non-combatant ideals to which you loftily aspire - to the talon-bearing, teeth-gnashing, telephone-ripping-off-the-wall, husband-daring-to-ask-you-if-you-want-a-coffee-heavy-pot-stoving-in-the-head-of, death. It's lazy with a capital "get the hell out of my way, I'm a mother and I've had enough of every other human on this planet who might possibly want something from me at this moment and I'm bloody well doing NOTHING or I'll kill you." It's where lazy wishes it could go for its holidays. If it was brave enough. Or lazy enough. It's the kind of lazy where normal lazy takes a few, rather drunken steps backwards, holds up its lazy hands in supplication and say, "Whooaaa, mate. I don't want any trouble here. I'll maybe catch you later."
I could go on. But the above-mentioned lazy (the one currently holding a weapon to my head and smiling at me in a bright, "let's chat" kind of way) has informed me that I have a date with the couch. Maybe even a freddo frog.
Laziness is in the eye of the beholder. As long as those eyes are mine, and the mouth below them is filled with chocolate, anyone who has a problem with laziness can go...do something incredibly amazing and sporty and tell me about it later. There's napping to be done.
Friday, 20 January 2012
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Long Time, No See
Phew. It's been a while since I've updated here, hasn't it? I'd love to be able to report that so much has happened. But really, life has just chugged along its fairly familiar path, as it so often is apt to do while leaving us feeling busy, swamped and plain worn out - despite the fact that, upon reflection, we really have nothing to show for ourselves...
I hope you like the title of this blog. It came to me as one of those unnoticed idioms which you dismiss as a superficial attempt at humour, but only afterwards realise your brain was actually trying to send you a message. But we'll get back to that in a minute...
We have been doing a lot of soul-searching lately, on a lot of subjects. Top of the list is currently the kind of life we want for our beautiful daughter. You see, for a long time, I didn't see. Well, I thought I saw. Don't we all? The part of me that likes to be right (which is, let's face it, the most ME part of me), was pretty convinced that what I was looking at was the whole picture. You know, kind of like looking through a window from a short distance away...you might see open fields and clear skies and think, "I see the world out there," but really, you're only seeing a small piece of an infinitely larger reality - a chunk, a 'glimpse' as those in real estate like to put it (and we all know what that means when we read it, right!). What you're really seeing, frankly, is a hell of a lot of wall and glass and, if you're lucky, a splash of colour which, in time, you may come to call "the whole world," because you've forgotten that any more of it exists than what you can see. (Seeing is believing, anyone?)
As so many adults do (and have been trained since childhood to do), I mistook the view for the destination. I wanted so much to believe in that view, too, because hell, it was the ONLY view, after all. When you're faced with so much wall, a window is a lovely thing. A refreshing possibility...the potential for a greater existence.
For a long time, I have loved the window. Justifiably so. It is easy to lose oneself in a beautiful view. Windows offer potential, too. The view itself can prompt much discussion, thought and planning. It can take you in directions you hadn't previously planned. Nothing better than a glimpse of what lies just over there to interest you enough to want to start a journey...to get you up out of your chair and really study the view.
The great thing about windows (I'm going to run with this theme today...I like it a lot!) is that they offer more than just a pretty prospect. They let in light. You can open them up and breathe clean, sweet air...air that fills you up and cleanses your mind and smells of things you never dreamed existed. And if you only dare poke your head outside...wow! What a world! What a universe! And all that is required to explore it is to pluck up the courage to unlock that big, imposing door and take your first tentative steps forward.
And in that spirit, and with all the hopes, fears and excitement of explorers in a brilliant new land, so we have taken our first tentative steps into the world Radical Unschooling. Already, it feels so right that I wonder why I was ever content with just the window.
Long time, no see.
But the view is SO worth the wait!
I hope you like the title of this blog. It came to me as one of those unnoticed idioms which you dismiss as a superficial attempt at humour, but only afterwards realise your brain was actually trying to send you a message. But we'll get back to that in a minute...
We have been doing a lot of soul-searching lately, on a lot of subjects. Top of the list is currently the kind of life we want for our beautiful daughter. You see, for a long time, I didn't see. Well, I thought I saw. Don't we all? The part of me that likes to be right (which is, let's face it, the most ME part of me), was pretty convinced that what I was looking at was the whole picture. You know, kind of like looking through a window from a short distance away...you might see open fields and clear skies and think, "I see the world out there," but really, you're only seeing a small piece of an infinitely larger reality - a chunk, a 'glimpse' as those in real estate like to put it (and we all know what that means when we read it, right!). What you're really seeing, frankly, is a hell of a lot of wall and glass and, if you're lucky, a splash of colour which, in time, you may come to call "the whole world," because you've forgotten that any more of it exists than what you can see. (Seeing is believing, anyone?)
As so many adults do (and have been trained since childhood to do), I mistook the view for the destination. I wanted so much to believe in that view, too, because hell, it was the ONLY view, after all. When you're faced with so much wall, a window is a lovely thing. A refreshing possibility...the potential for a greater existence.
For a long time, I have loved the window. Justifiably so. It is easy to lose oneself in a beautiful view. Windows offer potential, too. The view itself can prompt much discussion, thought and planning. It can take you in directions you hadn't previously planned. Nothing better than a glimpse of what lies just over there to interest you enough to want to start a journey...to get you up out of your chair and really study the view.
The great thing about windows (I'm going to run with this theme today...I like it a lot!) is that they offer more than just a pretty prospect. They let in light. You can open them up and breathe clean, sweet air...air that fills you up and cleanses your mind and smells of things you never dreamed existed. And if you only dare poke your head outside...wow! What a world! What a universe! And all that is required to explore it is to pluck up the courage to unlock that big, imposing door and take your first tentative steps forward.
And in that spirit, and with all the hopes, fears and excitement of explorers in a brilliant new land, so we have taken our first tentative steps into the world Radical Unschooling. Already, it feels so right that I wonder why I was ever content with just the window.
Long time, no see.
But the view is SO worth the wait!
Sunday, 31 July 2011
Colour Month? No! Colour Life!
I've had a rethink on the whole "Colour Month" idea. Why confine it to one month? Why not one lifetime? One can live a whole lifetime and not see ALL the colours there are to see, after all.
Roll on, Colour Life!
I have ummed and ahhed about what to write here the last few days ("dithered" maybe a better word - or, if I am to be honest, "procrastinated"). Ever known where you wanted to go, but weren't sure how to get there? And I don't mean which route to take...well, I do...but I also mean the method; do you go by car, or bus, or train...or should you walk, or run...or hey, why not ride a horse...or a unicycle? What if you really did know how to get there, but instead of just beginning the journey, you spent time dithering (my word for to today - it sounds so much more fun than procrastinated, or avoided) around getting in and out of your car, maybe taking the bus for one stop only, then walking back to where you started only to trip over the horse on your way to getting out your unicycle?
What if, after all that, you realised you were actually where you needed to be, and all you needed to do in the first place was to open your eyes and see that you were there? And what you really needed most to do was to put the car keys away, tear up your bus pass and just trust that, you know what? You are already living the journey.
It all sounds very philosophical, if you let it. But it sums up a lot of what has been going on around here, for real, in the past few days. Well, for much longer, even, than that...but perhaps the last few days has seen us reach a turning point. Or a learning point. Hehehe.
Sometimes, trusting that you will arrive at your destination is as hard as taking that first step - whether that step be inside yourself, or against the external stream. Sometimes, that same fear is so exciting that you HAVE to take that step. You can't not take it. Even if you have no idea where you're going. Because you know it's right anyway. You know it's where you should always have been heading...even where you've always been, although you never knew the name of the town.
I think the next few weeks will see us consolidate many ideas, dreams and philosophies into something huge. It may not be to everyone's tastes. And that's okay. I can only ask that you choose openness and curiosity over close-mindedness and fear.
Life, after all, is awash with many colours. But only a very few of those are named in the rainbow we physically see. Perhaps the reason no one ever finds that little pot of gold is because it was all around us to begin with, rather than hidden at the edge of a fleeting band of fading colour in the sky.
Roll on, Colour Life!
I have ummed and ahhed about what to write here the last few days ("dithered" maybe a better word - or, if I am to be honest, "procrastinated"). Ever known where you wanted to go, but weren't sure how to get there? And I don't mean which route to take...well, I do...but I also mean the method; do you go by car, or bus, or train...or should you walk, or run...or hey, why not ride a horse...or a unicycle? What if you really did know how to get there, but instead of just beginning the journey, you spent time dithering (my word for to today - it sounds so much more fun than procrastinated, or avoided) around getting in and out of your car, maybe taking the bus for one stop only, then walking back to where you started only to trip over the horse on your way to getting out your unicycle?
What if, after all that, you realised you were actually where you needed to be, and all you needed to do in the first place was to open your eyes and see that you were there? And what you really needed most to do was to put the car keys away, tear up your bus pass and just trust that, you know what? You are already living the journey.
It all sounds very philosophical, if you let it. But it sums up a lot of what has been going on around here, for real, in the past few days. Well, for much longer, even, than that...but perhaps the last few days has seen us reach a turning point. Or a learning point. Hehehe.
Sometimes, trusting that you will arrive at your destination is as hard as taking that first step - whether that step be inside yourself, or against the external stream. Sometimes, that same fear is so exciting that you HAVE to take that step. You can't not take it. Even if you have no idea where you're going. Because you know it's right anyway. You know it's where you should always have been heading...even where you've always been, although you never knew the name of the town.
I think the next few weeks will see us consolidate many ideas, dreams and philosophies into something huge. It may not be to everyone's tastes. And that's okay. I can only ask that you choose openness and curiosity over close-mindedness and fear.
Life, after all, is awash with many colours. But only a very few of those are named in the rainbow we physically see. Perhaps the reason no one ever finds that little pot of gold is because it was all around us to begin with, rather than hidden at the edge of a fleeting band of fading colour in the sky.
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Life Is Lumpy
"Life is lumpy: let it be." - Sandra Dodd.
Niamh was napping on my lap, the way she has done since she was born. I was reading. And, I am sorry to admit it, feeling a bit resentful of the distinct lack of me-time I've had...well...for a long time. Feeling ashamedly resentful towards a certain little someone, who through no fault of her own happened to be born into my world, and who without doubt did not deserve the negativity flowing her way.
Things have been a bit flat the last few days. Niamh hasn't really been into any activities, and I somehow haven't been able to muster the energy to make her world more fun. Well, I did create a few activities for her, but she wasn't into any of them...and although that's perfectly okay with me, I was feeling a bit hard done-by. You know how it goes. I think a slow, sad violin might be playing for me, somewhere...
Realising I was in need of some mental refreshment, I pulled two well-read books from the shelf before being pinned to the lounge for the duration. (I say "well-read"...but not necessarily always well-remembered!!) One was Naomi Aldort's wonderful Raising Our Children; Raising Ourselves, and the other was Sandra Dodd's Big Book of Unschooling. I flicked open Sandra's first, and the above quote leapt off the page at me. Really at me. It got me right between the eyes...and thank god, it buried itself right in. (Yes, occasionally snippets of information do make it into the inner sanctum. Usually only once they have solved the infamous "two brothers" riddle and braved the labrynth, though...)
I can't quite describe the feeling. It was a combination of relief, embarrassment (at my self-centredness), calm, truth, peace, and a whole heap of "well, duh," aimed squarely in my own direction. I think, though I'm not entirely sure...but I think there was a slapping sound, as it connected.
Without wanting to wax too lyrical (oh, what the hell!), it was like a great big, warm, blankety hug for my soul. Ahhhhhhhhh!
Life is lumpy. Let it be. I'm going to type it again (for my own therapy...skip over it, if you think you've already got it!). "Life is lumpy; let it be."
Not every day is perfect. Not every moment is memorable. Perfection is never perfect. And you know what? That's okay! Fighting it only makes you miserable. You can choose to be miserable, of course. But that's your choice. Hard to feel victimised if you refuse to be the victim...
A lot of Sandra's book spoke to me today. And I'm grateful for it. It has helped ease my mind a little, and to clear a little of the fog from the path at my feet. I'm not saying it doesn't lead up to some pretty intimidating mountains...and it's kind of rocky and unkempt. But at least there is a path.
The best teacher is the one who recognises that they are as much the student. The best teachers in the world are those who never try to teach, but who support others to learn for themselves.
Niamh was napping on my lap, the way she has done since she was born. I was reading. And, I am sorry to admit it, feeling a bit resentful of the distinct lack of me-time I've had...well...for a long time. Feeling ashamedly resentful towards a certain little someone, who through no fault of her own happened to be born into my world, and who without doubt did not deserve the negativity flowing her way.
Things have been a bit flat the last few days. Niamh hasn't really been into any activities, and I somehow haven't been able to muster the energy to make her world more fun. Well, I did create a few activities for her, but she wasn't into any of them...and although that's perfectly okay with me, I was feeling a bit hard done-by. You know how it goes. I think a slow, sad violin might be playing for me, somewhere...
Realising I was in need of some mental refreshment, I pulled two well-read books from the shelf before being pinned to the lounge for the duration. (I say "well-read"...but not necessarily always well-remembered!!) One was Naomi Aldort's wonderful Raising Our Children; Raising Ourselves, and the other was Sandra Dodd's Big Book of Unschooling. I flicked open Sandra's first, and the above quote leapt off the page at me. Really at me. It got me right between the eyes...and thank god, it buried itself right in. (Yes, occasionally snippets of information do make it into the inner sanctum. Usually only once they have solved the infamous "two brothers" riddle and braved the labrynth, though...)
I can't quite describe the feeling. It was a combination of relief, embarrassment (at my self-centredness), calm, truth, peace, and a whole heap of "well, duh," aimed squarely in my own direction. I think, though I'm not entirely sure...but I think there was a slapping sound, as it connected.
Without wanting to wax too lyrical (oh, what the hell!), it was like a great big, warm, blankety hug for my soul. Ahhhhhhhhh!
Life is lumpy. Let it be. I'm going to type it again (for my own therapy...skip over it, if you think you've already got it!). "Life is lumpy; let it be."
Not every day is perfect. Not every moment is memorable. Perfection is never perfect. And you know what? That's okay! Fighting it only makes you miserable. You can choose to be miserable, of course. But that's your choice. Hard to feel victimised if you refuse to be the victim...
A lot of Sandra's book spoke to me today. And I'm grateful for it. It has helped ease my mind a little, and to clear a little of the fog from the path at my feet. I'm not saying it doesn't lead up to some pretty intimidating mountains...and it's kind of rocky and unkempt. But at least there is a path.
The best teacher is the one who recognises that they are as much the student. The best teachers in the world are those who never try to teach, but who support others to learn for themselves.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
A Colourful Birthday
Phew! Why are children's birthdays always so crazy? The last few days have been a bit mad around here...and it's not like we even had a big party to celebrate Niamh's 2nd birthday.
First, a recapitulation of the last few day's activities for Niamh.
Cheerio chicken feeder:
Someone told me about this fun little activity, so we decided to give it a go - especially since we've had a few rainy days, and the younger chickens had to stay in their little house to keep dry. I thought these little feeders would be a good distraction for them. Basically, it's a threading job - you knot the end of a piece of string, and feed a row of Cheerios on. All went well, for the first one. Then Niamh ate the rest of the Cheerios herself! Oh well. She did enjoy the activity, and I'm sure we'll tackle it again...though next time I will wait until she has already eaten. (For those of you worried about our poor chickens being neglected, be assured I made them a little feeder and they loved it!)
Then, birthday morning! Happy birthday to my sweet, TWO year old girl! How those years have flown by...and I wouldn't have missed a second of them. Here is the birthday morning carnage:
As you can see, she was rather spoiled. That's her Daddy, putting together her balance bike, which we found HERE at Hip Kids. We chose it because it has the option to put the pedal crank on once they have mastered steering and balancing. Unfortunately, the bike is too tall for her! Her little feet hang several inches off the ground, which makes the whole point of balancing either a) pointless, or b) really, really relevant. But she loves sitting on it while we push her around (and that's not going to get old at all...right?).
She received the stacking puzzle she requested, which I found HERE at Modern Teaching Aids. And she also received a fairy game card pack, which lucky Mama found at a one-off sale. Included are some lacing cards, a memory game, a picture matching game, a number match game, a game of rainbow "go-fish" and a 50 piece jigsaw which I will put away for when she is older. The pictures on the cards are beautiful, and she already loves looking at all the fairies and asking what their names are.
Now for the things I made for her. I have been wanting to make her a sensory tub for AGES since I first saw them HERE at the wonderful Counting Coconuts blog. I couldn't decide, however, whether to make her a rainbow sensory tub (since it is Colour Month), or a number "2" sensory tub. Then I thought, why not combine the two? So here it is, my first ever sensory tub in a colourful number "2" theme:
Inside are:
- 2 glittery green 2's
- 2 purple frogs
- 2 large green sparkly pompoms
- 2 pegs
- 2 large wooden buttons
- 2 small red beads
- 2 medium blue pompoms
- 2 small red pompoms
- 2 large white pompoms
- 2 small white pompoms
- 2 iron-on flowers (which I can no doubt use later in sewing!)
- 2 magnifying glasses
- 2 small yellow pompoms
- 2 long yellow beads
- 2 small pine beads
- 2 small dark wooden beads
...and a whole heap of rainbow rice.
She LOVES it. She has a blast burying everything, then using the magnifying glasses to find them hiding in the rice. She has spent hours sitting there so far, just running her hands through the rice. She is also doing very well with the tub rule - the tub and its contents must not leave her play area. I can't wait to plan the next tub. They are seriously addictive!
I also made her an "eye-spy" bottle (the idea of which I also discovered on COUNTING COCONUTS (did I mention what a great blog it is??). Again, in a rainbow theme:
For this one, I didn't take photos of what went inside - I was too busy getting other things ready for Niamh's birthday. But I think, for the next ones, I will. I like the idea of using them to play "eye-spy bingo."
And some more story sticks (or rhythm sticks, if you feel like tapping out a tune):
I chose a wintery, snow theme - not that it snows here - but it is winter, and Niamh is really into snow at the moment, after reading the very sweet WINTER STORY book by author Jill Barklem.
I also made a pair of story sticks, and another eye-spy bottle for Niamh's cousin, which I put into her party bag rather than stuffing them full of lollies:
And now for the all-important birthday party! We had a rainbow party at the park (thank you, weather gods, for holding back the rain!). For food, we had red strawberries and cherry tomatoes, orange carrot sticks and mandarines, fresh yellow pineapple, green avocado dip and fresh snow peas from the garden, blueberry muffins, indigo/violet cherries...and a few other yummies like home-made sausage rolls, meatballs, garlic hommus, and rainbow cupcakes. The cake was a rainbow cake (of course!).
Here are a few photos. Enjoying a sweet, orange mandarine:
Blowing out the candles ( you will note there are more than 2, but she wanted ALL the candles):
She is now running around the house, waving the pretty rainbow ribbon stick given to her by her Aunty E-K, and yelling, "I'm two! I'm two!" So I think she had a good weekend ;-)
Thanks for sharing, and a special thanks to everyone who made Niamh's birthday weekend so special.
First, a recapitulation of the last few day's activities for Niamh.
Cheerio chicken feeder:
Then, birthday morning! Happy birthday to my sweet, TWO year old girl! How those years have flown by...and I wouldn't have missed a second of them. Here is the birthday morning carnage:
She received the stacking puzzle she requested, which I found HERE at Modern Teaching Aids. And she also received a fairy game card pack, which lucky Mama found at a one-off sale. Included are some lacing cards, a memory game, a picture matching game, a number match game, a game of rainbow "go-fish" and a 50 piece jigsaw which I will put away for when she is older. The pictures on the cards are beautiful, and she already loves looking at all the fairies and asking what their names are.
Now for the things I made for her. I have been wanting to make her a sensory tub for AGES since I first saw them HERE at the wonderful Counting Coconuts blog. I couldn't decide, however, whether to make her a rainbow sensory tub (since it is Colour Month), or a number "2" sensory tub. Then I thought, why not combine the two? So here it is, my first ever sensory tub in a colourful number "2" theme:
- 2 glittery green 2's
- 2 purple frogs
- 2 large green sparkly pompoms
- 2 pegs
- 2 large wooden buttons
- 2 small red beads
- 2 medium blue pompoms
- 2 small red pompoms
- 2 large white pompoms
- 2 small white pompoms
- 2 iron-on flowers (which I can no doubt use later in sewing!)
- 2 magnifying glasses
- 2 small yellow pompoms
- 2 long yellow beads
- 2 small pine beads
- 2 small dark wooden beads
...and a whole heap of rainbow rice.
She LOVES it. She has a blast burying everything, then using the magnifying glasses to find them hiding in the rice. She has spent hours sitting there so far, just running her hands through the rice. She is also doing very well with the tub rule - the tub and its contents must not leave her play area. I can't wait to plan the next tub. They are seriously addictive!
I also made her an "eye-spy" bottle (the idea of which I also discovered on COUNTING COCONUTS (did I mention what a great blog it is??). Again, in a rainbow theme:
And some more story sticks (or rhythm sticks, if you feel like tapping out a tune):
I chose a wintery, snow theme - not that it snows here - but it is winter, and Niamh is really into snow at the moment, after reading the very sweet WINTER STORY book by author Jill Barklem.
I also made a pair of story sticks, and another eye-spy bottle for Niamh's cousin, which I put into her party bag rather than stuffing them full of lollies:
And now for the all-important birthday party! We had a rainbow party at the park (thank you, weather gods, for holding back the rain!). For food, we had red strawberries and cherry tomatoes, orange carrot sticks and mandarines, fresh yellow pineapple, green avocado dip and fresh snow peas from the garden, blueberry muffins, indigo/violet cherries...and a few other yummies like home-made sausage rolls, meatballs, garlic hommus, and rainbow cupcakes. The cake was a rainbow cake (of course!).
Here are a few photos. Enjoying a sweet, orange mandarine:
She is now running around the house, waving the pretty rainbow ribbon stick given to her by her Aunty E-K, and yelling, "I'm two! I'm two!" So I think she had a good weekend ;-)
Thanks for sharing, and a special thanks to everyone who made Niamh's birthday weekend so special.
Thursday, 21 July 2011
Amazing Giveaway at Jump Into A Book!
Hello all
I just had to share the news of this wonderful Elsa Beskow giveaway being run at JUMP INTO A BOOK . Elsa Beskow is, of course, the author responsible for some of these lovely titles:
The Sun Egg
The Land of Long Ago
Children of the Forest
...and many, many more.
JUMP INTO A BOOK are giving one lucky person the chance to win not 1, not 2, but 19 of these wonderful books! An absolutely amazing prize, by any stretch. Please go there to check it out and to enter.
Good luck!
I just had to share the news of this wonderful Elsa Beskow giveaway being run at JUMP INTO A BOOK . Elsa Beskow is, of course, the author responsible for some of these lovely titles:
The Sun Egg
The Land of Long Ago
Children of the Forest
...and many, many more.
JUMP INTO A BOOK are giving one lucky person the chance to win not 1, not 2, but 19 of these wonderful books! An absolutely amazing prize, by any stretch. Please go there to check it out and to enter.
Good luck!
Process, Not Perfection
One of the things I really love about most natural learning methods, and in particular the Montessori method, is the focus on process, rather than perfection. Too often we expect kids to just "get it" first try - to master a task to perfection without really coming to understand the whole of it...and that, at least to my way of thinking, is the opposite of how learning should work. A lot of it stems from impatience - on our part, and on theirs. This is a world driven by instant results, and children pick up on that very early in their development, like the little social sponges they are.
Natural learning methods, like Montessori, Unschooling and Waldorf are like a peaceful breath of sweet, mountain air. The child sees the world stretching out before their feet and can explore it at their leisure. They can touch it, taste it, smell it...manipulate it into something that makes sense to them. No one is telling them to be perfect, to get it right, to be the best...to finish it now. They are truly liberated, and in so being may move forward purposefully and with curiosity that is self-driven and self-rewarding. They want to learn. They want to understand...not because someone is forcing them to pass a test at the end of it, but because learning has become such an intrinsic part of their living that it is impossible to separate from their being. How can you argue with that?
Children don't always want us to butt in. They don't always want their mistakes highlighted. Do you? I know I don't! Children don't always want our help. This has been one of the toughest things for me to handle, because I am...basically...a control freak. I admit it, freely. I like things to work. I like them to be right. I feel...anxious when I see things going wrong. When I see Niamh not getting things right. Oh no! She can't count to thirty? How will she ever cope with life?!!! Ahem. Well, you know what I mean, anyway...
And so it was with utter joy that I watched my beautiful daughter exploring the new activity I made her (inspired by THIS post at Tot School).
Pretty self-explanatory as to how it is meant to work:
I started her off with just 3 to explore, mainly due to space limitations on the table - she couldn't physically reach more than three!
Going pretty well:
And then...the final result...
Yep. Okay, so it's not 100% wrong. She did get all the pieces of the pear. But you know what? It doesn't matter one bit to me that it's not "right". The activity wasn't about getting it right, first try. It was about exploring. It was about learning that she can twist the pieces different ways. It was about learning order and disorder. It was about learning that sometimes, you just get things wrong...and you know what? That's great! Because recognising that something isn't right...is exactly right!
Later, she tried a little 25 piece octopus jigsw puzzle.
And how did she go?
Ta-dah! She was SO pleased with herself, and yelled, "Look, Mama! I did it! I did it! They all fit!"
And that, my friends, is process. To her, she didn't see the finished picture of the octopus as the goal. The goal was getting the little pieces to fit together. And they did. Exactly the way she wanted them to.
She had so much fun with that puzzle. She went back to it probably 10 times during the day to play with it. And each time, she was eager to learn more, and came away happy with her achievements.
And a little later, another go with the fruit puzzle:
She knows it better than I do. Process doesn't make perfection - it is the perfection we all are seeking.
And perfection tastes pretty good, too.
Natural learning methods, like Montessori, Unschooling and Waldorf are like a peaceful breath of sweet, mountain air. The child sees the world stretching out before their feet and can explore it at their leisure. They can touch it, taste it, smell it...manipulate it into something that makes sense to them. No one is telling them to be perfect, to get it right, to be the best...to finish it now. They are truly liberated, and in so being may move forward purposefully and with curiosity that is self-driven and self-rewarding. They want to learn. They want to understand...not because someone is forcing them to pass a test at the end of it, but because learning has become such an intrinsic part of their living that it is impossible to separate from their being. How can you argue with that?
Children don't always want us to butt in. They don't always want their mistakes highlighted. Do you? I know I don't! Children don't always want our help. This has been one of the toughest things for me to handle, because I am...basically...a control freak. I admit it, freely. I like things to work. I like them to be right. I feel...anxious when I see things going wrong. When I see Niamh not getting things right. Oh no! She can't count to thirty? How will she ever cope with life?!!! Ahem. Well, you know what I mean, anyway...
And so it was with utter joy that I watched my beautiful daughter exploring the new activity I made her (inspired by THIS post at Tot School).
Pretty self-explanatory as to how it is meant to work:
I started her off with just 3 to explore, mainly due to space limitations on the table - she couldn't physically reach more than three!
Later, she tried a little 25 piece octopus jigsw puzzle.
Ta-dah! She was SO pleased with herself, and yelled, "Look, Mama! I did it! I did it! They all fit!"
And that, my friends, is process. To her, she didn't see the finished picture of the octopus as the goal. The goal was getting the little pieces to fit together. And they did. Exactly the way she wanted them to.
She had so much fun with that puzzle. She went back to it probably 10 times during the day to play with it. And each time, she was eager to learn more, and came away happy with her achievements.
And a little later, another go with the fruit puzzle:
And perfection tastes pretty good, too.
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