"first" day of "school"
Here's a little overdue post about how the kids kind of started preschool in the fall but then dropped out. Two times!
First, we joined a new preschool co-op at a nearby Friends' meeting house. My hopes were so, so high for this: a dedicated space with indoor, outdoor and kitchen; lots of other homeschooling mamas and young kids; and a heap of motivation, too.
It didn't work out. Not for us, and, a month later, not for the co-op either. Peter and Lucy loved it, for the record, and still talk about the friends they made there. In talking about our experience (and, specifically, why we don't do it any longer), they were able to see why it wasn't a good fit and why it didn't work.
(griding spices for applesauce)
Second, we enrolled the kids in our church's preschool program. We were definitely excited about this one, as it would be a chance for Peter and Lucy to hear other children and adults talking about God and our faith.
Except...it wasn't. See, the preschool program takes place during mass, and it was less "preschool" than "babysitting." Also, it chopped up our Sundays in such a way as to make them then difficult to fill. We more than once cursed, "church preschool!"
In thinking about these experiences, and about pulling the children out of these experiences, I've been able to reaffirm and re-articulate our desires for homeschooling and for the children more generally. We homeschool because we want to help craft a type of childhood learning and playing environment for the children that's in keeping with our own beliefs. The types of activities, influences, and expectations our preschool experiences offered were not in keeping with what we hope for the children.
fingerpaints!
Just a for instance: in church preschool, from my quiet seat in the hallway*, I overheard one of the teaching aides badgering Lucy to color in her worksheet. "Just color it in, Lucy! And connect the dots!" Because, clearly, if she doesn't fill in the worksheet, how will I know she learned anything?
A large part of participating in these preschool classes was to give the kids some extra socialization: to listen to other children and adults in the way that we think children ought to be trained.
bread making
But this socialization issue? I'm completely over it. I saw, first hand, how in looking for more socialization I opened the door to exactly the types of negative social influences I'd wanted to avoid all along. Little girls talking about the brands of their clothing; boys running around shooting and killing at attacking with violence; children not being taught (or shown) to listen respectfully or find another activity with with to fill their time.
School isn't about socialization, not at least after the preschool years. And the socialization kids "learn" in school is of the classroom management sort: sit in chairs, listen to the teacher, ask to use the restroom, fill in your worksheet, don't get us off topic, that's not on the lesson plan. In living our regular, daily lives, we can give the children more than enough opportunities to respectfully interact with adults in their environment, to mind their bodies and voices in keeping with where we are, and to play with other children.
Peter and Lucy and Thomas are not perfect. Not by any stretch of the imagination. At times, they were the obstreperous ones in our preschool experiences. Lucy may have left one church preschool class screaming, in tears, clutching a marker she wasn't willing to put away.** I simply hope for so much for them. Don't we all?
*Because Peter didn't want to be alone in the first three or four weeks, which isn't a reason we stopped attending, as I'm sure by now he'd gladly attend on his own with a quick "see you later!" tossed over his shoulder.
**Because she wasn't done coloring, and in the abrupt way school environments operate, when it's time to be done it's time to be DONE. Sure, it's coloring now, but what about a lively discussion about the Grapes of Wrath in high school? When the bell rings, it's over.
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