I'm a novice and I'm still figuring out homeschooling. Luke's a kindergartner and I usually espouse a no-need-to-rush philosophy. It is possible that one of the reasons I cling to that no rush policy is because it alleviates guilt for my usually-benign negligent parenting practices. Anyway, the point is: I'm still figuring things out and I need to believe that that's okay.
When something is important to you, you make time for it.
This weekend I've been thinking about how reading is really, really important to me and so I make time for reading everyday. Pete, Luke, and I have storytime together every day, usually twice a day. And then Luke and I have another reading time for novels when Pete is napping.
Then, I try to give myself time to read. Sometimes I can read in front of the children, but often I lock myself in the bathroom with a book. I love books. I love words. I love the sounds of the words, especially the staccato consonate sounds. Brandon loves it when I read in bed...not really. Because I read silently for a spell and then break out whispering so I can hear those beautiful consonate sounds. He begs me to stop doing it, saying, "I'd rather you just read out loud than read like that!" But I'll keep reading this way until the day I die.
Because the words, "day I die" sound so good when spoken quietly. Ah! Spoken quietly. Two good words for whispering.
My grandchildren will think I'm terribly creepy and crazy with my not-so-silent reading.
Luke writes often. He draws pictures every day of his own accord and has been doing some invented spelling and labelling. (For example, he drew the same house that he often draws, with each of us in a window. But in the attic, there were suitcases, each labelled with a family member's initials. So, Brandon's was labelled, "BBBB." And there was one for the family, "LPCB." You get the picture. He sounded out "stop" and put up sticky note signs on the doors. He says I can unlock the art cabinet now because he'll see that sign and stop before opening it and allowing Pete to paint the bed. [I wish I was joking.])
So, Luke's drawings fill drawers, and paper the fridge, and find themselves folded into crazy shapes under my pillow. Little Boy Love Letters.
Even though Luke has been writing on his own, I think I should set aside a little bit of time when we can write side-by-side, so that I'm physically there to answer any questions if he has them, and so I'm making time to do my own writing.
This whole idea of making time for your priorities has got me thinking, "What do I think is important to me that I'm not really making time for?" It makes me think I really should be taking up the guitar, among other things.