Take pain seriously

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The following is a guest post written by Julie Bogart of Brave Writer.

Recently my daughter, Caitrin, took up “longboarding.”

A longboard is an over-sized skateboard, and it looks like you’re surfing on asphalt! My youngest son, Liam, owns one and uses it all the time. Caitrin got curious.

The other day Caitrin flung open the front door and exclaimed through stifled sobs: “Get me bandages. I’m bleeding.”

Liam leapt to his feet; I abandoned my laptop.

Caitrin took quite a spill (“street pizza”)! One knee gouged and bloodied, an elbow throbbing in pain, scraped red, another patch of skin bleeding on her side, with lesser abrasions littered across her thighs and forearms. Spectacular crash!

I quickly assessed my resources and agreed with myself: “I’m no nurse.”

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Putting the “simple” back into homeschool

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The following is a post by Kari Patterson of Sacred Mundane.

It was one word that caused the seismic shift in my mindset. That forced me to wipe the school slate clean and reevaluate. It came out of left field, but then again it confirmed everything I’ve ever wondered–and agonized over–with regards to my son. The word?

Asperger’s.

It’s true, for the almost 8 years of his life I’ve wondered at my son, who is marvelous and baffling all at once.  Unique can’t begin to capture the glorious idiosyncrasies of this man-child. I’d marveled at how a 7-year-old could be at a high school reading comprehension of science and history, and yet be barely able to legibly write his own name? Why the social frustrations? The incredible intensity? The overwhelm and overstimulation in public places? The extreme need for calm, home, steady, routine?

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Starting the year right

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The following is a guest post by Laura Thomas of This Eternal Moment.

 A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge” – Thomas Carlyle

I will never forget my first day of kindergarten. I wore my favorite ruffly dress that twirled nicely, my hair in pigtails, and clutched my favorite pink doll tightly.

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I was excited and terrified all at once. I was eager to learn and even more eager to be liked by my classmates.

Thankfully, the first face to greet me that morning was my teacher, Ms. Neal. Ms. Neal was one of those people created to make small people feel significant, loved, and happy. We were a group of more than 20 kids, but Ms. Neal made us all feel special.

And there was nothing that we wanted more than to see her smile and sense her approval of our oddly-cut shapes or wobbly-written letters. And approval she gave — loads of it.

More than 30 years later, my brother, a Delta pilot, returned to sit in the back of her classroom just to watch Ms. Neal work her magic. The children quietly sat in their places, raised their hands, respecting her and each other. How did she do it?

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Learning to be more committed to our kids than to our educational ideals

Being More Committed to Our Kids Than to Our Educational Ideals

The following is a post by contributor Angie Kauffman of Real Life at Home.

We never set out to be homeschoolers.  I had never even heard of homeschooling until I was in college.  I was working on my first degree in education, and when I heard about it, I thought it sounded ridiculous.  How did people think they could teach their children at home when I was spending years in college to become a credentialed teacher?

Life is often funny like that, isn’t it?  I can still picture sitting in a class thinking how insane that was.

Little did I know that my views would soften once I started having children.  Eventually, they would soften so much that I would not only stop thinking that homeschooling was insane, but I would think it sounded like a pretty good idea for my family.
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My favorite thing about back to school time

My favorite thing about back to school time
Jamie Martin, editor of Simple Homeschool, also blogs about motherhood at Steady Mom

“It’s back-to-school time, or as homeschoolers call it, stay-where-you-are time.”
~ Stephen Colbert

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He wakes early–and I always know when.

I hear his voice drift down the hallway–starting the day with a song. Love songs for me, for God, for the gift of life itself. Ever the optimist, Jonathan greets the morning with joy.

But I wonder how the refrains would alter with a rush for breakfast, bus stops, and quick goodbyes.

Would we miss out on the music altogether?

Time for morning love songs–one of my favorite things.
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