Eric was upset this morning. Really upset. You’da thought I had told him that Ben Affleck was playing Batman or something. (I would never do that. I’m not that cruel. I don’t know why the media reports such vile information-people are incapable of dealing with such things well.)
No, I didn’t tell them anything as horrible as that. I told the kids that this is Transition Week. Just like we ease out of the school year, we also ease into it. I like to refer to this tactic as Homeschooling Perk #347, or, it’s cooler street term, Keeping Mom Sane. It’s not easy being a mom/teacher, or a progeny/student. Because school, even home school, for both teachers and students can often seem a lot like this:
The last couple weeks of August somehow fly by at twice the speed of the rest of the squares on the calendar, and summer just seems to evaporate. The shock of going from Absolutely No Schedule At All to Carefully Regimented School Day can be as bone-jarring as a maiden voyage in the T. A. R. D. I. S. for lots of people. In my house, the person who has the most difficult time transitioning is Eric.
So, I try to ease the transition as best I can. This week, the kids will help organize and decorate their school space, readers will be assigned, art projects given and in an effort to remind them that learning isn’t drudgery, but a joy, I like to visit one or two museums during Transition Week. Museums trips are a fantastic way to awaken a child’s curiosity, and Houston has one of the finest museum districts in the country. (Go on, click on that link: Jim Parsons, of TV’s The Big Bang Theory, will give you a wonderful glimpse into the cultural power of the city.)
The Museum Gods smiled on us: we were given a free family pass to the Children’s Museum of Houston, and we spent Saturday with our hands in all of the fabulous exhibits. As a Normal Curious Eight-Year-Old Boy and a kinesthetic learner, Eric was in heaven. He ran. Everywhere. The rest of us just chased him around, the older kids following his enthusiastic lead. They were making rockets, programming robots, building things, crashing those things, making friends, working together, laughing, painting, being loud, figuring things out, trying and failing and trying again and succeeding.
Eric made nearly $5,000.00 while pretending to trade sugar in the commodities market, and now finds himself interested in the stock market. He made paper airplanes, rockets, and a coffee-filter parachute. He cranked a huge gear until he single-handedly filled a gigantic bowl of water that spilled out over he and his new friends. He climbed walls and maneuvered his way through jungle gyms. He completed electrical circuits and translated Mayan. He operated a tv camera, reported the news, drove an ambulance and a police cruiser, investigated a crime, and doctored both stuffed puppies and crash test dummies. He stopped, briefly, smiled at me and observed, “Mom, I didn’t know you could come to a museum and sweat!” He ran up to every door in the place and enthusiastically pushed it open, absolutely thrilled to discover what he would find on the other side.
That’s what I want for my kids educationally: the thrill of opening closed doors.
This year, as the school year starts, we will approach each subject as though it was one of The Doctor’s sonic screwdrivers: a key that opens a door. Education is an exploration, and it can be an adventure instead of a drudgery, especially when we realize that the main thing that limits and controls where we can go is ourselves. Having the courage to push those limits, and the wisdom to be a good steward of the treasures one discovers behind doors we strive and struggle to push through can make us better, and better equipped to make a positive contribution to our world.
Cultivating my kids’ curiosity is my goal, more so than the memorization of facts and dates and theorems. In encouraging them to struggle, and push through what they may view as heavy or even locked doors, I hope to strengthen them in both mind and spirit. There is a reason people are so serious and loyal with regard to their super heroes: their real power is that they inspire us. When they head off to college, I hope my kids will be as excited and as fearless about learning and about life, as Ironman. Or, even better, as this young man: