Those moments...

We've been on this homeschooling journey for over 10 years now. When I started teaching my oldest (now 13), I jumped at every glimmer of indication that she was ready to learn something. When she'd pretend to read a book because she had it memorized, and ask me to tell her the sound of this letter and that letter and ask me every day to teach her to read, we started reading lessons at 3 years old. When tears fell during lessons, both of us frustrated, both of us clueless about why she couldn't remember what "a" said from one lesson to the next, I wondered what was wrong with my teaching or even worse, my kid. When she started counting everything in sight, apples, blocks, toy cars, I began playing math games with her, then found myself growing irritated because the math facts I was teaching her didn't "stick". She eventually learned to read, though was reluctant and shy for a long time, and she learned to add and subtract, yet she struggled thinking she was terrible at math. Tears shed through these pioneer days caused me to seek better ways. 

During those early years, I read and reread different homeschooling "experts", I struggled with who I believed, what style of homeschooling fit my kids as students and me as a teacher. I wrestled between feeling encouraged by all my blog surfing research one moment, and devestatingly discouraged the next by the picture perfect homeschool days that I'd read hoping for inspiration. 

Somewhere along the line, through trial and error, blood, sweat and tears, piles of curriculum and many moments of hand wringing, I figured out who I was and am as a homeschooler, as a mom. One thing that has changed since the early years, is that I have figured out that the lightbulb moments happen for each child at their own time regardless of whether I push them to tears or wait patiently, even when well meaning folks start whispering "shouldn't he" or making the occasional  "you would think" comments. What I've also discovered is that pushing a child who isn't ready brings tears and frustration to both mom and child. Yet, providing a rich learning environment, giving kids room to soak up, enjoy and explore while awaiting the "lightbulb" moment, results in a quiet cheerfulness even if it does mean we sometimes end up waiting for break-throughs longer than "normal". 

Today was one of those days, seemingly normal by all accounts, we spent the day catching up on school work, doing chores, playing outside. In the evening, Micah was showing Elliott how he had learned to tie his shoes when Grandma Joyce had visited this weekend. Caleb looked on, having never been interested in tying his own shoes before. Now, he was suddenly motivated. Something I've offered to teach for years without any interest was learned in less than three minutes with smiles and giggles. 

I'm not always perfect at this relaxed approach, I get frustrated at not being able to explain a topic sufficiently, or I become impatient in the waiting. I struggle to tell the difference between a lack of understanding or a handful of laziness. But then a moment like this happens, and I'm reminded to keep persevering, keep hoping for understanding, keep praying for my children.