Venturing into Mason's Alveary

(Part 1 of 2)

Earlier in the year I wrote about the miraculous provision that allowed me to keep my youngest son schooling at home during what has been one of the most difficult years of my life. This is Part 1 of a two part series. In Part 1 I will share more about the decision to join Mason's Alveary, and explain why I - an educator and home educator with over 15 years experience with Charlotte Mason's educational model - would turn to a paid CM curriculum. In Part 2 I will describe some of our experiences over the first 2 terms of working with the Alveary.

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For over 15 years I have studied and practiced a Charlotte Mason education with my children. Mason's philosophy of education - her philosophy of life - resonated deeply with me from the first time I encountered her work, and I knew that it was what the Lord wanted for our family. I made use of all the print and online resources I could get my hands on, not to mention the live interactions that I was able to enjoy. For 10 years I drove 1 1/2 hours each way every six weeks to attend a Mason study group, for several of those years sharing in the leadership of that group whose membership numbered, at times, close to 70 people!

In 2010 we moved to Uruguay where we served as church planting missionaries, and I continued schooling the kids while participating in full time ministry. By the time we returned to Canada in 2014, I was burned out, and my health was suffering. Our eldest was now done school and looking to her post-secondary career, and I still had two children at home. For 2 years I struggled along, trying to meet their educational needs as my health declined.

Jump to spring of 2016. Because of my health it looked like the educational model I loved was not going to be possible in my home any longer. We were considering all options for our second child, who was to start high school in the fall: online classes, prepackaged curriculum, enrollment in a brick and mortar school. And we were looking at what options we might pursue to keep our youngest, starting Grade 6, home at least until high school.

In June of 2016 I attended my 5th Charlotte Mason Institute conference, and my heart was breaking. Here I was surrounded by a community of people from across the continent who were pursuing a Mason education, plenary speakers and workshop facilitators were inspiring those in attendance to press on, to continue learning, growing, and implementing Mason's work in their school classrooms and home schools, and I was feeling like I just couldn't do it any more.

During one plenary session, Dr. Jennifer Spencer shared about a new project that the CMI was working on: Mason's Alveary, a curriculum and teacher training program complete with year plans, lesson plans, scheduling helps, webinars, video tutorials, and more. My heart began to rise. Could this be the solution that would enable us to keep BOTH our boys home? With all that support, could I make it through another year without completely caving in? I listened intently as the details unfolded.

Then the bad news: The pilot project that was being rolled out would only go through 8th grade. It wouldn't be the high school solution I was looking for after all. But, I wondered, if I was only going to have my youngest with us for a few more years, would it enable me to give him the Mason education I desired for him despite my own weaknesses?

We decided to try it, and enrolled to participate in the pilot project with one student in Form 2a, Grade 6. Mason's Alveary has been the backbone of our school year for 2016-2017.

In Part 2 you can read about our experience with the Alveary over the first two terms. Join me?

(This post has been included in a Blog Carnival about Mason's Alveary. You can find other people's stories about their experience with the Alveary by following the links.)

Pussy Willows

Somehow I have the impression deep in my heart that pussy willows are one of my mother's favourite things. Maybe it's because I remember them being displayed in an early spring arrangement on the stereo cabinet. Or maybe it's because I associate her with soft beautiful things. Either way, there is a connection from my memory to my heart which has given me, in turn, an appreciation for these little things, so full of hope.

But somehow, when I do remember to look for them, I always seem to go looking too late in the season, and I miss them. Has there ever been a spring when I've had pussy willows in a vase on my piano? I don't think so.

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Last week I was given the opportunity to gather with some other mothers who home educate their children, an opportunity for the women to gather and fill our own hearts. The afternoon was just for us, no children. That alone was a rarity. But the beauty that was packed into the few hours together? That was miraculous! A nature walk; tea with scones and jam and clotted cream and berries and oh, so much more; a book giveaway; nature study; an exchange of gifts to refresh our lives; rich conversations about books and history and life and hopes. 

The topic of the nature study was none other than those sweet pussy willows. Samples from two different sources were brought in, and we spent time looking, sharing observations, listening to nature lore about them, hearing details about their characteristics. 

Who doesn't love those little white-grey buds that look like tiny kitten toes peeking out? Who can resist touching? 

My nature journal entry of those pussy willows.

A few days later, on a walk with my family, I saw them myself, growing by the wayside of our trail. I might have missed them if I hadn't already been made aware that THIS was the time to be watching. 

Isn't that key? Not just to look, but also to look at the right time?

A year ago I thought I'd have to give it all up. I'd already seen my eldest graduate and head off to university, but now it looked like I'd have to release my younger two to the brick-and-mortar schools of our town or some neighbouring city. 

Because I just couldn't do it.

Everything in me was breaking down, from the physical to the emotional. Years of chronic debilitating headaches, steadily getting worse and more frequent, had worn me down to nothing; the culture shock and identity crisis of returning to Canada after four years on the mission field with my family left me floundering much longer than I'd expected. Facing extreme fatigue, inability to concentrate, being bed-ridden with pain three to four days a week, tears pouring down my face constantly - I was no longer able to imagine how I could continue schooling my sons who would be entering grades 9 and 6 in the fall. Panic attacks coursed over me whenever I considered what seemed to be the only way forward. But as things stood, I was not going to be doing them a service by keeping them home, as much as my heart longed to. 

Prayers. Tears. Crying out for help. Long conversations with my Dear Man. Asking God. Pleading with Him to give me the strength and health to continue.

But it was not His direction for me. Not the way I pictured it. Not the way I planned. Because God gave us two paths to follow this year, two routes unlike any I'd expected when I fell at His feet and begged for answers a year ago.

My Little Man, now 14, has entered a brick-and-mortar school in town. And it's okay. I'm not thrilled that he's there, but I'm content that this is how it must be. It's been a learning curve for him and for us, entering the school system after a family absence of 24 years! We're making it work. (And I really need a new 'name' for him, as he's not little anymore!)

And Brown-Eyed Boy, who's 11, almost 12? Through miraculous provision he has been able to continue being home schooled. The miracle of it? I didn't have to sacrifice our philosophy of education and turn to a curriculum that didn't fit who we are in order to continue. We've been gifted with the opportunity to participate in the pilot project for a Charlotte Mason curriculum which has truly been the one thing that allowed me to keep this youngest child of mine at home at least a while longer. It is God's gift. 

The loss I feel over my second child's abrupt and unexpected early departure from our daily school is waning. I see him thriving in many areas that I couldn't have served him. I see him tackling things that are causing him to grow in new ways. Daily I pray for him; daily I reaffirm God's covenant promises to him; daily I trust him to the care of the One Who knows him and loves him more than I do. It's the only way.

At the same time, I'm thankful for this year (dare I hope for 'these years'?) with my third child, for an opportunity to give him the best that I can while I still have the chance. Because I realize now that I might not have him here as long as I originally thought. 

Though I pray it won't be over soon.

I've committed to coming back to PeaceLedge, to exploring once again the writing path that the Lord has used so often to teach me, to heal me, to convict me, and to love me. He is here. He IS "The Place Called Peace". Maybe you'll join me in looking for Him on this precarious edge between safety and vulnerability, between contentment and complacency?

More Critters

Caterpillars have been everywhere this month. 

First there were the ones that coated the tree outside the dining room window. 

Then came a horde of small black ones that, practically overnight, devastated our lawn. Now, our lawn was nothing precious to behold in the first place, but at least it was green. By the time these critters were finished with it, there was nothing left but dry brown stubble.

This morning, as we were finishing up our writing project for the morning (getting some long overdue notes ready to mail), Ed called from outside where he had just finished hanging out the laundry. 

"Do the boys have a minute for me to show them something?"

"Is it gross?"

"Um, yeah."

And out they were like shots, ready to see what was there!

Ed had discovered this caterpillar just outside the kitchen door, and it was a doozy. Thick, plump, multiple-waisted. We have no idea what kind of caterpillar it is, or what it will become. But, look at the size of it!

Bigger around than Ed's index finger, it made me think of a well stuffed cigar which, if nicked in the right place, would spill its stuffing all over.

I wonder what other amazing critters are hiding just outside my door? I wonder if I really want to know.

Seeking and Seeing

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29:12-13)

Sometimes that seeking is a first step in drawing close to God - a first knowing of Him, a first hearing of His love and calling, a first realization that 'there must be more'. 

But sometimes it's a step along the way, on a path that's already been travelled for years and will last for many more years.

After reading this passage as part of our study this morning, three of us spoke of how we could put it into practise. My choice? To ask God to show me Himself each day, to open my eyes to the way He was working in my life to make Himself known to me. You know, to realize that some of those 'coincidences' of life were really God ordering things for a purpose, or to see the changes He is working in me to make me more like Him. To see Him. To notice. To appreciate. He says, after all, that if we seek Him we will find Him.

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The base of the tree trunk was covered with fuzz yesterday, and a long line of caterpillars climbed their way up to one branch where they molted. Yesterday, fascinated by the parade of fuzz that lasted most of the afternoon, I neglected to look at what happened after the molting.

 

Today, when the branch was once again a soft furry mass of little bodies, I determined to look more closely at what happened next. Where did those critters go? 

I took the camera with me again, but this time it stayed strapped in its case for a long time. For more than 10 minutes I looked for signs of the path the caterpillars took yesterday. And finally I found a section of chewed leaves. 

It was at the far end of the same main branch that the caterpillars had taken as a changing room yesterday. Was this the right area? I circled around that branch, searching. Would I find chrysalises or cocoons? Newly molted caterpillars? Something else? Anything at all?

What I found was this:

A delicate basket of spider's webbing filled with... what? Could these be the little bodily remains of countless caterpillars? I didn't go digging around to find out.

On a different sub-branch, though, after almost 15 minutes of searching, my eyes found this:

... and then this: 

Two small chrysalises! Striped, slightly twisty, precious little houses! (Or are they cocoons? As I'm unsure what species I'm looking at, I can't say for sure, because I don't know enough about how to distinguish them.)

They're both in this shot. Can you see them?

After a few more minutes of searching, puzzling, wondering, I realize that these really are the only two on the tree. So the mystery remains: What has happened to all those little bodies?

I'm so thankful to have seen these two chrysalises, especially since, less than an hour later when Ed went out to have a look for himself, they were gone. I don't know how long they were there, but we were aware of them for less than an hour, and I had the privilege of seeing them. Beautiful gift that was!

The Perfect "Good Night"

We said goodbye to our friends at the door following our time of study together. Ed walked out with them to their car while I went quickly to check the kids who had tucked themselves into bed. 

A quiet voice at the bottom of the stairs brought me out of the bedroom. 

"Come outside. Put on your shoes and come outside."

Was there something wrong with our friends' car? Did they have one last thing to say before they left? What was up?

There only being one way to find out, shoes already being on, I went directly outside.

"Come. Stand here. Turn around. Now look."

I looked. And I gasped. 

There they were, suspended above our little white house, through the branches overhanging: Moon and Venus. So clear. So bright. So beautiful.

We roused the kids. No need to stay tucked in when the Lord was waiting with this perfect "Good Night". 

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And the added bonus? Just the excuse I needed to recite Langston Hughes' poem:

How thin and sharp is the moon tonight
How thin and sharp and ghostly white
Is the slim curved crook of the moon tonight.

Sadly, Mr. Hughes makes no reference to Venus. Ah, well. Maybe I'll have to write my own verse about her.

Canada Day with Mittens

Last week Lucas finished his Math book - early. And I had promised that if he managed to finish it by the end of June we'd get a couple of days off school. That's a big deal around here, as we don't take days off school very often, and we have been doing the 'school year round' thing the past couple of years.

Ending by the end of June had a bonus to us, since the following Monday - today - was Canada Day, and we were able to use that as an excuse to take an almost complete day off of everything and enjoy of the holiday. 

Ed did some tasks around the house - installing the fan in the woodstove, that kind of thing. The Farming Game hit the table (for the second day in a row), and we ate supper in the living room.

But the Lord was smiling on us especially today in giving us a beautiful clear sunny day which we took full advantage of. Despite the cold we packed into the car and drove the little distance to Punta del Chileno where we just passed time.

 

 For some reason the kids were really eager to climb the lookout tower first thing, saying "If we find some money, can we go for ice cream?"

And they found this! A peso! Somehow I think it was planted on a previous trip for just such a time as this!

 The boys stripped off their shoes and socks...

 And hit the sand hill with a freshly waxed board.

 

 They tried some jumps, both with...

 ...and without the board...

 ...while Emily, Ed, and I watched from the sidelines.

 The kids tried a pose they'd done a couple of years ago. They still look great!

And Emily practiced her photographic arts, too:

A much needed family day for all of us.

But I still can't get over wearing mittens on Canada Day. I think we'll save the ice cream reward for Christmas.