Unschooling

As I have just graduated and received what some call a diploma signifying completion of a “higher” education I would like to put down some of my thoughts on the subject. As some of you have tried or considered homeschooling I write some of this specifically to you.

I have a pretty typical love-hate relationship with school that I believe most of you can relate to. I love the social aspects, I love the discovery, and I love the feeling when I finally figure something out that is terribly difficult even if I can’t brag to anyone about it. Unfortunately to get there I have to deal with the daily busy-work homework, droning teachers, over-pressured schedules, and a lot of topics that I could care less about. Really, is it worth it? Couldn’t there possibly be a better way? There has to be options out there to the regular public education system…we are a consumer society and need options for everything, yet even homeschooling is schooling and elective courses are still courses. The option presented in the attached website may not be the best alternative, but it does give a pretty interesting case study that should be looked at.

This is where you stop and read the linked write up (http://tinyurl.com/cs2gyg)

Here are the issues I see with this:

He makes the comment that “You develop deep peer relationships around areas of common interest, (using the unschooling program) once you're allowed to explore and discover what those areas of interest are. And the Internet and online gaming allow you to make those relationships anywhere in the world, to draw on the brightest experts on the planet, and to communicate powerfully with like-minded, curious people of every age, culture and ideology.”

Is that what we really want? Is that good education? I would submit that a large part of education and learning is true, real, face to face communication with individuals of all different backgrounds. Why do you think colleges hold diversity in students as such a high classification when judging applicants? My stake president a month ago is quoted to say “Facebook and texting are not the Lords way (of communicating, building relationships, or dating,) Face to face communication is what the Lord wants.”

My theory is that people only get weirder as they get older and it is mostly due to their narrow focus. Children’s minds are so diverse. With age comes a narrowing of scope and the narrower the scope the weirder they are. Look at some of the physicists dad works with. Look at most of the students in the engineering building, the music department, accounting, business, or English classrooms. Narrow minded people become stereotypically weird. They are “those” people. The only way to avoid this is to diversify your knowledge and continue to learn many new things.

I do not want to just shoot down his ideas though. I think he may be on a very good track here. We do need some sort of change. We should be more excited about our schooling. Students should want to learn and should be taught in subjects they will be excited for. This leads to my next issue.

I have discussed the issue of public schooling with a number of my roommates. We talk about public schooling as a student factory, driving production of students and bringing the average education up. The issue is then that everyone is at the average and few excel. The suggestion given in the attached essay is the same given by my roommates (one of them actually sent this to me) which are to teach what students are interested in learning and ignore the things they are bored of. The idea is that when a student wants to learn how to build a rocket the teacher will explain that there is lots of hard math involved and that they need to get started now in order to understand it. In the mean time lets learn about art, English, and tell stories from history which have such a small learning curve that we can dive in to them right now. OK, so I am exaggerating a little, but this is how I see it actually happening. Students will only learn easy things. The hard math and sciences will be lost.

I learned a lot in the public education system. I learned more than just to read and write well. I learned the math and the science right alongside good people skills and, in college, religion. These “extra” subjects helped round me out and make me (hopefully) less of a stereotypical dry boring engineer. I won’t say it was perfect, there are plenty of problems with it, but it has worked for me. I might even say it has worked well for me. Thanks, mom and dad for giving me this opportunity to become a more contributing member of society.

Now

I am on the airplane on the way home from a really good weekend. Last
night as we enjoyed everyone I couldn't help but wish that the moment
would last longer. Two weeks ago we were in Europe and Joyce was doing
all she could to keep the experience from being over. Often when I come
home from a particularly eventful trip or a cold camping trip I think
about one of the strangest words in English: "Now."

We use "now" to describe the present time, but as soon as we say it, it
is no longer true. What is "now" now is "then" now. When we are
experiencing something we are usually not aware of the part time plays
in the event until it is over and just a memory. Sometimes we would
like to just stop time and savor the "moment," but even that is
impossible without time. Try to imagine music if time were taken away.

Time is an interesting concept. In the mathematics of physics, time is
just another dimension like up, down, north or east. There is one
important exception. Even though all of the equations are symmetric and
can run either way in each of the four dimensions, time always goes in
one direction called the arrow of time. Yes, Jared, time really does
fly like an arrow. But it doesn't always go the same speed. If I am
standing still and watching someone approaching (very fast) my time is
running faster than his. By the same principle of relativity, the guy
approaching me sees me approaching him and, to him, my time is running
slower than his. If I were to travel near the speed of light to the
nearest star and return, I would find that I had aged only a little,
while those of you who stayed behind would all be old. This can
actually be measured - clocks in orbit run slower than clocks on the
ground because of their relative motion.

Strong gravity also makes time run slower. This can also be measured.
Light from stars slows down and bends if it passes near the sun on its
way to us. If you fell into a black hole you would never reach the
bottom. The closer you got the slower time would run, and you would
fall forever.

If physics sounds too weird, try biology. Remember when you were a
little kid. Days seemed to last forever. Summer vacation seemed to
stretch on and on. The school year was even longer. There is actually
a biological reason for that. We each have "clocks" built into us that
slow down as we age. To us, the time between "ticks" is the same
whether the clock is running fast or slow. So if a little kid has a
clock running twice as fast as mine, he will feel like the same amount
of time has passed by noon as I get in the entire day. I have heard
that if you count "ticks" of your bio-clock, life is half over in your
late twenties.

Back to the concept of "now." Again in physics, "now" is an "event" in
"space-time." That means that it has a location in each of the three
spatial dimensions and in time. It is a "place" in four-dimensional
space. It is what we call "invariant." It will always be there - the
same point in space-time. The catch is that, because of the arrow of
time, we can never go back to it. Or can we?

Even a superficial reading of the scriptures shows us that God and His
messengers have a different relationship with time than we do.
Otherwise it would be impossible for them to visit - or even be aware of
- other worlds in the universe. How does God know "the end from the
beginning?" It may be that celestial beings can control this fourth
dimension and move around in it like we move around in three. It may be
that we all could.

What if we all left our pre-earth life at the same "time" and came to
earth together, only we entered this existence at different points along
the time dimension. That might actually make more sense than to picture
us all sitting around wondering, and then suddenly hearing someone yell,
"There goes Jared! He's going down!" That gives "now" a whole
different meaning. My current "now" won't happen for Joyce for another
two years. It won't happen for Sage for another 62 years, and it
happened for Grandma Miller 34 years ago. Maybe we all left excitedly
at the same time and will return at approximately the same time and have
a big reunion and swap stories.

Well, my "now" has advanced another hour and it is time to ponder the
meaning of my advancement along the fourth dimension, and to wrap up
this essay. What are the myths of time? We are told that we are all
given the same amount of time. This is not true - none of us knows how
much time we really do have. They say that we each have the same amount
of time each day - also not true. This is subject to our bio-clocks as
well as to things that distract us (both good and bad) and keep us from
being aware of time. What is true? Moments are precious. Gems are
precious because they are rare - but you can always go back and get
another one. "Now" is unique - there is only one and will never be
another.

StrangerDanger

Lucy and Anabel are a little confused by the whole “stranger danger” idea. Anabel happily yells “Hi! Hello!” to everyone she possibly can. And Lucy thinks that everyone is put on this earth to tell her how cute she is, and if she’s wearing a dress, then they’re suppose to tell her that her dress is “lovely”. She’ll also accept “beautiful”. So I am faced with trying to instill in them a healthy fear of strangers, especially ones that ask them a lot of questions or offer them things. Anabel is okay with telling people no for a ride in the car, but she’s a little iffy on the whole treat/candy offer. She’d take that in a heartbeat. And I can’t even blame them. Nope, not even a little. Because not so long ago, as an adult, I found myself happily perched in a stranger’s van.
They didn’t offer me candy (would have turned that down, flat), but they said the magic words. Words that caused my eyes to glaze over, my heart to pound and my brain to shut down. They whispered them to us as we exited the subway in New York. “Do you want to see some Coach purses?” the lady asked. “Yes!” I cried. “Come this way” she instructed, then quickly turned and walked away. We followed her a couple of blocks, zigzagging through stinky ally ways that made us walk faster and closer to each other, then finally to a less crowded side street. There, parked at the curb was a white, ugly, non-descript van. Mecca, the Promised Land of cheap knock-offs. Danger? Whatever! Shirley and I scrambled to be the first inside, and our heads swiveled, trying to take everything in at once. Joyce hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Shirley and I both spoke at once. “Get in!” we encouraged, anxious to get our hands on the clutches, the handbags, the evening bags and wallets. She finally climbed in and the door slid shut, locking us in with all those tempting bags. Shirley and I immediately got down to business. “I want something in white” I said. “Oooh, white!” Shirley exclaimed. And we were lost. Should we get something small? Impractical and absolutely lovely? Joyce was a harder sell. “What if they kidnap us?” she asked. “What if they…Oooh, I like this purse.” And just like that, rational thought had officially left three adult women. Instead, we oohed and ahhed over colors, fabrics and designs.
The whole experience lasted less than twenty minutes, all told. We escaped unscathed, with purses slung over our shoulders, new wallets happily resting in the bottom of our beautiful new bags. I loved every minute of it and only regret that I didn’t get that sable brown leather number that I debated over. Shirley and I still laugh about how quickly we followed that woman and how eager we were to be the first in the van.
I’m not sure if I should be insulted or just frightened by how easily my mind went blank and I followed a stranger through a strange city to a strange van. All because she offered me something impractical and lovely and not at all necessary. So I guess if you want to lure women to a party, offer them something that will make their eyes glaze with the promise that they’ll look at it and think, “Oooh, shiny!”

Lark Ascending

Imagine yourself sitting at the top of the hill. It is late in the afternoon and everything is quiet. As you look out you see a single lark ascending from the ground cover. It flies up, catches the wind for no apparent reason other than to feel it under its wings. It glides in place for a minute then lets the wind take it away as it stalls and begins a free fall descent. This view draws your attention further as the lark shows you the beauty of the vista with its village and pasture lands and mostly its cerulean sky. This is the imagery of The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughn Williams. Its peaceful, simple melody unquestionably and beautifully describes this view through uses orchestral voices, imagery tactics, and skilled usage of modernistic effects mixed with a twist of folk music.
I loved the music performed by the symphony orchestra at BYU where I first heard this piece all the way through. Williams did an excellent job of depicting a beautiful scene using the lines from a poem by George Meredith as his guide:
He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound,
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake.
For singing till his heaven fills,
‘Tis love of earth that he instills,
And ever winging up and up,
Our valley is his golden cup
And he the wine which overflows
to lift us with him as he goes.
Till lost on his aerial rings
In light, and then the fancy sings.

The listener can quickly understand the violin to be the instrumental voice used for the movement of the lark. In its introductory few measures it trills and slides through a graceful melody and grows throughout to its highest trill. The image is a lark landing on branches with each cadence takes short little flights up in the air and then back down, landing again on this branch or another. As the tonal center changes so do the branches he lands on giving a sense of the natural. It seems random yet there is structure in the chaos. The bird in the vision is seen ascending to a stalled position as the wind holds it steadily gliding in place until it falls to back to the branch once again. This is clear through the natural speed ascension of the melody to a trill which then falls quickly back to the current tonal center. Natural trills and swells then continue the depiction of the simple rise and fall of his flight.
The second voice is that of the rest of the orchestra. The orchestra shows a beautiful view of the pastoral landscape with its villages and fields, hills and trees, and that ever present blue of the sky. “‘Tis love of earth that he instills” shown through the passing of the melody here. The orchestra comes in at the times when the lark seems to disappear, yet really our focus has just changed. We now see the beauty of the scene because of the larks influence. We watch the lark fly high into the sky through the 8va trills on the violin and then are pleased to view the rest of the scene. One time we see the sky and hills and trees through a broad open melody from the orchestra and a second time we see the village and pastoral lands through a folk sounding melody using the same orchestral voices. Each time though we are brought back to the lark as the soloist violin comes in midway through the orchestra’s melody and builds until the listener’s focus is back on its flight.
This effect is an impressive one to pay attention to. Williams was able through his music not only depict a scene, but take that scene and zoom our focus in and out as if he were using a computer. The main focus is on the lark, but at times that lark’s melody is used to show the scenery behind. The times the soloist is playing alone on stage are when sole focus is on the lark, and the view is zoomed in to just his flight. Other times a general idea of the backdrop is in our minds through a gentle hum from the orchestra, and finally the music takes and zooms out of the scene completely to show a full view of the valley, yet in doing this the view nearly loses the lark until attention is brought back to it.
Williams wrote this piece just before the First World War. It was a time in music when things were supposed to be different and you were not to follow the prescribed plan laid out by prior musicians. Williams followed this advice from his contemporaries to a certain extent. He did not keep a strict tonal center throughout the piece, but as mentioned before, this was for the purpose of depicting the natural randomness that happens. He did not keep a normal meter either, but was able to still put a beautiful, peaceful, and most importantly for the topic, easy to listen to melody together. This is due to his melody choice, but also to his use of these effects correctly. He borrowed themes from English folk music as well as their pentatonic scale giving the piece a naturally peaceful feel. He also was able to blend the orchestra in such a way as to bring this peace to its listeners.

Summer

It’s hard to remember some of the summers I had as a kid. I recently came across a Calvin and Hobbes strip where Hobbes mentions that Calvin complained all summer about how bored he had been. Calvin’s response is that he must have been delirious from all the fun that he was having. That’s how I like to remember my summers, but there weren’t all too many specifics that stick out to me.
Back when I didn’t have any responsibilities, I didn’t have any homework to worry about, and all of my friends were in the same boat, what did I do then? How did I find something to keep me busy for three whole months? I wasn’t old enough to drive, I didn’t get enough money from my allowance, and I wasn’t smart enough to know how to spend money if I had it. What did I do?
Well, one year I remember racing bikes down the lane. But my chain came off and I didn’t have any brakes and I ended up with my feet sticking out of the blue spruce behind the old basketball hoop. That definitely wasn’t a joyful experience…at the time. There were other summers where all I remember are the reunions and the unusual exciting things. Like when we made the wagon into a handcart for the 24th of July parade.
But other than that…
Now things are different. I have something to do all day every day, but when I don’t, then what? I’m hoping that it is as easy as it used to be to have fun. Hopefully my friends will come out to play. And now I can drive and I have money, so I’ll definitely have fun, right? Luckily one of my conditions of living with Holly and Mike this summer is that I’ll spend lots of time playing outside with the kids. I’m really excited for that. Maybe I’ll make this summer memorable for them somehow.

Europe

Before I started traveling to Europe many years ago, I remember thinking that is would be a waste to spend so much money to go to Europe. After all trees, grass, mountains are the same wherever they are. Well needless to say, one trip to Europe quickly changed that thought and I was hooked. I love the architecture, the history, the customs. The more I travel, the differences in scenery don’t awe me quite so much, and I am more and more convinced that the very best part of traveling is the people – meeting new people, renewing old friendships, learning something new about or from someone, having a discussion with the person on the train or plane, meeting up with people from Kent’s work.
As you all know we just returned from driving through Andrew’s part of Germany, visiting Kent and Kae Servoss in Rotterdam Holland, and returning to London. It was an impressive trip as far as the places we visited – Bremen Germany, Keukenhof Park in Holland, Stonehenge and Salisbury and London, but the really impressive part to me was the people we visited and the connections we made. It was so fun to drive into Osnabrück and then Leer where Andrew served on his mission and have him direct us around town by telephone. He directed us to a family in Leer that he became good friends with, even though they were not baptized. We went to their door and were very disappointed when they were not home. In Osnabrück he made sure we saw the “Joseph and Brigham” statues in the church courtyard. Andrew’s mission became more real to us for sure.
Going to Rotterdam Holland, Kent and Kae Servos were so excited to see us they drove over an hour to meet us. We stopped to have dinner in a town square outdoor restaurant before we continued the last hour to their apartment. We enjoyed part of general conference with them over the weekend. They took us to the beautiful city of Delft where we not only did a little pottery shopping, but saw the canals and architecture. We saw the tulips at Keukenhof and in the fields. Before we left on Sunday afternoon they took us to peaceful Kinderdijk to see the windmills. We learned firsthand about being couple missionaries, we came to understand things about Kent and Kae and their children that we had not known before and we gave them some much needed home-friends- family love and connection.
In England it was like going home. The double-decker bus 15 still went the same route through the city past most of the landmarks. It was still just as much fun sitting on the top deck right in the front, watching all the awesome sights. We rode to Windsor and through the Buckinghamshire countryside with our friends the Ayles. We thrilled with the miracle of Sue and Terry Ayles finally getting pregnant after 12 or more years. They shared all the miracles that they have seen in their lives since we saw them last and how that has made them determined and bold in sharing the gospel. We had a party at their house and invited friends from High Wycombe Ward. Friends we had not seen or heard from for 10 years were just as dear and just as fun to catch up with as if it had been yesterday that we saw them last.
We returned with great pictures (see the Blog) of tulips and buildings, and also with friendships and lessons learned, great memories and our testimonies strengthened.
I love Western Europe, but I don’t have much desire to travel to Asia, it is SO different there, I would probably feel uncomfortable. But if I went there ….

Speed

I like to drive fast. And more often than not, I’m running to the bus stop rather than strolling. I speed walk through Costco, because I have a very limited amount of time Owen will put up with riding in the cart. We hurry out the door so we can be sort-of on time for…well, anything we’re hurrying out the door to. In fact, I’m not sure the last thing I was early to. I’ve decided there must be a time warp between my back door and starting the car. I loose ten minutes in what I swear takes us less than thirty seconds. While I was in the car running between appointments, two songs came on the radio back to back and I marveled at their difference. Which, I wondered, would be the anthem of my life right now? Which would I choose to have? The first said, “I’m in a hurry to get things done. I rush and rush ‘til life’s no fun.” The second starts “It’s a great day to be alive.” Then continues “And why can’t every day be just this good?”
I realize a life without a little hustle-bustle is one that is probably pretty boring and one I wouldn’t choose. But in the midst of all the Speedy Gonzales moments, there is happiness that lends itself to the giggly moments in life, moments that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I had the chance to watch my girls play in their fist soccer games this weekend. It was crazy getting there, but as I watched Anabel skid to a stop in the middle of the field, bend down, pick a dandelion and run over to give it to me with a wide grin and a fast “I love you, Mom!” I was overwhelmed. I doubt the kids notice the frantic way I try to get things ready, make sure we have everything we need, get to the right place at the right time without forgetting anything along the way. But it doesn’t matter. They do notice if I smile while I’m running around. They notice when I give them hugs, smile at them and tell them I love them.
Late last night, Lucy came and crawled into bed beside me. She wasn’t awake enough to tell me what had woken her up, but she said “I just needed to snuggle.” So I pulled her in close and watched her as she relaxed back into a peaceful sleep. As I looked at her, I was reminded of another song that says, “I count my blessings instead of sheep, and I fall asleep counting my blessings.” I have more in my life than I ever thought was possible, more than I could have dreamed. While I’ve got times in my life when I feel like we’re running more than anything, I still can close my eyes at night, counting my blessings. And I fall asleep wondering, “why can’t every day be just this good?

Scare

My sisters and I use to love to scare each other. It didn’t matter where we were, if it was spontaneous or if we had planned it for weeks. We thought it was hysterical. And it wasn’t just the kids. My Mom was known to jump out at us, and she often got the best reaction. Scaring someone took planning, patience and a little bit of cunning. I remember waiting hours under my sister’s bed, waiting until she got close enough that I could reach out and grab her ankle. I was met with silence. No movement, no scream, nada. I peeked my head out and looked up. Nancy was frozen, her mouth open in a silent scream, unable to move, too scared to do anything. That was the reaction we all wanted: absolute terror. It never lasted long, and was usually followed by a horrendous scream and maniacal laughter, then the usual yelled vow, “I’m going to get you!”

Pulling the perfect scare was a lot like pulling a perfect heist. It took planning, patience, coordination and sometimes you had to pull in more than just a couple of people. Often the surprise of the unexpected person playing along could shoot you to the top of the Best Scares Ever board. When Kjersti’s boyfriend patiently waited under the pile of blankets we had put in the backyard for our camp out, we had no idea what we were walking into two hours (yes, you read that right. He waited two hours) later. Having someone slowly stand up out of your pile of sleeping bags and blankets was absolutely terrifying. I have no recollection of running, screaming, or grabbing any of my friends and dragging them to safety. I’m told I did all of those things and more. I doubt I breathed until I was safely inside. It was awesome.

My poor Dad. I think when he had five girls the thought may have gone through his head, “I’ll probably have a quiet, orderly house.” If he did, well, he was proven wrong. There were times when the surprised gasp, the scared squeal and the full-blown scream were the background noise to the nightly news. I remember one time in particular my sister was on the phone, talking about a scary story. Dad told her she was too loud and to go outside. When she opened the back door, she surprised my Mom who was coming inside. Mom gasped, scaring Kjersti into a squeal, startling Mom into a scream. Dad didn’t even turn around, just stuck his fingers into his ears and complained, “I can’t hear the news!” Somehow he knew the difference between a got-ya scream and the terrified I-just-stepped-on-a-slimy-thing-that-crawled-from-under-my-foot-HELP-ME! scream. He was the fastest and the first one there when a real scream was given. I still don’t know how he knew the difference. One of his greatest talents, I guess.

When I was old enough, the month of October became a month of the haunted houses. Again, a place where screaming was just the background noise. I loved haunted houses, until they passed all those laws banning a bunch of things, like grabbing you, and they got lame. I have always loved scary stories, the folk lore kind, not the gory kind and was thrilled in college when I had an entire quarter of Folk Lore. It was a great class that inspired Scary Movie Tuesdays with two of my roommates. I was a great source to have around a camp fire when someone wanted a story told. I was pretty good at scaring people, which took me back to the top of that imaginary score board my family had.

Nowadays I’m not so brave with the scary stuff. I cover my eyes during previews in movie theaters and have to tell people I don’t want to hear scary anything. I’m not sure when I turned into such a wuss about scary stuff, but here I am. I guess I get my adrenaline rush from watching my kids learn to climb the ladder at the playground. That’s a harrowing experience, let me tell you. Or turning around in Costco and one of my kids has slipped away. Last July in Utah we went hiking and Lucy suddenly was unaccounted for, I freaked out. Nancy and I started yelling her name, running down the path. Fortunately we passed a sympathetic mom who told me there was a little girl singing in the bathroom. Sure enough, Lucy had needed to go potty and didn’t bother telling me. When we found her, she was merrily singing away as she washed her hands. Jon was cool as a cucumber, secretly laughing at my nervousness over what amounted to a couple of moments of not knowing where Lucy was. A small thing, I’m sure, but my heart rate stayed high nonetheless. .

I think my love of scary things changed when I started to grow up, when I was truly in charge of my own well-being all the time. I noticed it mostly when the boogeyman changed from hiding under my bed, to hiding in my mailbox, in the form of my car insurance bill. Real life is scary enough, I guess, that the imaginary things get pushed aside for the worries and scares of every day living.

I still love a good ghost story and one of these Octobers, Jon and I are really going to go on a ghost walk in Leesburg. Until then, I’ll squeeze my eyes tight and maybe even cover my ears during the previews, and time the scary stuff for when I know Jon will be home at night so he can be the one to go check when I ask, “Did you just hear that?”

Frugality

I grew up being taught to have the mentality of frugality. We learned what month things went on sale and would stock up, we learned the art of price comparison, and the true meaning of a dollar. As a young woman I had a year to save up for girls camp. It was $100 plus any extra spending while I was there to go. It was the rule in my house that half of what you earned went into savings. I had a babysitting job on many Saturday nights to earn this money. After four hours of work I’d get a measly $10, of which I could only allocate four to girls camp. It would take 6 months of sacrificing every Saturday night to pay for the one week of girls camp. Was it worth it? Definitely, I wouldn’t change it for the world. This was a great lesson to me. It always made me think twice or thrice before I spent a dime.
To this day, I am a sale shopper, a yardsaler, and a bargain seeker. Do I have shame in this? Not in the least. In fact, when I get a good deal I live off of that energy for like a whole day. Call me crazy, but I do.
Now what baffles me is when you hear of people getting $400 of groceries for just $20. Is that really true? Who has the patience to gather coupons, clip them and do research to match sales with coupons? Think about it though, when was the last time you got Kraft salad dressing for .17 including tax? How about Motts applesauce for .30 or Post cereal for .50 a box? Never, well how about Pace salsa or Yoplait yogurt for free?
Well, I guess I have a confession to make; I have taken my frugality to the next level. I didn’t get $400 of groceries for $20, but all those other deals, I have recently enjoyed, plus a few others.
Yes, I have taken my shopping to a whole new world, the world of couponing. I never thought I would find pleasure in clipping, but most of the work is already done for me. It’s all online with the deals spelled out. The printable coupons are right there with them.
Okay, so I guess the point of this essay is because I’m living off of this energy of excitement and felt like sharing. Is that girly or what?

My Essay for the Week

Hi All,
Megan, you have snared me into replying. I loved this essay you wrote on silence. It is something I fight for everyday but usually to no prevail. Because of this I haven't participated 100% to this essay thing going on. But today my kids are uncharacteristicly sleeping in. The older ones are at school and the two younger are still asleep. It is 9:34 and I have decided to enjoy my 'silents' instead of taking a shower and preparing for the day. (sleep on kids, sleep on!) I've spent my time catching up with reading your essays. They are so telling into each of your personalities. I sometimes wish I could have more time so you can all get to know my personality better as well. Then I realized if I titled some of my emails better like "essay for this week" or something like that, that I am sharing something of myself but in my own way. My latest essay would be the picture of Peter. Noone commented, so I hope you all got it. Or the video of Marshall and his Lepricon trap. My children are my essays in person--and I took an hour trying to get that picture. That should tell something about me and be interesting for you to "read". Also, I thought about sending my seminary letters I write every week for my seminary students. I try to put some thoughtful insite into them, but then they are filled with quotes and thoughts of others. They also take me an hour to write. But I don't think I'll bother you with those. Or I will just enjoy the few small moments of silence I can muster up each week and read about your lives instead. That sounds better. But, know that I am here and I think all of you are great and inspiring. I can't wait to see you all at the reunion.

Parenting

April 5, 2009

We’ve recently reached yet another mix-up in our parenting strategy, another subtle change in situation that calls for some re-thinking. I don’t know if it’s because Noah turned 12 and he’s starting to outgrow the other brothers, or because we’ve moved back to America, and our boys’ loyalties are starting to move toward friends instead of family. . . . but Noah and Danny have started having issues. Noah and Oak play really well together, but Danny’s starting to be the odd man out.

Last Sunday, Noah came yelling to me, “Danny just stepped on my music!!!” This seemed out of character for Danny, so I sounded frustrated when I asked Danny why he would step on Noah’s music. Danny, in tears, said, “Noah always teases me, but whenever I try to tease him, it just doesn’t work out.”

Well, this sounds more dramatic than it really is. All three boys spent the last 2 hours being “midgie-men,” with three forts and a spying strategy. But there has been a delicate change in the wind, and I haven’t liked the new direction.

Noah’s problem, I think, is something I’ll call pre-flirting. I remember when Mike and I got married, my brother Dan was at this same age, and such a good kid, but such an annoying, awkward tease! That’s where Noah’s at. When he’s not being wonderful and mature, he teases and pushes buttons and can make himself very annoying. For example, if he’s going down the stairs, and Danny’s coming up the stairs, do they just walk by each other? Noooo. Noah has to play-kick Danny as he passes him. Or if Noah’s standing at the kitchen sink, and Oak’s trying to get something out of the cupboard below the sink, does Noah stand to the side for a second and let Oak in? Nooooo. Noah has to let Oak partly open the door, and then slam it shut again, and then let Oak open it again, and then slam it shut again – and not just once or twice, but over and over again until Oak’s almost in tears.

When Noah dishes this treatment out on his friends at school, they just give it back to him. This is what they *do*.

The reason I call this pre-flirting, is because it was the kinds of kids who could successfully pull off this sort of teasing who were the popular ones in Jr. High. I mean, who’s going to be more popular – the nice boy who sits in his desk, and quietly moves to the side when you’re trying to reach a cupboard on the other side of him? Or the mischievous boy who sits in his desk and playfully shuts the door of the cupboard on the other side of him as you’re trying to open it? The boys and girls are just starting to talk to each other again after elementary school years of almost living in separate worlds, and the most common way for kids to bridge the divide from one side of the gender line to the other, is not civilized conversation, but this kind of teasing.

So, that was a long prelude to say that I’ve been reflecting on parenting advice that has meant the most to me over the years. The overwhelming majority of my parenting style is unconscious and thanks to my own parents, but here are some ideas that have been turning points in my own parenting philosophy. I’m sure that this list will be easy for any reader to skim over, but I have a whole world of memories associated with each idea and person. I listed each idea in the order of when I received it:

Br. Daines: “Try not to mess them up.” This advice was given to me by my favorite mission companion’s father at her mission homecoming. I was pregnant with Noah at the time.

Sr. Eleanor Taylor: “That’s Satan’s plan.” Sr. Taylor was part of a missionary couple serving with us in the Bronx. Noah was a baby; we were in the car driving up to Westchester for a stake meeting. I was telling her something along the lines of how I wished I could protect my kids from major mistakes.

Sr. Ennoi: “Make dinner in the morning.” Sr. Ennoi was the Stake RS president when I was the branch RS president in the Bronx. She had raised 5 children that seemed perfect to me. This was her only piece of advice when I asked.

Me: “Anticipate behavior problems.” I can’t tell how many Sundays, in the car on the way to church, we had the exact same conversation: “what are the three rules for church?” Or how many times, on the way to a birthday party, “when can you say thank you at a birthday party,” etc.

Me: “Don’t raise a teenager.” Try not to treat my toddlers and young children the way many teenagers treat their parents.

Melissa Rohrer: The Question Game. Kids love to be asked any random question, and this is a great way to take control of dinnertime or driving time that otherwise was spiraling into chaos. The Question Game is played by going around to each kid in turn and asking a question.

Becky Shumway: “Keep your covenants and everything else will work out.” I reflect on this conversation whenever I worry about how my parenting style is being affected – yes, even undermined - by Mike’s parenting style. Becky’s parents had this problem, too.

Heather Gottfredson: “Bathe the kids once a week.” Heather is my cousin’s wife who lived by us in San Antonio. This advice has saved lots of time and frustration.

Lorraine Dixon: “Have fun with your kids’ friends’ families.” Lorraine is another cousin who lives in Austin, TX. This is how she felt she was able to remain in touch with her kids through their teenage years.

Holly Smiley: “My mom laughs whenever we mention something she did that was weird or didn’t work.” I love the idea of my grown kids mentioning faults or complaints or weirdness about their upbringing, and my reaction is to laugh about it.

Marc Weissbluth: “Sleep enough.” The book “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Baby” by Weissbluth helped me. Wish I would have read it sooner. . . .

Adele Faber: “Stop denying kids’ feelings” from Chapter 1 of the book, “How to Talk so Kids will Listen.” Examples: I’m hungry - You can’t be, you just ate! I’m not cold – Of course you are, it’s freezing out here! That was boring – you’re just tired! Another key concept, from the same authors’ book about sibling rivalry: “I’m not trying to raise kids who will be best friends with each other, but kids who can treat each other decently.”

Mom and Dad: “Go abroad” The idea that getting comfortably situated can be bad for family life, based on their experience living in England. They knew a family with a bunch of kids who moved to Idaho to be in a good environment for the kids and by their extended family, but after a year or two, they felt that their family was being torn apart in all directions by busy-ness and kids’ friends. They moved back to Europe.

Karen and Michael Jensen: “Keep talking.” The Jensens raised a bunch of girls who all seemed to get along great. Mandi and Melani Jensens, the twins, were our favorite babysitters in Sulzdorf. When I asked them how they did it, they told me that they kept everyone talking until problems or grudges were resolved. They said that they ended up doing a lot of talking, sometimes staying up late, or carrying a conversation over several days, but they wouldn’t let issues be pushed under the rug or ignored.

Me: “A story is better than a lecture.” Based on one striking experience after dropping Linda Lopez and her girls off at the Ryanair airport in Germany.

Elder Hales, when asked by our stake president to name the biggest challenge that our youth face today: “Their parents.” This happened last month, and brings me full circle back to the advice given to me 12 years ago by Br. Daines, not to “mess them up.”

Parenting gives me a reason to want to be more perfect.

Silence

Silence is an interesting thing. It has the capacity of being peaceful, comfortable, beautiful as well as the most awful, uncomfortable experience. I’ve thought about the different facets of silence this past week as I considered the changes my own personal silence has gone through over the past decade. It has morphed and shifted and gelled around phases of my life, places in my life, where I have given it a chance to teach and to give insights that had I ignored the silence, I would have missed.
In college, with the exception of my first year, I had my own room and bathroom. Quiet was easily achieved, though rarely sought out. I study and concentrate better in quiet, so I would establish the times I needed the quiet to finish my homework. The rest of my time was surrounded by people, activities and the endless lectures of my teachers. Silence, though, was different to me than just quiet. Silence I would find on walks at night, usually with one or both of my roommates. On late night drives from Salt Lake to Logan. Passing Mantua in Sardine Canyon I never could get any good stations on the radio, so I would turn it off and just…be. .In the quiet of the night I had the opportunity to study that silence. I was always surprised at the things I would remember or think about. Conversations days old would return with impressive clarity, and I could hear what that person was actually trying to tell me. Thoughts of people that I had assumed were just random passing miss-you moments would often turn into a pressing need to call them or write them. I was always humbled to find out it was a need on their part, not mine, being answered when I would take that minute to contact them.
As newlyweds, we had a super quiet house. I’ll call it peaceful because it doesn’t sound as lonely or pitiful. We had no TV, Jon worked, and I knew no one in the state of Virginia. I can’t describe the relief that flowed through me when the phone company hooked up our phone. Lines of communication have rarely been so appreciated. But in that quiet, that peacefulness, Jon and I established us as a married couple. People say the first year of marriage is the hardest, but I disagree. It was one of the most, well, peaceful years I have ever had. I learned pretty early to enjoy each of those moments of quiet with my new husband, because I had an inkling of what lay ahead…
Kids. Well, that changes the definition of a quiet house, doesn’t it? With just one child, we still made the most of the quiet, but Lucy got too used to having such a quiet house. After bedtime, Jon and I would whisper so we wouldn’t wake her up. Only first-time parents would even consider doing something like that, but we did. And we loved the quiet of the evenings together.
Multiple kids. We try to have quiet time every day while Owen is sleeping and we’re usually pretty good at it. No TV, no phones, no running around. Quiet time to think, for me to recharge and for Anabel and Lucy to know that being by themselves is something to be treasured, not a punishment. It’s delightful to discover things about yourself, to feel comfortable with yourself, that only that quiet time can give. I love that time during the day, listening to the soft murmur of my house during quiet time. It’s peaceful and full of contentment and the joy of discovery. Silence in my house, though, I have learned is often the precursor to trouble. If my kids are silent, it’s a warning I cannot ignore. It means the kids are doing something they know they shouldn’t be doing and I have a very limited amount of time to find them and stop said activity.
I went to the grocery store the other day and looked at all the people around me. I lost count of the cell phones, the ear buds and the hand held video games. We have the capacity in our cars to have not just one, but six CDs in at all times. Endless radio station possibilities and let’s not forget the ever-present cell phone. Jon and I only have one cell phone between us, which some people complain is just barbaric. What if they need to call us? Talk to us about something so earth-shattering it can’t wait for even twenty minutes it would take for us to get home to the voice mail? Well, I have to be honest. I like those times when people can’t get a hold of me. It’s freeing. It’s nice. It’s necessary! I have to remind myself to turn things off, enjoy the moment of talking to my kids in the car and finding out what they’re thinking. It’s always more entertaining and way more fun than any song on the radio or any show I could put in the DVD. And, I have to ask myself, what am I missing when I forget to listen to that silence that is ever more difficult to find? Like Bob Dylan said, “I accept chaos.” It’s a delightful part of life, one I wouldn’t miss for the world. But it’s in the quiet, the silence, those beautiful and rare moments that I am able to learn and grow.

The Mifferules Blogs

As the years spread my family apart physically we have decided that we would make every effort to continue to stay close. One of those efforts has been communication through the internet. About a year ago I started a family blog (the “Mifferules”) that we have all kept up. It is a place that we can post all of the fun things and pictures that we have to share with each other. My parents put up a calendar each month with all of the birthdays and special events and also do little competitions for the kids. My younger brother and I who are both at BYU put up pictures and tell stories of the fun things we are doing here, and my older siblings talk about all the fun things they are doing as a family. It has been a very good thing to help knit us together. The only issues we have had so far include making sure all are able to contribute. Some of my siblings are not exactly computer savvy, and so have not been able to contribute as much.
This blog became soon a place for us to talk about things that were really important to us and people wanted more and more space to write actual essays. Because of this I decided to make a linked separate blog called the Mifferulestuff. This blog was for longer essays and thoughts that maybe could not fit in the space given on the first blog. This became a great log book of another tradition which I am including here because of the similarities and connection. We have started a tradition recently of writing essays on Sundays. My sister told us about how she would write essays on Sunday afternoons mostly just to keep up her writing skills. She had in the past shared them with people she knew that would do the same thing with her. The suggestion was made, and now has been kept up for a few months, that we can do this as a family. Now each Sunday we write an essay on whatever topic we wish to and send it out to the whole family. I then log the essay on the Mifferulestuff blog. There is no pressure to write, and you do not have to follow any rules as far as cohesiveness or format or length or review. So far this tradition has been a big hit and has helped to include some of the in-laws as well. One of my sister-in-laws was an English major in college and so has really enjoyed being able to be a part of things.
This tradition of communication follows the standards set by the Proclamation better than any I have written about. It is record keeping, and it involves a larger portion of the family than other traditions have been able to. It is strong in the sense that we are able to love and enjoy each other’s thoughts and feelings. The only issue I worry about is that it is new, and young. We have not been able to test it through time to see if it will continue. It does not have anything that it is really tied to and so could die off easily. I guess it is up to us as a family to keep it moving forward. In researching family blogs I read about purposes and over and over again the people marketing blog space would talk about family blogs. One point in particular was repeated: One fantastic aspect of a family blog is how involved everyone can be in the process. This is something we have definitely seen in our family.
The tradition of writing essays and posting to the blog will need to be solidified before we can consider its ability to continue through the ages and generations. I believe keeping a record as we are on the second blog and more importantly referring to it and commenting on it when we get together is the key. We will be able to get that opportunity when we have our family reunion this summer.

The Super Bowl

The Super Bowl is always on Sunday, but we as a family had made a rule that we wouldn’t watch TV on Sundays. When my oldest brother became interested in following professional football and was interested in watching the Super Bowl he decided to do something about his dilemma. My dad was excited to have someone to talk to about sports and so encouraged him to find a solution, yet he did not see any reason to watch the game if they already knew the score or who won. So, they could not watch the game live because it was on Sunday, yet they could not watch it Monday night because they would have heard the score at work or school. To solve this problem my brother decided they could would wake up at 3am and watch a VHS recording of it. This time was early enough that they could finish the game in time for scriptures in the morning with the rest of the family and still get to school and work on time. My mom supported this tradition as well and would even bring us chips and salsa down at half time. Throughout the years each of us boys have enjoyed the tradition as a quirky thing we as a family do. Being exhausted at school the next day was a badge of honor and a conversation starter with all of your friends, something we would brag about.

This tradition is not one of a spiritual nature really, although it is for spiritual reasons we kept it. It was definitely a good tradition because it bonded us boys to our father, fostered a great story telling atmosphere with each other and our friends and was a mark of manhood when you were old enough to get up and enjoy the time together. It was not much a natural tradition although the time would come and we would always remember the silly tradition we had kept.

I do not think any of us still keep this tradition, although my parents have asked me each year I have been at college whether I would or not. I would not be surprised, though, if my brothers kept the tradition with their children when they are old enough, but for now it is not important enough for them. The thing about the game was that none of us were really that interested in football. We just wanted to spend the time with each other. Without that none of us are motivated to do the same.