A's story

A's socialization has a long and complicated history.  He's the youngest of 3 boys.  He fights to keep up, making him the strongest and most determined.  He's also frequently left out on the block.  For many years, when he was 2-4, I was pretty sad about how he had nobody to play with.  I would have sent him to preschool but he was very aggressive and angry at ages 3-4 (maybe because he was unhappy, but I didn't think school would help).  Eventually at around age 6.5 he became utterly delightful.  And things the year or so before that shifted around socially--some neighbors became old enough to play with him, some other kids shifted socially to older kids, leaving the younger kids they used to play with (who were older than A) looking to younger kids for socialization.  An older kid ended up having a new baby and really enjoyed horsing around with A in an aggressively playful way that A adored and that the baby couldn't tolerate.

So this past year+, A's socialization has not been much of a concern for me and he hasn't been so miserable.  I thought a lot about that, since I remember how terribly I worried and agonized about his socialization.  It's important for me to realize how things can shift and things do change for the better in these situations.

In the winter, when A said that he wanted to go to camp for only one month, I figured he knows what it's like after last year, and if he wants it, fine.

He came home happy the first day.  But then he didn't want to go the second day.  He cried himself to sleep.  (It's only in the last month that he stopped crying himself to sleep.  I don't know if I posted about that...I just stopped to check and I found a draft from January that says: "You know why I hate bedtime? Because it's not sweetness and sunshine and cuddling and intimate conversation.")

The next day I said go for half the day.  He did.  He came home and said it was great.  I said, OK, you'll go half days.  He started backpedaling: It's not great.  It was okay.  No, it was terrible, awful.  He's not going.

He cried and cried.  He cried and begged and said I can't make him go.

Then he cried more at night.

I began to think, like last year, if it's so horrible, that he shouldn't go.  Why torture him?

But I was in conflict.

He was happy when he came home.  He said it was ok.  I get that the learning and davening was boring for him, but if he skips that, it didn't seem so bad.

Also, he has expressed that he wants more friends.  Maybe he should give it some more time?

He cried himself to sleep again last night.  I spent the evening pondering over whether his intense negative reaction means that I should let him stay home, or if the things he is upset about are things we should try to work through, and it would be beneficial for him to go.

This morning, first thing he said when he woke up is that he's not going to camp and I can't make him.

We made a list. (It turns out it's a challenge to make a list when I speak Hebrew and he can't read Hebrew)

My side and his side.
My side says that he needs time to make friends, I paid the money and he said it was OK and not horrible, I think that he needs time to adjust and he will get more comfortable, and he likes arts&crafts, swimming, and ball.

His side says that the other kids don't play with him, he's homesick, it's boring, and it's long.

He told me that we both have 4 points, and his points are way better than my points.  I told him that I thought my 4 points were pretty convincing.

Then we began to talk about him not having friends and the other kids not playing with him.  We've been talking a lot about that over the past few months because his hot-headedness, sore loserness, and refusal to accept when he's out, coupled with his younger age, have not been endearing him to the gang in the playground.  I had suggested in the past that he try to walk off the field if they tell him he's out, and see if that makes them more inclined to allow him to join the game.
I've really been wanting him to have the opportunity to play with peers.  He's constantly the youngest (a negative of being homeschooled in the social environment on our block) and I think he would shine with peers.

So we spoke about making friends and talking to people.  I asked him if he wanted me to google "how to make friends."  He did, and I googled "how to make friends age 7."  The first 8 hits were article for me, and not that useful, but the 9th, a wikihow with pictures, was the jackpot.

https://www.wikihow.com/Make-New-Friends-at-School

I went through a bunch of the pictures and discussed different ways to make friends.  I wrote down (you can see in the picture in the bottom right): make eye contact, smile, don't act nervous.

Then we role played a bit, with me smiling or him smiling and not smiling and seeing if it felt different to be smiled at or not smiled at.

He said, "but they didn't read the article!"  I tried to explain that the article was writing what was already true.  I'm not sure how much he understood that.

I told him firmly that I was making him go, and that he doesn't have to go next summer, and that he can go only half the day.  He fought it a bit, but when he got upset, I turned the conversation to his nervousness about making friends, and he calmed down each time.  Which maybe means that I'm on the right track and that's the issue, in which case he should keep going and try to make some progress there.

He threw things at me, which I converted to a game of catch, and he gradually got ready to go, and he went.

Ari took him and came back and reported that as soon as he went, a couple of kids came over to talk to him.  But A is extremely shy.  So shy he can't make eye contact, or answer them, or smile at them.

I said, "That's so funny you mention those things.  Those are exactly what I told him to do this morning." And I showed him the picture.

But he said that he was unable to do them because of extreme shyness.

It's interesting that since he's homeschooled, I actually had no idea that he was that shy.  He's not like my shy child who is so shy even around me and who told me when he was four years old that "I can only speak to people I love."  A has always been perfectly able to talk to people and has gone off places on his own.  I didn't realize he was feeling so paralyzed socially.  No wonder he's stressed and unhappy.

I found this post from August 2017 in drafts

So I thought camp was going well.  Camp is going well.  6yo was happy.  He's the child that I often felt would do well in school.  He doesn't have sitting issues.  He likes to learn the way that schools teach.  He is social.  He's not shy or nervous.

The only reason I didn't send him to preschool (aside from the $7-9,000 price tag) is that he was a rather intense toddler who had lots of tantrums and violent behavior.  He kicked, hit, and bit.  I felt that this behavior is difficult for the preschool classroom and was not sure that the teachers would handle it in a way that was effective and at the same time not shaming.  (Heck, I barely skated by on the skin of my teeth on that goal, so I was reluctant to foist it on the preschool teachers with 20 other kids in the room.)  But he grew up, he wants friends, and I thought camp was a great environment for that.

He's learning, he's davening, he has friends.  Camp is lovely.

Except when he doesn't want to go.  And complains that it's boring.  And he has to sit for so long.

This morning, he said he doesn't want to go to camp anymore.  It's been like that--some days he goes happily, some days he says he doesn't want to go anymore.  Today, he started throwing things at me.  His shoes, a large lego, a puzzle.

It occurred to me that he's throwing things at me because he feels that I'm not hearing him.  And he's saying that he doesn't want to go.

I was planning to send him only a half-day today because it's Friday and we want to avoid traffic.

****

Postscript to this: He began getting stomachaches.  So badly that I took him to the doctor.  There was nothing physical wrong. He began crying he didn't want to go.  So after a fantastic year at camp last year, and a fantastic first month this year, he stayed home for the second month.  I felt a lot of things

• like a failure because her kid can't hack daycamp
• grateful that I don't send him to school because what if he was crying like this every day about school and was so miserable and I thought about the stress of all those parents who cope with this with their children regularly
• glad that I could just pull him out of camp and this whole issue went away
• secretly fearful that the problem is me/my homeschooling/my child/my parenting rather than it being just "not a match"

He wanted to go to camp again this summer.  For just one month.  So I signed him up.  And...

Feeling like a failure

I'm an experienced homeschooler.  I cannot emphasize just how experienced I am.  One of my kids finished college, another is almost done with high school.  (Actually, I'm not super experienced at boy homeschooling, considering my oldest boy isn't bar mitzva yet.)  I have been homeschooling for almost twenty years. 

Homeschoolers often find themselves against going against "common wisdom."  Kids need to know things or do things by a certain age.  Kids need to suffer certain things or they'll never be able to do it as an adult.  Kids need to [learn to sit for hours, tolerate boring learning for hours, be able to do hours of tasks that they hate, etc] so that they'll be able to function as adults.

It takes courage to keep walking a different path when people around you tell you that what you're doing is harmful.  Even if your own mind (and experience!) tell you that your path is a good path, it can be difficult.

I'm always amazed by how fragile my confidence is.  Years of positivity can be undermined.

Last week, one of my kids was at a birthday party and got into fights with the kids there.  I'm still feeling badly about that.  Worrying about his social abilities.  On one hand, I know that this is an issue (he's gotten into conflicts like this before) and I appreciate that homeschooling a) minimizes these situations and b) gives me the chance to walk him through these incidents while I'm on hand.
On the other hand, it is always disquieting to see your child be so miserable socially (tears, misunderstanding his contribution to the dynamic). 

Riding the coat tails of that, the boys started camp this week. 

I looked to see if I ended up discussing what happened with A last summer.  I can't find it at the moment.  I think it needs its own blog post.

But first let's discuss J, going into 4th grade.  His Rebbe called to discuss him after the first day.  Let's remember that J was homesick two years ago and didn't make it through the first week of camp.  He's been psyching himself up for two years now, and is trying it out for a week. 

I had told the boys that the way that we homeschool, the other kids are going to know things that they know, and that they will do that sort of thing closer to their bar mitzvas.

The Rebbe was perplexed that J couldn't do basic things like find the perek and the pasuk.  That during davening, he didn't turn the pages of the siddur.

I explained that homeschooling is a different educational approach and that most of their Torah at this age is Torah She-baal peh.  The Rebbe walked me through all the types of learning and davening and we came to agreements about what that would mean for J.  i.e. he would not call on J, would not ask him to write on the board, would visually keep an eye out in case J wants to participate but would not expect him to do the work.  It was a lovely conversation.

I explained to J that the Rebbe wouldn't call on him and he can turn pages in the siddur when he sees the other boys doing it and stand up and sit down when they do.

But J came home on the 2nd day of camp and said he just wants to go after davening and learning.  I said ok. 

I thought J would be ok for that part of camp, but it's ok if he doesn't want to.

This actually sparked a conversation between me and Ari.  Ari said, "Of course he doesn't want to sit there and learn.  It's boring." And we wondered whether the boys actually would ever be interested in learning Torah if we unschool it. 

I know that the unschoolers I've spoken to say yes.  And in my own heart, I believe that as teenagers, they can learn quickly and efficiently if they want to.  But it's definitely hard to feel comfortable when your almost 4th grader can barely read Hebrew and can't hack summer camp learning.

One thing I am realizing.  Everyone keeps saying that "camp is not school."  In the sense that camp is more relaxed than school.  Which is definitely true.  But when you unschool, camp is definitely longer and more structured than homeschool.  And when you have kids who are not used to doing activities that bore them, they don't have a high tolerance for it.

Another point I'm pondering is that maybe this camp is not best for my family.  They've been wonderful.  They are unbelievably flexible.  They are kind, considerate and thoughtful.  They are close--their playground is the playground across the street from my house, which helps my little ones feel they are in familiar territory.

But maybe a different camp with less learning would be better for them.

On the other hand, maybe being anywhere from 9:30-3:30 would make them unhappy, and I'd be paying more to have the same conflicts and arguments.

Onward to A's camp experience.

No Ball Playing In the House

I am at the stage of life where I have the same thought numerous times a day.  And that thought is: Do I really need to tell them to stop throwing that ball in the house?  What are the odds something will actually break?  And if it does (light fixture, computer, speaker, window, picture frame), how expensive is it?  Maybe it's worth letting them play ball in the house?

Bounce.  Bounce.  Bounce.  The ball thuds off the walls.  And I keep my mouth shut.

A couple of weeks ago, when I objected to their game because of the amount of breakables out, they cleaned off all the glasses and dishes off of the dining room table and then played ball.

I searched for my post about saying Yes instead of saying No and I found it.  Ick.  I had blocked that out, I guess.

I was about to hit "post" and a ball smacked me in the face.  Luckily, it's one of those lightweight balls.

Yeah, we still homeschool in the summer

This is a lot what unschooling is like, all year round.  It's about having no particular plans, every day being sort of like vacation, and buying a ton of ices if the kids want them.

This atmosphere actually ends up being very fertile and productive.  And fun and relaxed. 

This and that

Lots going on now.  Testing is finished.  I'm in the middle of a massive psychoeducational diagnosis situation with Chen, which I'll write all about when we get the results.  It's taking months and I look forward to having it all wrapped up tidily with a bow.  Hahaha.

***

Elazar handled a customer chat situation (he was the customer) this morning about a t-shirt he tried to design and buy, but it turned out that he wanted to use a character from Undertale which is trademarked.  So apparently he is capable of reading, comprehending, and responding on a fairly adult level.  Basic competence in society--check.

***

Elazar asked my husband to learn mishna at 10:50pm last night.  Despite us trying to have a stern policy of our doors closing at 10:30pm, my husband couldn't find it in his heart to refuse him.

***

The other day, Chen was on the couch and she asked me what an isosceles triangle is.  I told her it's a triangle with 2 equal sides.  Then I asked if she was watching the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend's Triangle Song because unschoolers frequently look up things because they come across them.  And that's how they learn.

"No," she told me.  "I'm studying for the ACTs."  😆

Gaming helps writing skillz

I sat Aharon down to supervise a thank you note and was absolutely floored at how quickly that first grader can type.  Apparently, playing Roblox so much of the day has helped.  While he plays, he also types messages to people in order to coordinate the multiplayer game that they are all involved in.

He doesn't type faster than most teens I know.  But he does type faster than many adults I know.