With almost half a school year behind us, it’s not too early for me to begin assessing where we are, and where we might go next year.   I’ll have another year with a high schooler, a middle schooler, and an elementary school student, so I don’t see much changing in terms of my own time commitments.   We’ve had perhaps one of our best years since we began homeschooling seven years ago, and I know this has everything to do with me being humbled enough by last year’s dreadful results to submit myself to much prayer time with the Father.    He’s answered almost all of our plans with a resounding YES!—history/literature, as we teach it here, is seemingly leaping off the page (in spite of the fact that Mom’s ready to check the Iliad off our reading list—only 300 more pages to go!!  LOL), everybody is using the math resources effectively, and we’re in that sweet spot where everyone is learning from everyone else and everything.   As one example, our son has hit a point in his land animal studies that he’s supposedly focusing on spiders.   I say “supposedly” because spiders repulse him.   So I struggle getting him to look at the pages and grasp the concepts.   Almost as if God-sent, his little sister is reading Charlotte’s Web, so guess where he’s learning about the strength of drag lines, the process of egg sac production, etc.?   The coordination of these units was not my planning at all, but everyone is benefiting from keeping their ears glued to what’s happening around them.   Even the oldest is a step ahead in biology as she covers reptiles after interacting—from a safe distance—with Spot, our leopard gecko.

I’ve not been one to try and fix what’s not broken, so we’ll continue the same path on next year, for the most part.   I’ll add grammar via English for the Thoughtful Child, to the youngest’s plate.  I wanted to begin this year, but didn’t feel that she was ready for a larger amount of lessons than I remember requiring her to write.   I may place our son on a local homeschool debate group to help him use his propensity to argue effectively.     Because my understanding is that debate requires a lot of research and writing, it would probably replace studying history.   I’m still thinking about reading lists for both he and the oldest, which is, in part, food for thought regarding my current dilemma.

I am convinced that as homeschooling parents, we teach according to who we are.   Our passions become the areas that we teach best, and the place where we bring the most to the classroom experience.   The corollary is that there are other areas that we either don’t like or don’t understand (like poetry for me) that become hits and misses—perhaps less hits and more misses—in our school.  Incidentally, I think that traditional school teachers do the same thing, but at older ages, they don’t cover the full gamut of subjects the way that many of us do, so the results might not be as recognizable.   Because of this factor, we have to stay before the Lord regarding agenda.   What do I mean by agenda?    I mean those plans that have more to do with you, or other factors not germane to academic wisdom.    One example might be when you’re determined to prove to the in-laws that homeschooling is a valid alternative to a traditional school, and so you overwhelm a small one to create a “genius” who can parrot information, but has limited knowledge and understanding.     It might not be where you are, but I have had two years—this year and last year—of revelations.   This is after a whole-hearted desire to subjugate academic wisdom to spiritual wisdom.   How humble do I need to be, Lord?    I could detail all the places where my own borderline obsession with producing intellectuals got in the way, as well as all the consequential moments that I could have spent gingerly teaching and encouraging instead of panicking and frowning.   But I won’t.   I’ll speak instead about where we are now.   In the midst of a great year, as I mentioned before, is a high school science class that I don’t think is working.    I mentioned that she didn’t perform well on the first test.    The second was better, and her score was actually above the class average.   Her third test is this week, and she claims to be ready for it. But for a number of reasons that aren’t entirely her fault, this class has become her life.   The pursuit of a good grade means that she is having to study every day for several hours a day and doesn’t get to do hardly anything else.    That was not the plan.    I placed her in a virtual class in part to nurture a budding interest in a science career, and the amount of material thrown at her each week has all but squelched any affection for this subject area.   As I contemplated options over this past week, I had to come face-to-face, yet again, with agenda.    In the midst of our horrendous year last year, I bought into this class in order to give the oldest a peek into how a teacher would treat her that didn’t love her enough to put up with all the crap I did.   I thought it’d be one less thing on my plate.    Instead, I’m having to spend as much time with her on this, if not more, than I did before, and now we’re both dancing to the beat of someone else’s drum.   Spanking received, Lord.   I’ve considered just cutting our losses and going back to our Apologia studies, and I’ve still not shut the door totally on that option.   Yet, my husband, yin to my yang, verbalized the same concern regarding wasting money, which, with the year we’ve had, is almost unthinkable.    I’m more concerned at this point about what messages we’d teach regarding quitting every time something isn’t as we desire.   I’m also sorting through whether there’s another issue with me and agenda:  Do I struggle with releasing some control?   The high school years, at least if your kid plans to leave home, require that you begin to let go.   Am I ready for that?   I talked ad nauseum to her on last year about the calendar spinning on how many days she’d be “safe at home with Mommy” (inclusive of being able to push Mommy’s buttons, knowing just how much or how little to accomplish for Mommy not to fuss).   Maybe she’s not the only one who’s struggling with someone else in the driver’s seat?     Anyway, as I said, the reason this class has had mixed results as far as I’m concerned are multi-faceted.    So as I wait on answers that are beyond yes or no—answers that reveal God’s greater truths and more perfect plans for all of us—I am meditating on these words:

7 Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud;

be gracious to me and answer me!
8 You have said, “Seek [4] my face.”
My heart says to you,
“Your face, Lord, do I seek.” [5]
9 Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger,
O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not,
O God of my salvation!
10 For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
but the Lord will take me in.

11 Teach me your way, O Lord,
and lead me on a level path…

13 I believe [6] that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living!
14 Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!

I am convinced that the Lord gives us imperfect lives—from our perspective, at least—in order to keep us on our knees.   At least that’s been my experience.   When one aspect of our lives is on a high, something else is on a low.   With school going so swimmingly, what could be wrong?   Well, considering that I posted such wonderful results from our meeting with the Sunday School/ drama teacher, a lot looks different today from what I saw two weeks ago.     As I previously posted, I left what I anticipated to be a 15-round smackdown, or as they say in my neck of the woods, a “come to Jesus,” feeling as if we were on the same page—almost—with no hurt feelings, no resentment, and with each party feeling the freedom to do what we felt was in the best interest of the kids.  

This past Sunday was our Sunday to teach.   I’ll make a long story short.   She was obnoxiously intrusive, and even had the audacity to critique our lesson after the class left.   I may sound overly sensitive, but keep in mind that this criticism came from someone whose idea of a Bible lesson was to tell the kids to go home and read the book of Esther, then proceeded to solicit ideas on how to design the class logo.   I occupied myself with cleaning/ straightening the room so that I wouldn’t lose my cool, while the superhero listened patiently.   I could tell by the look on his face that he was fuming, too, but he held it for the car ride home.

I know that the Lord is able to perfect all things concerning us.    I know that much prayer and fasting is called for in this situation.   I know the Lord knows our hearts.   On the other side, here’s my true confession: I am at a loss, somewhere between angered, frustrated, and confused.     We don’t have any recourse here; our children’s ministry director, a very sweet spirit, avoids conflict like the swine flu.    I mean, she simply will not engage.   We lost a teacher who voiced our same complaints concerns and then gave up because, after speaking with the ministry director, she felt as if she was fighting a losing battle.    Though we’ve not felt led to quit (in part because we refuse to watch this woman give an Oscar-winning performance, complete with the “I was the only one left to help all those poor children” [say it slowly]), I can feel the other teacher’s pain.   And I can see the heart of the new teacher, who truly feels that she’s doing what is in the best interest of the kids, just as we do.   But the part in me that hasn’t yet embraced thinking the best of people rather than the worst senses both insecurity and arrogance; often one is present to mask the other.   I’ve been thinking quite a bit about my own humility (at the risk of not sounding very humble), and the way that it throws people off when they interact with me.    I’ve never been one to seek out attention or draw interest in my skills or talents at church; I’ve served in the least of places, and most of the “points of influence” at our church don’t even know our names.   For this and a couple of other reasons, I don’t think that she expected much from us.   It was when I wrote this woman an e-mail with my professional signature, including the title MBA and the college I work for,  that she seemed to point out her years in education, her job, what she does, etc.   I don’t know how many times she must have mentioned that on this past Sunday.    Nauseating, it was, to listen to her.

There are some other factors that complicate this whole puzzle.  This woman is one of the “old heads” of the church, and as such, feels quite justified in her position.   And in truth, she’s not at odds with us for the sake of being evil (or at least, I don’t want to believe that).      Our pastor has spoken before about the reality of churches and the passion for Christ.    Often, it’s not the unsaved that will rise up in church and cause contention; it’s the other saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost saint whose passion is just as dogged as your own.   Also, our oldest is in the class, so each week we try to walk the fine line of representing Christ so that she’ll be encouraged as she grows spiritually, yet feeling totally put out and disgruntled over a situation that’s becoming increasingly unbearable.

It’s a lot to pray about.   I want so much to be in Christ’s will.   I don’t want any sinful attitude on my part to keep me away from what is God’s plan for me.   I want to hear and see “yes” in the fruit of our labor.    But I’ve walked long enough with the Lord to also be very aware of that dreadful, but oh, so purposeful, pruning process that moves us away from some things so that we can blossom in others.       So, I continue to lift up all the rambling I’ve posted here to the One who can make sense of it all.

This coming Sunday is, at least for now, our only Sunday in the month to attend a service with no other responsibilities.    The other teacher would change that, too, if she could, claiming that her heart is for all three of us (she, the superhero, and I) to be in the Sunday School class every week, regardless of who is teaching.     Forget that.   I’m excited about lifting up my hands in praise, enjoying worship time, and sitting at the feet of the Lord and His Word.    Perhaps I’ll even get a “now word” that will guide me through the other Sundays.   I sure need it.

Thanks to a recent guest on Amy Bayliss’s blog, I am learning to keep a notebook handy so that I can actually use a few of the many thoughts that flow through my brain; lately, I’ve found myself preoccupied with school, and when I sit to write, it feels as if all that’s running between my ears is a breeze!  

I had begun to write in this past week’s homeschool weekly write-up that I was finally enjoying “early” learning.   I should clarify my statement: I am starting to enjoy our youngest for who she is rather than trying to turn her into her brother.   We began homeschooling when he was about the same age, and he was a totally different child.   He has always been very studious, the type of kid who very quietly takes care of business and then asks you, “What’s next?”    When we brought him and his older sister home, she was curiously happy, but he was ecstatic; introverted like his mom, homeschooling just seems to be his cup of pink lemonade.    The youngest is a totally different kid.   She is more active, sillier, and a constant hoot at the table.   She sings constantly, often making up songs that keep the rest of us somewhere between annoyed and amused.

One thing I love is her child-like response to stories or pictures that don’t send what is, in her mind, a positive image.   She hates a story that doesn’t finish as she would want, and would even get something wrong before filling in the correct, but not-so-positive answer.   As one example, she was presented with a picture of a bird on the side of a birdbath.   The sun was beaming overhead and the bird had drops of sweat (yeah, I know) popping out from its little brow.    The options underneath the picture were to read and circle either “a wet day” or “a dry day.”    The youngest argued with me that she should circle the wet day because she didn’t like the fact that the bird was sweating and unable to get any water.  “He could die!”  (Did I mention she’s also a drama queen?)    Anyway, trying to be a kid for a moment, I suggested that we pray for the bird.   Then she alerts me that he’s only paper, with a look that indicated that I was the village idiot.   I guess my sense of timing on reality vs. fantasy might need a little work.   Today in learning the word end combination of –ar, we read a story with a character called Bossy R, and yes, he was bossy.    The youngest had problems with him immediately and stopped the story short with her argument on why there should be a different type of character.  

With a bit more time to think, her resistance to a less-than-positive image reminded me of one of my dear sisters in Christ.   She was one of the first people I met on my first job, and we became instant friends as she was one of those unashamed, preach-wherever-I-go type of Christians.   800 miles from home and still trying to find my way in corporate America, hearing her was like going home.    Anyway, I can remember always asking her the customary “how is your day?”    Her response was always positive, followed by the statement, “I refuse to let it (the day) go any other way.”    At a different time in my life, I confess that I would blow off her comment, thinking that she was just a bit too perky for me.   But lately, I think she, and the youngest, are on to something.   How might my life be different if I insisted on happy endings?    I might be less sensitive.   I might become more optimistic instead of taking pride in being more realistic.   I might make different choices.    I might be more discerning about behaviors and people who don’t share my outlook.   I might work harder to see that happy ending.   Hmmm…  

As I tweeted (twittered? twitted?) on yesterday, I’ve known for a while that I needed to make substantial changes to my blog, but I hesitated for a number of reasons.   Not the least of the reasons was how to recreate a blog, move all the work of the past three years and build a new set of subscribers.    The recent online ministry conference I recently attended was confirmation of what had been marinating in my mind and spirit for months now.    Though I’ve not blogged with the explicit purpose of ministry, I have stumbled—I use that word intentionally as it was largely by accident-- into this vehicle that has allowed me to advise as best I could, to encourage, and to inspire.    During the conference, there were several nuggets of truth that I could not ignore if indeed I was to fulfill this blog’s potential:

1. Readers are more attracted to blogs that are not “busy” in look and feel.  Keep it simple.

2. Words inspire, but a picture or two (or a few hundred—LOL) allow those reading your blog a more intimate look into your life and its happenings.

3.  Blogging consistently is critical to maintaining and increasing readership.   If you plan to be away for a while, let people know.

4.  Your blog should be easy to navigate—this includes labels/categories, connectivity of information, and access to meaningful content.

5.  Just as you have focal points in your home, make sure the focal point on your blog is the content.  Avoid distracting, overly done “blinkies” and other decorative items.

6.  Be willing to be transparent; if your blog constantly tells of how you have it all together, no one wants to hear about it.

1   There are other tips, and thankfully I am not guilty of all of these, but these are the ones that stuck in my memory.     Of course, the immediate pushback, and the one that I offered as I’ve heard these and other tips, is that you don’t blog for the purposes of getting others to read your blog; you blog for you, and if no one reads it, that’s just fine.   I think this is true, but as my blog takes on a different purpose than was my original intent, I needed a change.

My original intent in blogging was to reach other African-American homeschooling parents to 1) market A Blessed Heritage, and 2) to share, through our own experiences, that this is a viable educational alternative for African-American families, and more specifically, families like ours—led by two former “yuppies” living our middle class financial nightmare dream.    Why so narrow a focus?   It started from a common element that we separated ourselves from when we began homeschooling—others like us, though unlike us, actually felt a certain amount of satisfaction in being one of few blacks in their public school systems.     Also, I have concluded after several years that there is a common thread of uniqueness to African-American women who homeschool, though some of the same could be said about any homeschooler.      Many women I’ve met are college-educated sisters who’ve walked away from a “good” job, much to the dismay and scorn of parents who’ve sacrificed for those higher learning opportunities.    I should also mention that older relatives who can remember integration of public schools also consider you a Benedict Arnold.    We all struggle to find history products, among other tools, that include more of us than Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington (maybe), George Washington Carver, and Martin Luther King,Jr.  

Though I’m by no means the first African-American woman to homeschool, I set out to capture our days—good, bad, and ugly—in a way that celebrated our home and communicated our determination to stick with home education.    I sought to describe, minus my own limitations, what we did and how we did it.    Finally, I wanted to acknowledge what I know is the experience of many of us when we seek to find others who share the same struggles that I mentioned earlier: isolation.   Rather real or perceived, this sense that “I’m the only black homeschooler on planet Earth” is more detrimental to our kids than to us, and it is a cancer in even the most well-planned homeschool environments.      So, with all of that in mind, I started my blog, “With a Taste of Chocolate.”

Fastforward three years.   There are a number of African-American women blogging, many with blogs that shame mine.   That’s not a spark of competition, just a statement of fact.   My audience is a larger, much more diverse audience than I thought would be interested in my blog (and that’s a good thing!).   Finally, as I continue to educate myself on the full potential of blogs, Twitter, and other social networking tools, I have to admit that I am guilty of several of the items I’ve listed above.   As just one example, I felt pretty good about allowing my creative side to blossom via my chocolate-themed blog categories, “cocoa,” “fondue,” “mousse,”etc.    Some found them cute, but even I forget what the difference is and sometimes place items in the wrong category.  

(Thanks for hanging in there with me so far).    I’ve had another awakening about the blog as a marketing tool.   I’ve purchased caladiums from the same farm in Florida every year.    The owner faithfully writes an annual letter to all of her customers—a very personal letter discussing her family, her farm, and everything that’s happened in the last year.   I thought this was a bit silly when I got the original letter—I didn’t know this woman!   I realize now that she was blogging in the pre-blog era—allowing her customers to meet her past her products.   And that has now become a part of my education.    In marketing a business, people don’t necessarily buy your product; they buy you.   Suffice it to say that I needed a better marriage between the blog and the business website.   

So, in short (as this post has become ridiculously long), I believe that I can accomplish all of this without moving my blog and its 200+ entries—at least, not for now.    There are more changes to come.   At any rate, I was obedient to the Lord’s urging, so we’ll see where it goes.   God bless you.

My husband is spending today with our kids, and today I just wanted to share my heart:

Lord, I thank you for this time, and for the opportunity to spend time with You.   You are El Shaddai.  You are Jehovah Jireh.  There is none like You and there is no one besides You.   Yet I confess that there are so many distractions, and so many avenues Satan would have my mind travel right now.  Forgive me for the many times that I’ve gotten too busy for You and not sought Your face. I’m grateful for the opportunity to sit at your feet and worship, to learn, and to receive.

Our family is entering into a season of unprecedented favor, and our hearts’ desire is to stay before You and continue to be good and faithful stewards of Your many blessings.  Give us wisdom and knowledge to minister to the changing needs of each of our children.  Give us courage to not conform to the world’s standard.   Help us as we trust You to mold them into who You want them to be—more than conquerors, blessed in their going in and in their coming out, head and not the tail, above and never beneath.

We begin the school year knowing that secular knowledge has its place, but nothing is more important than leading our kids into relationship with You, and developing in them a heart like Yours.  We need Your guidance.   We need fresh revelation, and we thank You in advance for the places You’re taking us spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, and physically.  Hallelujah to Your name.