#don’t homeschool your kids unless you’re confident you can teach them

[tonsillessscum]

*screams into my pillow bc my parents set me up for failure bc of the way they educated me*

[heartbreaker-johnny]

TATBILB-Chenle

(credit to gif maker, I tried to just get a gif off tumblr but like nothing was showing up like Chenle didn't exist?)

Chenle and I used to hate each other.

He was friends with Jisung since they were about ten. When he moved here from China, he had a very big superiority complex. His family was rich and they didn’t hide it, but they hadn’t exactly done a good job on teaching their son to be modest. He had been raised by nannys and done private schools and homeschooling before the move. His parents decided that after the move it would be best to send him to public school for a bit. He lacked a lot of social skills and manners so they figured public school might help with that.

Jisungs school wasn’t fancy or expensive but it was in a way exclusive. It was a school for the performing arts and most of the kids who attended also excelled academically. Chenle was no exception. He did a lot of singing n China and gained a lot of attention, not to mention he was very smart.

Jisung had a passion for dance, so our parents insisted that he attended the school. He did well in most classes but for some reason, math was the bane of his exsistance. After a few weeks of Chenle being at the school, their teacher had the idea of teaming Jisung and Chenle up. Chenle didn’t seem to be making friends well and Jisung, despite being the shy kid he was, always was very welcoming to new people. Chenle also excelled at math particularly, so the situation seemed like a win-win for both boys. The only person who seemed to lose, was me.

Every single time Jisung brought him home, he tested my patience. When he was younger, he just annoyed me. He would go off on little rants on how our family had such cheap things and his family could afford brand name. Our food wasn’t good enough and our clothes were off the rack. He just seemed to complain about everything. But Jisung always took the effort to give him a chance, despite his rough exterior. He would remind Chenle that not everyone was as fortunate as him and sometimes cheap food tastes the best and off the rack clothes were the most comfortable. He was by far the better sibling in the family.

When he was older, Chenle’s remarks were more geared towards me. He would comment on my looks, my clothes, the books I read or the shows I watched. It was a different topic to torture me about every day.

“No wonder you’re single Y/N, have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

“Wow, I read that book in the third grade. Was it too hard for you to comprehend before now?”

“I hardly see you with any friends. Are you sure Mark even likes you?”

I didn’t let him get away with his attitude problem. I went off on him every time a remark went too far and constantly told my parents that I didn’t want him allowed in the house anymore. I just couldn’t understand why Jisung put up with him. Why would anyone stay friends with someone like him for so long? He just repeatedly told me, I didn’t know the real Chenle and that one day, maybe he’d show me the real him. He wasn’t wrong.

One day, I was sent to pick up Jisung from school early. He would be missing his last class and the class he was currently in wasn’t quite over yet. I wondered the halls of the school, looking at the various posters and trophy cases that lined the walls. I suddenly heard something hit a wall and I could hear faint voices. I looked around where I was and determined that it was coming from the boys bathroom, across the hall from where I was standing. I moved closer and could tell there were multiple voices and another slam to the wall. I opened the door ever so slightly and listened in, trying to figure out if maybe someone was having some kind of medical problem and they were calling for help. That wasn’t what was happening.

“You think ‘cause your family is rich you’re hot shit huh? You think you can walk around here all high and mighty and not have to your fair share of classroom chores?”

“Did you really think we were going to let you get away with always weaseling out and leaving us to do all the work?”

“I told you, I’m allergic to the cleaning spray, I can’t be anywhere near it.”

I recognized the last voice immediately. It was Chenle.

“Like I’m gonna believe that! If you were allergic, why would the teacher keep using it?”

“I don’t know, ask her!” Chenle fired back.

“I think you just think you’re too good to pull your own weight. We around here, we don’t let people skate by like that. I think it’s about time you got what’s been coming to you.”

I had a feeling I knew what was coming next and as much as I hated Chenle, I wasn’t going to let him get his ass beat. If anyone was gonna do it, it was gonna be me.

I threw the door open and rushed inside the bathroom to find two boys towering over Chenle who was on the floor. They were scrawny kids, he totally could have taken them, but it was Chenle we were talking about.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I yelled at the boys.

“This is the boys room, get out!” One boy said.

“Yeah this doesn’t concern you!” Said the other.

“If it concerns Chenle it concerns me! Now unless you both wanna get your ass beat by a girl, I suggest you leave. And don’t even think I would beat your ass because Chenle here can most certainly confirm that I will.” I threatened the losers.

They glared at me, then Chenle once more before rushing out of the bathroom.

I crouched down to Chenle, who was still on the floor, his lip and cheek had cuts in them.

“Did they hit you?” I asked, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“What do you care?” He asked swatting my hand away and getting up.

“In case you didn’t notice, I just saved your ass. You really wanna be a dick to me right now?” I said, shocked he was still being rude.

“I could have handled it myself.” I said, his confidence wavering.

“Yeah that cut in your lip and gash in your cheek really scream ‘badass fighter’.” I said rolled my eyes at him.

He didn’t say anything and just glared at the sink he stood in front of. I could tell he felt ashamed, this was not a side of himself he had ever intended on showing someone. Jisung’s words before suddenly sunk in.

“Have they done this to you before? Have they been bullying you?” I asked him.

“It’s the first time they’ve hit me. They hate me.” Chenle said quietly.

This wasn’t something new. This had been going on for a long time.

“Listen, you can’t let these assholes get away with doing this to you. They’re just jealous.” I said, wetting a paper towel. I turned his head to look at me and I began to wipe away the blood on his face. “You gotta stand up to them or they’re gonna keep doing it. And don’t just run your mouth like you usually do. If they hit you, hit them back. Report them to your teacher. Don’t walk by yourself for a while. They’re probably gonna try to use this against you. Just remind them, I’m always down to beat some ass.”

“Why are you helping me? You hate me.” He asked me.

“Yeah, because you give me good reason to.” I reminded him. “I just don’t tolerate bullying. I’ve been there and it sucks. Besides, even if you’re a dick, you’re Jisung’s friend. If he’s kept you around this long, you must be a good friend to him.”

I cleaned his face and fixed his hair for him before deciding my work as done and leaving.

It wasn’t until a few months later that I learned my words had stuck with him.

Yuta and I had broken up days before but my heart was still ripped wide open. It was the middle of the night, I was having a complete meltdown in the bathroom of my house. Chenle was staying the night, which he did every now and then. I was trying my best to stay quiet but I was still loud enough for him to hear me through the door.

I had forgotten to lock the door, so he knocked once, then opened it and stepped inside. He sat down next to me on the floor but did me a favor and didn’t look at me.

“If it makes you feel any better, he wasn’t good enough for you.” He said, leaning into the wall.

I looked over at him, confused by what he said and why he was there.

“I know he made you happy and he seemed to really love you, but you’re way out of his league.” He said.

I laughed, more like let out another sob, but I was a mess.

“I think it was more the other way around. Besides, it was a mutal agreement. We just weren’t good for each other anymore.” I said, truthfully.

“If it were mutal, you wouldn’t be on the bathroom floor crying because you aren’t with him.” He said. He was right and I hated it. “Sometimes the people we love the most aren’t meant to stay in our lives forever. Romantically, that is. Sometimes the people we need the most are people we didn’t realize we needed. You taught me that.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the boy. Jisung had been right. He did have another side to him that could be quite lovely.

“You’ll bounce back. You’ll find your perfect match. But until then, I’m gonna need you to get out of here because I’m about to burst.”

I laughed at him, them stood up and wiped my eyes.

“Thanks Chenle. Does this mean we’re friends now?” I asked, jokingly.

“Let’s just leave it at we’re friendly. You’re still an idiot but I don’t hate you.”

I nodded and left the room.

Sometimes the people we need the most are people we didn’t realize we needed. Chenle taught me that.

[themanuelruello]

Raising Old-Fashioned Kids in a High Tech World

I’m not a mommy blogger.

But you probably already knew that, huh?

It’s partially because I have little interest in telling folks how to raise their kids when I’m still trying to figure out how to raise mine, and partially because my inspiration rarely flows when it comes to that stuff.

I’ve never been one of the cool moms…

We don’t all have matching outfits for Christmas pix. (Heck, I haven’t even done a Christmas CARD in the last 5 years…)

I couldn’t plan a themed birthday party if my life depended on it.

We don’t do finger painting, homemade halloween costumes, or crafts with rainbow-colored pipe cleaners.

Fun snacks? Um, I think there’s a shriveled up string cheese in the fridge if you’re dying.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

So I couldn’t help but scratch my head when recently, the random photos I’ve been posting of our kids on Instagram have been getting a lot of engagement–even more engagement than my cute cow photos (which is saying a lot).

There was the photo of the kids sitting in their homemade pasture fort made from scraps of lumber from the wood pile.

The photo of the Three Amigos heading out to the pasture with their sack lunch.

And the photo of Mesa and Bridger toting off a refrigerator box to be turned into a covered wagon, then a cabin, and then a rocket.

The comments, messages, and likes I’ve received on these posts have made me think it’s time to dig into this (apparently radical) notion a little deeper.

How We (Accidentally) Started Raising Old-Fashioned Kids

Let me just start by saying I didn’t start doing any of this on purpose.

When Christian and I bought our homestead property in 2008, we were excited at the thought of raising our future children here, but I had absolutely no preconceived notions of what that would look like.

The kids have always come along with us, no matter what we doing. Not because we had some grand parenting philosophy guiding us, but rather because there’s a serious shortage of babysitters out here. And we have busy lives with a lot of moving parts, so it just made sense to pack the kids along with us, almost always.

As Mesa (our firstborn) grew, we just did what felt natural. When I’d milk, I’d bundle her up and she’d toddle along. When I’d ride my horse in the summer, I’d stick her in her playpen in the shady barn and let her nap. Bridger (our middle child) was snuggled into our tattered jogging stroller at 5-days old so he could accompany me to the barn to check on things. And Sage (our thirdborn) has been doing everything she can to keep up with her farm-raised siblings almost since the day she came out of the womb.

It was a lot of work at the beginning (putting on tiny mittens and boots x3 is tedious by any standard), but as they’ve grown, they’ve taking on more responsibility and have become pretty darn capable, if I do say so myself.

Mesa (9) and Bridger (6) do barn chores by themselves (unsupervised) each morning. They fill water, feed the chickens, check for eggs, move the horses, and feed the cats.

They can do almost all of the watering chores in the summer, pick vegetables for me in the garden, and scoop poop out of the barn (I still have to help them dump the wheelbarrow if it’s heavy, but no complaints here.)

They have responsibilities, and I’m a stickler for starting our homeschool routine by 8am each morning, but once school and chores are done, their day is mostly their own.

Boots are shoved on feet, and off they go with a hurried “Bye mom!”

And the house is suddenly quiet.

Outside, they run and scream. They ride bikes and throw balls. They poke sticks in the big water tank and pretend they are fishing. They climb on the hay bales and slide down the sides. They coerce the barn cats from their hiding spots and cuddle them until they melt in their arms. They pile up logs and bits of scrap wood to make wagons and forts and houses. They pretend with hammers, sticks, and shovels. They visit the cows in the pasture and scratch the goats. They embark on grand adventures behind house, weaving in and out of the tree rows. They collect rocks and birds nests and random treasures. They wade in the giant pasture mud puddle after a rain and utterly cake themselves in mud.

When I call them in for supper, they tend to be absolutely filthy, exhausted, and completely content.

Living 35+ miles from town has seriously limited the amount of playdates or structured kid activities we’ve been able to partake in thus far. And if I’m being honest, that used to bother me. A lot. I worried I was doing my kids a disservice by not driving them to all the lessons and Mommy and Me activities…

But I’m starting to realize the sort of unstructured childhood we implement here on the homestead, not because it was trendy, but rather because it was the only natural option, is actually a thing.

Who woulda thought?

The Mysterious Benefit of Dirt, Dust, & Animal Hair

I’ve been absolutely fascinated with all the articles I’ve seen floating around lately with scientific “proof” of an old-fashioned childhood (even though they don’t call it that). Our grandparent’s generation never even thought to question these things, but here we are in 2019 having such revelations such as:

The New England Journal of Medicine observed the link Amish farming communities and their reduced occurrence of asthma 

A study that shows a rural childhood with exposure to animals and dust can boost the immune system and reduce occurrence of mental illness

This article in the Washington Posts that highlights the increase of childhood balance issues due to lack of movement throughout the day 

This post on ADDitude discussing how playing outside can decrease ADHD symptoms in kids

The post on the World Economic Forum that encourages parents to let their children to be bored to increase creativity

It’s really easy for us, in all our modern wisdom, to brush off this sort of childhood as being a thing of the past, but can we afford to merely relegate it to the history books?

In my humble opinion, no we cannot.

Yes, we live in an entirely different time with more concerns and more dangers, but for the first time in history, we have a generation of kids who aren’t outside and aren’t moving their bodies. Unstructured play, rolling around in the grass, or playing in the dirt are identified as being crucial to human health and development, we can no longer dismiss them as the optional, silly parts of childhood.

If this trend continues, where will we be?

Free Time Magic

As I watch our kids race, imagine, explore, and create, I am fascinated to watch valuable traits naturally emerge. The kind of traits that will carry them far into adulthood.

They carry themselves with confidence. They find joy in their work (most of the time…) They are creative. They have the ability to solve problems on their own (like filling and carrying a heavy chicken bucket, and coercing the escapee horses back into the right pen).

Is it sunshine and roses all the time?

Well, of course not.

Sometimes they fight. Sometimes they get hurt. And sometimes they come to the house with a scraped knees and snot running down their face.

But that just comes with the territory.

I’m not claiming to have it all figured out, not by a long shot. And I’m usually extremely hesitant to give parenting advice, because, well, my oldest is only 9 and I still have yet to determine how this whole gig will turn out.

But I am completely and utterly convinced one of the most powerful parts of a healthy childhood lies is the unstructured free time. 

It’s powerful stuff.

How to Start Implementing an Old-Fashioned Childhood for Your Kids

Whenever I talk about this, naturally, the logical question that arises next is, “And how exactly does one do this?”

Here’s my best advice:

Step One: Kick them out the door and leave them alone.

Step Two: Repeat the next day.

Kind of kidding…. but not really. I realize dangers do exist. And it’s quite likely that you’ll be able to let your kid ride their bike across town (unless it’s a very small town). Of course, you’ll need to weigh the risks in your particular situation and be mindful of them.

But we do kids a disservice by scheduling them too much.

Let them play.

Limit the screens. 

Don’t fear their boredom– that’s where creativity is born.

Fight the urge micro-manage them.

Let them fail.

Teach them to wonder and ask questions.

Give them hours on a summer day to hunt insects, look at clouds, and roll in the grass.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m NOT against putting your kids in activities (we do 4-H and a weekly homeschool co-op), but when it comes to the most meaningful activities we do as a family, I’ve found that my kids light up the most when they have the chance to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

For us, growing food together is more meaningful than finger-painting. Not that there’s anything wrong with finger painting… But my kids love knowing the green beans they planted are a crucial part of our family’s meal plan come July, they argue over who gets to smash the tomatoes into the food mill when we make sauce, and Mesa beams with pride when she can rattle off the tag numbers of our beef cattle by heart.

So no… I’m not a mommy blogger, and I won’t pretend for one minute that I know everything about parenting or raising kids. But I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Rogers when he said, “Play is the work of childhood.”

And I’ll venture to say that if we can parent like it’s 1955, our kids will be a whole lot better off.

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