Wheels on the (Homeschool) Bus

Jeanette White is a freelance writer and editor living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She and her husband are homeschooling two daughters adopted from China.

My daughters have been enamored with buses since they could point and say “Buh!” Spotting them on the street became a toddler game of Slugbug without the arm punch at every sighting. They knew all the words to “Wheels on the Bus” and sang them often. Too often. Even now, Mei-Mei and Jie-Jie like to watch kids disappear into school buses at a stop visible from our breakfast table.

My own fascination with school buses ended abruptly in first grade, after a few weeks of riding more than an hour a day. I remember pulled pigtails, boys’ belching contests and painful boredom. But while one of the best aspects of homeschooling is the freedom to think outside the box, I couldn’t seem to think outside the bus when it came to the girls’ first day of school.

That’s how we ended up standing at a city bus stop, chatting with strangers and soaking up a burst of September sunshine. We took the long way to a small Korean restaurant, passing parks and shopping centers and neighborhoods we don’t often see. It was high adventure for two kids who live nowhere near a city bus route.

It’s not your typical rite of passage, but their first day of school was commemorated with good kimchee, ginger candy, and a post-lunch visit to an Asian market, where we browsed and bought a bag of salty dried plums. I failed to take my camera, but the girls have 2-hour bus passes for their keepsake box.

Afterward, we were lured home by a stack of tantalizing new books and art supplies. For a book junkie like me, this part of homeschooling is a slice of heaven. First Language Lessons! Artistic Pursuits! Writing with Ease! The Case of the Fiddle-Playing Fox! (Oops, wrong stack.) Chalk pastels, watercolor crayons, whiteboard, 3-ring binders! Did I mention my fondness for office supplies?

I started our week with subjects we’ve been doing all along at a more relaxed pace, like reading, math and writing. As the days passed, we added new subjects to the routine one by one. I thought of jugglers who start their act with three bowling pins and add the rest one at a time, taking a moment to get their rhythm with each addition. I’ll write more about how our lessons are going a little later.

We’ve scheduled two weekly classes away from home—fiddle lessons and beginning gymnastics. Jie-Jie and Mei-Mei have been fiddling for several months, but gymnastics class fills a new time slot for us. Is it too much? Just enough? We’ll soon find out. Every friend I’ve quizzed has a different take on how much road time is too much. I’d love to hear your ideas about that.

We ended our week of homeschooling with a belated Moon Festival celebration at our friends’ house, eating Chinese take-out and walking around the block with colorful paper lanterns lit up by tea candles. Four giggling girls led the way, circling back only when a candle needed to be lit again. Cloudy skies made it easy to forget the moon was nowhere near full. In a weird blend of cultures, Mei-Mei and Jie-Jie played The Chicken Dance on their fiddles while my friend playfully tried to follow on her erhu, shipped here from Shanghai.

Something tells me we’ll manage to think outside the box after all.

Read-Aloud of the Week:
The Three Princes: A Tale from the Middle East, by Eric A. Kimmel

Quotes of the Week:
“I can spell a-e-i-o-u!” –Mei-Mei, 5

“It looks like a dot-to-dot W.” – Jie-Jie, 7, spotting Cassiopeia while stargazing

Wheels on the (Homeschool) Bus

Back to the Beach

Jeanette White is a freelance writer and editor living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She and her husband are homeschooling two daughters who are adopted from China.

I thought long and hard about how to make Jie-Jie’s earliest memories of first grade special. In the end, we went to the beach.

For a week.

I wasn’t really that desperate to sell my kids on homeschooling. So far, they’re believers. It’s just that we waited way too long to reserve a yurt on Washington state’s coast, and the only time we could find an opening was—surprise!—the week everyone else went back to school.

The morning we packed to leave, I realized we weren’t actually playing hooky. Consider this exchange with 5-year-old Mei-Mei:

"Mom, how do you spell ‘today’?"

"T-O-D-A-Y."

"T-O ... and then what?"

"D."

"D ... then what?"

"A."

"A ... and then what, Mama?"

"Y. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to keep a diary of our trip."

This would be a very long trip, I thought. Then I smiled. Her first diary! The week would be an extended field trip captured in Mei-Mei’s own words! Why hadn’t I thought of that?

Admittedly, I’d already planned some of the week’s education. I’ve nurtured the girls’ love of audio-books since they were very young, so during the drive we listened to stories told by a first-rate storyteller, Jim Weiss. The Jungle Book was the favorite this time.

I’d ransacked the public library and our bookshelves at home for field guides and kid-friendly titles about the ocean and Pacific Northwest rain forest. I tucked the books between their rolled-up sleeping bags and booster seats. Halfway to our destination, I checked “reading practice” off my mental list. That was taking care of itself.

My face lit up again when Jie-Jie and Mei-Mei requested the Geography Songs: Sing Around the World CD and then asked me to put their favorite tunes on repeat. (“Bagpipes, the Beatles and Big Ben are found in the British Isles ...”)

That evening, when I watched Jie-Jie’s face as she saw the ocean for the first time, any lingering concern about leaving the math books behind melted into the sunset. I was reminded that life’s best lessons don’t necessarily come in books marked “educational.”

It truly was a week of firsts, as the girls reminded me again and again. They spotted their first banana slug in the Quinault Rain Forest, plucked their first sand dollar from the shore, visited their first cranberry bog. They learned what it’s like to fall asleep to the sound of waves slapping the beach, and oh, they blew their first-ever bubble gum bubbles just south of Seattle. They’d want you to know that.

Already, I’m wondering if back-to-school should mean back-to-the-beach for our family next year.

Now we’re home, and my attention shifts to the stack of new school books that somehow looks even more enticing than before. Our package of art supplies has arrived in the mail, and my niece remembered to flood the Nile while we were gone, leaving the delta surprisingly green. Instead of watching spellbound as the sun sets over the ocean, I’m contemplating ways to convince my husband he’d enjoy mummifying a chicken for that ancient history project.

All the shining moments from our beach trip are captured in photos and our collective memory—which is a good thing, because Mei-Mei showed me her diary when we got home. On a single sheet of flowery stationery, she wrote: “Today I am going to the sea shore.”

On the next line, she wrote: “I am halfway to the sea shore.”

That is all. And that’s enough.


Read-Aloud of the Week:
Odysseus retold by Geraldine McCaughrean

Quote of the Week:
“How do you spell ‘Mommy loves me’?” – Mei-Mei, 5

Back to the Beach

O is for Olympics

Jeanette White is a freelance writer and editor living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She and her husband are homeschooling two daughters who are adopted from China.

My first glimpse of a Beijing Olympics souvenir caught me off-guard. My husband and I were walking through Tiananmen Square on a pre-adoption tour six years ago when we met the men selling Olympic ball caps.

“Wow, these guys plan ahead,” I thought, distracted by more pressing matters like whether I’d packed enough formula and what my soon-to-be daughter might be doing at that very instant.

A few weeks ago, I watched the opening ceremonies with Jie-Jie and realized China had been planning for that moment her entire life. She beamed when I told her China was named host country the same year she was born – two special moments forever connected. In an instant, the ceremonies became more than a chance to stay up past bedtime.

For families with kids adopted from China, the Beijing Olympics have been a great springboard to exploring the country where their own story begins. Soon we were huddled around our desk globe, finding Beijing and seeing how far it is from the provinces where they were born.

We reread One Year in Beijing, a picture book I bought when Jie-Jie turned 6. We’re big fans of illustrator Grace Lin, and this book shows us China’s capital city through the eyes of an 8-year-old girl my kids can relate to.

Later we reached for C is for China, a book we like mostly for Sungwan So’s photos of day-to-day life in China. But we didn’t get past “A is for …” when Jie-Jie jumped up to grab the wooden abacus a friend from Hong Kong gave us. I couldn’t resist sneaking in some playful math, but we eventually made it to “Z is for Zen.”

While we continued our reading frenzy, another home-school friend with kids born in China stretched a strip of masking tape across their living room carpet so the three girls could do gymnastics like the Olympic athletes. They somersaulted, tumbled and walked the “balance beam.” Inspired by trampoline competitions, they bounced on a smaller model meant for exercise. (Their mom drew the line when the budding Olympians dipped into a box of powdered sugar to chalk their hands.)

When they spotted athletes from cities the family had visited on their adoption trips, the connection helped bring China to life for kids who don’t remember their time there. Other friends are recording the flurry of China-related TV specials to watch later with their kids, learning about the Chinese flag, and talking about things invented in China. Think fireworks!

Jie-Jie and her little sister were especially enchanted with the drummers and dancers at the opening ceremonies, so I pulled out our copy of Color & Learn: China and they colored pictures of ornamental fans and dancers wearing traditional costumes. (As a mom, I appreciate the educational paragraphs under each picture.) We added their creations to the three-ring binders holding their favorite art, handwriting worksheets and activity pages related to China.

It’s been fun to watch my daughters splash in their grandmother’s swimming pool, more determined than ever to learn to swim. I have to think Michael Phelps had something to do with that. And the Olympics definitely boosted their enthusiasm about the gymnastics classes that will be part of their P.E. this fall.

Now, some of our China-theme books are back on the shelves for awhile, and the powdered sugar is tucked safely away in the pantry. One adventure ends, and we’re left with room for another. As I think back to that day in Tiananmen Square, I can hardly believe the long-anticipated Beijing Olympics are ending and the baby daughter I hadn’t yet met is starting first grade.

Two big moments, forever connected.

Read-Aloud of the Week:
The First Olympic Games: A Gruesome Greek Myth with a Happy Ending retold by Jean Richards

Quote of the Week:
“If you break a law, do they have to fix it?” - Mei-Mei, 5.

O is for Olympics

The River on the Porch

Jeanette White is a freelance writer and editor living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She and her husband are home-schooling two daughters who are adopted from China.

My 5 year old was chattering about the Nile River when her uncle tossed a pop quiz her way: “Where is the Nile River?”

Mei-Mei didn’t hesitate. “On the porch.”

And she was right. You can’t get to our front door without passing the foil-lined river carved through potting soil in the kids’ old sand table. We’ve been having fun with it for a couple of weeks. We planted grass seed, flooded the river and watched the “crops” grow. We floated boats made from dried weeds, added toy pyramids, and read books with names like Bill and Pete Go Down the Nile and Croco’Nile.

The river model and a few other optional activities in our history book prompted me to start history lessons in July instead of September. Autumn always zips by too fast, and I didn’t want to end up skipping the best outdoor projects to save time or meet a work deadline.

Some home-school parents admit an aversion to crafts and hands-on projects. I totally understand. By nature, I’m much more inclined to read about a river than recreate one. But the things I remember best from my own elementary years didn’t happen at a desk. So, we kicked off The Story of the World: Ancient Times with something I knew my daughters would love—an archaeological dig. In the vegetable garden.

Where I once planted spaghetti squash, I buried “artifacts” from the kitchen, toy box and garage. Using small spades, a scoop cut from a milk jug, and sifting screens, the girls excavated a couple dozen items. They cleaned their finds with old toothbrushes and shouted “Eureka!” with each discovery. (They borrowed that word from a character in Archaeologists Dig for Clues.)

When we studied nomads, the girls used thick brushes to paint simple animal designs on cave walls that strangely resembled crumpled, inside-out grocery bags taped to the door. Soon they’ll try their hand at stenciled hieroglyphs on homemade scrolls. And when we study ancient China, we can make poster-paint pictograms and clay Ming bowls. Wondering where we'll put all this stuff? That’s what cameras are for.

I found a welcome time-saver in The Story of the World’s companion activity guide, packed with coloring pages, maps, projects, review questions and lists of good books to round out each chapter. The guide quickly became the main source for the colorful history binders my daughters are creating. I’ll tell you more about those educational keepsakes later.

Looking ahead, I know I want to delve deeper into ancient China than this particular book will take us. Please post any ideas you want to share! (The history lessons were originally meant for my daughter starting first grade, but her 5-year-old sister is intent on playing along.)

So, along with a little reading, writing and music lessons, that’s our summer school. The vast majority of their time is spent playing pretend, riding bikes and catching bugs. In the end, Mei-Mei and Jie-Jie may not remember which Egyptian god had a hawk’s head or who cracked the hieroglyphic code. That’s all right. They’ll cycle through ancient history twice more before finishing high school. For now, we’re laying a foundation and learning that ancient civilizations are absolutely fascinating.

Still, I do think there’s a good chance they’ll remember digging up coins in the garden and dodging the world's longest river to get to the front door.

This Week’s Favorite Read: Casting the Gods Adrift by Geraldine McCaughrean

Favorite quote: “Mommy, should Jie-Jie be playing in the Nile?” – Mei-Mei, 5

The River on the Porch

Lessons in the Living Room

Jeanette White is a freelance writer and editor living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She and her husband are homeschooling two daughters who are adopted from China.

“I just cannot picture Jeanette as a mom.” That’s the first thing my brother said when he heard I was adopting a baby girl from China. I was surprised enough to jot down his comment in my journal.

But in a way, I understood. He saw me as his latte-addicted, career-obsessed journalist sister who considered indoor plants a huge commitment. I didn’t know the front of a diaper from the back and didn’t care.

Fast forward several years: My husband and I have two little girls, 5 and 6, and our lives have been totally and wonderfully changed by theirs. When I quit my job downtown awhile back, they helped empty my desk and blew kisses to the tall brick building as we walked away. I now work part-time from a home office (a.k.a. former nursery) with one daughter’s name still in animal-shaped wooden letters on the door.

When someone—anyone—shouts “Mom!” in the grocery store, I spin around. I’ve washed my best clothes with crayons and sent embarrassingly enthusiastic emails about potty training. I stifled a shriek and smiled when my youngest daughter handed me a bright blue newt tail, still wiggling.

These days, my barista’s name is Mr. Coffee.

If all that doesn’t sound like total-immersion motherhood, try this: My kids won’t be going to school this fall. When their friends board the bus for kindergarten and first grade, they’ll be meeting me in the living room for lessons.

We are joining the growing ranks of home-schooling families, and while that may raise eyebrows among some friends and relatives, I couldn’t be more thrilled. In fact, like a lot of eager, rookie home-school moms, I’m not waiting until fall to get started.

That’s partly because I’m excited, but to be honest, it’s also because I’m a little nervous. Will I be good at this? Will my daughters grow and benefit in all the ways I envision? Am I depriving my kids of an important rite of passage by keeping them home? Can I juggle the roles of mother, teacher and professional writer—an integral part of my identity? Without driving my entire family crazy?

To paraphrase my brother, can I picture myself as a home-school mom? (I don’t even own a denim jumper, but that’s a stereotype we’ll talk about another day.) I know I’m not alone in this adventure. I’ve even met quite a few home-schooling families with kids adopted from China.

I’d love to have you join me on my journey into the rapidly expanding, ever-changing world of home schooling. I’ll share the ups and downs, successes and stumbles, great curriculum, helpful websites and other education resources I come across.

I’m especially excited about the opportunity to make it part of our routine to dive into Chinese history and culture, from ancient times to the present. Over time, we’ll include everything from basic history and geography to learning the language. We’ll even dabble in Chinese cooking. In fact, we have a history chapter on ancient China coming up pretty soon. Time to start gathering materials.

I hope those of you who’ve been down the home-school path before me can offer advice, encouragement or words of wisdom. Chances are, you can save me a step—or a misstep. And so, here I go.

Lessons in the Living Room