Ewww.

I just finished reading a new book: Write these Words on Your Children: Inside the World of Conservative Christian Homeschooling.

I know that wouldn't ordinarily make people say "eww" but I'm what they call around here a heathen homeschooler. Mind you, I'm not a heathen, just a heathen homeschooler. It's all relative, apparently.

I don't know which was more appalling -- their political leanings or the first case study in the book. This woman has nine children, all of whom are being homeschooled at once. They work quietly on their own, emerging from their rooms to ask questions and have her check their work. She runs a quiet, organized, controlled homeschool environment. In short, she makes me want to puke. Sorry if that offends anyone, but I couldn't read more than three pages of the chapter. It was just too disheartening.

My basic day starts at 7:30 when The Girl starts yelling at me to fix her some breakfast. She's been up since 2:30 or so, watching PBS and dozing in the recliner. I get up, kick the boy out of bed, and then shuffle off to the shower. By 8:30, we've all watched Lazytown (in Spanish) and Curious George (in English), and we've all dressed and eaten. I bark at them to turn the fricking TV off, and send them outside to swing. School usually starts in earnest by 9:00.

The Boy's assignments are all written on the white board, marked "with mom", "on the computer", or "by yourself". He's supposed to work on the "by myself" items while I start on Lora's journal and Math-U-See. By the time I've exhausted The Girl's patience, I pounce on The Boy and inflict some reading and either Science or Social Studies on him. (You'd be amazed how long it sometimes takes to communicate: the French came here looking for the cross-continental waterway, and ended up trading furs instead. Their trading posts became cities.) When we've finished, I go back to The Girl's math and then we work through her grammar.

Lunch is at World World o'clock (11:30). The Girl will do arithmetic after lunch by herself, and we'll do literature/language arts after that. Somewhere in between, I get the rest of The Boy's stuff done. Provided I can keep him awake. *sigh*

This doesn't include all the incidental screaming ("turn off the TV", "get in here", "stay in the chair", "STOP SCREAMING!!") or the whining ("but I'm tired", "but I'm bored", "but it's too hard") or the delay ("but I'm soooo tired", "but I'm getting a snack", "but I'm getting an animal", "but I'm getting a drink", "but I'm getting gum").

Where does this woman in the book fit in all these extra activities? I'm not even sure whether I really want to know how she does it. I think first she decided to have neurotypical children... And then gave them lobotomies.