The Autodidact

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE MARINOS! Well, here we are, wrapping up another year in the Marino Household. A quick update on the kids (OK, there are 7 of them, so maybe not so quick). We did manage to get them to all look at the camera, so that's something. Jared, 11, is still drawing. A lot. He has also taken up writing stories to the delight of his younger siblings. He can make anything he wants out of anything he can find lying around the house. An engineer in the making.  Imaginative, creative, cheerful, day dreamer. Natty, 6, keeps us laughing and well stocked with hugs and snuggles. He is just starting to learn to read and loves fractions, but other than that, he is pretty busy fighting dragons and monsters, building space ships with Legos, and enjoying his childhood. Brave, funny, loving, mischievous. Ellie, 3, is growing up too quickly but not so much that she can't indulge in reading stories with mom under a blanket. She is becoming quit

Ahh, the week of Thanksgiving. I look forward to the feast we will have this week, as I do every year. While folks are panicking, I am relaxed. Why? Because I do a little bit every day to avoid last minute running around. First things first: there is NO school this week! We all take a break and help prepare for the big meal on Thursday. Secondly, I plan very easy dinners this week, or use leftovers. 1. By the Monday of Thanksgiving week, my shopping is done, so no last minute trips to the grocery store. If I need bread to make my stuffing, this is the day I will bake bread. I make enough so there is enough left over for toast and sandwiches, too. I also make my pie crusts. I do not roll them out, but I flatten them a bit and store them in a stack with parchment paper or plastic wrap in between each crust, then cover with plastic wrap, and put in the fridge. I wipe out my oven thoroughly so we don't have to smell something burning all day while the turkey cooks. I put the frozen

Grammar. It's a word that strikes fear and confusion into the hearts of many home educators. Most folks are either convinced they do not know enough about it to teach it to their kids, or they know enough but don't know how to teach it to their kids. If you fall into either category, let me help you. Do you speak English? Yes? Then you are more than halfway there to being qualified to teach your child grammar. OK but what about the rest? I can help with that, too. There are only 8 parts of speech, so once you know those, you are in luck, and 3/4 of the way to being qualified to teach your child grammar! And you thought this would be painful, impossible, even. So now we get down to the nitty gritty. Conjunctions: There are three kinds: coordinating, subordinating and correlative. Coordinating ones, such as 'but' and 'and' and 'yet', join phrases and clauses. Subordinating conjunctions, and there are many, join a subordinate clause to the main c

22 years with this man. Dependable, quiet, kind, generous, gentle, hard working, faithful. I could go on, but you get the idea. 22 years of growing and learning, of raising kids and doing the mundane. I have had his unfailing support in our home education journey. He cleans up when the kids throw up or the dog messes in the house. He fixes things. He has seen me at my absolute worst countless times, yet still loves me. Every morning and every evening, he says goodbye and greets me with a hug and a kiss. No matter what I look like. He can still make my heart skip a beat. The knitting together of two lives is mysterious. How does it work? What makes it last? Why did he choose to love me? What exactly is it that binds us so tightly together? I am stubbornly, unequivocally, get-out-of-my-way committed to this man. He is just stuck with me and that's that. And I think he feels the same about me. Here's to 22 years of marriage. Thank you, Lord, for this man. Pho

I went trick or treating when I was a kid, and even as a teenager. I was in it for the candy and maybe the costume (if I had come up with a really good one) and for the scare factor. But that was it; it wasn't like I couldn't wait for Halloween. It was a day like most any other, and could take it or leave it. My folks seemed to tolerate the day and weren't really into it, except that one year my dad hid in the bushes and jumped out at some trick or treaters. Halloween fell off my radar until I had kids of my own. It was fun to find cute little costumes and parade them around the neighborhood, collecting candy that they either couldn't eat or couldn't keep track of, allowing me to indulge. The kids enjoyed it, but it wasn't that big of a deal. But after a few years, it just didn't feel right. Maybe because decorations and costumes became markedly darker. Maybe I was changing. I'm not sure, but one year, we decided to just hand out some candy but not t

Recently, a woman diagnosed with terminal brain cancer committed suicide. She made her decision very public and drew much attention from right-to-die and right-to-life folks alike. Death with dignity. The right to choose one's own destiny. The right to die when and where and how it suits the individual. It all sounds so reasonable, except that it's not. Physician assisted death is really a euphemism for suicide, which is, in turn, a euphemism for murder, or at the least, a name for a particular type of murder. Death is not very dignified, it's not meant to be. It is the ultimate slap in the face, the ultimate losing of control. It's terrifying and uncertain and out of our governance. But how we die is not really about us, it's about our loved ones and our caregivers. It's about letting those around us rise above it all and give us the love and care they want us to have, to comfort us, to be with us to the end. I have had the privilege of sitting with three

So many eager, new home educators excitedly buy curricula for their little ones, not wanting to waste any precious moments where there could be learning going on. I know I did with my first. I didn't spend a large amount of money, but I did spend a fair amount of time reading, researching and gathering just the "right" materials for my child. It didn't go as well as I had hoped. I was so busy trying to fit my child into a pre-made notion of how and what she should be learning, that I lost sight of the fact that she was still very much a baby. All I really needed was right in front of me. There is no need to spend money on curricula for kids 5 and under. The publishing companies love that new home educators are scared and unsure and want to give their kids the best education out there, because moms  just couldn't possibly be able to come up with something on their own.  And so we have companies that sell materials for kids 5 and under.  And we also have moms

The trees are singing one last song of praise to their Maker. The wind lets loose leaf confetti and it blows past the window as we drive down into the valley. The sun is allowed into more of the woods and it's not as dark here as it is in the summer. The sky is a blue only seen in the fall. Crickets sing all day because they know the time is short. Gather in the last of the garden fruits and herbs before the first frost. Still plenty of green on the trees, but soon the balance will tip in favor of reds and yellows and purples. It'a all so beautiful and sharp and fleeting. I know it's coming- the dark, the grey, the cold, the slow descent into a death-like world. It envelopes me every year, and I feel it coming on slowly, like old age. I want to see the beauty, to enjoy the colors and crisp air, to breathe it all in and bask. But I can't because I know it's all a prelude. A prelude to colorless, odorless, darkness. And I just can't shake the feeling. I know

Here's a simple chop suey recipe that is quick, delicious and simple. Cut 4 stalks of celery and 1 large onion: If you have fresh mushrooms, chop up an 8 oz package too. I don't always have fresh, so I use 2 cans. Saute the veggies in a couple of tablespoons butter. If using canned mushrooms, you can throw them in later. When the veggies are soft, add 2 or 2 1/2 pounds ground beef. This is a good time to throw in the canned mushrooms. Cook the beef thoroughly. Meanwhile cook up about 2 1/2 cups dry rice. I know, I know, you are asking about the bean sprouts, but I never seem to have those on hand. So, I just leave them out and put in extra veggies. But if you have them, by all means, throw some in! When the meat and veggies are done, add 3 cups of chicken or veggie broth. Simmer about 10 minutes. Whisk together 4 tablespoons each corn starch and soy sauce. It looks really lumpy and as if it will not mix, but it will. Add the corn starch mixture to th

So now you are in the midst of home education and you have little ones under foot while you are trying to do school with the older ones. It's not easy. In fact, some days it seems impossible. And you are wondering how in the world can your older kids get a decent education when you have little ones to care for? It can be done, no doubt about it. This is  one way it could look  and there are others, I am sure. But one way some moms are dealing with this situation is to put those little ones in pre-school. It seems the perfect solution! You can get all your school work done with the older ones without all those pesky interruptions from the younger ones. Your all important school day will flow along seamlessly with the needy and messy younger ones out of the way. But is that how life really works? Is that what we home school moms are called to do? Do we put some kids out of our way so we can get done what we want to get done with the other kids? What are we saying to our kids if

The princes and kings roll into town and we bend the knee and cast our crowns. We wave our hands and cheer, hoping that our idols can hear over their preening and self absorption. Bringing glitz and glamour and fame Would we know if the real King came? We pump our fists and put up signs hoping that at last this will be the time that the world takes notice of us. The money and good times will roll and we forget to look into our own soul. Oh, look at us, see our town rise! And we think we have won the prize that will save our city and put us on the map. What have we come to when all we have is this: idols of talent and fame and power we long to kiss. Bereft of the true and worthy King we deserted, seeking the temporal in which to be comforted, we end up with empty pockets and hearts. Will the princes and kings and rulers, in all their glory bring hope and healing and help to those with a sad story? Will they look deep into our broken hearts and give us all a br

Dear new mom, I know you are exhausted and feel at the end of your rope. I know you are wondering what in the world you were thinking when you thought having a baby sounded like a great idea. I know you think there will be no end to the sleepless nights and the crying and the nursing. So I will try to be brief. Because you need to sleep. You are in survival mode right now. You are recovering from 9 months of pregnancy, child birth (whether vaginal or C-section) and most likely trying to nurse a new baby. And you are doing it all at once. On very little sleep. And you've never done this before. You are trying to do what the pediatrician has told you to do, and you want to do it perfectly. And you may be trying to fit your baby and your mothering skills and needs into a cookie-cutter way of doing things. So, take your doctor's advice with a grain of salt; he is not a god. He is giving you advice based on recent research, trends and statistics, and doing so with good intentio

A week away, spent at the ocean. It's a lot of work, camping with a bunch of kids, but it's good medicine, too. 9 parents. 25 or so kids/young adults. 5 campsites. There was always someone to hang out with. The first two days were cold and grey and the ocean waves crashed angrily on the shore. Only the bravest of swimmers (or craziest) ventured out. So those of us who were not as brave (or maybe a bit saner) explored parts of the campground we normally don't see, since we are usually at the beach. Cape Henlopen State Park is located on the Delaware coast, and is built in and around the former Fort Miles, a WWII military installation. Barracks and guns aplenty and mysterious, abandoned buildings beckon the adventurous. But then the sun came out and it was all about the beach the rest of the week. Calm seas, and easy waves and lots of fun in the sand. Campfires and sleeping on the dunes, roaming the campground in the m

I hated school as a kid. I think this was why homeschooling appealed to me so much early on in my journey. I loved reading and writing and learning, mind you. I just hated school. The actual building. And the school bus, and the playground. I am, by nature, an extremely sensitive person. My feelings get hurt easily, and I have learned to thicken my skin a little bit. But I am also extremely sensitive to sounds and smells, to other people's emotions and actions; my senses are keen. And this is what I hated so much about school. The bus ride was noisy and smelly. Kids screaming and laughing and pushing each other around. Kids teasing and kids getting hurt; fights and tears and taunts. The bus smelled of dirty kids and leftover lunch and sour milk. It reeked of the exhaust fumes and dirt and scum on the floor. The seats smelled of vinyl and were not comfortable. The windows never seemed to line up quite right with the seats and sometimes I was unlucky to sit near a window that did

The last week of summer vacation. The 17 year old got up at the crack of dawn to go fishing and the 14, 11 and 9 year olds slept in as usual and the 5 and 3 year olds are playing. The summer sounds of screen doors slamming and cicadas humming and the trampoline bouncing flow in the window on the breeze. I love the summer. Not so much the hot and humid weather, which comes and goes here, but the laziness of it all. No particular schedule except going to the pool for lessons and then for playtime in the afternoon if the mood strikes. Birds chirping at my window and kids yelling to one another, and just waiting for the day to unfold.The whole aimlessness of it all is so appealing to me. Sure, I like predictability and a gentle rhythm to my days, but summer brings a much needed respite to all that. We spend nine intense months doing school at home, and when Memorial Day comes, I am  ready to throw in the towel and jump in the pool with the kids. No schooling year round for us. They a

I can hear the ice cream truck trolling through the neighborhood. Up and down streets, the same song playing over and over, beckoning children from their play. I hear the song pause for a moment and it seems the ice cream man has some customers. Then he goes on, round and round the city. And competing with this song are sirens. Many of them, and insistent and urgent. Fire and Police. It goes on for a while. The ice cream song wraps itself into the sirens and they become one song. And then they are both drowned out by the rain. Pouring relentlessly. Children scurry inside and the sirens have reached their destination. I run outside to fetch a book the 5 year old left on the picnic table and get soaked. The rain brings me peace. Peace to a soul burdened with many burdens; many that I cannot share. There is good in this world, and there is bad. There is joy and there is sadness. And many times they are intertwined and inseparable as the ice cream truck song and the sirens. There a

So it's that time of year again. Kids are going back to school, and school supplies and new clothes have been flying off the shelves. It's an exciting time of year for some, for some it is filled with dread and anxiety. As a homeschooler, I too, get caught up in it all. After a summer off spent playing at the pool, we start to look forward to the fall, and at the same time whisper a sad farewell to summer. But there is also a darker side to this season, one that we all see and think is OK. One that we laugh at and may even celebrate. It's the season we see moms rejoicing over the fact that the kids will be back in school. Moms doing a happy dance as the bus picks up the kids for their first day. Moms posting on social media how happy they are that summer is over and they can get back to their own lives. Moms declaring to the person sitting next to her at the pool: Hooray for me! The kids are leaving! Sure, they will still do the kids' laundry and cook their meals, b

Crafts. The word makes me shudder and visions of glue and glitter and little pieces of paper all over my house fill my mind. I cringe at the thought of macaroni covered in glue or paint and attached to paper plates or strung on yarn. I do not like crafts. At all. I have crafty friends who are talented and seem to manage it with no mess lingering in their house for weeks. If my kids play at their house they often come home with some clever craft made out of re-purposed items, and I am impressed and wonder how in the world did my friend come up with that? But I never do crafts with my kids. I tried when I just had two kids and they were young, but the mess got to me and the projects never turned out well anyway, nor were they useful for anything. And so I just stopped. You would be hard pressed to find glue or glitter in my house. You may find a pair of little kid scissors hidden away in a drawer somewhere. But you won't find any craft themed books or magazines, and if you find a

I hear many moms new to home schooling ask where is the best spot to "do school" in the house and how to stock, decorate and furnish the "school" area. I tried using a spare bedroom when I just had 3 kids, and only one old enough to homeschool. But it was upstairs and away from the kitchen and laundry and I felt out of touch with the rest of my house and my duties. Later, when I had more children and no bedrooms to spare, I designated the dining room as the school room. I hung maps and a white board and time lines and we didn't even call it a dining room. But I just couldn't relax over dinner with all that stuff hanging around. I needed to decide where we would do school, but nothing seemed to suit me. And then I realized why. I had rejected the traditional model of education, but here I was trying to fit that model into my home. No wonder I couldn't relax! The school room is not a natural nor relaxing place to learn, and so my attempts seemed forced a

She dances around me as I kneel in the water, dancing circles around me. And she's laughing and squealing and looking into my eyes, looking deep into my soul. Her laugh is unfettered and real and from her very core, and when her eyes look into mine I see nothing but pure joy, complete trust. Her happiness bubbles up, not willing to be contained, like the bubbles she creates in the water as she runs around me. And she calls my name over and over in her little voice; it's a shout of unabashed love and confidence and connection. My hand reaches out to her to touch her as she passes and she screams in glee. "Mommy! Mommy!" She laughs my name. And I remember long ago a dream I used to have. It was during a time of sadness and emptiness; a time after losing a child and before having any living ones. In the dream I could hear a sweet, little voice calling my name in joy and gladness, and it filled me. I wanted to run to that voice and scoop up the child in my arms, but i

My husband is an avid gardener, and left to his own devices, he would happily transform our entire yard into a garden. But, with all our kids and a dog, well, it's not going to happen. But he loves his garden. It's high summer now in the Northeast, and his garden is lovely. Perfectly straight rows. Not a weed in sight. It's a work of art as well as a labor of love. My pictures just can't do it justice. But in the midst of it all is a strawberry patch. He put it in just for me because I wanted them. And I do manage to get the few that the chipmunks and children don't get. But it's a wild part of the garden, blocked off by a crooked wall made of old bricks and pieces of sandstone. One day, as I looked out the dining room window at the garden, I thought how it served as a picture of our marriage. I am not a stickler for detail, but my husband is. I like to start something and sit back to see what happens, while my husband likes to attend to ever

My baby is now three. She started her day off with her usual visit to my room. And then it was off to breakfast with her daddy. Presents, swimming at the pool, pizza and cake and just enjoying life filled her day. To have a three year old at my age is truly a blessing.

I had settled down with the 4 younger kids for a time of Bible study one morning. I had in mind the things we would discuss and the things I could teach them. Like so many other times, I had it all planned out: what I would say and questions I would ask. But sometimes, we get unexpected answers. Answers we never thought of, and we grown- ups are the ones being taught. We were talking about children obeying their parents and reasons for doing so. The answers ranged from "God says we should" to "Our parents are wise" to "We should obey our parents because... they're the Mom and Dad!" (I love 5 year-old thinking!) I was waiting for a particular answer, and I was not disappointed. Finally someone said: "We should obey so we won't get into trouble." Bingo. That's the one I was looking for. Because it's the worst reason of all, and I wanted to see if anyone of the kids had considered it. After I gently pointed out that avoiding puni

Another hot day at the pool with lots of kids shrieking and playing and splashing. She was in her 4th summer of life guarding and took her job seriously. These people, while she was in the chair, were her responsibility, and she guarded their lives attentively. But lately, she had been noticing some of the kids who regularly came to the pool came alone. They were obviously poor and maybe a bit malnourished. Some even showed signs of possible abuse. They seemed pitiful and unwanted and her heart went out to them. She taught some of them how to swim but her heart desperately wanted to do more for them. But what? What could she do? How could she make their lives better? And then one day, a busy 90 degree day, and the pool was full and the noise level high, she saw him. He was one of her students, one of the most pitiful. She was sure he was unloved and his parents didn't care about him. He had almost said as much at times when she was teaching him. She saw him and waved and he wav