COH: Alphabetized By Author

Last week, I got behind myself due to expected events, like a test, a paper and a presentation, and an unexpected event, a death in our community. So I completely missed the COH.

But I'm back to a fresh start this time.


The Alphabetized By Author version of the Carnival of Homeschooling is up over at The Common Room.

The Headmistress had a theme that just didn't work, so the entries are alphabetized by the first letter in the author's designation. Some are by name and some are by name of blog or pseudonymn. It just depends on what people call themselves. I can see that I was boringly unimaginative when I started my blog! I just used my name.

So hum the ABC's and head on over to the carnival. It looks like there is some good reading to be had in the midst of your busy-ness or leisure--depending on which holidays you celebrate!

Me? I'm finally at a place where I can relax and spend some hours on the carnival.

Happy Reading!

Unschooling Marches On

Some of you have probably been wondering if this is a homeschool blog or not. In the past few weeks, I have been wondering, too. We have taken a break from the organized lessons that N. requested in math for the past four weeks, from Thanksgiving week through Hannukah, and to the end of last week.

What with Thanksgiving, end of term for two adults in the household, and Hannukah with final exams, it has been a crazy few weeks.

But now the Hannukah decorations are down--although I still have to perform the latest miracle of the oil and get the menorot cleaned--and the natural decor of icicles and snow graces our eaves. And although much of the rest of the world is embarking on a seriously celebratory time of the year, we are ready to take up math lessons again.

These lessons require active teaching from me, as well as study on N.'s part.








It is not that learning has not been occuring during the break.

Unschooling happens in our household every day. And for every one. That is the beauty of unschooling!

Just yesterday, MLC got a lesson in the proper methods of picture hanging, when she worked with Bruce to hang up the picture she had gotten me for Hannukah.

N. was listening in on Bruce's instructions as he placed that X that marked the spot just to the left of MLC in the picture.










And even though we are mostly done with our holiday season--we will celebrate the new year with a modest open house on New Year's Day--others have just begun!

Yesterday N. learned to make my pineapple loshen kugel (noodle pudding) for the Sandia "Geo-whatever" Group's annual holiday party.

I firmly believe that cooking real food is a life-skill that every human being ought to acquire. So Home Economics (or whatever the politically correct designation is these days) is part of our unschooling curriculum. Why should a person stop at the store on the way to a party for stale chips and canned salsa, when he can, with instruction from Mom, learn to make a really good kugel, warm and fluffy, hinting gently of vanilla and cinnamon, in about the same amount of time? I don't count baking time--after all, you get to do something else while the oven does the work.

And other more formal education has been going on during his little math break. N. has been busy reading for his life-time book list, and he has some new Zits comics--Hannukah presents--to read for fun, too. Note the formality of his classroom demeanor the right. I have never seen anyone use the one-leg-in-the-air language arts technique, but it works for N. The new moccasins came from my midwest trip--the Minnetonka Outlet--and were also acquired during Hannukah.

But tomorrow, we will get much more formal, and park ourselves in front of the TV for half-an-hour each weekday to begin The Great Courses Basic Math part II. I think our first lesson is about exponents. I will resume watching the lectures with him, and supervising practice afterwards by providing help whenever needed. No grading required, though. I have taught N. to check his own answers at the back of the book.

Another mini-unit N. has requested my help for is a study of the US Constitution. The political discussions that have been occuring with regularity around the table has piqued his curiousity and he wants to know "what it actually says." Good enough. I have a free book from a civics education organization and we will charge ahead with that, too.

And N. will continue working on Kamana II. He also recieved two Peterson's Guides during Hannukah, and he has been doing his Kamana journaling and book work in the evenings lately.

Oh, yeah, and he did complete his yellow-belt testing for Taekwando last week.

And he had an experiential lesson in the Jewish way in death and mourning. He was part of the minyan for Shiva last week, and we talked about the customs and etiquette for it.

Come to think of it, the real beauty of unschooling is that N. took a break only from formal math study for the past four weeks. But over his "break" he was still learning all the time.

When the Cold Wind Blows

The last time I saw him we talked about the kids.

I was going into Target at the beginning of November and he was coming out. It seemed like we would run into each other at this Target once every two months or so, and of course, also at the synagogue when picking our sons up from Machon. I saw his wife at Target almost as frequently, but separately. It seems we frequented the same place for towels, toiletries, and the little stuff you buy on a semi-regular basis. Maybe because that particular Target is only a few blocks from the synagogue, a good place to run errands while our sons studied Judaism.

We were not close friends. I taught for his mother when she was the religious educator at the synagogue. I have never been to his house. But we each had two kids, and his daughter is a year older than my daughter, and his son is two years older than my son. I saw both his kids become bar and bat mitzvah, and he saw one of mine do the same.

When our college-aged daughters were younger, we'd occasionally talk about Star Trek and Rock and Roll. He was a Deadhead, and I prefered Rush, but I enjoyed Terrapin Station and he graciously said that Grace Under Pressure was a good album.
We both thought that B.B. King was one hell of guitarist.

He had a sarcastic sense of humor and that wonderful precision of language employed by techno-geeks who can write. I remember talking about our daughters' college educations and he allowed as to how some aspects of the college experience today are 'profoundly broken.'

He was one of those guys with a great wise-crack, a funny comment, or a kind word. He was there, a part of my community and my life for at least 20 years. When I think of him, I see him as he looked when our daughters were in primary religious school. I hope he thought of me the same way.

In the past year I read a few of his blogs and a blog that belonged to his business partner. I leafed through his book on Outlook --was it Outlook for Dummies, or the Idiot's Guide, or something like that--at the UNM bookstore.

And then last Sunday morning I heard, in a round-about way, that he was in the hospital. A massive myocardial infarction. He had been unconscious for nearly a week. No one knew how long he had been anoxic. The CT scan showed no obvious brain damage, but the EEG was not that of a healthy, conscious person.

I shook my head, thinking about how out of touch I had been. How could this all happen while I was busy with life? I called and left a message for his mom and dad, assuring them of our family's prayers and best wishes. "Is there anything we can do?" I asked, knowing that there was not. And then we went off to Blackman Taekwando holiday party.

On Monday morning I checked my e-mail. The message was the third one from the top. It was from Congregation Albert. Marc Orchant z"l (zichrona l'bracha--may his memory be for a blessing) was the title. Before I opened the message, I sat there and cried. I knew what had happened. His family had to make the decision to take him off of life support.

He was not yet 51. He had boundless energy. He didn't smoke. He was physically fit. He was under some stress, but who isn't? He was on the brink of starting a new job. It was going to be fun. Exciting. The dream job.

I remember him, leaning on the red cart outside of Target. He smiled. He cracked a Star Trek joke. And we talked about the kids.

I am only a few years younger than he was when he died. My husband is a few years older. We are the same generation. "This is unbelievable," we say. "He was young."

At the memorial service we heard that "we shouldn't be here." But we were. His business partner was crying so hard that he had to take off his glasses to read the eulogy. His best friend read song lyrics. "Love is stronger than death," he said. His daughter said that there was something 'profoundly broken' about the fact that the sun could still rise over a planet on which her father no longer dwells.

And we sang Ripple.

"Ripple in still water,
where there is no pebble tossed, no wind to blow..."


"There is a road, no simple highway,
between the dawn and the dark of night.
And if you go, no one may follow.
That path was made for your steps alone.
If you lead then we must follow,
but if you fall, you fall alone.
If you should stand, then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way, I would take you home."

But for me, the cold wind did blow. And, as Jim Croce sang, it turned my head around.
And the 'road, no simple highway' is now closer to the dark of night than the dawn.
And each of us must find our way home.

The Match Consumed in Kindling Flame

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame,





















Blessed is the flame that burns in the heart's secret places,

Blessed is the heart with strength to stop it's beating for honor's sake,

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.









Poem by Hannah Sennesh, a bright light and martyr of our people.
Photos: Hannukah 5768, by Elisheva Levin

Fog, Fire and Ice

The weather has been giving us some spectacular moments to make final exam week and the end of Hannukah more exciting.

Yesterday was my day to study all day for my Neuropsych assessment final exam.

But before I began, I saw the river of fog in the valley below our mountain. The freezing fog had only recently lifted from the hilltops, and the trees were frosted with it.

It was a good day for brewing up a cup of Licorice Spice tea and curling up with my 25 pound Neuropsych book. All day it was gloomy, with snow showers and sleet. I felt very cosy in my warm office. A perfect study day. I got a lot done, even though I spent the first hour organizing papers for the class into binders.

By the time the guys got home from Boy Scouts, I was ready to stop studying for the day. We had another one of those intimate, quiet, no fuss Hannukah candle lighting times. We sat and listened to music as the candles burned down. As the light increases, we are able, more and more to do without the electric lights. I was feeling especially content because I had spend the day well, and could relax in the candlelight. I am sorry that tonight is the last night!

As we got ready for bed, I looked out and saw that the sleet followed by snow had coated the Aspen tree outside our bedroom.

First fire in the Menorah, and then a little bit of ice--enough to make the tree beautiful--and then snow, to end a gray, indoor sort of day.

We did park the vehicles up at the top of the driveway, just in case...

And in the morning, we were glad that we did.

Three inches of new snow fell while we slept, and I had visions of neuropsychological tests for memory, attention, and aphasias dancing in my head.

This morning, the clouds looked threatening, but the drive into Albuquerque was uneventful. We had an excellent discussion of our various papers on adult neurogenesis as our final meeting in Neurophysiology. I felt a little choked up as I left. I will miss that group. We have studied together now through Neurobiology and Neuroanatomy and Physiology.

I had a few hours to review before the Neuropsych final, as the clouds rolled into the city, another gray day perfect for curling up with notebooks at the SUB. And, as an added bonus, they had done the hanging of the greens and the air in the building smelled wonderful!

Now, as we go into the last night of Hannukah, my weather cricket on the computer is chirping at me. Snow advisory. Three to five inches here in the Sandias. I guess tomorrow might be another cosy day.

Hannukah by the Numbers

Fourth. Eleventh. Fifth. Ten. Four. Six tenths. One.


FOURTH.
Friday night was the 4th night of Hannukah and Shabbat. It was a quiet night.
First we lit the Hannukah candles. Next, after enjoying the increasing light, we lit the Shabbat candles. A relaxing dinner. A quiet walk with the dogs. Early to bed.

But we also put the brisket in the oven, a slow roast, to prepare for Saturday night.



ELEVENTH.
Saturday afternoon at the Dojang.

A very special graduation ceremony for N. His first belt advancement for Taekwando.

Six weeks of hard work, and lots of driving on my part, and N. successfully tested into the rank of Eleventh Gup, Yellow Belt.

A lovely ceremony in which the students honored what the old belt meant and honored the new belt.







FIFTH.
Last night was the fifth night of Hannukah.
The light has expanded to the left side of the menorah.
And the table is set for our annual family and then some Hannukah Latke feast and party.

I got out the good china, the crystal and opened a bottle of Chilean wine I received as a Hannukah gift last year. We fried latkes to go with the brisket and carrots, and got out the applesauce.

TEN.
The table was set for ten people, four who live here, five who drove up to be with us, and one who had to work, but was with us in spirit.



FOUR.

Everyone's a Lobo! Woof, woof, woof!
Three UNM students and one alum snuggle under a new Lobo blanket on the couch. L. is my daughter of the heart, J. is my Holiday child, A. is MLC's young man, and MLC herself, in the red shirt.

SIX TENTHS.

It began to snow while we were eating the Hannukah feast.

Six tenths of the total precipitation fell as rain in the early evening ahead of the snow. But nobody got up to look out of the window until the snow began to fall.

Then, one after another, all of us found an excuse to pass by the window and check it out.

ONE.

Morning on the fifth day of Hannukah.
We got one inch of snow overnight.
The pinyon and juniper outside the window sport new, white trim.

You know, it snowed on the 5th day of Hannukah last year, too!
That's Hannukah by the numbers!

Chag Sameach!

Hannukah in Medias Res: Second and Third Nights

Ah, Hannukah at semester's end.


There is nothing quite like trying to celebrate a holiday in the midst of things.


Bruce is completing an important analysis at work, and the customers have come from New Orleans to be briefed on it. He had a school star party on Tuesday night, and a Green Builders Association meeting on Wednesday night.


N. had yellow-belt testing on Wednesday, which meant getting to enought classes in the past few weeks so that he was ready for the testing demonstration.


MLC had a calculus test, a biochemistry test and a physical chemistry test, all during this supposedly "closed week."


And I had to turn in my research paper on Adult Neurogenesis and Depression on Monday, give a WAIS-III demonstration test with a real subject on Tuesday night, write an annotated bibliography on cognitive profiles in autism spectrum disorders and drive the carpool boys to Machon and take Nate for his testing on Wednesday, and (are tired just imaging this yet?) give an in-class summary of the bibliography on Thursday.






Yesterday, I finally managed to get out some of my Channukah "pretties" and get the house vacuumed, and have a normal dinner at home before lighting the candles.


It is definitely a challenge to celebrate in what the poets call "medias res." It is really difficult to manage to get family time and down time in the middle of it all.


In fact, the first lights of Hannukah found us staggering the candle lighting and present opening with different people at different times. I came home a few hours before dusk, had something to eat, and just after sunset, N. and I lit candles and he opened one gift. I was anxious because of the test I'd have to give between 7 and 9 PM--which is past my bedtime! But as we sat and watched the candles burn, and talked about the meaning of Hannukah, I found myself moving into a much needed state of relaxation. We played dreidl for a while, and then I had to leave. But the hour spent praying, talking, giving, and playing changed my outlook for the rest of the evening. Later, Bruce came home, and he and N. lit Bruce's candles, and N. opened another gift and they had some Hannukah down-time in the midst of things.


Wednesday night found us even more insane. N. and I left the house at 5 PM to drive to Edgewood to pick up the carpool boys since it was my turn to drive to Machon. Upon driving into the city, I dropped N. and his Taekwando bag off at Blackman's, the scooted down to the synagogue and dropped the boys off. Then it was back to Blackman's for the testing.



I could not really relax during at the beginning because I was anxious for N.'s success. But soon I was mezmerized by the beauty of the choreographed movements, the forms, the kicks, the falls. N. did beautifully even though he started in...well...medias res, the middle of things.




Bruce picked the boys up at synagogue and brought them back to Sedillo after his meeting. N. and I enjoyed a hamburger and fries in celebration of his test completion, and then we came home and lit candles for the second night.



But last night, things kind of came together. When I came home, intending to take N. shopping, he was watching some of his new Star Trek: The Next Generation (Season II DVD set), acquired on Wednesday evening. I sat down with him. Then we decided to defer shopping until to day, and clean a little, fix dinner and have an island of peace during candlelighting.

It was as N. was reading to us out of the Dangerous Book for Boys, sent to him by his Aunt Madge and cousin D., that I got it.

This is what Hannukah is about. Hannukah is a minor holiday, it is not the Jewish Christmas. It is not related to Christmas at all, except that it usually comes during December. As we had talked about on Monday, and Tuesday, when we commented on making Hannukah happen in the midst of things, the story of Hannukah is the story of Jewish determination to be who we are.


Judah the Maccabee, and his brothers, fought a guerrilla war because they were determined to preserve their unique identity despite the Hellenistic Syrian king's desire to make them into Greeks.

In some sense, we face the same phenomenon today, except that the war is internal. The dominant, secular culture urges us to join in with the Christmas frenzy. Not to turn us into Christians, but to turn us into unthinking consumers, and to absorb us, as well as Christians, into a culture of interchangable parts. A culture in which holidays are not Holy Days, but rather a concentrated period in which we sacrifice our uniqueness on the altar of the new Moloch, the improvement of the GNP at the expense of our humanity and our unique identity.

Lighting the candles, deliberately slowing down, reminding ourselves of the miracle of Jewish survival, reminds us that we have an identity beyond the busy-ness and the achievements, and the pressure to assimilate to a shallow, consumer culture.

When Hannukah comes in the middle of things, we must choose more deliberately to not work while the candles burn, to sit down with one another, to think about who the Eternal has created us to be. And this is the meaning of Hannukah. The reason for the lights, the latkes, and the dreidl.

Nes gadol haya sham. A great miracle happened there. The sons of Mattiyahu in Modin prevailed in remaining Jews and making a new birth of Jewish life. Many great miracles have happened in other days at this season. The Jewish people have survived crusade, pogram, and holocaust.

Nes gadol hoveh po. A great miracle is happening here. When we "light our candles, sing our songs, and play our games" in the middle of it all, we are bringing holiness and light into a dark world. We are, by the Spirit of the Eternal, putting ourselves in touch with who we really are. We are placing our lives, our bodies and our very selves on the front lines of the battle to be Jews.

Who would have thought that the letters on a simple little top, would remind us of the words of the prophet Zechariah, read in the Haftarah of the Shabbat in Hannukah?

"Not by might, and not by power, but by my Spirit," says the G-d of Armies."



Year after year, during Hannukah we learn holiness in the middle of things.