Last Friday, we took the kids into the West Desert where we could have a different kind of education day. We learned about gun safety and self defense. And we got to shoot the daylights out of some old electronic equipment. Here are some pictures of our fun.

Ryland pays close attention while I load up.

Ready!

Aim!

Fire!

Nothin’ hotter than a woman with an assault rifle.

Showing Ryland how to site up the target. He’s still a little too small for the rifle.

Vienna heard there was going to be a little picnic on this trip so she came along, but she doesn’t want to shoot the guns.

She mostly prefers to hang out in the van. Sidsie didn’t want to go so she stayed home and babysat Olivia and Aurelia.

Let’s go see what happened.

Did we hit? We shot and shot and shot but we never saw any movement to indicate a hit.

I guess we did hit it.

Exit holes

The damage close up.

More up close damage. This used to be a fax machine.

OK. So, when a child with apraxia gets hurt, how do you figure out what’s wrong? This was a question that came to me a week or so ago, just out of the blue. Little did I know that this week we would be tested with this challenge. Or maybe the question out of the blue was a warning I did not heed.

First, a sad little experience with Ryland’s speech therapy teacher. Melanie took him to his session this week. Paige, his therapist talked a little with Melanie about the situation.

“Why don’t you try to get insurance to help pay for some of this?” she asked, a question we’ve often considered and have struggled with.

“Because they only cover apraxia caused by accidents,” was Melanie’s answer. Birth defects are naturally excluded. BTW, I believe that insurance companies are the anti-Christ, at least in a jesting sort of way. Take all your money and refuse any benefits.

“Well, I only ask because Ryland has extreme apraxia and I think they would be able to help with the cost of helping him improve himself.”

Extreme apraxia! NO!!! We’ve had the apraxia part bouncing around for about 5 years now. It was nice to have that “diagnosis” back then simply because it identified the monster we were battling. But to hear the word extreme now was almost like a dagger in the heart. And we thought we were making some good progress. I still believe we have been, no matter how slow it has been. But to hear the word extreme now sort of set things back a bit, almost like, “You have a son with extreme apraxia. You need to have him seeing a therapist more than just once a week. You have been slothful, neglecting parents.” Ouch! What more could we do?

Later in the week, as I was preparing for a presentation that evening, I was aroused out of my office by the panicky screams from the kitchen. Upon walking in to the kitchen, I saw an unconscious Ryland in his mother’s arms while Melanie screamed, “Call 911!”

When I got to them Ryland came to but was perfectly white and ice cold, and was delirious. I took him and laid him on the couch where he could rest and where I could assess the need to call 911. The story goes, he had come home from cub scouts and went to his friends around the corner to play. They were playing computer games and Ryland all of a sudden kind of rubbed his head before collapsing to the floor. At first they thought he was playing around but when they realized he was not responding to them they got scared and picked him up and began to bring him to our house. He had revived and was able to walk with their help across the adjoining back lawns to our back door where they met Melanie and Ryland went unconscious again.

I checked for a pulse and could hardly find one anywhere. I finally just put my hand on his chest and counted just the lubs and ignored the dubs to see what his heart rate was. Sixty-eight for a one-minute span. During this period, the kids were telling the story over and over and we were asking Ryland if things hurt on his body. He would say yes and then no and then yes again—such are the answers that he gives for nearly everything. We asked where he hurt only to get far off blank looks in his eyes like he was searching for the right words for where he felt pain. After several seconds, the only words to escape his mouth, “Don’t know.”

We have a few medical people in our neighborhood so we had them take a look and give us their opinion. Both concurred independently, he had two seizures. One even said his heart had stopped for a time—hence, the difficulty in finding his a pulse and his pale appearance and his cold temperature. They advised us to take him to the hospital for some tests. I canceled my presentation and drove to the ER.

For the next three hours we spoke with more medical people and helped hold Ryland down and talk him into allowing blood to be drawn. There is nothing more disheartening, I think, than watching a child of yours react to medical personel when they don’t fully understand what is happening. Who knows what Ryland understood as the worker proceeded to prepare his arm to poke it with a needle and take blood. Ryland screamed and squirmed and refused to be comforted. I did my best to talk to him and to persuade him to allow this procedure to take place, but he still did not understand and continued to refuse cooperation. It didn’t help that it took 3 tries to finally get the needle into a vein. Each time got worse and worse. If #3 would not have worked, I would have told them, “Look, you’ll just have to find some other way to determine how he’s feeling.” But the third time worked indeed. They were able to draw the blood and Ryland was able to calm down. Still he was not happy. He lay there and simply said, “Done. Home.”

The tests came back looking just fine. Blood levels were just great. Too bad it takes such an ordeal to establish that. He also had two EKGs. They found something that concerened the doctor who faxed the record to a doctor at a Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City for a second set of eyes. There was just one little blip they were concerned with so they set an appointment with us for later this month for some further tests.

We also learned that we may want a brain scan to make sure nothing neurological is malfunctioning. A neighbor was surprised that in all we’ve done with Ryland, no one has ever suggested a brain scan before. I was speechless because I have no clue what we can or cannot do in this regard. As far as the episodes this week are concerned, my mind has two things in its consciousness regarding my son. 1.) What, if anything, is wrong that has caused the passing out and/or seizures this week? 2.) What will it take to help this child speak clearly and effectively. I guess there is another: 3.) Are the two related in any way? Nothing else matters to me at this point.

Today is Olivia’s birthday! She turns 3. In follow up to the previous blog, Olivia was subsequently grounded from pens, markers, pencils, and crayons for a few days. We discovered after posting that blog that she had actually drawn on every wall in the basement, in the piano room, and in the kitchen. She next took a dry erase marker and drew lines on the carpet in the school room and all over herself. I teased her that she was trying to make herself into a zebra. But for her birthday she received a huge bucket of sidewalk chalk—something safe for walls and carpets but tons of fun on our chalkboard wall and outside.

The older kids held a surprise party for her. When Olivia was at a neighbor’s house for a neighborhood preschool event, Sidsie decorated the main part of the house with balloons and streamers and a draping “Happy Birthday” sign. When Olivia arrived back home, the attendant shouts of SURPRISE rang through the house and Olivia squealed in delight. She walked around the house the rest of the day explaining how it is her birthday. And in fact, at one point she told how she had two birthdays—we had the grandparents over for a dinner, presents, and cake and ice cream on Saturday, all the festivities then as well.

It amazes me how children grow. Even when you’re with them on a daily basis and you observe their progress on a very minute scale, every once in a while you catch a revelatory experience that says, “This kid is a lot older than you thought she was.” Listening to her explain her two birthdays in quite a grown up way, including mature facial expressions, revealed to me that this three-year is no longer two.

Every age has its rite of passage, that door an individual must step through to show the advancing years. We know the obvious ones: crawling, walking, speaking, the privilege to vote, a driver’s license, bar and bat mitvas, baptisms. But do we know the lesser known, though equally valid rites of passage? Like running into the street, or screaming at your mother, or this one.

Melanie walked into the kitchen and saw Olivia writing on the walls with a pastel oil crayon. She screamed, “NO!!!” and Olivia jumped a mile. I remember when I was a kid, my sister Kittie drew a picture of what came to be known as the Mama Ghost. A crayon drawing on the closet door of my bedroom that stayed there for probably 15 years before my parents renovated that room and removed the door. I guess we’re a little luckier these days. Crayons are a little less permanent today. These two pictures were taken about 10 minutes later.

Olivia’s third birthday is next Tuesday the 16th.

The next rite of passage is where she tries to cut her own hair. We’ll make sure to hide the scissors.

Since it has been a while since we’ve last written about the kids, it would be nice to give a quick run down of what they are doing right now.

SIDSIE is preparing to give a self-promoted concert to all those who care to attend. This is the first (semi) public announcement of that concert. We have been looking at November 1st for that event. Location still to be determined. This will be a mix of classical original pieces and promises to be exciting.

RYLAND is his own stubborn self when it comes to speaking, reading and writing—anything academic, really. Sometimes we ask ourselves if it is worth it to homeschool this boy and if he is ever going to amount to anything. We ask him questions and he’ll just look at us and finally say, “n’t know.” Last night he stayed up with me and watched a Discovery Channel show about the terrorist attacks on 9/11. This morning in school, Melanie asked him to write a sentence about what he did yesterday. He immediately said, “Bommets,” which has become our family’s way of saying bullets. He was talking about seeing the plane crash into WTC 2 tower on that day. But he utterly refused to explain anything more. Wisely and slow, I suppose; to steal a line from Shakespeare. Ryland does make progress. It’s just very difficult to see it when you’re as close to him as day-to-day.

VIENNA is working on learning to read. There isn’t much to report on her, perhaps because we spend so much energy on getting Ryland working. Earlier in the week, Melanie and I were talking about Vienna and we both agreed that she is one of those kids content to be on her own when she must and seems to fll through the cracks because of it. But her reading and math skills are improving and a great pace. More on her soon.

OLIVIA is a strange one to peg. When she gets around others she climbs deep into her shell. People outside her immediate family wonder if she can talk. But get her at home and she’s make you deaf. A very funny girl who knows what she wants. We’re trying to get her to ride the potty train but she’s not buying the tickets right now.

AURELIA just turned one. I can’t believe the year has gone by that quickly. Time waits for no one. Maybe we should all hop that train.

Well, more to come. I hope to make this a daily thing, if at all possible.

OK. Repentence time. I am going to do a better job at posting on this site. A lot is going on in our lives. There is much to blog about. But the irony is, I have found, that the more you have going on that is worth blogging about, the less time you have to actually sit down and blog. Funny how that works in life. Nevertheless, stay tuned for more to come this week. I have established a daily routine for Self Evidence that is working nicely for the moment. I intend to accomplish the same thing here, with Melanie’s help. After all, she’s the one with the kids most of the time; I should be able to elicit some help from her in reporting our experiences with our children. … I know, I know. Dad’s involved too.

Stay tuned, not only for blog postings but also new pages as we work on updating family history items and philosophical discussions about education.

I have the privilege right now of working at home. This gives me the freedom sometimes to be a part of my children’s education. The other Ryland and Vienna both come bursting through the door holding their work in their hands. They are both working on their addition fact skills. Ryland, in particular, has a hard time remembering them, and we’re working diligently through trial, error, threats, bewilderment, anything!, to get him to stick to his task long enough to memorize these facts. Well, they came through the door to show me their scores for the morning. We scanned them to post on here.

             Click on the links below for a fuller image.

rylands-math-082708

viennas-math-082708

Today was our family’s first day of homeschooling for the 2008-2009 school year. We got started with a bang. Last night was actually our beginning as we met for family council just before bed. We recommitted ourselves to the learning process, to studying, to waking up early and getting to bed early. We recommitted ourselves to God, for we understand that all learning ultimately comes from Him.

This morning, the children placed the flag in the post on the porch and began their new school year. How did it fare? Sidsie cheered in wild jubilation. Vienna cheered along with her. Olivia is just along for the ride while Aurelia…well, Aurelia celebrates her first birthday on Sunday, so she was there to express her anger at losing her mother’s undivided attention as the youngest child. And Ryland? Well, our wonderful boy is as perhaps many boys will be on the first day of school. His reluctance challenges us as we strive to help him improve his speech and reading.

I read a wonderful blog this evening, that perhaps drove home the approach we all want to take:

As parents we may fuss over our kids’ quirks. Or personality bents. Or how about we look inward at the many the many things we’re programmed by our culture to do: sit down, shut up, color in the lines, fit in, conform.

What a grievous thing to consider. Within the hearts of every breathing human being lie the seeds for greatness.

I wonder how many Olympians are out there that’ll we’ll never know about. Or brilliant scientists. Or imaginative designers.

What lies in store for our children? What greatness can each one of them achieve? In our community of the FreeCapitalist Project, there is often much talk of Definite Chief Aims and unique abilities. Some unique abilities scream for attention and are obvious; some require coaxing and gentle persuasion to be discovered. Will we draw them out or will we squelch them? That is the test of raising the next generation.

Homeschooling dodged a bullet this past weekend in California. Earlier this year the courts ruled that homeschooling parents must obtain teaching certification from the state in order to teach their own kids. Fortunately, the same courts overturned their own ruling at the end of last week.

It is fortunate that the courts recognized their earlier folly. A parent is always in a teaching moment in relation to his/her children. It would be a shame to have to obtain certification in order to sit down at the dinner table and discuss life.

Furthermore, the state has it all exactly backward.  Only parents carry the true ability and responsibility to educate children. They are inherently qualified to teach them. Certifications exist merely to show parents that their children are in good hands when they turn that educative responsibility over to the state. Unfortunately, the past few decades have shown that these certifications are worthless and that our children are not in good hands. Sexual preditors posing as teachers; leftist, no MARXIST curriculum overwhelming the classroom like an overflowing scourge; and just plain inadequacy and apathy in the classroom have all made the government schooling system a hostile place to leave our children.

More to come as this story develops, not only in California, but throughout the country.

We’re gearing up for school to start. Melanie is getting excited. The kids are getting excited. And I am getting excited.

We went to the home-school store in Salem, UT. That is an amazing place, I tell you. When friends come to me for advice on whether they should home-school their children, I tell them to go visit this store. If just browsing around doesn’t get them excited and start giving them ideas for teaching their children, then homeschooling probably is not for them. But if they can walk around the aisles and they start to get excited and can’t wait to start teaching their children, then jump in with both feet and retake this greatest of responsibilities back from the government. The home-school store is just fabulous.

The items we purchased yesterday include The Story of the World for history and various math books. Being this close to everyone wanting to start school, some items were currently sold out, but the store has a free shipping promotion until the end of the month so we will make a big order and have it shipped in. That will be much better anyway since to ship it personally by driving the 60 miles round trip will cost a pretty penny. Other books we want to obtain include more math books—I think we are wanting some for Ryland and Vienna—Learn to Write the Novel Way, a workbook for the Story of the World, and the one that excited me while I was there: The Well-Trained Mind.

We got home from this trip and Melanie said, “We can start school now.” That is when you know homeschooling is for you.