Lapbooking!

We made our first lapbook! I wasn't feeling too well and M wanted to do something to keep away the "boredom" blues so I figured a sit down craft might help. She wanted to do some Girl Scout badge work. She's 9 and a first year junior. The idea of earning badges is appealing and exciting. Since November is coming around and our household is buzzing with political talk, I thought a lesson in civics and government wouldn't be a bad place to start with badge work.Most of our resources came from the Girl Scout Junior Handbook, Crayola's website (presidential coloring sheet), www.homeschoolblogger.com/joyfulschool, www.apples4theteacher.com, and homeschoolshare.com, enchantedlearning.com. If I missed anyone please let me know. I'll add it to the credits. I took from here and there and we made our own creation!

Here's the inside cover.

The flap cover. She decided to draw the American Flag. I am proud of her creativity.

This is the back cover. I photocopied the the badge requirement pictures and we cut it out. Then she added some National symbols.

The proud little Junior displaying her work!

Homeschooling Revisted: Year 6

It's funny, but every year I revisit the notion of homeschooling. Am I really doing what is best for my children? As they get older, what I can provide them becomes less and less like what they are going to miss by being a part of a social network of children in an institution; i.e a brick and mortar school. There's dances and class officers, to name a few things.

Our eldest is entering sixth grade. This is the magical age that when I began my homeschooling adventures five years ago, I had told myself she would enter school. After all, middle school does have necessary evils--mainly, to learn to deal with peer pressure. Then, I realized my children are dealing with that on a daily basis. They are under scrutiny constantly by society because they are homeschooled. Sometimes, I wonder if people expect them to go into spasms, meltdowns, or something weird like that. The humor of it is that people would not be able to tell my children are homeschooled if it weren't for the inevitable question, "What school do you attend?" or "Who is your teacher?" Once they discover she is homeschooled, people start to ask, "Don't you wish you can be in public school?" I look at her. She's a quiet private person like her father. She appears social and will engage practically anyone, but in the end, she doesn't like to give anything personal. But, if you ask her about honey bees, she'll talk your ears off. In the end, she usually shrugs and says, "Sometimes." And, this is true. She has many homeschooled friends but the idea of seeing friends day to day in school does appeal to her. We know this. This is evaluated every year in our question, "What is best?"

My other ones will answer the questions from "Yes!" to "No, not really." to "I'm not sure what it is like." My children truly know no difference, yes. K went to school throughout preschool and kindergarten. The experience was a great one with some incredible teachers but ultimately my child had to follow rules and guidelines I didn't necessary believe. I had less influence over what she learned and how she learned and the speed of which she learned. I didn't like that. So, when many other things started to bother us, too, I was glad to have the choice to bring her home. The other children never attended public school. M did attend two years of preschool which helped her socially, but academically, I am not so sure. G doesn't know any difference. In the end, homeschooling has become a way of our lives.

Many people have told me throughout the years that I needed to give my children the choice. I used to feel guilty about this and we'd sit down and discuss it and decide to homeschool another year. Finally, I started to evaluate this thought process. Why would I give my child a choice? Do they give their children the choice. It's very common for me to mention I homeschool and have a parent say to me, "My child begs me to homeschool him/her." However, these are the same people who tell me I need to give my child a choice. But, are they not giving their children a choice in the matter by sending them to school when they are "begging' to be homeschooled. Truly, how many parents give their children the choice to attend public brick and mortar schools? Is not the best thing for my child enough of a choice? So, this year, I sat the girls down and said, "You know I won't be giving you a choice anymore. There's no decision in this other than what we decide. You know why?"

Then we discussed how the children need to trust in us that we are doing what is best for them. We have been given the gift of parenthood and the choices we make in life, will affect them, yes, but they are also what that gift's job description entails. At the age of 18, my children will have the choice to attend the college of their choice, to major in any subject tthey wish and to embrace adulthood. We will support and love this new stage in life. Until then, we give them a voice to be heard and hope they trust that we do everything we do because our vast experience in this world, our age and our parenting skills ultimately results in the best decision possible for them. Here's a few pictures from our school year (and other activities)....

We have many supporters, and we will be forever be grateful to them. And, to our critics, do these pictures look like children who arenot well adapted, well scoialized and educated?

Writing with Queen Mama Lesson 3

Awhile ago, my mother handed me my old report cards. For giggles, I read them. There were numerous times a teacher would write notes to my mother on them like, "Good girl. Needs to learn to be quiet." I remember bringing home these report cards and being lectured on behavior. It's these memories that made me nervous about sending my equally loquacious eldest to kindergarten. She never received anything like that on her report card, though. But I wasn't going to risk it when my third daughter added, "lack of focus" to the mix. She stayed home.

Anyway, I also had marks on these same report cards about "maturity" and not being successful at various things. Writing is one of those things that takes time. There's no right way or wrong way to writing. There is poor writing, for sure, but even that's subjective... Fifty Shades of Grey is prime example of a author that tells her story more than shows her story. Time and time again my friends say they read it because of the characters, and not the writing. If you want to write another book that Fifty Shades of Grey you don't need my advise. Actually, my advise won't help you. If you want to pick up a red marker and edit Fifty Shades of Grey, my lessons will help you.

Lesson 2 had you add detail to your 3000 word nonfiction essay. But the details did not have to be precise. You now should have over 3000 words to your story about meeting someone in your life.
Look over the story, what sort of details did you add? What sort of things did you add about your characters.

I mentioned Fifty Shades of Grey (bet you were waiting to figure out how that all tied into this lesson) because the number one reason any of my friends tell me they keep reading the novel is characters. They care and want to know what is happening with characters. I will venture to say, in my humble opinion, that characters is the most important part of writing. People read to become attached to characters, to feel a connection and to learn about humanity through writing. In some ways, we're being voyeurs. We want to know what is happening in others' live--real or nonfiction. I think this is why realty television is so popular. Even if it is a train wreck, we cannot turn it off. We must have some more, must know why they are acting that way.

Even in fiction, characters need to be realistic. We need to believe that they could really live and exist. We need that suspended disbelief to care. if we don't care about them, then we won't keep picking up the book. This is why I am struggling to keep reading Fifty. I don't care. I believe the girl, Ana is doing it to herself and I don't believe anyone is so gullible and naive as she is. I don't find Grey anymore enduring and I see him as a predator. I just don't care. It's cruel and awful, isn't it? But I keep reading because what I do care, as a writer, is learning about WHY everyone else is reading this like candy and loving it! The plot doesn't bother me. I actually believe the writer is talented in finding a great plot and keeping the story flowing (although it is poorly written, I believe it is only so because it wasn't properly edited. To me it reads like a rough draft. When you get snagged, it's because she tells us the story rather than shows us--but don't get hung up on showing vs telling too much. There are actual times when telling is more appropriate).

Your assignment: Can you guess? Character development! Since this is an essay about meeting a person for the first time, we need to understand why meeting this person is significant to you. Go back over your piece and see if you added enough details about your character for your reader to visualize him or her.

Here's my detailed, character driven paragraph:

The youngest, a 4 year old brunette, twisted between her mother's knee as her mother struggled to readjust her pigtails. The girl broke free, and ran around in circles the chairs where we sat. "Duck, duck, duck," she chanted as she patted each of our heads.

"Carol, don't bother the people!" her mother said. "Michael, get your sister."

A thin boy, who looked like Danny from Karate kid, leaned over as his sister raced past him, screaming, "Goose!" and grabbed her by the shirt.

"You're it, Mikey! You're it!" She squealed, wriggling herself free of her brother and darting toward Jeremy, my younger brother. Jeremy sat in the seat, wide eyes, his lips turned into a delighted smile. My mother reached over and pulled him immediately onto her lap and held him there.

Eventually, Michael caught his sister again and flopped her onto his mother's lap. He sat away from them and arms crossed. He pulled his baseball cap over his eyes and just sat there, like he wanted to be invisible, I imagined. I studied him for a moment. There was something enduring about how a curl of brown played peek-a-boo out of his cap. 

The mother gathered the girl up onto her lap and pulled her loose hair into a sloppy pigtail. She then turned to my mother, "I'm sorry. She's sometimes can be a handful."

"I can understand that," my mother said. "You from Washington State?" 



The mother look puzzled at my mother. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Your son's cap. It says Mariners on it. I'm from Seattle, myself. My sons love the Mariners," my mom said.

"Yes," she said. "We drove here from Ft. Lewis to visit with family. We're headed to Germany. My husband is there already."

"Really? That's where we were last stationed," my mom answered. "My parents live in Carlisle and so we came so we could visit before three years overseas. What base?"

"Ramstein."

My mother pointed her thumb at my brother. "We are too. Harold here will be going to Ramstein American High School."

"So will my boys," she said.

"What grade?"

"Michael is going to be a freshman and Bobby is a sophomore," she said.

"Harold is a sophomore," mom said. "Why don't we get your information and maybe we can set up a time for the boys to meet up?"

"That'll be nice."

The boys--all three of them--exchanged looks.
I leaned over and whispered to my sister, "He's cute." And like most 11 year olds would, she started to chant, "Patty has a boyfriend! Kissing..."

I rolled my eyes and my cheeks grew red. I said he was cute. I never said I wanted to date him.


Are you getting a better picture of my characters? I guarantee this is not how the conversation went when Micheal's mom and my mom met in the airport twenty years ago. However, it is how it could have gone. I, myself, as a mother have sat in a doctor's office and had to wrestle a unruly child into her seat at she decided to play duck-duck-goose with everyone in the waiting room. As I add details, I am adding moments and segments from my life since I cannot remember every moment. True creative nonfiction would not take complete artistic license like I am here. I am slowly emerging details from my life and making them into a fiction story. That's what I am wanting you to do. Remember, we started with nonfiction because every professor and writing book gives the advise: Write what you know. So our foundation is a true event in our own lives.

Writing with Queen Mama Lesson 2

Did you write your original 3000 piece essay? For the sake of being concise, mine is a wee bit smaller (a whole paragraph!).

My mother ushered all four of us down the terminal and then sank into a seat next to another military mom, wrestling with her own four children. Mom started to talk to her and discovered the woman had traveled from Fort Lewis (it's always the first question military families ask: where were you last stationed. In civilian life, it's hard to adapt to the "where are you from"" questions) to Philadelphia to visit family. They started to talk even further and discovered her two boys would be going to the same high school as my brother. I leaned over and whispered to my sister, "He's cute." And like most 11 year olds would, she started to chant, "Patty has a boyfriend! Kissing..." I rolled my eyes and my cheeks grew red. I said he was cute. I never said I wanted to date him.

Now, the next step is adding detail. This--adding detail--means taking sentences that I "told" rather than showed and expanding them so they paint a picture in my reader's mind. In a quick read, my first sentence uses strong verbs that paint a picture. But sentence #2 tells rather than show. Here's my original sentence:

Mom started to talk to her and discovered the woman had traveled from Fort Lewis (it's always the first question military families ask: where were you last stationed. In civilian life, it's hard to adapt to the "where are you from"" questions) to Philadelphia to visit family.

Here's my detailed sentence.




The youngest, a 4 year old brunette, twisted between her mother's knee as she struggled to readjust her pigtails. She broke free of her mother, freeing one side and started to run around the chairs where we sat. "Carol, don't bother the people!" she said. "Michael, get your sister." A thin boy that looked like Danny from Karate kid, leaned over as his sister raced past him and grabbed her by the shirt.

The mother gathered the girl up onto her lap and pulled her loose hair into a sloppy pigtail. She then turned to my mother, "I'm sorry. She's sometimes can be a handful."

"I can understand that," my mother said. "You traveling alone?"

"Yes," she said. "We drove here from Ft. Lewis to visit with family. We're headed to Germany. My husband is there already."

"So is mine. What base?"

"Ramstein."

My mother pointed her thumb at my brother. "We are too. Harold here will be going to Ramstein American High School."

"So will my boys," she said.

"What grade?"

"Michael is going to be a freshman and Bobby is a sophomore," she said.

"Harold is a sophomore," mom said. "Why don't we get your information and maybe we can set up a time for the boys to meet up?"

"That'll be nice."

The boys--all three of them--exchanged looks.

I leaned over and whispered to my sister, "He's cute." And like most 11 year olds would, she started to chant, "Patty has a boyfriend! Kissing..."

 I rolled my eyes and my cheeks grew red. I said he was cute. I never said I wanted to date him.


See the improvement? At this point the details do not have to be truthful. I honestly don't remember how our mothers started to talk. My original paragraph is all the details I remember so with the rewrite I added details in how it could have gone. As you probably have guessed, your assignment for today is to go back through your 3000 word essay and find sentences where you can add details.

Writing with QueenMama: Lesson 1

Since I am educating my children, I feel it is now really important to make sure they see me continue my work. As a writer, the children have been given that advantage many times over--watching me write and do my work. However, I have put my writing on the back burner to teach them. These assignments I use with my own children. However, they are more geared to be "free" lessons for middle school to adults.

Lesson 1

I don't build worlds and make countless outlines. If you need that type of format, you will not get it here. I get an idea in my head and then I start writing. Usually at the end, I have about 99% trash and 1% something I can use. I call this my "rough, rough, rough" draft. Eventually, I have gotten better and instead of 10 rewrites, I am now down to 5. My own daughter can write a rough draft and never have to edit. I truly believe she can do this because she was taught to "visualize" her words and the basics of creative writing. My biggest problem with rewrites: I use too much passive vs active. I'm also not very descriptive in my rough drafts. i tend to "tell" more than "show" just to get my ideas down on paper. My brain goes way faster than my fingers so I always come back on draft #2 and #3 and add details.  K started out being taught "to be" verbs aren't good. She also started off being taught "show vs tell" your story. Both of these seem to have done her well.

That said, these lessons will go through the process of many rewrites. We will start with creative nonfiction. We're starting with creative nonfiction because the first thing any college professor will tell you is: Write what you know.

The assignment: We all meet new people in our lives. Write a 3000 word story about meeting someone in your life for the first time. For this piece it should be truthful. In the end (after our countless rewrites), you'll probably not even recognize anything more than the emotion of meeting a new person. So make it truthful.

Recently, I found my "first" boyfriend again. It's a long story but he would be my first love. I was 12, almost 13 when we met. He was 14, almost 15. But we didn't know what we'd mean to one another until years later. Here's my rough draft on our first encounter:

My mother ushered all four of us down the terminal and then sank into a seat next to another military mom, wrestling with her own four children. Mom started to talk to her and discovered the woman had traveled from Fort Lewis (it's always the first question military families ask: where were you last stationed. In civilian life, it's hard to adapt to the "where are you from"" questions) to Philadelphia to visit family. They started to talk even further and discovered her two boys would be going to the same high school as my brother. I leaned over and whispered to my sister, "He's cute." And like most 11 year olds would, she started to chant, "Patty has a boyfriend! Kissing..." I rolled my eyes and my cheeks grew red. I said he was cute. I never said I wanted to date him.


As you can tell, this isn't 3000 words. This is also probably not all the details to our first meeting. I think he and I talked. And, honestly, I'm not sure I truly said he was cute or not. At 12, I was boy crazy and it wasn't beyond something I'd do. I probably said it so when I typed it, I edited. As you can tell, I'm not telling you to write verbatim the exact conversations of 20 years ago. No one remembers that (at least most people). Just write the feelings, the gist of the emotion and the encounter as you best and truthfully remember it.

The above piece is a sample of how my rough drafts look. Don't worry about the writing rules in your first rough draft. Like I said, as time gets easier and you start to develop a strong verb vocabulary, you will start automatically typing stronger verbs vs the "was" verbs. I do always go back and look for grammar errors at the end of each rough draft piece. That doesn't mean I catch them all, but it helps me focus. However, if this is something you would get hung up on, don't do it. Right now, the most important thing is to type your thoughts down on paper. .

Pinterest

I took the lunge and joined Pinterest. I am still exploring it but it seems like a great way to share what I discover while surfing the net.

Looking for a vacation idea? Why not look in your own backyard!

We moved to the Tuscarora Mountains because Mr. Alphabet absolutely loved the mountains. He grew up his entire life in the city and wanted a change of pace. I had lived several years in the country, although I preferred city living. However, the concept of moving to the country brought back some very happy nostalgic memories of raising chickens, cows and turkeys. I spent summers biking to the river and splashing in its cool waters. The mountains were gorgeous and we went skiing and sledding along Mount Rainier. When we moved from Washington State to Germany, we still lived in a more setback area. Woods were in the back of our yard. We spent hours playing at the local castle and in those woods. So, I agreed to a move to the country.

Our move to this location made sense. We are 90 miles from two great cities--Baltimore and Washington D.C.. We are about 60 miles away from Harrisburg. Both of our families were with two hours' drive. And, we were within 20 minutes from some state national parks.

This area is a gem that tends to be overlooked. It's a cozy small town nestled between many great attractions. James Buchanan was born here and it has seen many other great national moments: the Revolutionary War/Constitution was discussed here, the French and Indian War, and the Civil War all occurred within these mountain ranges.  

 James Buchanan State Park, here is a marker where James Buchanan's boyhood home used to be. The original log cabin is now owned and has been moved to the propery of Mercersburg Academy.

This areas is filled with rolling hills and farmland.

A covered bridge. There's several in Pennsylvania. This one is Martin's Mill Bridge in Greencastle, PA. It is no longer used. But it is still available to see to the community.

A view from Cowan's Gap State Park. This is absolutely a gorgeous area. Lots of camping and a lake to swim in.