From 2008

Before my daughters began menstruating they would sweetly talk about how they would help me make pads for them to use when it was their turn. I even set aside some especially soft fabric for just that purpose. Of course, when they did begin menstruating they wanted nothing to do with cloth pads, and may still want nothing to do with them. However, as one friend shared with me a number of years ago, it can be surprising how many of our parents' ideas and values come to seem more comfortable and useful when we have families of our own. My friend talked about how she found herself craving the orderly home of her childhood, and was seeing freshly how important that was to her now, though it had seemed silly when she was young.

When I first started using cloth it was after I used cloth diapers for my babies. I figured if I could handle washing diapers I could handle washing pads. When I mentioned this to my mom, she was utterly repulsed. She talked about how wonderful it was for women to gain the option of disposable pads. How hard it was in the days before washers and dryers to "hide" the fact that you were menstruating, and that in the abject poverty of my grandmother's youth, using "rags" for menstrual protection didn't communicate value to the womanly body or processes. She really spat these words at me.

So I've approached cloth pads from the joy of having a choice. I think about my mom and my grandmother and how they saw this monthly process in the time before disposables and how grateful I am to be able to celebrate this part of myself, instead of trying to hide. Economically it makes a lot of sense to use cloth. I am recycling clothes and fabric that can no longer be used for their original purpose. I am honoring my plants with the ultimate fertilizer when I water then with the soaking water. But I can also use disposables when I feel the need to. And I have a washer and a dryer and lots of clean water.

When my daughters are in a place in their lives where cloth makes more sense to them, they will have grown up in a world where cloth was a choice, not a burden. I believe they'll be amused at how what once seemed so "gross" will seem matter-of-fact after caring for babies or elderly relatives, or after working in food service jobs (or, in my case, it was working on a dairy farm that got me comfortable with all sorts of waste).

So carry on! I have faith that some of the things they protest the hardiest will come back to them someday.

Written in 2002

In response to a homeschooling dad who worried that his kids were missing out because our homeschooling group didn't have "an official logo, seal, colors and mascot."

Regardless of what I say next, please note that I find your concern about your kids touching and typical of the homeschooling parent. We all want to be sure we haven't deprived our kids of anything with our choice to homeschool.

When I talk about homeschooling at work, or in social groups, or with family members, I am always careful to point out that homeschooling is not necessarily BETTER than school. You trade one set of experiences for a different set of experiences. While we could debate which of the schoolish experiences it would be fun to adapt to our situation (such as proms, clubs, government, choirs, athletics etc.) it's important to remember that we can't have all of the good stuff that goes with school and not go to school.

It may also be time to point out that while RAHA does have a logo and is compelled by its constitution to have monthly meetings, publish a newsletter, and stay on top of homeschooling political events, RAHA has been very careful to limit what the organization does and empower its members to do whatever they feel compelled to organize for their family. This has been oversimplified in the phrase: "RAHA doesn't do anything, RAHA families do EVERYTHING." What this means is that you can use the RAHA name to organize events if you find it helpful, you can use the newsletter to disseminate information, you can come to meetings to drum up support, but RAHA will not take ownership of much, and when they do it is a very slow and deliberate event.

You say that there is a "sense of isolation and extreme privacy inherent in homeschooling." That runs directly contrary to my experience. I don't know how long your family has been in RAHA, but perhaps you are recent members and your family is still discovering the many different ways to be active within the group. My family actually suffers from activity overload. There is no way we can see all of the people we want to see and do all of the things we want to do. See past issues of the newsletter for more info on how RAHA members get connected. As for privacy, I find that society at large feels that my family's educational and lifestyle choices are open for comment. What we do is right out there for all of the neighbors and relatives to see.

Now on to the issue of belonging...Yes, it is fun to feel like I belong. Where do I feel that? (Keep in mind that I am a painfully shy, rejection-fearing neurotic regardless of any appearances to the contrary, so we could ask Does Mary Joan ever feel like she belongs?) When I feel that sense of belonging it is usually at home with my family, when I am with my close friends (and after ten years in RAHA and forty years of life I have a good number of those), driving around Rochester feeling happy to be here, or when I am part of a group that openly excludes others and has chosen me. Did everybody read that last one? Read it again.

Yes, I have an adolescent streak that would delight in being part of an exclusive club that requires special clothes, hand signals, secret rites and rituals, mascots, songs, the whole clubby, my team's better than your team bit. I wore a varsity jacket in high school (that I earned, not my studly athlete boyfriend's), I went to to the prom, and (gasp) I was a cheerleader. I was part of National Honor Society and Varsity Club, both of which you had to get voted into. Were there fun things that were part of all that? Yes, but the whole notion of my group is better than your group, my team is better than your team encourages competitive behavior as well as creating (what I feel to be a false sense of) community.

I treasure that my children feel like they are part of a community, not a school, club or gang. It might be fun if someone made RAHA t-shirts, but beyond that I would use caution. When you get into mascots and colors, you're talking not only about broadcasting that you belong to something, but that others don't. I believe that many of us (me included) crave the sensation of being part of a group that is select and has chosen us, but how much of that comes from experiences that taught us we didn't belong, we didn't make the cut? It could be said that ALL families homeschool, after all.

I believe that our greatest challenge (and greatest payoff) as homeschooling parents is that we have to create our own community for our kids. We have to help them (because of logistics, interests, etc.) find their niche. A true niche doesn't need to be broadcast with cheers and jackets, it's something one feels inside of one's self when one pursues one's true nature.

But don't let what I've said stop you. As a family you have only your time and pocketbook and energy as the limits, and there may be many other homeschooling families out there who have been hoping for a similar opportunity. Have fun!

Written in February 2006

My dear friend Beth Garrigus, who now lives in the Southwest, used to say that living lies in the conflict. I thought she was nuts: why would one seek out conflict? Given that Beth is one of the least conflict-inducing people I know, after a bit of reflection I saw that she meant that personal growth comes from confronting an existing conflict; knowing how to bear witness to conflict with an open heart and mind.; being able to hold a safe and sacred space for those who are rubbing against each other, knowing that a peaceful mutually satisfying solution can exist.

I have another friend who believes that no person should ever offend another person, and I am married to a man who believes that no person should ever take offense because of another person. I believe the truth lies in the middle: people who feel strongly about their beliefs can feel free to express them, but express those beliefs without judgement of those who believe differently; people who feel they are being attacked can take a moment to center themselves and determine what their own truth is and move from conviction of that truth or compassion for the different point of view. It can be exceedingly difficult to stay in a place of stillness when one feels attacked or when one feels the need to zealously promote.

I tend to be a promoter (bet you guessed already!) and I need to be careful that I don’t run people over with my passion and excitement. Homeschoolers can be passionate independent people, but sometimes we’re as independent as adolescents: we want a gang to be different with us; we want safety in a least a few others being on board. Hence we develop an us vs. them mentality: we’ll only hang out with people who eat macrobiotically, wear hemp clothes and only watch CBS Sunday morning on TV. We get excited when someone else shares our convictions and we close ourselves off. And then the most poisonous thought of all creeps in: if we stick to these basic beliefs our children will turn out right, they will be protected from the evils wrought by those who do not adhere to our beliefs.

Over the years I have been on the receiving end of such zealotry and I have had my zealot moments as well, but I learned my lesson early. I won’t share my first lesson in “my child will never…”, because it’s not polite conversation, so I’ll share the next time I couldn’t help myself. I was sitting at Hochstein and I watched a mom help her son unload a bass violin at the front door for his lesson. I said to the mommy next to me, “I’d never let my kids get into an instrument that was so expensive and difficult to move around.” So now (I swear it’s because I said “never let my kid”) Elsa plays the harp. Costly and unwieldy, but beautiful.

I also banned Barbies from my home (which made my mother-in-law desperate to buy my girls Barbies). Where do you think the first Barbie came from? At Elsa’s third birthday party, a homeschooler gave her a TEACHER Barbie of all things. This is what I have come to call “contamination”: your child picks up a toy, a habit, a desire, from a child in another family. Now that Maggie and Elsa are in their teens we have been contaminated and have done our share of contamination many times over. (Just a couple of weeks ago I, yes the adult me, turned two 13-year-olds onto the TV show Project Runway. Oh well.) Once we were contaminated with the Barbie bug, we had a Barbie plague which continued until quite recently.

However, what I have learned over the years is that none of the worries about the “right” way to raise a child or keeping certain things away from our children matter. When it comes to keeping our children on the path to becoming the most they can be, we need only two things: comfort with ourselves and the RAHA vision statement. In it are these words: “We are deeply devoted to our children and believe that their growth is best fostered in a child-led, rather than curriculum-driven, learning environment that is centered in the home and reaches out to explore the world around us.”

When we are comfortable with ourselves and the choices we make for our family, another family’s child or choices cannot be perceived as threatening to us. When we are deeply devoted to our children, they know they can ask us for whatever they need, and that we will help them fulfill that need in ways that are appropriate for them and our family. Because we are centered in the home and reach out to the world, we know that we can taste things that are new or alien and return to the sanctuary of our living space to renew and rejuvenate as needed.

I have learned to let my children show me what they need. For a while it was Barbies and dress-up clothes, then for a while it was the thought of cosmetology school, and then for another while it was how to get to a PhD in psychology. My daughters are social scientists and the world is their laboratory.

So I don’t take offense if another family questions my choices; I know they’ll be challenged by their kids, too. I don’t expect anyone to take offense at my choices: when I follow my kids’ dreams it is no reflection on what another family needs to do to follow their kids’ dreams.

Go forth and be the homeschoolers your family needs you to be. Take no offense at the homeschooling choices made by other families. Find the joy of living the life you were meant to live. And, be comfortable knowing that by going against the established norms you are creating waves of conflict. Be willing to sit with those whom you have agitated. Be a model of compassion and conduct civil discourse, but don’t be an apologist for your truth. Those waves of conflict will compel the educational tide to turn someday and embrace child-led learning instead of standardized cookie-cutter curricula. Stir things up and enjoy all of the different flavors homeschooling families can brew!

Originally published in Allens Creek Living, May 2015

When my daughters were small, I insisted that we have “quiet time” every day at 3:00. We would lie down on the sofa or on my bed. Sleep was not required. The girls could look at picture books until they were old enough to read on their own. Sometimes I turned on Mr. Rogers at 4:00 because I needed his calming presence, but there was no other TV. It was quiet time.

Many years have passed, but I still value quiet time. Medical and therapeutic professionals of all kinds are approached by clients overwhelmed by to do lists – all of the important must-do’s and must-see’s of contemporary life. It can be difficult to persuade people who feel that there will never be enough hours in the day to take half an hour and do nothing.

But doing nothing actually is a very important doing something for your mind and body. It doesn’t have to be called meditation and it doesn’t require any special techniques. Sitting quietly for twenty minutes and just noticing (without judgement) all of the thoughts that parade through your head can be educational: just notice what happens. Researchers have found that if you combine that with focusing on your heartbeat, the nervous system settles and it is easier to feel happiness, joy and gratitude in the face of what felt overwhelming before.

Most people feel the need to prove their worth through productivity. Many have more work to do than they could ever accomplish. But we are not human ”do-ings” we are “human beings”. It may feel counterintuitive, but taking the time to be, without doing, can make us more productive overall.

Some people find taking quiet time difficult because their mind and body can’t sit still. Start with some gentle stretching, or have your quiet time while walking. No headphones! Just quiet.

So the next time you are feeling like a gerbil on its wheel, don’t just do something, sit there. Give yourself the gift of quiet time.

Originally written in August 2007

For the past few years Maggie and I have raised monarch caterpillars. We have released about 20 butterflies this year; our biggest summer so far. We had one butterfly die, one chrysalis fail to form correctly, but the rest came out well.

When we moved into this house, the elderly previous owners had gradually scaled back until their once glorious flower, herb, and vegetable gardens were replaced by a bland chemically manicured lawn and juniper shrubs. I wanted to bring the birds, butterflies, lightning bugs, toads, frogs and butterflies back.

We started by planting butterfly-friendly plants: milkweeds, coneflowers, phloxes, buddleia bushes. We called to the hummingbirds with bee balm, honeysuckle and crocosmia. We tempted the goldfinches with thistles, elecampagne and burdock. We put in a small pond for the frogs and toads.

As I planted and pruned, Maggie and Elsa stormed the neighborhood, parading about in their dress up clothes, riding their bikes around the block, drawing with chalk in the driveway.

After the milkweed became established we found our first monarch egg: a tiny pearl under one of the top leaves. I was surprised that Maggie wanted to raise caterpillars this summer. She was so busy: working two jobs, taking a class online, preparing to move on campus this fall. I figured we’d skip it: the milkweeds are threatening to take over sections of the garden now. But she asked, so I got out the aquarium.

We bring in the eggs and newly hatched caterpillars as we find them. We supply them with fresh milkweed every day. Watch the caterpillars grow and shed. Clean the poops from the bottom of the aquarium. We learned that the caterpillars need a place to hang and form their chrysalises, or else they leave the aquarium in search of an appropriate smooth, sheltered overhang; such as under the lip of the kitchen counter.

We watch as the caterpillars transform into glorious jade chrysalises, studded with gold. We wait and wait for days. Then in a period of 24 hours the chrysalis becomes transparent, revealing the waiting black and orange wings. Shortly, the butterfly  emerges: midget wings and distended abdomen; completely out of proportion, awkward and ill at ease.

We wait again. The abdomen pumps and the butterfly hangs almost immobile for three or four hours. Then the monarch attempts to fly around the aquarium. Maggie gently coaxes the black legs onto a twig, and gingerly transports twig and butterfly out the door to one of our four buddleias. The butterfly may hang there for a while, or may fly up and disappear into one of the many maple trees. We watch and marvel, then we go about our business.

Tonight we have two chrysalises left in the aquarium, the last of the season. They are turning translucent. Some time tomorrow they will emerge, and by the evening two monarchs will be feeding on the buddleias. Tonight Maggie finishes gathering her things together. Tomorrow afternoon I will take Maggie and her belongings to the residence hall, and by the evening I will have set my first daughter butterfly free: I will place Maggie on her buddleia bush, and I will drive away.

Originally appeared in the Lilac Children's Garden newsletter, 1999 and has scattered all over the web


A first time visitor to an exhibition of the work of Waldorf pupils is usually particularly struck by the paintings. They make an unusual impression. The first perception is of strong, shining primary or mixed colors that are fundamentally translucent. These pictures have various different color moods. The colors appear to be hovering, they are not dense like colors that are attached to physical objects. The surfaces of color are not confined within contours, there are no outlines. The colors can move about unhindered and blend or become consolidated at will. They do not seem to be fixed to the surface, but seem to come to meet us or draw away from us...
(excerpt from "Drawing & Painting in Waldorf Schools")

Watercolor painting, form drawing with block or thin beeswax crayons, beeswax modeling: These may be considered by some to be art education. Indeed, I have heard grumbling by some of the students that these activities do not allow them enough realism for their art. While I cannot pose to be any sort of expert on Waldorf methods or Rudolf Steiner's philosophy, I'd like to take a stab at explaining why the above activities are not meant to be art at all, but are another vehicle for our children's growth and spiritual integration.

Central to Waldorf principles is the need to surround children with beauty. Watercolors and beeswax crayons (when used with teacher guidance and purpose) naturally create very beautiful works without technical talent. You will notice that the teachers use care not to allow the children to muddle their colors into a brown mess. At home our children may find joy creating many shades of brown and black in their artistic pursuits, but at the Waldorf school there is a grander purpose than just learning that mixing all of the colors makes mud.

Watercolor paints remind me of the silk scarves Waldorf parents are encouraged to use as drapes over their babies' cradles. When children are small, their perception of the physical world is still veiled. Most young children are not able to perceive strict realism. They are still emerging from their spiritual womb. This emergence will continue until the child is well into adulthood. As a matter of fact, Waldorf philosophy is quite emphatic that to push a child into realism (through premature reading or denial of fantasy play) can cripple their spiritual development.

Working with beeswax is a very sensual experience. The smell of the wax, the feel of it softening in the hand, the shimmering color all create a pleasurable atmosphere for the exploration of three dimensional creation. The children listen to their teacher's story and manifest an element from the story with their own hands. Watercolor paints and beeswax crayons allow the child to create without literalism. They are continually pushed away from the inside of arbitrary boundaries to the radiating form. In this way children are taught that they do not need to confine themselves, their thoughts or the others around themselves into a preconceived box or how things/people are supposed to be configured.

As with the stories being told to the children, the forms they are being taught have nothing to do with literal representation. The forms are meant to resonate with the child's state of development, to assist with the brain's integration of the surrounding world. The forms, the paintings, the beeswax sculptures all assist in the maturation of the spirit/emotion/body. The fact that the results are beautiful objects or pictures is a lovely by-product, NOT the primary goal.

Originally appeared in the RAHA News, October 1998           

For me, a way of being gentle with my children is believing in their innate goodness and ability to grow. Like most parents, I get anxious when my children do not achieve milestones according to the traditional schedule. If one of them does something that I perceive as "not right," it takes an effort for me to have faith that they will not grow up to be unintelligent, immoral delinquents.
                  While I can guess at the reasons why our children take their time to develop some skills, the reasons aren't the relevant point. The important thing is that a gentle parent allows the child to set the pace of their own growth, knowing that the child's natural state is to grow toward their greatest potential. This does not mean that we just stand by and watch. There are times when it is  most helpful for us to hand them a new tool, or show them a different approach, or give helpful guidelines. There have been times when my girls have needed a loving nudge toward a goal I knew they were ready for, but they were still hesitant about. There have been times when they weren't ready even after my nudge. Then we waited some more.
                It is not easy to be gentle in this way. My first instinct is to crush my kids, then manage them. Or another favorite of mine seems to be to ignore parenting for a few minutes. Gentleness requires patience and attentiveness. It is not convenient to be gentle. It is easier to bully than to make a game of something my child does not want to do.
I have been most fortunate to have many role models of gentle parenting around me. This was the result of sheer luck, no intelligent choice on my part! Without the examples of my friends, I never would have been able to trust that my children really would mature if given the time and space. I think we forget that this one of RAHA's most vital roles. I have needed to witness the growth of the children in other families in order to trust in my own. I think our vision supports this role and it makes our organization unique. It also means that many people need a lot of time to get used to what we're trying to advocate. So I thank my friends who have inspired me and shown me the way. None of us are perfect, but knowing that it is possible for a bunch of us at least some of the time makes gentle parenting an attainable goal instead of an elusive ideal.

Originally published in the RAHA News, October 2003

If I had to list the books that have defined me as I’ve attempted to mature into an adult, I would have three on there that might surprise people: Raising Your Spirited Child, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk, and Siblings Without Rivalry. It may seem strange, but parenting books have done so much to teach me how to understand myself and relate to others that I can’t imagine being the person I am today without them. Of course, I regularly reread them because I have not mastered their content (I’m still working on growing up, maybe I’ll get there in another forty years!)

Particularly taxing parenting challenges sent me back to my “basics” last week. As I was browsing through How to Talk, I made it all the way to the back of the book where Faber and Mazlish write about praise. Their words about praise were the first that I encountered (probably twelve years ago) that made me re-evaluate praise and what praise is exactly. They begin by talking about the importance of the child’s self-esteem:

 “Certainly all the principles and skills we’ve talked about so far can help a child see himself as a person of worth. Each time we show respect for his feelings, each time we offer him a chance to make a choice, or give him a chance to solve a problem, he grows in confidence and self-esteem.
 “How else can we help our children build a positive and realistic self-image? Surely praising them would seem to be another part of the answer. But praise can be tricky business. Sometimes the most well-meant praise brings about surprising reactions.”

  They continue with an exercise that demonstrates some of these “surprising reactions” which include:

· Praise can make you doubt the praiser.

· Praise can lead to immediate denial.

· Praise can be threatening.

· Praise can force you to focus on your weaknesses.

· Praise can create anxiety and interfere with activity.

· Praise can also be experienced as manipulation.

 I have a silly example from my own family. I told my mom that the girls and I were appearing on the evening news as part of a story about VBAC births. Her response: “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! I always knew you’d have your own TV show!” Sigh.

 Faber and Mazlish go on to explain that helpful praise really has two components:
“1. The adult describes with appreciation what he or she sees or feels.
“2. The child, after hearing the description, is then able to praise himself.”

 For me, the remarkable aspect of Faber and Mazlish’s approach is that it requires being truly present with the person you are trying to express appreciation to. “It’s a matter of really looking, really listening, really noticing and then saying aloud what you see and what you feel.” As a busy mom, being present in the moment with my daughters and their immediate agendas and needs is a real challenge in the midst of all the distractions (real and imagined). And, this requirement to be truly attending to my children has necessitated tremendous personal and spiritual growth on my part. Thus is the gift of parenting returned back to me many fold.

 Giving my daughters this kind of quality attending has put many deposits in what Dr. Sears (in his many parentig books) refers to as their “emotional banks”.  Faber and Mazlish refer to the emotional bank account, too: “All of [this observation of his capabilities] goes into his emotional bank and can’t be taken away. You can take away ‘good boy’ by calling him ‘bad boy’ the next day. But you can’t ever take away from him [acknowledged accomplishments.]… These moments, when his best was affirmed, become lifelong touchstones to which a child can return in times of doubt and discouragement. In the past he did something he was proud of. He has it within him to do it again.”

 Note that they do not say “In the past he did something his parents were proud of.” How many times each day do I remind myself that my children are not here to make me proud, that they are here to grow into their own beings and fulfill their own purpose in the world, making THEMSELVES proud? Ack! Yet again I discover that it’s not about me! But, again, the gift is that I can go about my business doing things that will make me proud of myself, that nurture my self-esteem, instead of transferring all of that effort, investment and burden onto my children.

 Don’t get me wrong: I am so proud of my kids most of the time that it makes me feel like I’ll explode with feeling and pleasure. But, I try to remember to offer them appreciative observations of their efforts so that they can feel their own pride and not get it all confused with mine.