lessons learned in and out of the classroom

Maybe I should just do my weekly wrap up on Monday since that’s when it seems to be getting done.  I keep using the “it’s been one of those weeks” excuse way too much.  All of my weeks are one of those weeks.  Anyway, here’s our week in review.

We sped through our daily studies this week.  I’m pretty sure Thomas has adopted my if you don’t like something just get it done as quickly as possible attitude.  I was worried that he wouldn’t retain anything, but daily he surprises me with his abilities.  It’s not uncommon for him to correct me on name pronunciation and little details about what we have read. 

This week we spent some time studying about Confucius.  After discussing his teachings, I asked, “Who taught us similar things?”  I was shooting for Jesus, but got the Buddha instead.   Hmm, A+ for the history teacher and a big old F for the Christian mother.  Boo, we’ll have to work on that.  I take solace in that fact that a certain sister who will remain nameless was very shaky on the birth of Jesus story until she took a religion class in college and she’s one of the best Christians I know. 


Muffa was proud as proud could be when he presented me with a paper with his name written all over it.  For a while he’s had the letters of his name down, but didn’t always get them in the right order.  He seems to be well on his way now.


The biggest lessons didn’t come in the classroom this week.  Rather they came from everyday life.  Thomas and Hunter were reminded that food doesn’t come from the grocery store as we picked our first zucchini.  We only planted five plants this spring, and already, I almost have more zucchinis than I know what do with — I feel a chocolate zucchini bread post coming on. 


We also learned about the cycle of life.  Greg found one of our Rhode Island Reds laying down on the ground on Friday afternoon.  She was responsive, but unable to move her legs or put any weight on them.  We put her in one of the laying boxes hoping she might pep back up.  By Saturday afternoon, it was obvious something was really wrong and we had to put her out of her misery.  I’m surprised how emotional I got.  I really do like our chickens, even when they peck at my painted toenails. 

As we were getting ready to bury her, Muf looked down at her and said, “oh dear, I guess we’ll have to eat her.”  That night, we he said the dinner prayer, he thanked Heavenly Father for the chicken and asked that he would like it.  (Somehow he didn’t make the connection that we had buried her and we were not eating her for dinner.)  Muf’s attitude may seem odd for some, but it’s the attitude of a true homesteader that is learning early on what it means to take care of yourself and to be grateful to God that you can.


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