Is it just me, or does every homeschooler set up a curriculum museum?
I have finally realized that this is the only way to describe the vast expanse of resources I'm housing on far too many shelves in our school space. I have Instructor's Guides. Workbooks. Catalogs. Manipulatives. Science kits. Notebooks. And, of course, more books than you can shake a stick at.
I have a collection of books--both fiction and nonfiction--that rivals many small town libraries at this point. I am a bibliophile by nature, and homeschooling books have become my weakest spot. I collect books on any topic of real interest--or potential interest, for that matter. I have a whole section on microscopes, and have had to subdivide my books on animals into phyla. I collect "math adventure" books because they are hard to come by. And let's not get started on historical references ... but if you ever need a good book on slavery-era folktales or on the animals France's Charles X collected, let me know.
It's kind of sinful, to be honest. I look at those books and sometimes I realize that I have forgotten that I owned something on a particular topic. Many's the day I have put a library hold on something that already graces my shelves. Sometimes I don't even realize it until the book is at home and one of the kids says, "Hey, we already have that one!"
Ack.
This doesn't even begin to catalog my collection of "I'll need that eventually" resources. Books on Victorian history that are way over Jo's head. Math videos explaining advanced Calculus. A course outline for high school biology. And what about the things I know I'll (probably) come back to? The outgrown phonics readers. Computer software for learning the alphabet. And all of those Sonlight Cores ...
The hilarious thing is that I didn't buy a very good chunk of whatI house in my collection. My cousin has been exceedingly generous over the years, and has passed on more valuable curriculum (and advice) than you can imagine. I have benefitted from multiple "going out of business" homeschoolers, too, who have passed on their stuff as their children have gone on to public school or graduated into the real world. And then there are those library sales ...
I'm putting together a curriculum swap for my homeschool group, and many of the items I just haven't used will probably find their way to the swap table. I'm also fairly free in lending out homeschool stuff, although I've reigned that in since I found that not everyone shares my idea of stewardship. But the vast library of resources on my shelves is still something I am looking at and wondering over. Is it necessary? Should I pare it down? If I do get rid of something, what's the worst that will happen when I discover I need it again? Can I live without a room lined with shelves that are brimming over with homeschooling resources?
How about you? Do you have too much of a good thing? IS there too much?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
It's all so puzzling
I work really hard to make sure that my children get a heavy dose of math in their lives. I feel that math as a mental skill is extremely undervalued; the emphasis is either on rote memorization or solely on application (cooking, measuring, etc.). These things are important, but they tend to lack the element of critical thinking that truly is the entire foundation of math. The art of mathematics can truly be so much more than we (and that includes me) give it credit for.
To that end, I'd found ways over the years to sneak a few challenges into our homeschooling adventure that have driven my children insane ... and taught them how to reason, to problem solve and to think outside of the box. My favorite method-which I've recently resurrected--is the puzzle tray.
At one point, this was actually a puzzle box: a small recipe card holder-type box with a few ziploc baggies that contained individual puzzles of various types. Many were of the toothpick variety. A few were tangrams or the like. All were geared toward my 3rd grade-and-under crew and all could be completed with just the materials provided in the baggie.
Nowadays, I've opted for the Montessori-inspired tray approach. Using primarily puzzles I've printed from my favorite spots over the years, I slip the instructions into a page protector and leave any necessary manipulatives (coins, toothpicks, bingo chips, paperclips, etc.) in a small bowl on the tray. The kids take turns working the puzzles, sometimes in pairs, sometimes carting the tray off to their rooms for a little privacy.
When the kids were little(-r), I kept a prize box going that they could tap into once they'd accumulated so many "points." Each baggie was assigned a number of points based on difficulty, and a running tab inspired them to either master as many of the easier puzzles as they could handle or stretch to conquer a big ten pointer and get into that box in one fell swoop. The prize box had pencils, those little Dover sticker books, fancy erasers and the like. It was a nice motivator to get reluctant learners into the mode of brain teasing.
Today, the reward is being able to report back--and demonstrate--how you solved a puzzle. Many of our favorites have multiple ways to get tot he correct answer, and sharing how you did it in the least number of steps, or the fastest, or with the most finesse is a high point in our days. That was my ultimate goal all along--making the art of the solution a reward in and of itself. It just took a few years to get that far!
This doesn't replace our normal math instruction. It's all part of what I see as a well-rounded environment. As a writer, I don't have to work very hard to make sure that our homeschool is print-rich. But math ... well, that takes a little more effort!
To that end, I'd found ways over the years to sneak a few challenges into our homeschooling adventure that have driven my children insane ... and taught them how to reason, to problem solve and to think outside of the box. My favorite method-which I've recently resurrected--is the puzzle tray.
At one point, this was actually a puzzle box: a small recipe card holder-type box with a few ziploc baggies that contained individual puzzles of various types. Many were of the toothpick variety. A few were tangrams or the like. All were geared toward my 3rd grade-and-under crew and all could be completed with just the materials provided in the baggie.
Nowadays, I've opted for the Montessori-inspired tray approach. Using primarily puzzles I've printed from my favorite spots over the years, I slip the instructions into a page protector and leave any necessary manipulatives (coins, toothpicks, bingo chips, paperclips, etc.) in a small bowl on the tray. The kids take turns working the puzzles, sometimes in pairs, sometimes carting the tray off to their rooms for a little privacy.When the kids were little(-r), I kept a prize box going that they could tap into once they'd accumulated so many "points." Each baggie was assigned a number of points based on difficulty, and a running tab inspired them to either master as many of the easier puzzles as they could handle or stretch to conquer a big ten pointer and get into that box in one fell swoop. The prize box had pencils, those little Dover sticker books, fancy erasers and the like. It was a nice motivator to get reluctant learners into the mode of brain teasing.
Today, the reward is being able to report back--and demonstrate--how you solved a puzzle. Many of our favorites have multiple ways to get tot he correct answer, and sharing how you did it in the least number of steps, or the fastest, or with the most finesse is a high point in our days. That was my ultimate goal all along--making the art of the solution a reward in and of itself. It just took a few years to get that far!
This doesn't replace our normal math instruction. It's all part of what I see as a well-rounded environment. As a writer, I don't have to work very hard to make sure that our homeschool is print-rich. But math ... well, that takes a little more effort!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Other people's children
I get asked all the time what it's like to "raise other people's kids." It really doesn't occur to me that Oliver or Manolin are other people's kids. They seem like, well, just kids to me. Even the short-term foster placements we've had have felt like members of our family. Temporary members to be sure, but members who slid into the framework with just a little bit of effort. I feel the same way about the children of close friends--I don't hesitate for a second when there's a booboo to be kissed or a hug to be doled out or a "Simmer down there, mister," that needs to be issued. They don't grate on my nerves and they don't make me heave deep, heaven-help-me-through-this sigh.
So why is it, then, that there are some children who just strain every ounce of your being whenever they're around? Children who go left when you say right. Children who buck and twist and kick at every little suggestion. Children who test every rule, who are loud and uncouth and who never, ever remember to flush.
Children who drive you crazy, in other words. You know--other people's kids.
What is it about these children that makes them absolutely unable to go with the flow? What renders them unable to grasp even the merest shred of self-discipline? Is it nature or nurture? Parenting or personality?
I don't know. I really don't know. But I tell you this. Taking on other people's kids is a big job not to be undertaken lightly or without coffee and chocolate.
Come to think of it, maybe it's best if you put the chocolate in the coffee.
There you go: my new rule of thumb. No more other people's kids without a mocha. Period.
Review: Kinderbach
What's the one thing that Logan is looking forward to in our new house? Is it the new bedroom theme I've promised him--something Americana-ish, as befitting his love of the presidency and all things patriotic? Is it a dedicated playspace that won't be used for any other purpose? Is it a backyard to call his own?
No. It's a piano.
We flirted with buying a piano a year ago, when Jo mentioned a (fleeting) interest in learning something musical. We looked on craig's list and fell in love with any number of beautiful old pianos that would have never fit in our living room. When Jo passed out of the phase, we quit looking. But little did we know that the seed had been sown; Logan, my most creative child, was smitten by the idea that we might pony up the cash for music lessons.
I don't invest lots of time, effort or money in interests that may not pan out. I know far too many parents who have closets full of discarded ballet leotards and karate gis that saw the light of day for four months of usage to follow that train. Instead, I usually do some preliminary research, identify resources and throw the ball back into the court of the child who expressed an interest in whatever the hobby or sport might be. Then I let them chew on the information and see what becomes of it. Sometimes it grows into a passion--Jo and her 4-H involvement is a great example. Other times, the flame flickers--such was the case with Atticus and his brief stint in Archery, which cost me all of $2 thanks to a great 4-H club that was willing to let him try it on for size.
But Logan is getting his piano. I've decided that the passion is true and worthy of the investment in time and money that any real spark of curiosity should receive. Here's how I know:
Logan has spent the past few months using an online tutorial called Kinderbach. Designed for much younger children (preschoolers are their prime audience) this website offers video lessons (DVDs are available if you'd prefer) in keyboard familiarity, musical terms, hand positions, musical notes, and simple songs. Miss Karri--the teacher--is the epitome of the sunshiney, glowing preschool music teacher. There are characters to help you remember key concepts and a whole host of games and coloring sheets to keep it fun.
Did I mention that it's far cheaper than music lessons? Seriously, check it out. While such things are regional, I highly suspect that Kinderbach will be cheaper for most people than those dreaded mommy-and-me circle time sessions that many firstborns (mine included) are forced to attend. All you need is a cheap keyboard (check craig's list) and internet connection.
Logan persevered through much of the material, barely groaning when he was invited to participate in another finger-play session designed to cement information. He learned far more than I'd anticipated from a preschool program. He even liked (some) of it.
When asked if he would rate the site favorably, he gave it two thumbs up with one caveat--"For little kids, Mom. Make sure you tell them it's really for little kids."
So there you have it. Logan says it's worthwhile ... and it's too young for him. So it's on to the real deal for my boy.
No. It's a piano.
We flirted with buying a piano a year ago, when Jo mentioned a (fleeting) interest in learning something musical. We looked on craig's list and fell in love with any number of beautiful old pianos that would have never fit in our living room. When Jo passed out of the phase, we quit looking. But little did we know that the seed had been sown; Logan, my most creative child, was smitten by the idea that we might pony up the cash for music lessons.
I don't invest lots of time, effort or money in interests that may not pan out. I know far too many parents who have closets full of discarded ballet leotards and karate gis that saw the light of day for four months of usage to follow that train. Instead, I usually do some preliminary research, identify resources and throw the ball back into the court of the child who expressed an interest in whatever the hobby or sport might be. Then I let them chew on the information and see what becomes of it. Sometimes it grows into a passion--Jo and her 4-H involvement is a great example. Other times, the flame flickers--such was the case with Atticus and his brief stint in Archery, which cost me all of $2 thanks to a great 4-H club that was willing to let him try it on for size.
But Logan is getting his piano. I've decided that the passion is true and worthy of the investment in time and money that any real spark of curiosity should receive. Here's how I know:
Logan has spent the past few months using an online tutorial called Kinderbach. Designed for much younger children (preschoolers are their prime audience) this website offers video lessons (DVDs are available if you'd prefer) in keyboard familiarity, musical terms, hand positions, musical notes, and simple songs. Miss Karri--the teacher--is the epitome of the sunshiney, glowing preschool music teacher. There are characters to help you remember key concepts and a whole host of games and coloring sheets to keep it fun.
Did I mention that it's far cheaper than music lessons? Seriously, check it out. While such things are regional, I highly suspect that Kinderbach will be cheaper for most people than those dreaded mommy-and-me circle time sessions that many firstborns (mine included) are forced to attend. All you need is a cheap keyboard (check craig's list) and internet connection.
Logan persevered through much of the material, barely groaning when he was invited to participate in another finger-play session designed to cement information. He learned far more than I'd anticipated from a preschool program. He even liked (some) of it.
When asked if he would rate the site favorably, he gave it two thumbs up with one caveat--"For little kids, Mom. Make sure you tell them it's really for little kids."
So there you have it. Logan says it's worthwhile ... and it's too young for him. So it's on to the real deal for my boy.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Stergo
Have you ever been given a gift that was so fabulous, so wonderful, so over the top that it took your breath away? Something that you certainly didn't deserve and didn't ever see yourself calling your own? There's a feeling of utter awe and thankfulness that washes over you when you realize that you're loved that deeply. I can't put my finger on the English word for that kind of emotion, but in Greek it is stergo--the love that only a family can conjure, the love that warms and protects and surpasses logic.
I have been wrapped in stergo for the past few weeks, and I have found myself struggling to unwind its tentacles from my heart and free myself from its nest.
The truth is that I am a person who has a hard time being loved. I can go on and on about how I grew to be this way but really, it's not important. What is important is that I am learning, bit by bit, to accept stergo on the terms it is offered and not super-impose my own expectations or desires on the bearer of this precious gift.
Especially when the bearer is YAHWEH.
I fully admit that there are times when I have boxes I want God to check. I have a list of wants (not needs) that I selfishly keep hidden in that hard spot at the back of my heart. I sing when God throws me a bone and blesses me with one of them. I pine secretly over the ones He chooses not to satisfy. I strive for contentment at all times and come up short just like everyone else. I can admit that.
But God has this funny habit of blessing me with things that I never asked for. It's stergo in action: Here, Mary Grace, my beloved daughter. Take this. Trust me. You'll like it. Like a child who has learned obedience but not fully soaked in the heart of compliance, I take the gift. I move on. And I always, always learn to love it eventually.
But those first weeks, months and even years can have the pallor of forced optimism written all over them. I am the child posing with the new sweater at Christmas and eyeing the box of Lincoln Logs my brother just opened.
Seven years ago I found myself bathed in this unasked-for stergo. This was in the month immediately after 9/11 and long before I embraced the concept of "the more the merrier" in regards to my family size. I found myself pregnant just a few short months after regaining my equilibrium from an incredibly harsh bout of post-partum depression. The world was falling apart, it seemed ... and so was any sense of balance that I'd ever hoped to have in my life.
People around me congratulated me on the enormity of the blessing I was receiving. Another child! How good was God, they asked, to gift me in this way as the whole world reeled from the devastation of September 11? It must seem, a woman told me, like God had his finger of healing on me even as everyone else wept.
But I didn't feel it at all. What I wanted--what I had asked for--was a season, just a season, Lord, of quiet. A season of peace. Not this. Not another screaming newborn and months of sadness and a house even more cluttered with the acrruements of infancy.
How did the message get confused? Wasn't I clear in what I wanted? This isn't what I asked for, Lord!
But it's what He gave me, praise God. I wouldn't trade a single second of life with Logan for the peace and quiet I craved all those years ago. The blessing God gave me was far greater and in His mercy and wisdom, He gave me the better thing.
Right now, God is in the process of leading me to the thing that He wants for me yet again. Not the thing I would have chosen. Not even the thing I can see in my future. But the thing that is best. The thing I will look back on and say yes, that was a blessing. That was stergo.
This thing is a brand-new, nearly 3,200 square foot house.
How a woman can be conflicted over such a gift is a matter of shock for a great many people, but let me assure you that the kind of home I always saw myself raising my family in is smaller by half and older by a century or so. I am not a new house person. I am not a big house person.
I find newly constructed homes in cookie-cutter neighborhoods to be devoid of character, poorly planned for real living (master suite, anyone?) and havoc with green standards in all kinds of unpleasant ways.
Not for me, thanks.
But I am the child who unwrapped the gift of Lindt chocolates when all I really wanted was a Hershey's bar. My cup, it seems, runneth over.
I have no doubt that the possibility of this home is a gift straight from the hand of the Lord. There are many reasons, not the least of which is Mr. Blanding's absolute confidence that God is going to do amazing things to get our family under that as-yet-to-be constructed roof. And I believe him. I'm already seeing it at work; we originally expressed an interest in a 2,500 sq. ft. model and were instead steered to the 3,200 sq. ft. house ... for the same price. We did the finances and came out ahead, somehow--even if we make a measly $10,000 profit on what we paid for our townhome six years ago.
Sounds like my God.
God is using this exercise in blooming where you're planted to grow me in amazingly unexpected ways. First and foremost, I am submitting myself, yet again, to the sovereignty of a God whose plans are far beyond anything I could imagine. Second, I am trying to embrace a blessing I feel more than a little sheepish about. And third, I am wondering over God's vision for my family and my own.
I am waiting on the Lord. Trying not to disparage His gift in the presence of others (a hard one, because I feel incredibly guilty about the notion of even living in a house this big). And waiting for my heart to let the outrageous stergo of a fatherly God seep into my heart.
So please be patient with me as I grow comfortable in the spot I find myself occupying. I never meant to be here. I never meant to be that woman--the one who has a line of beautiful children, a handsome, witty husband, the gas-guzzling SUV and the big house. But here I am. Blooming where I'm planted, and watered with stergo.
I have been wrapped in stergo for the past few weeks, and I have found myself struggling to unwind its tentacles from my heart and free myself from its nest.
The truth is that I am a person who has a hard time being loved. I can go on and on about how I grew to be this way but really, it's not important. What is important is that I am learning, bit by bit, to accept stergo on the terms it is offered and not super-impose my own expectations or desires on the bearer of this precious gift.
Especially when the bearer is YAHWEH.
I fully admit that there are times when I have boxes I want God to check. I have a list of wants (not needs) that I selfishly keep hidden in that hard spot at the back of my heart. I sing when God throws me a bone and blesses me with one of them. I pine secretly over the ones He chooses not to satisfy. I strive for contentment at all times and come up short just like everyone else. I can admit that.
But God has this funny habit of blessing me with things that I never asked for. It's stergo in action: Here, Mary Grace, my beloved daughter. Take this. Trust me. You'll like it. Like a child who has learned obedience but not fully soaked in the heart of compliance, I take the gift. I move on. And I always, always learn to love it eventually.
But those first weeks, months and even years can have the pallor of forced optimism written all over them. I am the child posing with the new sweater at Christmas and eyeing the box of Lincoln Logs my brother just opened.
Seven years ago I found myself bathed in this unasked-for stergo. This was in the month immediately after 9/11 and long before I embraced the concept of "the more the merrier" in regards to my family size. I found myself pregnant just a few short months after regaining my equilibrium from an incredibly harsh bout of post-partum depression. The world was falling apart, it seemed ... and so was any sense of balance that I'd ever hoped to have in my life.
People around me congratulated me on the enormity of the blessing I was receiving. Another child! How good was God, they asked, to gift me in this way as the whole world reeled from the devastation of September 11? It must seem, a woman told me, like God had his finger of healing on me even as everyone else wept.
But I didn't feel it at all. What I wanted--what I had asked for--was a season, just a season, Lord, of quiet. A season of peace. Not this. Not another screaming newborn and months of sadness and a house even more cluttered with the acrruements of infancy.
How did the message get confused? Wasn't I clear in what I wanted? This isn't what I asked for, Lord!
But it's what He gave me, praise God. I wouldn't trade a single second of life with Logan for the peace and quiet I craved all those years ago. The blessing God gave me was far greater and in His mercy and wisdom, He gave me the better thing.
Right now, God is in the process of leading me to the thing that He wants for me yet again. Not the thing I would have chosen. Not even the thing I can see in my future. But the thing that is best. The thing I will look back on and say yes, that was a blessing. That was stergo.
This thing is a brand-new, nearly 3,200 square foot house.
How a woman can be conflicted over such a gift is a matter of shock for a great many people, but let me assure you that the kind of home I always saw myself raising my family in is smaller by half and older by a century or so. I am not a new house person. I am not a big house person.
I find newly constructed homes in cookie-cutter neighborhoods to be devoid of character, poorly planned for real living (master suite, anyone?) and havoc with green standards in all kinds of unpleasant ways.
Not for me, thanks.
But I am the child who unwrapped the gift of Lindt chocolates when all I really wanted was a Hershey's bar. My cup, it seems, runneth over.
I have no doubt that the possibility of this home is a gift straight from the hand of the Lord. There are many reasons, not the least of which is Mr. Blanding's absolute confidence that God is going to do amazing things to get our family under that as-yet-to-be constructed roof. And I believe him. I'm already seeing it at work; we originally expressed an interest in a 2,500 sq. ft. model and were instead steered to the 3,200 sq. ft. house ... for the same price. We did the finances and came out ahead, somehow--even if we make a measly $10,000 profit on what we paid for our townhome six years ago.
Sounds like my God.
God is using this exercise in blooming where you're planted to grow me in amazingly unexpected ways. First and foremost, I am submitting myself, yet again, to the sovereignty of a God whose plans are far beyond anything I could imagine. Second, I am trying to embrace a blessing I feel more than a little sheepish about. And third, I am wondering over God's vision for my family and my own.
I am waiting on the Lord. Trying not to disparage His gift in the presence of others (a hard one, because I feel incredibly guilty about the notion of even living in a house this big). And waiting for my heart to let the outrageous stergo of a fatherly God seep into my heart.
So please be patient with me as I grow comfortable in the spot I find myself occupying. I never meant to be here. I never meant to be that woman--the one who has a line of beautiful children, a handsome, witty husband, the gas-guzzling SUV and the big house. But here I am. Blooming where I'm planted, and watered with stergo.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Good to Know
Oliver had his hearing test on New Year's Eve. The results were slightly better than we'd hoped: his right ear has approximately an 75-80% hearing capacity. The left ear is unfortunately only able to hear sounds that fall within a very narrow range of frequency.
It's all in how you look at it, isn't it? The glass could be half-empty (he can't hear out of his left ear!) or it could be half-full (he has hearing in his right ear!).
I'm a half-full kind of gal, myself. How about you?
It's all in how you look at it, isn't it? The glass could be half-empty (he can't hear out of his left ear!) or it could be half-full (he has hearing in his right ear!).
I'm a half-full kind of gal, myself. How about you?
Review: Kid's Wealth
I struggle with the concept of allowances. I want my children to learn to handle money, and I know in my heart that the only way to do that is to have money. But I don't like the idea of getting paid for things that you do as part of the family (ie, chores) and I definitely am turned off to the idea of handing over cash simply for breathing. Trust me, I have family members who live with the "on the dole" entitlement mind set and it is not anything I want to see my children indulging in.
Since we could never come up with an actual system of remuneration, Mr. Blandings and I adopted by default the "above and beyond" concept of earning money for our brood. Finished with your daily chores a little early and want to fold an extra load of clothes for me? Sure, I've got a quarter in my pocket for that. I need a quick pick up for the living room and you volunteer cheerfully? That might earn you a dime. The rules for this extra pay are this: you may be offered money for a service, or you may not. If you are, you are perfectly within your rights to turn the job down and let it pass to someone else. But if it's not a cash job, then it's a request and compliance is fairly well mandatory. Oh--and if you ASK for money up front, then no, you're not getting any. Sorry.
The kids then have the option of taking their spare change and keeping it aside or having me credit their "account." An account in our house is simply an index card with a running total of deposits and withdrawals from birthday money, etc., and purchases made.
And that's been it. Not a lot to it, but hey, I said it was a default system.
Aware that Jo is creeping up into the age where more instruction is probably in order, I was happy to be able to review Kid's Wealth, a complete kit that helps kids learn to manage their money in a systematic way. Systematic is key here: teaching children to budget is one of the most important parts of raising an adult who knows how to live within their means. You know all those folks who call in to Dave Ramsey? Well, they never got the systematic budgeting thing down.
Kid's Wealth comes with instructions and caveats for the adults and I feel that it's important to say up front that I don't agree with all of them. First and foremost, as a Christian, I take the mantra "Pay Yourself First" to be an affront to my Christian sensibilities. Whether you are a tither or not, you probably agree that God wouldn't ascribe to this particular theory. You pay God first--period. Second, Kid's Wealth states quite plainly that unless you are giving your children what they call "real amounts" of money, you're wasting your time. Their idea of "real amounts" soars into the unreasonable, in my opinion. Many of their examples revolve around $80+, a sum that I am in no way able or interested in giving to any one of my children in the course of a month.
Does this mean that the program is a wash? No, it doesn't. A little pick-and-choose magic made Kid's Wealth a valuable learning experience for my whole clan.
The first step was deciding on how much money to issue each child. Since Mr. Blandings gets paid twice a month, we decided that we would base our pay schedule on his paycheck. We noted this in the calendars that each child received and then handed down the judgment:
Jo, age 11, $20 month
Atticus, age 8, $15 month
Logan, age 6, $10 month
The children were delighted beyond words.
Each child kit comes with a set of five wallets to divide and store their cash. Linked to a set of characters that signify the area of budgeting, these are color coded and divided into five categories: Wealth, Plan, Learn, Fun, and Angel. In my house, we mixed things up and took this approach: Angel (giving back to God), Savings, Learn and Fun. Tying the wallets in to more closely match our values was not difficult at all.
Each wallet receives an agreed-upon portion of the overall pie with each Kid's Pay Day. We used the formulas provided as they seemed reasonable; we simply turned them a bit and put aside the 10% for God first rather than last.
Accompanying each Kid Kit is the most valuable piece of this program as far as I'm concerned: a child's activity book. The activity books are customized by age and have age-appropriate exercises included. These are the heart of the program, with real math exercises, example and outlines of what kinds of things fall into each category of spending. Using one of this books is a real-life math workbook and not for the faint of heart. Jo spent an entire afternoon playing with percentages, not something she would have been motivated to do on her own.
This program has been a habit-forming, fun way to teach my children about income, debt and managing money. They are looking forward to saving up for big ticket items and love being able to see the funds they've set aside for fun stuff--in case they want to use it. I would have never taken the plunge into such an in-depth financial education without Kid's Wealth. It' nice to know that my children are learning about money now, before they're in the real world!
Since we could never come up with an actual system of remuneration, Mr. Blandings and I adopted by default the "above and beyond" concept of earning money for our brood. Finished with your daily chores a little early and want to fold an extra load of clothes for me? Sure, I've got a quarter in my pocket for that. I need a quick pick up for the living room and you volunteer cheerfully? That might earn you a dime. The rules for this extra pay are this: you may be offered money for a service, or you may not. If you are, you are perfectly within your rights to turn the job down and let it pass to someone else. But if it's not a cash job, then it's a request and compliance is fairly well mandatory. Oh--and if you ASK for money up front, then no, you're not getting any. Sorry.
The kids then have the option of taking their spare change and keeping it aside or having me credit their "account." An account in our house is simply an index card with a running total of deposits and withdrawals from birthday money, etc., and purchases made.
And that's been it. Not a lot to it, but hey, I said it was a default system.
Aware that Jo is creeping up into the age where more instruction is probably in order, I was happy to be able to review Kid's Wealth, a complete kit that helps kids learn to manage their money in a systematic way. Systematic is key here: teaching children to budget is one of the most important parts of raising an adult who knows how to live within their means. You know all those folks who call in to Dave Ramsey? Well, they never got the systematic budgeting thing down.
Kid's Wealth comes with instructions and caveats for the adults and I feel that it's important to say up front that I don't agree with all of them. First and foremost, as a Christian, I take the mantra "Pay Yourself First" to be an affront to my Christian sensibilities. Whether you are a tither or not, you probably agree that God wouldn't ascribe to this particular theory. You pay God first--period. Second, Kid's Wealth states quite plainly that unless you are giving your children what they call "real amounts" of money, you're wasting your time. Their idea of "real amounts" soars into the unreasonable, in my opinion. Many of their examples revolve around $80+, a sum that I am in no way able or interested in giving to any one of my children in the course of a month.
Does this mean that the program is a wash? No, it doesn't. A little pick-and-choose magic made Kid's Wealth a valuable learning experience for my whole clan.
The first step was deciding on how much money to issue each child. Since Mr. Blandings gets paid twice a month, we decided that we would base our pay schedule on his paycheck. We noted this in the calendars that each child received and then handed down the judgment:
Jo, age 11, $20 month
Atticus, age 8, $15 month
Logan, age 6, $10 month
The children were delighted beyond words.
Each child kit comes with a set of five wallets to divide and store their cash. Linked to a set of characters that signify the area of budgeting, these are color coded and divided into five categories: Wealth, Plan, Learn, Fun, and Angel. In my house, we mixed things up and took this approach: Angel (giving back to God), Savings, Learn and Fun. Tying the wallets in to more closely match our values was not difficult at all.
Each wallet receives an agreed-upon portion of the overall pie with each Kid's Pay Day. We used the formulas provided as they seemed reasonable; we simply turned them a bit and put aside the 10% for God first rather than last.
Accompanying each Kid Kit is the most valuable piece of this program as far as I'm concerned: a child's activity book. The activity books are customized by age and have age-appropriate exercises included. These are the heart of the program, with real math exercises, example and outlines of what kinds of things fall into each category of spending. Using one of this books is a real-life math workbook and not for the faint of heart. Jo spent an entire afternoon playing with percentages, not something she would have been motivated to do on her own.
This program has been a habit-forming, fun way to teach my children about income, debt and managing money. They are looking forward to saving up for big ticket items and love being able to see the funds they've set aside for fun stuff--in case they want to use it. I would have never taken the plunge into such an in-depth financial education without Kid's Wealth. It' nice to know that my children are learning about money now, before they're in the real world!
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