It Takes Only Thirty Minutes to Dismantle a House

(These snapshots brought to you by my camera's convenient location within arm's reach.)

For C., who asked about our h'learning, here's the schedule I finally made a few weeks back after the painful act of submitting our scanty first quarter reports convicted me to do better for my family. (Right click if you want it large enough to actually read.  Skip to the snapshots below if you don't.)





Two needful comments:
1. This is flexible.  It has to be!  It's a rare day that we get everything done that's on the schedule (has it even happened yet?), and usually we mix things up as needed throughout the day.  Over the last several years, as our family grew and our formal h'learning horde increased, I found I needed something like this to even make it through the day.  It's necessary, to some extent, to organize the content area so that I can be working with those who need it while others are learning what they can on their own.  Without a schedule, I just throw up my hands, and we all weep together.  We don't like that.  (And it still happens.  Look at the schedule!  I'm helping five different people learn five different levels of math at the same time.  Why?!)

2. This schedule is the reason why we're learning more together.  It's also the root of our house being in a constant state of If-Someone-Drops-In-They'll-Have-To-Shovel-Their-Way-Through-To-Us.  Also, I've had no time for making Christmas presents yet.  Nor baking Christmas cookies.  Nor sending Christmas cards.  Nor wrapping presents or filling stockings.  Nor...much of anything at all besides learning, making meals, and setting the downstairs to rights each evening before we celebrate Advent together.  Oh, and we do laundry sometimes.  I'm wiped out at the end of each day, but at least I have a clean conscience.

Keep that in mind as you observe thirty minutes of our morning.

It starts quietly enough, though Polka'poose has begun to protest Piper curling up on my belly.





Even this one looks innocent enough.

But there's often a calm...

before the storm.

The first thirty minutes are always that potent mix of industriousness

and the efficient destruction of the entire downstairs by two small boys.





Sometimes the monotony is broken by flocks of birds.






Thank goodness for that.