Kathy and I were flattered and thrilled to discover that our blog has been nominated for the 2007 Homeschool Blog Awards, an informal organization of bloggers desiring to promote homeschooling excellence through weblogs.

Click on the image above to vote

Since both of us write articles for our shared blog, we thought there was a natural fit with the Best Family or Group Blog category — we feel that our collaboration is a key factor in the success and uniqueness of our blog. Besides, Kathy is (by a two-to-one margin) the more prolific author, despite my earlier dominance over our entrée into the blogosphere. We were not, however, nominated for the Best Family category, and so we take joy in the category for which we were nominated: Best Homeschool Dad Blog.

There is one very obvious problem: although all five of my children are homeschooled, as Dad, I don’t do a lot of the actual homeschooling. Oh, we started out boldly enough:

Me: “OK, sweetie, if we’re going to homeschool these kiddos, how are we going to go about it?”

Kathy: “Well, I can handle the Bible teaching, language arts, history, geography, spelling and read-aloud curriculum, but I could really use some help in Math and Science.”

Me: “No problem! I can just see it now — the kids and I doing experiments in the back yard, working math problems on the whiteboard, it’ll be great fun!”

Fast-forward with me, eight or nine years:

• Total number of science experiments conducted by Dad: 2
• Total number of math lessons given: 3

It turns out that I was mostly talk. I do help with specific math problems from time to time, and I am fairly vigorous in my role as principal and disciplinarian (especially when I work from home). I’m verbally and financially supportive of Kathy in her role as teacher-of-five, but when it comes down to it, I haven’t made homeschooling instruction a priority, in terms of my own time.

So now we come to the crux of the matter: I’ve been nominated for ‘Best Homeschooling Dad’, but I have minimal credentials supporting such a nomination. Will I have the ethical fortitude to admit this lack, or will I shamelessly promote myself in spite of my inadequacy? You be the judge, as I present this snapshot:

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“A Day in the Life of a Homeschool Dad”, by Tim

4:59 am: Dad leaps out of bed cheerfully, a minute before the alarm, quoting an inspirational Bible verse for Mom’s edification. He quickly dresses in shorts, t-shirt and running shoes.

5:02 am: Dad wakes the kids and lead them in a rousing program of calisthenics and a two-mile run around the neighborhood, singing homeschool cadences while the children echo in chorus:

Happy homeschoolers run and think,
they don’t stop to take a drink!
They don’t rest and they don’t slow,
working hard to learn and grow!
Sound off: 1, 2!
Sound off: 4, 8!
Bring it on down: 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024!

Not our actual family.

5:45 am: Everyone hits the showers, the first one clean is appointed sous-chef and selects the breakfast menu. Children work together (under Dad’s benign eye as Chef de Cuisine) to assemble a five-course gourmet confection and serve Mom breakfast in bed on an attractive tray with fresh-cut flowers. The kitchen is cleaned by the tardiest two children.

Not our actual breakfast.

7:00 am: Dad prays with the children, and heads off to work, after distributing writing assignments and reviewing daily coursework lesson plans with each child.

Noon: After finishing his own Bible reading and prayer time, Dad spends his lunch hour editing and grading written assignments (submitted via e-mail) from each child, including an inspirational proverb and an encouraging comment in each response.

4:00 pm: Because of his efficiency at work and in order to demonstrate the priority he places on his family, Dad has arranged shortened work hours with his employer. He bursts through the front door promptly at 4 pm, and is mobbed by laughing children. Hugging each, he dismisses them for a short recess while he talks and prays with his wife (and presents her with a small gift he procured on the way home).

4:15 pm: Dad helps the children assemble the necessary equipment and ingredients for a science experiment and conducts a short lesson in the back yard. If it is raining, the experiment occurs in a gleaming utility shed/lab that Dad and the kids built last summer.

5:00 pm: All the kids and Dad work for an hour in the yard of an impoverished widow down the street, putting their love for God into practice as a service project.

Not our actual science experiment.

6:00 pm: Over dinner, each child reports on the things for which they are thankful, and Dad moderates a short role-playing scenario featuring peer pressure and temptation. Applicable Bible passages are read and discussed. Mom is thanked and praised for the evening meal.

6:45 pm: Dad washes the dishes and cleans the kitchen while the children complete their science projects. He fixes a few loose drawer handles and re-arranges the freezer while waiting for the kids to reassemble.

7:15 pm: Each child takes turns working math problems on the whiteboard while Dad corrects and grades their problem sets. Dad assigns extra work or other punishments to any who have come to Mom’s negative attention over the course of the day.

8:00 pm: Dad reads the Bible to the children and tucks them each into bed, praying with each one individually.

8:30 pm: Mom and Dad discuss the day, their dreams and hopes for their children, and re-connect emotionally.

9:30 pm: Dad sits down to write an insightful blog article about parenting, marriage, homeschooling, or theology, carefully supporting his position with scripture (in the original Greek or Hebrew, of course).

Not my actual profile.

10:00 pm: Dad corresponds with any church leaders or heads of State who may have written to him for ethical and spiritual advice or counsel.

10:30 pm: Mom and Dad go to bed, happily snuggling each other close.

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As you now no longer have to imagine, that is exactly how my day plays out (I’m lying). So remember, vote early and vote often (according to the applicable rules, of course), for your favorite Homeschooling Dad!

Tim

Some of you may have wondered at my absence from the family photos that were posted yesterday. Let’s just say that I came to the negative attention of the Blog Taunting Police, whose authority is much more far-reaching than you might suspect. Kathy and I agreed not to further aggravate the matter by posting any pictures that featured me; I didn’t want to come across publicly as defiant or unrepentant, after all the wife- and blog-reader taunting that transpired.

Based on advice from legal counsel I have retained, I may further jeopardize my precarious standing with the BTP (Blog Taunting Police) unless I am very careful with any public statement. Suffice it to say that it is now permissible for me to post one of my favorite pictures from the CD, if only to prove that I did, in fact, attend the photo-shoot:

As you can see, all was forgiven, at least by my daughters.

You’ll just have to take it from me that my ‘interview’ with the BTP (let’s just say they didn’t offer me any Nutella) has produced in me a sudden desire to cater to our discerning blog readers. I heartily repent of my evil and ill-conceived picture-posting-post (PPP).

As Kathy mentioned, I was very pleased with the CD of pictures we received, and was forced to eat some humble pie after all my swaggering statement: there is no way I could have taken these pictures (especially since I was, in fact, in several of them.

Today we had the privilege of lighting the first Advent Candle at church — we all wore red shirts and many of us dressed in black pants or skirts. (To clarify, Kathy wore a black skirt and I wore black pants, not the other way around.) We read a passage from Isaiah and related one of our family Christmas traditions. As we sat down, I felt vaguely disappointed … we dressed up all ‘matchy-matchy’, but nobody took hundreds of pictures of us! Gone was the happy chatter of camera shutters … how fleeting was our fame!

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this. Isaiah 9:6-7

Tim

After eight days away from our children, Kathy and I were agreed: it was time for them to come home.

Too bad Grandma and Grandpa brought them home in the van — this way would have been more stylish.

We thoroughly enjoyed our break away from our duties as Mom, Dad, programmer and teacher, but as the days slipped away, our hearts returned to our little family. In short, we missed ‘em.

Brick paths and brick buildings under a cool October sky …

We are spiritually and relationally renewed; or if not, it wasn’t from a lack of trying. The church leadership retreat challenged the depth of our commitment to our Lord, and helped us to build some closer relationships with the staff and ministry leaders. Our trip to the east coast was a delightful mix of catching up with old friends and revisiting old haunts without feeling too er, old.

It was wonderful to connect with Rachel and to see several other good friends, like Emily and Dave.

I had hoped for a little more time for Kathy and I to spend alone, but (in retrospect), I think the weekend was a perfect mix of unhurried time with friends while still leaving some ‘down time’ for Kathy and I to be alone together.

One thing I always liked about W&M was the reassuring fact that nearly 300 years’ worth of students had attended and (apparently) survived beyond their college years.

Kathy and I were graduated from the College of William and Mary, one of the nation’s oldest colleges. Located in Williamsburg, Virginia, William and Mary was the first U.S. college to become a University (offering a graduate degree program in 1779). Nestled up against the restored historic district of Colonial Williamsburg, and just a short drive from Jamestown, the College enjoys a rich heritage and historic charm that is well appreciated by many students and their families.

It is always fun to walk around Colonial Williamsburg and interact with the costumed actors.

I first attended the College in the Fall of 1983, taking advantage of a full Army R.O.T.C. scholarship. After two years of playing wargames and frisbee (while attending only about 40% of my classes), the Army decided that my lackluster grades did not fill them with confidence that I would be fit, in spite of my oath, “to protect the Constitution of the United States against enemies, foreign or domestic.” In the summer of 1985 I was informed that the scholarship was no longer in effect, and so began a hiatus from school while I scrabbled to earn the money to return. Eventually I was required to pay back all the money they had spent on me, having been found in breach of contract as a result of my poor grades.

Perhaps a little less time playing Star Trek in the computer lab … ?

After working for the Department of Agriculture for a year or so, it became evident that the best way for me to repay the money I owed while still earning enough to return to college was to join the Army as an enlisted man. At the time, the G.I. Bill and Army College Fund were generous enough for me to serve a three-year stint and ‘earn’ funds sufficient to finish school. My parents generously helped me to pay off my debt to the Army, and I signed up for a three-year enlistment as a Chaplain’s Assistant, which turned out to be just the thing I needed to grow up a little.

Many a game of Ultimate Frisbee was played in these Sunken Gardens.

In 1989 I returned to the College of William and Mary as a sophomore (again). By this time Kathy had transferred in from a school near Richmond, and began attending Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF) and Campus Crusade for Christ, where I quickly noticed her. We became acquainted during a Spring Break work project through IVCF and Habitat for Humanity, as we worked to build homes for people whose homes were destroyed by Hurricane Hugo in 1989.

Jodi and Alan and their delightful family

At the end of the week, I drove Kathy and her friend, Jodi, home from South Carolina, since all three of us needed to be back in Virginia a day earlier than the rest of the group. After we counseled Kathy’s friend on her love life (she met her future husband, Alan, during the same week-long trip) and Jodi fell into an exhausted slumber, Kathy and I talked and laughed the rest of the ride home. As we crossed the border between North Carolina and Virginia, I realized that I was beginning to fall in love with her.

It was great to breakfast with the Purks, who encouraged and mentored us both as individual followers of Jesus and as a couple, heading for marriage.

Kathy and I spent some very happy years in school together, and we greatly enjoyed the opportunity to renew our acquaintance with a few of the local landmarks.

Extending from the Wren building at the tip of campus through the historic district, Duke of Gloucester Street (aka Dog Street) serves as the preferred promenade for students and tourists alike.

Kathy’s parents also attended William and Mary, as did my brother and his wife. Kathy enjoyed a quick chat with her Dad while waiting for the redcoats.

Kathy waits for a package from home …

Kathy and I never really ‘dated’, per se, but moved quickly into an intimate friendship that avoided some of the games that people play as they try to gauge the heart of their beloved. While we served on the Habitat for Humanity work project, our Inter-Varsity leaders asked us to write 3×5 ‘care cards’ of encouragement to the other members on the team, a practice which was very effective in building us into a more cohesive team. Returning to campus after the project, Kathy and I kept the practice alive, although it soon devolved into a way for just the two of us to woo each other in words. Postage at the time for on-campus mail was free, and the kindly workers would distribute new mail in our boxes three or four times a day.

Silly Kathy, doesn’t she know the Campus Post Office has moved to the new Campus Center?

We wrote hundreds (maybe thousands) of cards to each other, three or four at a time, bundled into an envelope for privacy and posted through campus mail in the basement of the Old Dominion dormitory. We quickly attracted the mail handlers’ attention and became a mascot for those who approved of young lovers — our mail was always sorted and placed in our boxes with the utmost in efficiency and courtesy. We found reasons to pass by the post office three or four times a day, and were rarely disappointed, as we shared little 3×5 slices of our hearts in a variety of pastel colors.

One of the most romantic spots on campus was the little bridge over Crim Dell. As legend has it, kissing a date on this bridge results in a future marriage with that person — Kathy and I were careful to preserve the legend … on several occasions.

Life in college isn’t all roses, as everyone knows. Sometimes classes were hard; paper and exam deadlines seemed to come pretty fast and furious at times. I remember on several occasions being rather stressed-out, especially the first year back at school after four years away. Once I met Kathy, though, I walked around campus with a sharp eye, watching for a smiling face that brightened even the worst of days.

Some of those professors get downright testy when you skip their classes.

Whenever our schedule permitted, we used to meet at the Sundial, which stood near the library at a crossroads of paths among some of the academic buildings on ‘new’ campus. There were many other semi-secret meeting spots whose names still bring a smile to my lips, including the Phoenix, the Hippopotamus Stapler, and Oliver.

I’d better not leave this cute girl waiting long, or she’ll be snapped up.

Looking back over the years, I’m filled with a sense of tremendous gratitude for God’s sovereign hand and His love and kindness for us both. In spite of the squandering of my scholarship, God gave me a second chance at college, and threw in true love with Kathy, just because He can. Whenever I feel that I’m going through a hard stretch in life, and it seems God has abandoned me, I remember what good things He has given me, when my life seemed dark and grim — it helps me to hold on and wait for His goodness and grace.

Tim

Today I had the privilege of attending a work day and board meeting for The Refuge, a Christian Retreat and Conference Center being constructed on the Olympic Peninsula, along the Hood Canal. For the last seven years or more, this project has been under development, and is finally coming to fruition, as the main lodge rises majestically from the ground.

My parents have waited a long time for this dream to become a reality.

When I was a boy, I perfected the knack of walking into the kitchen as the last dish was dried, or rounding the corner of the garage as the last leaves were stuffed into bags. Mastery of this work-avoidance skill took a lot of practice and stealth, but I was able to spare the time, having hoarded many hours by the clever expedient of not doing my homework.

In 1999, we moved to Western Washington, and almost immediately my parents began hosting ‘work parties’ as they attempted to transform the grounds of the Refuge from a swamp to an elk pasture (they thought they were building a retreat center, but the resident elk knew better). A crowd of hard-working folks would drive out from Fort Lewis at crack o’ dawn and be industriously clearing trails or hauling brush while I was still slouching around in my boxers, sipping on my first Diet Coke of the day. With our house less than 200 yards from the Refuge grounds, it was hard to pretend we had other pressing engagements. We would keep the blinds drawn, pretending to be out of town, but sooner or later one of the workers would count our cars or spot one of the kids, and the jig would be up. We felt vaguely guilty about our half-hearted support of The Refuge, and so I would emerge from the house and join the busy crowd, making a big show of looking for my work gloves.

Many of the volunteers that attend these gala events are retirees, so you might think that I could impress them all with my physical strength and endurance. Nothing could be further from the truth. These wiry, tireless folk apparently train for weeks before coming out for a work day, and they routinely work me to exhaustion without seeming to break a sweat. One hot morning, gasping for breath as I hauled a load of brush, my childhood skills came to mind, and saved the day.

I realized that a major challenge for many non-profit organizations is publicity, and I was in possession of a serviceable digital camera. I promptly decided that the Refuge would be better served (and my skills better utilized) if I appointed myself official photographer and Media Relations Officer. Grabbing my camera, I now drifted slowly from work site to work site, snapping happily away while others slaved. If challenged by a sweating worker, I need only show my camera and shrug, made exempt from all actual work by this magical talisman in silver and black. I imagine there was probably a guy like me standing by, when they built the pyramids, sketching happily in a shady spot, sipping on a cucumber smoothie, while slaves hauled ten-ton stone blocks to the crack of a whip.

Even the grown-ups got to participate in the boat races. I carefully didn’t snap a picture of the lady who fell in the creek, while trying to retrieve an escaping boat.

Today, I decided to try some actual work, if only for the novelty of it … but I found I built my work-exempt role too well. No sooner was I loading some wood into a truck, than my Dad was asking me to take a few ‘candid’ shots of the other workers. When I tried to help move some picnic tables, I was again pressed into service as photographer. Slipping away to rake a few leaves, I was summoned by my Mom to shoot the boat races down at the creek.

She looks innocent, but that’s my rake she’s holding.

We did eventually hold the board meeting, and I collapsed into a comfy couch, nursing the blister on my right index finger. You’d think they would make those shutter release buttons easier to push! I suffered through the meeting and managed to choke down three helpings of baked salmon and a piece of pecan pie — I’m just a martyr among men.

We decided to table this issue.

Arriving home, I walked into the kitchen as the last dish from dinner was put into the dishwasher … it is nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.

Tim, Project 365, Day 293

1. He loves Jesus. My son is serious about being a fully-devoted disciple of Jesus and he orders his life in obedience to the scripture. He studies his Bible and goes with me to prayer meetings from time to time.
2. Joshua is kind. He sword-fights with David, reads books to Sarah, plays with Rachel and Daniel and helps them with their schoolwork.
3. He likes to laugh. Even the dumbest jokes that I tell, often get at least a chuckle. He has a hearty, un-self-conscious laugh that delights the listener’s soul. One of my favorite things to do is to watch him read one of my funny blogs.
4. Joshua loves to read. Whether it is whipping through Ivanhoe or savoring Losing Joe’s Place, he has a keen appetite for good books.


So many books, so little time.

5. He is a faithful servant. Just try keeping him away from church, when tables or chairs need to be set up or taken down. And don’t get between him and the car when groceries need to be unloaded!
6. Joshua loves games, the more complicated, the better. Whenever I want a good game of Puerto Rico, Citadels or Settlers of Catan, my son is all over it. Sometimes he lets me win, too.
7. He is an excellent baker and cook, delighting the family with delicious meals and confections. Always one who likes to know where his next meal is coming from, his can be counted on for simple but hearty fare.
8. Joshua is creative and inventive — his stories and drawings are sure to delight and amuse audiences young and old alike.
9. He is an excellent actor, with a superb stage-presence and flair for the dramatic. I still get a chuckle whenever I think of his portrayal of Mr. Wunderman in Comic Book Artist a couple of years ago.


Joshua played an “old” man rather convincingly.

10. Joshua has nearly perfect memory, and can be relied upon to have the correct details about almost any event (for which he was present). Coupled with good story-telling skills, he can always be relied upon as our resident historian.
11. He is scrupulously honest, to the point that I am more likely to doubt myself than I am to doubt him.
12. Joshua has a passion for history, particularly the Civil War, and can name all the U.S. Presidents, in order (something I never learned to do). He is probably the only person you know (if you know him) who can give you a detailed assessment of Millard Fillmore’s Presidency.
13. He is gentle and careful with his strength, a quality I am coming to appreciate more, now that he is taller than me.
14. Joshua listens carefully to what I say and seems genuinely interested in learning from me. He even pretends to like my Army stories.

Rachel and Tim designed this sign for Joshua’s room. Rachel did the painting.

I’m sure Joshua has his faults — he is, after all, descended from sinners whose only claim to fame is that they were loved and chosen by Jesus. But we’ll save the discussion of his shortcomings for his Anti-Birthday, to be held on the 18th of April.

Tim
Project 365 - Day 291