Since when have the courts become parents?
Someone recently sent me a link to a court case in which a judge ordered homeschooled children into public school based on his decision that the children needed more 'focus'. This, despite the fact the kids in question had tested above their grade levels.
A North Carolina judge has ordered three children to attend public schools this fall because the homeschooling their mother has provided over the last four years needs to be "challenged."
The children, however, have tested above their grade levels – by as much as two years.
The decision is raising eyebrows among homeschooling families, and one friend of the mother has launched a website to publicize the issue.
The ruling was made by Judge Ned Mangum of Wake County, who was handling a divorce proceeding for Thomas and Venessa Mills.
I couldn't believe this was a real and true story. This kind of injustice doesn't happen in America. Does it? I know judges have an appointed authority to interpret the law and enforce it accordingly, but if you read some of Judge Mangum's own quotes you can't help but be left with the same questions I am sure all people who read them have.
How can any judge see this case in the manner in which Judge Mangum is seeing it? How can he favor so heavily in favor of a father that has admittedly committed adultery, repeatedly, and has even gone so far as to admit that he took time away form his kids to pursue relations with his mistress? How can this judge feel as negatively as he does toward Mrs. Mills?
I am astonished by this to be honest. If you are a home schooling parent I would encourage you, if you are not already a member, to become a member of the Home School Legal Defense Association. It is an invaluable resource for home schooling families and something that every home school parent should be a part of.
And if you haven't yet, stop on by The Homeschool Injustice blog set up by Mills family friend Robyn Williams and offer a word of encouragement to Venessa or support for the case that she is so valiantly fighting right now.
That’s one small step for a Sarah
And one gigantic, enormous, monstrous step for dad.
My oldest daughter, Sarah, was invited to spend the night with a friend of hers for her friend's birthday party on Saturday night. Part of the festivities were going to involve shopping and a girls day out with her friend. I was cool with that. But I was shocked and awed when her friend's mom came to pick Sarah up and told us that she was going to be dropping Sarah and her friend off at the mall. By themselves.
This is the first time ever that I was faced with the prospect of one of my children alone in the great big world all by herself. Well, not really by herself, but more, I guess, without me. Of course her friend did have a cell phone (and no I am not getting Sarah a cell phone yet) and both Sandi's and my phone were on. And they were only going to be there for three hours. And her friend had done this before, so all in all, it was a pretty safe experience. But it was more than a little nerve racking.
The nice part about the experience was that Sarah's friend's mom went over a good set of pretty basic rules that reiterated the rules that Sandi and I have laid for out kids as it relates to talking to strangers, scams brought on by adults and how to conduct yourself in places like stores when it comes to money, what you say, how you say it and what you do with things that you have already purchased. So it was encouraging to know that my kid was receiving the same message from another parental source.
It was also encourage when, at about 3:00 on Saturday, my daughter called me to tell me she was going to be leaving the mall because her friend's mom had come to pick them. She also told me she was ok, that she had a great time and the her friend was keeping her alive "for the most part".
So I would say it was not a bad day for a few first time experiences. I am proud of the way my daughter handled it. And I am proud of the way my wife handled it. I am also proud of the way I handled it, and though I think I am still going to be a little slow to go along with something like this any time soon, I can say that I am confident that if either of my two oldest daughters were put into a position in which they were alone in a large open square, they would be more than able to handle the situation and be totally safe doing so.
Boys vs Girls: Having a meltdown
From time to time I notice large scale differences between my son and my daughters. They are not always magnificent, spectacular differences in nature, but they are always widely and significantly different in terms of conduct.
One such example happened this afternoon. We spent a long afternoon at Ikea , one that included lunch, playing, dreaming and a butt load of walking. We went there right after church so there was no rest time in between church and the store. Throw in the fact that ever floor we hit was a little cooler than the floor above it and you can quickly gather that our entire family was tired, hot then cold then colder, irritable and generally of a cranky nature.
In the past I have become somewhat accustomed to my daughters crankiness and fits of rage. But having a son has shed some light on the different ways in which boys and girls handle that stage of melting down that necessarily happens when the day has gone on too long for them and no one is catering to their every whim. Let me explain...
As we left the store we walked toward our truck as a family. Rebekah and Adriannah decided they were going to race to the truck. Alaynah, being the big girl that she is, took off after them. My son, being the big man that he is, followed suit. Rebekah hit the truck first, not surprisingly, followed by Annah, Alaynah and Aaron. Oh yeah, and Aaron's scream. See, he had it in his mind that he was supposed to win. And when he didn't win, he got upset.
If this was one of my daughters I would be able to tell you that she would have probably gotten quiet, maybe telling you that she didn't want to be your friend or didn't want to talk to you anymore, maybe cross her arms. Very emotional, very heart felt. My son... well, he went in a different direction.
After screaming, well yelling really, very loudly, he screamed directly at Alaynah, telling her, in effect, that he wanted to win and the she was supposed to let him win. Then he screamed again. Then he put both hands on the truck as if he was going to push it out of the parking spot it was in. And when it didn't move, he reached under the rear quarter panel and tried to pick it up and throw it. Yes, my son wanted to pick the truck up and throw it. It was only when he couldn't get it off the ground that the tears came.
Broken, frustrated and thwarted as a mighty man of truck throwing strength, my son became a little boy once again. And I had no choice but to pick him up, hold him, tell him I love him and then tell him that next time, if he wants to win, he needs to earn it because there is nothing at all the he will ever do in which a win will be given to him. Of course, I told him this in terms a three year old might understand some day. But he had to hear it. More importantly though was that he had to hear that I loved him. Right then, in the middle of his meltdown.
Which takes me to a place where my kids aren't really all that different. When they are broken, frustrated and thwarted what all they really need is a little love. But then, isn't that something we all need when we go through all that stuff, too?
Going through a teen life crisis
A few days ago my friend Ray called me up and brought to my attention that in a few weeks he and I were going to be father's of teen aged daughters. Not that I needed any more worries on my plate right now. Thanks Ray!
Seriously, I have given it a bit of thought over the last few months. My daughter Sarah, my first born, will be turning 13 in just a few weeks (April 2, if you want to send cash and prizes). Ray's daughter Kayla will be turning 13 on April 19 (or is the April 16? I always forget). So in just a few short weeks I am going to have a teen aged daughter.
And about fifteen months and a few short weeks from now I will have a second teen aged daughter. And frankly I am overwhelmed by it.
I have been looking forward to this time. I have dreamed of what it would be like to welcome my daughter into young adulthood, into an age of maturity, into the "teens". But then I realized that for the most part, 13 is just a number.
Yes, it is a meaningful number. Most kids consider 13 to be a huge milestone in their young lives. I did. I remember turning 13 and thinking to myself "I'm a man now. Awesome.". But to be honest, from that point on I can remember very little about being 13 or even being a teenager for that matter.
But I so want something special for my daughter. I want her to have a grand welcome party into teenhood. I want her to have a 13th birthday to remember. I want her to know that I feel as crazy about this as she does. Because I do. It is huge. For her, and for me, too.
I am not sure still what I am going to do. But I do know that I am going to stop sweating this whole "coming of age" bit and just continue to enjoy my children and the days of their youth. 13 has come so quickly that I can hardly remember the past 12. And I still have four more 13's to experience. So I think that this 13, the first 13, will be a bit of a special 13 for me.
And I am sure it will be for Sarah as well.
Between a father and his son
Last night, when I got home, I was tired. And hungry. And ready to rest. I wanted some quiet time and some relaxation time. Did I get that? No. Am I complaining? No, though it sounds that way. What I got was something better.
As the night wore on I noticed my son was just all over the place. He was loud, getting into stuff, moving things, climbing things, just doing things. He apparently had a bunch of pent up energy that needed exhausting in some capacity. So as he was doing something he probably should not have been doing down the hallway I went to him and asked him "Dude, you want daddy to go thrash you in the bedroom?". You should have seen those three year old eyes light up.
"Yes!" he said as he dropped everything in his arms and ran to my room. I unlocked the door (it is locked specifically because of him) and he ran to my bed laughing his head off. As he was about to make it on to the bed I tackled him, and the fun began. We wrestled, tickled, punched, swung, and punched each other for a food fifteen minutes before he said "Dad, lets play boxing.". How could I resist that?
So we started wailing on each other. Not hard of course, but with enough force to know that we were hitting each other. He was loving every minute of it. Then we started wrestling again. And tickling. And thrashing. And then it happened... he ran into me trying to tackle me and I didn't really notice until he bounced off of my shoulder. Looking down at him I noticed his lip was bleeding so I told him to hang on while I got some tissue for his mouth. His reply? "No dad, I want to keep playing boxing."
I cleaned up his mouth anyway. Then we got to boxing again. And it was just after this that Sandi walked in with cookies and the fund and games stopped right then. It was a blast, but it got better this morning.
AJ decided he wanted to come into my bed this morning as I was waking up. I let him and went to take my shower. As I left the bathroom after finishing my shower I noticed he was under the covers. Then suddenly he threw open the covers trying to scare me. He wanted more.
Now this is where husbanding comes in to play. Men, if you have a wife and she is in bed sleeping when you come out of the shower and your son is in that bed wanting to fight with you while your wife sleeps right next to him, you need to make a decision. The wise decision in this case is to tell your son that you need to wait.
My son didn't understand that. But we squared it up pretty quick and, to make the situation more top his liking, I laid down next to him and we talked. We talked about boxing the night before, about him waking his sisters up, about him wanting breakfast, about his dreams from the previous night, about his toy cars. I then told him how grown up he seemed, having this wonderful conversation with me at just three and a half years old. I also mentioned to him that in a few months, when he turns four, he will be able to start going to the church class room that Alaynah gets to go to, but how that since she will be turning six she will only be with him for about two weeks.
He then told me that he wants to go to her class so he can spin the wheel and play in the bounce house and all of the fun stuff in that room. But immediately after this he told me that he would go back to his three year old class since he would be embarrassed to go to Alaynah's class. It was as we were talking about this that Alaynah came in and our conversation was totally dashed. But it's all good. I had an amazing talk with my son.
And therein lies the moral of this post. Men, if you have a son, or more than one son, take amoment every now and again to have some aggressive, man time with him. He wants that, no matter his age, and he will love it. He will also love that you want to spend any time with him at all and he will totally cherish that moment and remember it. Even if he doesn't let on to it. Let him hold your tools, or wear your safety goggles, or put shaving cream on his face while he watches you shave. Let him be a boy trying to become a man.
My son loves that time. And I, as a recovering young boy myself, really look forward to those moments, too.
