There was a time when my little homeschool consisted of all girls. It was a sweet time. We talked about the characters in our favorite books and how they really felt. Every missionary story ended in tears...actually only I cried. We read poetry and worked on lovely crafts. It was all happiness and sunshine and I felt I had control.
That was then. Now my days consist of teaching a large pack of boys. I have one daughter still here, but she is deft at escaping. I don't fault her for that, it's called survival. Their eyes glaze over when we read poetry; they twist their bodies into strange shapes when I read to them. They assume that the only feelings that book characters have are the urges to wrestle and punch, which is their deepest desires. Now my want to cry comes only from the varied and numerous smells they emit. I KNOW I don't have control.
As a good teacher I realized that our curriculum might need a little tweak - or a shove.
Now, we shoot rubber bands at targets on the wall to decide who goes first. Our journal topics consist of superheroes and gross bodily stuff. Science has moved from the book to outside, encompassing anything that pops, fizzes and bangs. This week we spent a long time mixing vinegar, baking soda in ever increasing amounts to see just how big an explosion we could generate.
What did we learn? A little about acids and bases and lots about why learning isn't terrible.