Mia was what some call a late bloomer, academically. She’s probably the poster child for homeschooling success. I’m positive she could have labelled herself dumb (and NOT a math person) and hated reading had she felt the pressure to keep up with her peers in first grade. Instead, that was our first year homeschooling. We focused on phonics and delayed formal math. We left plenty of time for arts and crafts which she loves. We didn’t force memory work, but left her to just experience it.
Fast forward 4 years. She is the most focused and motivated person in the house. She loves reading. She still wouldn’t call herself a math person, but she rocks it and is basically teaching herself. She gets up every morning while the house is still quiet and starts her work. Last year, when I was pretty much M.I.A. (no pun intended) as a mother (let alone teacher) because of our trauma drama, she moved through her checklist faithfully each week and bloomed into quite the academic.
We use IEW for our writing curriculum. It really works for my engineering brain because it’s systematic and structured. It really worked for PJ, who hates writing, and now I know it works for our creative, right-brained Mia. We don’t do writing at our house until about 9, so this is only Mia’s second year writing anything. A couple weeks ago, during a creative writing unit, she whipped out this short story that I love and wanted to share with you. It was a completely independent effort with me just providing some basic grammar editing.
Without further ado…
The Christmas Gift
One November morning, on Zumba Street, a girl, named Maisie, was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. Maisie had short, dark brown, lovely hair, and sweet, brown eyes. Her mother, Grace, was making her a special breakfast because the night before she and her soccer team won the championship. Maisie was the best soccer player on her team, but she hated it. Maisie’s parents thought she loved soccer, but they thought wrong. Instead of soccer, Maisie loved to paint. “Eat up Maisie because after breakfast you are visiting Aunt Rose at her house, “announced Maisie’s mother. After Maisie heard this she did start eating faster because she loved Aunt Rose. Maisie’s aunt, who was really magnificent at painting, might give her some advice. After she ate her breakfast, she walked into the car and fastened her seatbelt.
Maisie and her mother finally arrived at Aunt Rose’s. When Maisie walked into the house, she spotted her aunt sitting in the living room.
“Have a wonderful time.” Remarked Maisie’s mother. “Bye mom.” Mumbled Maisie in return. After her mom left, Maisie turned to her aunt in the living room. “Why hello Maisie. Now what do you want to talk about?” asked Aunt Rose.
“Well I need advice on something. Everyone thinks I like soccer, but I hate it. Instead of playing soccer next year again, I want to take painting lessons. But the thing is I’m too scared to tell everyone. I mean what if everyone laughs at the idea? ” exclaimed Maisie.
“So you need advice on if you want to tell everyone about painting, or suck it up and play soccer next year?” asked Aunt Rose.
“I guess that’s what I want,” softly whispered Maisie
“Maisie, I really don’t think that anyone would make fun of that idea. It’s good to try something new. However if you want, I will pay for the art lessons for Christmas. If I do you have to tell your parents about the painting.” decided Aunt Rose. Maisie, who considered this, thought it was a lovely idea. Maisie was so proud to have such an awesome aunt.
That night at dinner Maisie mumbled the whole story to her parents frightfully. Her parents who, were confused at first, understood more as she talk. Weeks passed and then finally Christmas came. She finally possessed what she wanted so she was happy. It was the most terrific Christmas gift she had ever received.
Moral: A little encouragement goes a long way.
