Home Schooling

I can hear my baby boy snoring through the monitor right now. It was a bath night, so he's snuggled in his bed with fluffy hair and pink cheeks. I can still see him playing with his toys as he did for much of the day. His face turned down to examine wooden spoons, a monkey, a fire truck with chubby cheeks and serious eyes, but he had an instant smile, triggered by only a call of his name. I got down on the floor with him to chat, and when I ran out of things to say, I sang nursery rhymes and continued my lesson of pat-a-cake. Just this morning, he started bouncing, his bottom nearly leaving the floor from his seated position in what I assume is one more step toward mobility. For the last few days, he has been reaching his arms out, stretching his hands, the universal baby-sign for "So big!"

He took a ride in the Bjorn, facing out to watch for the school bus to bring one of his brothers home, legs kicking and arms waving when he spots the big kids coming down the steps. He grunted a bit, but he didn't complain, when I had to bend over and help nine-year-old to buckle his roller blades. "Blah bubduhh," he called to both brothers and, "Ddduhwhha". Was it an attempt to keep the peace on the roller hockey court or was he just showing off his new consonant sounds? From breakfast to dinner, I spooned real bananas, blueberry, and oatmeal, risotto and sweet peas, and he whisked imaginary food in a colander.

I have six months left of my year-long leave of absence from teaching. I miss being in the classroom every day. I miss getting to know my sixth graders through their chatter, their book choices, their writing. I miss talking to colleagues. But I haven't left Teacher Town. I get to witness learning all day here at home.