Recently, we've made the decision to homeschool our children. This post is not about why, or for how long, or even how we came to that decision.
This post is about my utter failure, and then subsequent triumph, to teach my then-3-year-old how to spell his name.
I became aware of the fact that I should probably be doing SOMETHING to educate my child in February of this year, when we went a cousin's 4th birthday party. Silas, 3 at the time, couldn't tell you an A from a B, or that things such as letters existed. He could sing the ABC's, count to 20, tell you all the colors of the rainbow (and even count to 10 in Spanish, the only time I'll ever be glad that Dora exists), but the concept of letters and them having meanings was completely foreign to him. As I watched his sweet, bright cousin spell her whole name, I made a goal to teach Silas to recognize his name by the time he was 4.
I didn't want to spend any money on any sort of curriculum (come on, he's 3) so I decided to go about it the old-fashioned way: by the seat of my pants, no idea what I was doing. I introduced Silas to letters-- we did puzzles and sang songs and did flashcards and read, read, read, read (we read A LOT in this house) but it just didn't seem to be clicking. In March we reached the 1 month mark and he still couldn't sight recognize a thing. I decided to pare down my ambitious goal and just teach him one single, stinking letter-- the letter "S."
I kid you not, we spent HOURS on the letter S. We continued with our flash cards and puzzles. We drew the letter S in various forms-- sidewalk chalk, shaving cream, markers and crayons and even using pull-apart Twizzlers. I would think he was finally getting it-- I would see an "S" on a sign or in a book and would ask him, over and over, "Silas! What letter is this?!?"
Blank stare.
"You know it! It stands for... SILAS... it makes an "esssssssss" sound like a snake??"
Blank.
I felt like the very worst homeschooling mom in the whole, entire world. How could I expect to teach my kids math (which I barely understand myself) if I can't even communicate the STUPID STINKING SORRY LETTER S?????
And then, one day in August, a month before his 4th birthday, a breakthrough.
Silas was in the bathroom, and I was doing something else upstairs. He started yelling, loud and urgent:
"MOM! MOM! MOM! COME HERE RIGHT NOW MOM MOMOMOMOMOM!"
I thought he had fallen or cut himself or that he was drowning in the toilet, so I raced as fast as I could to the bathroom-- only to find him standing, pants down and half-naked, proudly next to the potty, pointing with his finger and a bright, excited look in his eyes.
"MOM!!! MY POOP IS AN 'S'!"
And... it was.
And, being the mother of boys that I am, I wiped his butt, and gathered him in a huge hug.
"IT IS! IT IS! I'm SO proud of you! I am SO happy your poop made an S!"
And then we said goodbye to the S, and flushed it away.
He learned the rest of the letters in his name within the next two weeks. I owe it all to the potty.
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| A very proud Silas |
