Goodbye, Wee Folk Art

When my husband and I decided to homeschool our daughter, we spent a significant amount of time meditating on the theories and philosophies behind the various popular home education methods. Charlotte Mason? Waldorf? Montessori? Classical? Unschooling? Traditional? The list goes on and on. We read books, made many lists, and decided that unschooling would suit our precocious preschooler’s curiosities, our lifestyle, and our beliefs about childhood development and education.

In my mind’s eye, I envisioned taking walks together, seeing our daughter notice a funny bug or a leaf and asking questions. I blissfully imagined diving into the library to find out the answers and then to be carried away on a tangent. I pictured us making messes and creating together without boundaries or rules. Without a map.

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But when I told my daughter that she was now in preschool and that her preschool was whatever she wanted it to be, she was unimpressed. “I want to see,” she said in her small voice.

So I began researching “preschool homeschool curriculum” which I promise you is not a fun search as much as it is heart-withering. Much of the homeschool curricula that surfaces on the internet reads something like this:

  • 15 minutes coloring book
  • 15 minutes lacing cards
  • 2 times singing the alphabet
  • Snack
  • Read stories
  • Counting

The idea of making my own active child sit still for “15 minutes of lacing cards” was more than I could bear.

I reached out to Facebook for suggestions and was finally pointed toward a curriculum that was described as “gentle and Waldorf inspired” by several people. It seemed like another dead end, but I looked anyway.

What I found was not a rigid, sedentary schedule, but a seasonally thematic recipe for a rhythm-focused preschool or kindergarten experience. Wee Folk Art, by Kimera Wise and her daughter Michelle Bonney, is a multifaceted endeavor involving crafting patterns for homemade delights and a beautiful set of home school curricula.

Simple Seasons is a four-part collection of seasonal curricula that can be used for preschool or kindergarten (or even 1st grade if you add on to it). All four parts are short PDFs of 12 or so pages, all in color, all organized intuitively and clearly. And all of them are available for free (if you don’t mind some out-of-print books), or for $6 a pop with updated books. I purchased all four pieces, for $24 which seemed like a deal considering we would use them for two years.

So, when I handed my daughter the binder and watched as her small hands turned the pages, I was mesmerized. Her whole being seemed to light up, her eyes grew brighter, and she said “Are we going to do all these things?” Yes, I answered her, and she gave me a hug, her little arms wrapping around my hips tightly.

There is power in this curriculum, I thought.

Each Simple Seasons curriculum has an introduction with explanations, schedule suggestions, and optional directions. Each has a chart that outlines the Primary Story (a picture book), A “Digging Deeper” book (a nonfiction picture book related to the primary story that covers a science or math concept or a historical person or event), a matching project (science, math, art, or a combination), occasional field trip suggestions, and a letter of the alphabet to focus on.

The books that are used in Simple Seasons have been, for the most part, found right at our local library. Some we have purchased, and almost all were purchased used. The art supplies have been easy to find and mostly inexpensive.

Developmentally, children in their preschool years often benefit from learning about the world that they are directly seeing and experiencing. This is the world they have questions about, and this is what they want to explore. Thus, a seasonally focused list of books and projects was meaningful to my learner.  This does not mean she never had other interests. Once we spent a month learning about lighthouses because she asked. She has never stopped learning about dinosaurs. We spent two months on the Middle Ages during the winter, and that interest continues as well. Simple Seasons is broad enough to offer freedom, and the schedule is wide-open for you to customize to your family’s own needs. With just two books and a project or three, we had plenty of time to dive in to myriad other interests, and yet the Wee Folk Art books were always pulled off the shelf frequently to read aloud.

There are three poems that are suggested for memorization for each 12 week quarter. They include classics like “Little Boy Blue” (traditional), “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” (Robert Frost), and “The Caterpillar” (Christina G. Rosetti). My daughter really enjoyed listening to and memorizing these poems the first year, but she did not do the same poems again her second year because she still remembered everything she learned. We supplemented by adding a daily “morning verse” her second year, and adding a weekly Poetry Tea Time á la Brave Writer.

In addition to the poem, there is a suggested weekly narration, which we opted to complete. Once a week, we would sit down together somewhere (table, outside, couch, floor) and my daughter would tell me what happens in the primary story, and I would write down her words verbatim. If she wanted, she would draw a picture. This was the only piece of “work” she would do. The rest of preschool was reading, exploring, playing, singing, and working on skills at her own pace and fueled by her own interest. Thus, Simple Seasons really hit that sweet spot for preschool where we could find freedom within a larger structure.

 

 

A Closer Look at Each Season

Harvest Time, which is where we began, looks at Autumn phenomena and holidays typical to the east coast of the United States. It would work well in any part of the world if you are curious about leaves that change color, the transition from summer to fall, tractors, pumpkins and apples. Of course, nothing is ever perfect and we did need to make some changes for our family and our beliefs. Wee Folk Art is written by a Christian family, and while it is mostly a secular offering, there were a few things that needed to be adapted for our secular home school experience. In Harvest Time, the poem “Johnny Apple Seed” references God throughout. Changing the word “God” to “Earth”, however, easily fixed this problem. Indeed, the poem is richer and more beautiful with this change.

We loved looking at Leaf Man by Lois Ehlert, and we enjoyed making leaf people of our own with an iron and wax paper. The pumpkin muffin recipe she includes in curriculum is delicious and has become a tradition for the autumn.

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Leaf Art, 2017

The problem with Harvest Time, in my opinion, was the white washed view of Thanksgiving that is presented in the texts suggested for that week. We disregarded those entirely, and used books that represented the Native American people—hopefully—with more agency, compassion, and truth. We used Giving Thanks: A Native American Good Morning Message by Chief Jake Swamp, The Very First Americans by Cara Ashrobe, and Squanto’s Journey: The Story of the Very First Thanksgiving by Joseph Bruchac. Instead of making turkey place mats, we made food to share with our family on Thanksgiving.

Winter Wonderland, in Vermont, starts off just as the name suggests. Yay! Snow! We looked at snow crystals with a magnifying glass and learned about how it all happens. We read about bears, about hibernation, and making snowmen.  Sometime after week four, my daughter (and I) lost steam both years. I don’t necessarily think this is a Simple Seasons issue, so much as a Vermont issue. Winters are LONG. We are COLD. Both years we ditched this at different points and explored other interests. The first year was a mash-up of various things my daughter was curious about, and the second year was a structured Prehistory (dinosaur and cave person) unit that she was passionate about.

Winter wonderland features several projects that we loved and used, though. We spent a week studying Ireland and exploring my daughter’s Irish heritage each year (adding step-dancing performances to the field trips and baking soda bread), and we spent more than a week learning about maple syrup (we live in Vermont after all!) Winter Wonderland includes several holidays with saints, and we did not read those books, as I could not find options that were objective on the topic. We still celebrated Valentine’s day by making cards for friends, and the Jan Brett/Eve Bunting book suggested in the curriculum is both beautiful and humorous.

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Spring B’s is the most elegant, well-organized and engaging of the Simple Seasons units. It begins with Aesop’s fables for literature and birds for science. Making and painting clay birds is a favorite project, and one will continue to do for many years to come. My child loved comparing her bird this year to her bird last year and seeing how much her modeling skills had improved. (In fact, she loved the ability to compare her narrations and her projects to see how she had grown.) After three weeks of bird study, the curriculum moves to two weeks of bunnies, three weeks of gardens and plants, two weeks of bees, and two weeks of butterflies. There is a distinct lack of Christian influences in Spring B’s, and most of the books are wonderful and easy to acquire. The one exception being What Makes a Bird a Bird which is out-of-print and difficult to find. The other book to take note of is The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. Although this book is a classic, it is completely scientifically inaccurate (butterfly larva do not spin cocoons!). I would recommend looking at your local library for books about butterflies. There are so many.

Puddles and Ponds, where my daughter is right now, is the summer (and for her the last) quarter of Simple Seasons. We are spending time observing the weather (as I write this she is standing on the sheltered porch witnessing a heavy downpour with her father). We have been looking at tadpoles and frogs, watching the milkweed grow taller and checking for monarch eggs—like many families we spend the summer raising and releasing monarchs—and gardening. Puddles and Ponds is the low-key, relevant, and enjoyable ending to our academic year. Learning about thunder and lightning has made her unafraid of storms, while also teaching her storm safety. She knows where to look for a rainbow in the sky, and why clouds get so dark before it rains. At the local science museum, she impressed the staff with her knowledge of turtles, and feels comfortable getting muddy and asking questions. In the end, this is the preschool experience I wanted for her. She had a map, but no set pathway. She forged her own way through her preschool years, using the books and projects both as jumping off places and immersive opportunities.

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Because of Wee Folk Art, my daughter had a truly magical, nature-based, mostly outdoor preschool life. She would wake up in the morning excited to do school and pull the binder off the shelf. She would show her family and friends what she was working on, and still loves flipping through her past narrations and art projects. Her ability to summarize and pull together a cohesive account of an event or story is remarkable, and has been useful on more than one occasion. I believe the weekly narrations she completed helped hone this skill, and will continue to help her as she grows her writing and summarizing in kindergarten. If anyone knows me, they know I cannot stand busy work for children (or anyone), and this program does not have anything that would count as such.

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I have considered, probably a million times, continuing with Simple Seasons for one more year and adding in more math and science. But I know in my heart that this would not serve my daughter, and she needs to continue her journey with a different program. Using curricula does not mean a rigid or traditional schedule. It could for some, but for us it means opportunities, ideas, options, and inspiration. She is looking forward to beginning Blossom & Root Year One in September, and I am thrilled to be able to see where it takes her.

 

 

Six Books for Positivity, Independence, and Acceptance

My daughter is a four-year-old bookworm. We read multitudes of books every day, and because my family homeschools, we read that much more. I think we average twenty books a day. The library has pretty much moved into our home.

There are amazing books that encourage community, kindness, empathy, love, and tolerance. These are the books my family lives for, and these six books are drawn from a life-long passion for reading and collecting children’s literature.


Max Found Two Sticks (1997)

by Brian Pinkney

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The Western world values extroversion: many schools teach it (sharing time, presentations, speaking out in class), many adults praise it (“Oh, your child is so friendly!”), and many adults associate it with success (having more friends, going to events, being popular). In an article from The Guardian, Susan Cain discusses how extroverts are 25% more likely to get a job than introverts, and the advice given to introverts to offer a leg up is to “give a speech”—so fake it.

Among other negative introvert stereotypes, there is the sinister it’s-always-the-quiet-one-who-is-the-most-dangerous trope that is often attached to school shootings, workplace violence, and general maliciousness (you can search this yourself). However, there isn’t actually a correlation between introverts and violence. What does exist is a connection between mental illness and withdrawing from society, which could lead to violence in certain cases.

In this extrovert-loving society, how can we teach our introverted children that they are perfectly normal, and our extroverted children to accept their introverted friends as they are? I find that extroverted children are praised, and introverted children are often goaded, coaxed, and bribed into extroverting themselves when they do not necessarily want to engage in that way.

Max Found Two Sticks by Brian Pinkney is a book about an introvert taking some time to recharge. Max, a young boy, sits on his front steps and observes the neighborhood around him. He “doesn’t feel like talking” but he does feel like making music. The book narrates Max’s observations (the sound the rain makes, the wings of pigeons, the banging of the train passing) and of the music he makes in response. As the book progresses, his family and friends pass by him. One would expect the point of the book to be that someone finds a way to engage Max. Pinkney, however, changes the expected narrative by showing Max’s family and friends accepting his choice. Every person who passes him looks to see what Max is doing, and leaves him with a new object that he can use to make music. With each gift, Max’s percussive possibilities increase, and the pictures illustrate the joy that Max is feeling even though he does not express this joy through speech.

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This book shows how satisfying solitary observation and art creation can be. Max’s community supports him rather than trying to change him. He is lifted up and accepted for who he is without question or conflict. Pinkney’s flowing and expressive paintings are as lyrical as the text, which uses onomatopoeia tastefully and effectively. The language is simple, yet explores concepts much deeper, which means a rich conversation with your child on themes such as self-expression, community support, loneliness vs. being alone, and the connections between observation and art.

An added bonus: this book is featured on Reading Rainbow.


Pelle’s New Suit (1912)

by Elsa Beskow

translated by Marion Letcher Woodburn

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If you are unfamiliar with Elsa Beskow, she was a Swedish children’s author and illustrator who wrote in the early 19th century. Along with Astrid Lindgren, Beskow is one of the most famous children’s authors of Sweden, and her books are read like Beatrix Potter is read by Anglophones. Beskow’s work is timeless and magical. I discover more depth each time I pick up one of her books.

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One of the things I love most about Pelle’s New Suit is the way Pelle is illustrated with such character. He is not presented as a child, but as a human with a need that he must fulfill on his own (the first page of the book sets this up by saying that he has his “own” lamb which he takes care of “by himself”). The goal Pelle sets out to accomplish is to create a new set of clothes from the wool of his lamb. He is given a tremendous amount of agency, and it is depicted as normal and appropriate.

Children crave independence, yet are often given very little agency and allowance to do tasks by themselves. This book offers the gift of autonomy, and therefore shows the child that they are capable human beings. Not only can children see themselves in Pelle, but they can see themselves in the two smaller children that accompany Pelle throughout the story. These two children exist in the illustrations only, but their story is important as well. They clearly look up to him, often presenting expressions of awe or curiosity. And most importantly, they are included and become helpers as well. Thus, we are given Pelle as a helper, as one who is helped, and as a mentor: a powerful image for readers of any age.

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Part of being a capable, self-reliant human is understanding—and knowing how—to ask for help. In Pelle’s New Suit we witness Pelle learning how he can accomplish his goal, despite the fact that he cannot complete certain tasks. We see Pelle visit his grandmother to request that she spin his wool. With love and humor she agrees, but asks Pelle to weed her garden while she spins, because that is something she must do in order to have food. This trading of skills is treated in an age-appropriate way—a child may run into a task they cannot complete, but if they can ask for help (and perhaps help another in the process), maybe they can achieve their goal after all. In the end, we as readers feel the same pride that Pelle experiences as he thanks his lamb for his new suit. Moreover, the gratitude Pelle expresses throughout the book as each person aids him, is both natural and simple—especially for his lamb.


The Children of Noisy Village (1946)

by Astrid Lindgren

illustrated by Ilon Wikland

translated by Lamborn

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Astrid Lindgren is the THE Swedish author. She wrote the famous Pippi Longstocking series, who many recognize at least in name. The Children of Noisy Village might be her childhood memoirs about growing up in rural Sweden (I personally think it extremely likely). You could think of it as a Swedish Little House on the Prairie, but what I love most about this book is the humor.

The Children of Noisy Village has all the pieces that make great literature great. It has a lovable protagonist, a beautiful and engaging setting, a humorous and interesting narrative style, and themes that offer imaginative play or thought-provoking conversation.

Each chapter in this little book is a story unto itself, which makes reading aloud to younger children a breeze. And although the stories do have a specific order, they are vignette style, so you really don’t need to read every single one (although it would be hard not to).

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The nine-year-old protagonist, Lisa, is a young girl who lives with her family in a cluster of three farmhouses, separated from the nearest town by some distance. This book takes place in the early 1900s, and the children from these houses must walk to and from school by themselves, commit long grocery lists to memory (my daughter still runs around the house singing “A piece of bologna sausage of the best quality”—read the book to learn more), and entertain their blind grandfather.

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The magic in this book is multifaceted. First, it is a book about joy. The children in this book argue, fight, and tease each other (just as all children do), but they also learn to get past all of these things without an adult facilitating. The children rule in this book, and the adults appear naturally, as needed. For example, when the children get caught in a surprise blizzard on their way home from school, Lisa’s father finds them and brings them all home in his horse-drawn wagon. However on most days, the children take an extraordinarily long time to walk home from school, which is described in hilarious detail.

Second, this book is about kindness. One of the most wonderful stories in the book is about how Olaf came to have a dog. The story features a mean-spirited man who mistreats his dog, and shows how a gentle young boy was able to change the dog’s life with a very real level of bravery. And of course, the children are constantly helping each other. They play with the level of freedom that is no longer common—or even valued—in America today, and therefore they must work together to get out of  their scrapes and mischief. This is all treated with the straightforward, wry humor of a master storyteller.


Rainbow Weaver/Tejedora del Arcoiris (2016)

by Linda Elovitz Marshall

illustrated by Elisa Chavarri

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Rainbow Weaver is a beautifully illustrated story about a young Mayan girl named Ixchel (pronounced Eeshell) who wants to help her mother with the weaving that will earn money for Ixchel’s education. The text is written in both Spanish and English, with some Spanish pronunciations at the beginning of the book, which was helpful for a non-Spanish speaker like myself.

The theme of this book is certainly independence, like so many books on this list, but it goes deeper than that. Among the striking illustrations, we see a reverence for nature, and for reflecting that beauty and sacredness in art. Ixchel weaves a rainbow of colors that mirror her observations as she walks around her village. Not only does she observe and create, but she helps preserve the beauty of her village in the process.

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Ixchel is not able to use her mother’s thread for her own weaving, as her mother must be careful with her limited supply. Thus, Ixchel goes on a quest to build her own backstrap loom, and to find her own materials. She tries to weave with several different materials she finds in nature (grass and wool roving), but they do not create the effect she desires. Frustrated, she kicks the plastic bags that litter her village. And then she gets an idea.

Ixchel uses the plastic bags that litter her village to weave her “first rainbow”. The fabric she creates is soft and colorful. It inspires her neighbors to help collect more bags, as they simultaneously help Ixchel and clean up their village. Thus she is likewise able to beautify her world and sell her work at the market to help pay for her own education.

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Using the energy of frustration to create positivity is a powerful concept for children and adults alike. It is easy to feel discouraged, throw our hands in the air, and give up. Rainbow Weaver teaches us to take these moments and empower ourselves to transform helplessness into hope and self-actualization.


How the Queen Found the Perfect Cup of Tea (2017)

by Kate Hosford

illustrated by Gabi Swiatkowska

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How the Queen Found the Perfect Cup of Tea is a lovely book featuring unique and expressive colored pencil drawings by Gabi Swiatkowski. The text of the book uses different sizes to illustrate a range of emotions, which work in tandem with the art to create a pleasant and cohesive visual. This book is really quite beautiful.

What I most appreciate is not the emphasis on friendship (which is wonderful and certainly part of why the book is featured here), but the childlike nature of the Queen. She begins the story being dressed by others, waited on, and not having manners despite her royal upbringing.

The Queen spends her time being Royal and Serious, until her tea begins to taste terrible and she must go on a journey to find the “perfect cup”. Her quest is a journey of firsts: she snuggles a kitten for the first time, she bounces a ball for the first time, and she dances for the first time—all in different countries, with different people. At the end of each adventure, she sits with her new friend and tries a new type of tea from that country (Japan, India, and Turkey).  What she learns is that the perfect cup of tea is made by oneself, and best shared with friends.

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As children learn, they begin to take on responsibilities and tasks gradually. This book shows just how that happens, as the Queen learns how to make her perfect cup one step at a time. We see her learning how to find the faucet, turn it on, fill the kettle, boil the water, make the tea, and finally serve it to her friends. Children are able to humorously witness through an adult something that they recognize (learning how to do ordinary tasks), which also teaches the important lesson that we are all lifelong learners. None of the children in the book speak negatively about the Queen’s lack of manners, nor tease her for lack of skill; they simply help her to grow. In the end, she has a beautiful tea party where she is accepted completely, silly hairdo and all.

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The Wolves in the Walls (2003)

by Neil Gaiman

illustrated by Dave McKean

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Neil Gaiman has been one of my favorite authors for longer than I care to calculate. He is a best-selling writer, but this book seems to be one of his lesser-known creations. Oddly, this was one of my daughter’s first regularly requested books. She insisted we read it to her over and over again, especially at bedtime.

This is probably one of the first instances (of many) where my child taught me about literature. Why this “scary” book all the time, and why did she never seem scared? Dave McKean’s artwork has always danced on the edge of creepy (which I love), and I honestly wasn’t even sure The Wolves in the Walls counted as children’s literature at all when I purchased it (childless) in college.

With an entirely different view of the world, children have the power and insight to observe what adults either cannot see or no longer see. This book addresses that concept, and further, the skepticism with which adults often treat the imagination. Lucy lives with her parents and brother in a “big old house” where she has the time and space to explore uninterrupted with her beloved pig puppet companion. Lucy clearly hears the wolves in the walls, and yet she is dismissed by her family. Further, she is not only dismissed, she is told that:

“If the wolves come out of the walls, it’s all over.”

Lucy, being a child and a literalist, continues to push: “What is?” she asks, when confused about what “it” is.

The adults simply respond “It.”

Continuing to question this confusing statement, Lucy asks “Who says?”

To which the adults respond: “They.”

At this point, the story appears to enter the realm of the absurd, but this is truly where the brilliance and validation enter the scene. The wolves do come out of the walls, and the family does panic and leave the house. They do not question what is happening, nor do they try to solve the problem. Rather than look for ways to rid their home of the wolves, they camp out at the bottom of the garden and daydream about moving to another country.

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Lucy is the only one in the family who is able to acknowledge the absurdity; she is able to see what no one else does: that “it” is not all over, because there is no “it” at all. With Lucy’s encouragement, her family sneaks back into the house via the walls and, brandishing chair legs, they scare the wolves right out of their house, never to be seen again.

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Gaiman’s book shows us that we are never too old, or too young, to question what we see and know. It is a book about pushing boundaries, critical thinking, and the value of resourcefulness. We would do well to remember Lucy in times when we struggle to think outside our self-imposed walls.


More Books

Beatrice’s Goat written by Page McBrier and illustrated by Lori Lohstoeter

Something Special for Me by Vera B. Williams

Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney

Further Reading

Information on translations of Noisy Village books

More on The Wolves in the Walls

Maria Popov’s List of Best Children’s books of 2018

When the work we do feels meaningless…

Lately, the work that I have been doing seems so far removed from my life, loves, and needs that I am constantly questioning myself and my decisions.  Graduate school is hard in that way.  I know that being an English teacher is what I want to do when I grow up, but the work to get there feels like little mini roadblocks instead of the road to glory.

How do I combat that hopelessness?

I have been trying to find the answer to that question.

And so I have picked my next big project.

The Tea Leaves Cardigan by Melissa LaBarre published by Madelinetosh Yarns out of Texas.  I think they are one of my favorite yarn companies.  Hand dyed yarns are my new favorite thing.

The cardigan:

And the Yarn (photo taken from Webs because I am having trouble finding some of my own)

So the quest for this yarn will be my next project.  However, the pattern is purchased as of yesterday and appears to be very well written!  Yay, for simplicity and elegance!