Kara S. Anderson

Homeschool connection, not perfection.

It’s not Perfection, it’s Indiana Jones

by Kara S. Anderson

Over the weekend, I made a big announcement: I’ve decided to close my shop here at karasanderson.com.

I know the whole shop closing probably forever thing may have been a little unexpected.

And beyond closing my shop, I’m making some other big changes as well. I’m going to put my blog and social media on hiatus soon too.

(The plan right now is that my blog posts will remain available, but any free downloads on posts might not be available because I’m pausing my email service.)

***

As many of you know, my son started college in September. You don’t know that my daughter has grown up so much in the past couple of months – driving, getting her braces off, getting a job, plus she has big plans to start dual enrollment classes in January.

And so things here are changing drastically.

For a while, I was telling people life felt like that game Perfection. Do you remember? You had 60 seconds to get all the pieces into place or the game would “pop,” and you had to start over. (Dear Lord, they still make it.)

Sidenote: I feel like this game is at least partially responsible for the perfectionism and anxiety I have dealt with since I was 6.

***

But recently I was doing a speaking thing, and realized it’s not the game Perfection – it’s that scene from the third Indiana Jones movie:

Indy is rushing through a series of secret rituals in hopes of retrieving the holy grail, a cup that can be filled with water. One drink grants eternal life, and in this case, the grail will also save Indy’s father, who has been shot.

Indy has to make a literal leap of faith, and when he does, the path appears.

***

And so THAT is really more what it’s like, friends. I don’t have to put all the pieces in place. I just need to have faith and take the next step.

I will tell you since beginning this process, I have felt so much lighter. I don’t necessarily see a path ahead, but I feel it. And for now, that’s enough.

My whole deal – writing, podcasting, my book – they’re all about homeschooling with you. I’ve never been an expert offering advice. I’ve always felt more like a big sister – sharing the raw truth with you, and trying to remind you to be kinder to yourself, more patient, gentler …

***

Right now, I need those things.

I need slow.

I need to knit, and read, and drink tea and yes, write, but maybe not for public consumption just yet.

***

So please know, that as I find my way, I will miss you.

A few people have said “Kara, maybe THIS is the next step – maybe you help mamas navigate what to do as their children grow up and move on.”

And maybe. Maybe at some point.

But it’s all so raw and new – it would feel like serving you crudité instead of a lovingly slow-cooked, nourishing vegetable soup.

It would be fine, but you’d be hungry again in a half-hour.

***

That said, I’ll share a few things that are helping me:

In fact, during that speaking thing last week, the host asked where people could find me and I answered “therapy.”

It’s true. Therapy is a tremendous help.

And you know what my therapist asks me every session …

She asks what I am doing for self-care.

Self-care is a big deal to me, because I didn’t think I had time for it for a long time, but what was really going on was that I didn’t think I was worthy of it and also, I thought that to be a good mom, I had to give my kids every ounce of me.

That is not the recipe.

The actual recipe should go more like, give your kids some of you and then take REALLY good care of yourself so you can wake up tomorrow and have something more to give.

I’ve written a lot about self-care over the years, mostly because I’ve been trying to figure it out.

It isn’t easy. It’s a practice.

***

 

Which brings me back to perfection … the life-choking trait, not the game.

A long time ago now, I changed my tagline on this blog to “Connection, Not Perfection.”

And here I am, seemingly disconnecting.

What the heck, Kara?

So let me tell you this: This is the part of the movie where the hero (YOU!) realizes that she has had everything she needed inside her this whole time. The other character, let’s call her Dumbledore, was just there as a guide for a while.

And it still stands – what I hope for you and your family is connection, not perfection.

Friends, let connection be the lighthouse you seek when the seas get rough, and you’re not sure how to get home again.

I can’t tell you if I’ll be back, or when, but I can tell you – it’s never been about perfection, Dear Heart.

It’s about courage and showing up and continuing to show up, and connecting and reconnecting, and then knowing when it’s time to let go.

So much love to you,

Kara

P.S. A lot of you have asked about my book. It’s not going anywhere. You can still grab it in paperback, ebook or audio.

In fact, play this if you need a little hug:

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Transcripts for college when you are unschooly

by Kara S. Anderson

I got a message this weekend that reminded me that I keep promising to write a thing about transcripts when you are unschooly.

(Thank you, Stephanie! 💙)

Transcripts make every homeschooler I know sweat, but there is a specific concern when you are what I call “unschooly.”

I use that term to describe homeschool families who follow their kids’ lead, and do not necessarily follow a certain curriculum, but may make use of curriculum materials, classes, or other “formal” modes of learning.

(I’m not sure how this lines up with true unschooling as defined by John Holt, so for the purposes of this post, I’m going to avoid using the terms unschoolers or unschooling to refer to what we do. I do however strongly recommend John Holt’s books for further exploration.)

It’s All Going to Be OK

As you can imagine, when you are unschooly (or “relaxed homeschoolers”) learning can be a little hard to track, and often doesn’t follow a consistent routine.

And yet I promise, our kids learn.

So before I jump in, I’d like to say that it’s probably all going to be OK.

My son was definitely unschooly, and I would say even resistant to a lot of formal learning growing up, and he still started classes at our local college at age 16 through early enrollment, and got into his first college of choice at a competitive school.

So I want to reassure you that it can work out – your unschooly kid can get into college if that’s their desire.*

This post will outline what we did.

Start Early

I have a funny story in my book about how I wanted to start keeping a transcript in middle school, because as with so many homeschooled kids, mine sometimes took classes or were exploring interests that could easily count toward high school credits – like foreign language or science classes.

The punchline to this story is that I was very concerned about starting this in 7th grade, and technically middle school starts here in 6th grade.

But my advice is to begin to track your child’s learning around 7th or 8th grade.

This doesn’t have to be anything complicated – you can just keep a record somewhere (I like a spreadsheet for this, but it can also be handwritten) of what classes and learning your kids do. If it’s a class, keep track of the class name, dates and a simple description.

I promise, this will be so helpful later.

In our case, we literally were required to enter each class one at a time on the college’s site as part of the application process. I would have been lost without notes.

This is not a formal transcript, but a look at notes I kept for one of my children. 1 = a full year class and .5 = a semester. Please note how NOT FANCY this is.

Calculating Credits and Units

When I started to feel stressed about keeping a transcript, I reached out to my friend Melissa who is more firmly in the Unschooling camp. I asked her for advice on how to keep track of what my kids were learning when it all seemed very nebulous.

She introduced me to a system that has helped us be able to better track my kids’ interest-led learning:

From Melissa:

“A year-long class is one ‘unit,’ a semester-long class is ½ unit.

A unit = between 120-180 ‘Carnegie units’

A Carnegie unit = 1 hour of instruction or 2 of practice

We counted reading, YouTube videos, curriculum, any kind of lessons, and discussion as ‘instruction.’ We counted hands-on stuff that didn’t involve new learning or processing as ‘practice.’”

By following this system, you can start to see how to track what your kids are learning and how to begin building a transcript.

Plan From Behind AKA ‘Cactus Schooling’

This system works well with what many relaxed homeschoolers refer to as “planning from behind.”

Planning from behind is essentially writing down what your kids do after they do it, instead of planning FOR your kids.

In our home, this morphed into what we call “Cactus Schooling,” wherein I create a plan, but hold it loosely, like you’d hold a cactus.

Cactus Schooling has allowed us to set goals together and to “fill gaps,” necessary for graduation, but also for my kids to follow their passions, which I believe leads to learning that really “sticks.”

Graduation Requirements

Now speaking of graduation requirements, it might be helpful to look into two things:

  1. graduation requirements in your state/school district
  2. any specific requirements if your child has a specific major and/or school in mind

For Step 1, we looked at our local board of education’s requirements to figure out what it takes to “graduate” your child. I literally Googled the name of my school district +” graduation requirements.”

This gave us any idea of how many years of math, science, history, etc. were required here, for public schooled kids (meaning this was just for reference).

To give you an idea, in our school district, this is the breakdown:

  • 4 years of English
  • 3 years of Social Studies
    • 1 year global studies
    • 1 year U.S. History
    • 1 semester Civics and Government
    • 1 semester Economics
  • 3 years Math
  • 3 years Science
  • 3.5 years Physical Education
  • 1 semester Health
  • 1 year Art, Music, World Language (including American Sign Language)
  • Plus Electives to bring your total to 48 total credits

We did not tailor my son’s learning to the requirements of a specific school or major, but based on credits required, you can probably see where you could add advanced classes or study in a special area to help prepare your child for a certain college or further course of study.

An example of a basic high school transcript.

Flipping things around (remember, you homeschool)

I was telling a friend last night about this post and researching what our board of education requires for graduation from public school, and she told me that in her area, high school graduation requires just one semester of physical education.

So this leads me to two points:

  1. Don’t get too hung up on what your local board of education requires, because your child may want to go to a college in another state (or at least another school district) where everything is different. None of this is universal.
  2. There’s another way to look at things altogether – you do not have to follow your state board of education’s requirements at all because your child doesn’t go to a public school and you are not trying to graduate them with a public school diploma. In fact, in certain states like New York, homeschooled kids can’t even legally be issued diplomas.

But don’t worry about that. Homeschoolers don’t need diplomas – what they need instead is a way to show what they’ve been learning, which is where transcripts come in.

 

An example of how to show classes in progress or dual enrollment classes.

What Do I Call It?

That can be a little challenging to create when you have unschooly kids, because some of what they do might be really hard to classify. You may not know what to call a given “class.”

Can I suggest here that unless your kid is going to a very fancy or very small school, probably no one is looking that closely?

For instance, I share in my book that my kids have never really loved math. Plus, we practice more of a “mastery method” here, meaning we don’t move on until my kids really understand the concept.

So my friend Shawna suggested using the term “integrative math,” on transcripts.

(Later we started Mr. D Math and this solved the bigger issue of a math-phobic mom trying to teach math.)

My advice is to simply do what works in your family, and classify how you need to for transcript purposes.

Did you do a Shakespeare Unit? Call it “Shakespeare Study” or “English Year 2, Semester 1 – Studying the Plays of Shakespeare.”

Is your child taking ceramics?

Call it Ceramics I (first semester) and Ceramics 2 (second semester) or “Art – Study of Ceramics.”

The right school will see this stuff as interesting and making your child unique and a cool contribution to the student body.

What’s the Goal for College?

Sometimes, I think we get so wrapped up in trying to help our kids’ dreams come true, that we forget some simple truths.

College is expensive. It’s a huge commitment. So my advice is don’t make the goal to make it into a specific school, or even to get your child started in a specific major (unless they are really, really all-in on something.)

If you are relaxed homeschoolers you’ve probably eschewed “standards” for years so that your kids could learn how they learn best.

So stop trying to make your child fit a school, and instead look for schools that fit your kid. 

This book provides great inspiration in that exact area.

Extra Resources:

A couple of places to head for more help include HSLDA.org, where you can look at your state/country’s requirements for homeschooling and my friend Heather, who specializes in helping out-of-the-box kids get into college.

Here is a tool to help you calculate a cumulative GPA.

Best of luck! 💙

 

* Just a note that I know all kids do not want to pursue college and some may choose to take a gap year or six. I still think it might be helpful to keep a transcript for your kids even if they don’t plan to pursue college. Things might change down the line, or they may need a transcript for an apprenticeship or something else. You never know.

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Launching a kid (graduation. real time.)

by Kara S. Anderson

It turns out, getting into college isn’t actually the hard part.

I mean it is. Sure. There are visits and applications, and I guess like 18 years of helping your child turn into a college-ready person, but now that my oldest has been accepted to college, I’m learning that the hoop-jumping only increases as we get closer to August.

Part of me wants to go back to that day in February, the day before his 18th birthday, as we all stood around his phone at 4 p.m., waiting for the email telling us whether he got into his college of choice, and then the joyous relief.

It’s weird how memories work, because in truth, that day was mostly terrible.

I spent the morning crying in my office, certain that if he didn’t get into his top choice school that it was my fault; that I had somehow failed him through homeschooling.

***

And now I find myself here again, wanting to help, but not wanting to push – wanting so much to set him up for success as he prepares to leave home.

Wanting.

And yet, sometimes, for a moment, I am able to take a step back and realize this isn’t about me. This isn’t my journey.

I’m the Dumbledore in this story, not the Harry.

***

This is hard of course, so I am coping in my usual ways – tea and Voxer – sending out messages and pleas and saying things that build up until I’m ready to burst (Instant Pot Emotions).

My friend Vanessa reminded me that maybe it’s OK to help, because teen brains are still forming, but not help too much, because my own peri-menopausal brain struggles some days to keep up with the very basics.

How many times can one wash her hands and note we are low on hand soap, and still not be able to remember to order hand soap?

(3 times so far today)

My friend Mary reminded me that all kids are different, and to just focus on what my child needs and that sadly, there is no one checklist that is going to fit every kid in every situation.

And then my friend Shawna, who is a year ahead of me in all of this, provides reassurance that I am not alone and that it will get better:

“It was nerve-wracking and dumb for six months, but it worked out.”

This is my new morning mantra.

***

And that’s what I’m holding on to right now, that if my child really wants to go to this college (and if it’s meant to work out), that I can relax a little; stop making lists and tugging at my hair and thinking that there’s some magical way out there to make all of this easier.

Even the box my son’s graduation party invites came in reminds me: “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

Thanks Canva.

But also, SHUT UP.

***

Because let me tell you what no stressed mother needs ever: trite little sayings.

What I 100 percent do not need right now is some Hobby Lobby plaque telling me to Live, Laugh and Hug a Terrier to get through this.

What I do need is for it to just be done – in the rearview mirror – over.

Complete.

(Right?)

***

 

Until we get there I’m trying to remember:

This isn’t forever.

It’s an ass-kicker, but it’s not eternal.

At some point, he will either get all ready for college or not, and the difference will not come down to whether or not I worry hard enough.

It’s a high emotion time.

I’m so jacked on adrenaline, I could lift a car.

I am basically The Hulk with a bullet journal.

This is hard, yes, but it feels SO HARD because it’s such an emotional thing.

It’s OK to care so much.

All the feelings are me loving my kid.

So it’s not bad that I worry, and it’s not bad that sometimes I want to take over too much, and it’s normal to be a little bit of a lunatic right now.

BUT …

Ultimately, this is his.

It’s a tricky thing when your kids become adults, because you’ve know them pretty much the whole time (or at least a lot of the time).

You know exactly who they used to be, and all the weird things they did when they were 4, but you’ve only gotten glimpses of who they’re becoming.

You can see exactly where they might struggle, and so it’s really tempting to jump in, and yet maybe your therapist also tells you to “Stop trying to fix it all, Kara.”

***

I was doing a journaling class this weekend and the teacher asked a broad question: Knowing that everything turns out beautifully in the end, what would you change today?

I immediately knew my answer.

I would stop acting like a nut about this college thing.

I wold stop acting like this was all so hard, such a trial.

I would do everything I could to enjoy these days with my son before things change.

***

Sometimes, when I get quiet, and my brain stops spinning for just a few seconds, I wonder if that’s part of the hard too – I wonder if making lists and marking deadlines on the calendar is easier than feeling the big emotions.

I wonder if my brain is tricking me – sending stress hormones flying so I don’t have to slow down and feel the huge shift happening.

I heard author Katrina Kenison say that once our kids leave for college, it’s never the same.

She said it wistfully – sadly. You could tell it hurt her heart.

I heard this on the same day that my son was accepted to college. The same day I had cried – so scared that he wouldn’t be accepted. So scared I had failed him.

We celebrated, and a few hours later I heard Katrina say “it’s never the same,” and I felt such a mix of emotions, but still the big one was relief.

Silly me.

I thought we had done something, and here we had actually started something.

***

As I was writing this, my son texted me to tell me he had found a piano on campus (he’s in early enrollment classes at our local college) and was playing for the first time in years.

It made me recall this post, and specifically what he told me then:

“Mom? I feel like I was born with music in my heart and every time someone pushes me, the space for it gets smaller and smaller.”

***

It’s all a good reminder that so often, our kids don’t need us to push.

They just need us to see them – to be there as they grow into who they are meant to be.

But friends, this is not the easy way.

In fact I will tell you that if you want a quick, simple method for raising your kids, you should pretty much do the exact opposite of me.

Stop listening.

Bark orders.

Keep ’em in line and put them in onesies that proclaim their futures before they can hold up their own heads: “Lil Linebacker” and “Baby Beauty Queen.”

***

But all that always felt desperately wrong to me, and so I tried this other thing …

It’s a killer. It breaks my heart. I worry sometimes that I’m getting it wrong.

I worry right now.

I worry and I want.

***

 

A few weeks ago, my son started growing a bonsai tree because of course he did.

Bonsais start differently than I expected – when they sprout, it’s not in the way you’d think – these thin little green tendrils – so fragile.

I can’t help it. I want to care for this little plant. I want to protect it from curious cats and follow the directions step by step to ensure it thrives.

But …

It’s not my plant.

If I were to take over – even if I just tell my son what to do and still let him do it – it’s no longer his plant.

A bonsai tree can live to be more than 100 years old.

So you can see what I’m getting at here.

At some point, we have to let go.

***

I swear to you, he just texted again wondering about getting a degree in neuroscience.

He’s got a roommate. He’s figured out his meal plan.

He knows which dorm he wants to live in and why.

He’s thinking about majors. He’s doing the work.

I am support staff.

Dumbledore.

Here. Always.

But also, staying here.

He’s not a fragile little bonsai sprout. The past 18 years weren’t nothing.

He strong and ready and I’m …

I’m getting there.

 

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Risotto, spring and graduating a kid

by Kara S. Anderson

My friend Jes taught me to make risotto 17 years ago in her family’s little cabin in Wisconsin.

We had traveled there with our friend Tabitha and our 3 babies for a girls weekend (plus infant plus-ones), and Jes had planned dinner, but then needed to nurse her daughter – and so she gave me directions from the couch while The Rolling Stones played in the background.

Although I’m Italian, we never had risotto growing up.

I knew basically what it was, though, so as I stood at the little stove I fretted – the the rice soup in front of me wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do.

“Just keep stirring,” Jes commanded, and I did, and eventually something magical started to happen.

Later, I heard Alton Brown talk about trying risotto for the first time as a child. He was convinced it had to contain heavy cream.

Just rice couldn’t create the smooth texture of risotto, right?

He’s right.

Risotto is kind of a miracle.

But it’s a slow miracle.

***

 

Last week, when it snowed again, I became temporarily convinced that spring is just not going to happen this year. That maybe it will just snow until July, and then it will be so steamy and terrible, that we’ll all wish we could go back to flurries and 40s.

But as I head out on my daily walk, I see little signs here and there – a robin, a green sprout of something.

A confused daffodil.

Yesterday, a little girl in a cosmos-patterned dress and helmet, riding her bike.

We all know, somewhere deep inside, that eventually weather will change. It will get warmer, then cooler, then we’ll want snow for Christmas and not much after that (unless you are a ski person.)

***

 

If you want to cry, try ordering a graduation cap while Landslide plays in the background.

I didn’t do this on purpose, but these days when I think of something, I have to do it or write it down. Otherwise it becomes air + yet another nagging worry that I’m forgetting something.

I spend a lot of time lately worrying about how much I’m forgetting. So I take fish oil and do Wordle and tell myself again and again that this is a result of the last two years.

But back to the cap – my oldest is graduating, and I’m listening to Landslide and I normally don’t do things like that to myself.

It’s best right now if I focus on tasks (order a cap, order a cake, print 18 years of photos) and not on the enormity of what’s happening – that my son is graduating, and then leaving for college.

It’s better to choose balloon colors and send invites than to consider that next year at this time, he’ll be in another city – that he’ll have a separate life and that maybe, if I am lucky, he’ll choose to keep me apprised of what is appropriate for a mom to hear.

***

 

I think most graduations feel big, but homeschool graduations have an extra layer of delicious Raspberry Relief tucked in between the spongy white cake layers of Thank God.

This was never a sure thing.

The older I get the more I realize how few guarantees there are in life, and a homeschool graduation was never promised.

Most of the time, I was sure I was failing in some giant way – not pushing math, not buckling down on Geography.

My biggest fault was always that I was too easy on my kids, and now I’m glad because they still seem to like me and somehow we’ve met all the goals anyway, enough for the first kid to graduate and get into the college he wanted to go to most.

But today I’m thinking of all the time I spent worried – it was making risotto for 15 years straight.

“I’m not a chef,” I told myself constantly. “Who told me I could do this?”

***

 

 

Last night I made risotto for dinner.

I know every step now. It’s autopilot. I zest my lemon and the little yellow curls land right in the cup I used to measure my rice.

That’s how it goes when you’ve done something for so long – you figure out all the short-cuts and ways to keep clean-up at a minimum.

Maybe in a few years, I’ll feel confident enough to tell you that’s what I did with homeschooling my kids – that my method wasn’t about my own grand failings, but instead about finding a way that worked for us – (shortcuts + minimizing emotional clean-up.)

But I’m not there yet.

***

I have realized that separate from homeschooling, our kids are like seasons – they are going to grow and change and in so many ways, we have so little control.

It’s better that way – I promise.

Letting your children grow into themselves is the way to go – this I know for sure.

(I know it’s tempting to control and push. You’ll want to make them cut their hair for the photo and force them to wear a little outfit you picked out, but if you do that, you’ll just find yourself years later looking back on manufactured memories.)

So why not let go now just a little, and have faith that they are becoming who they are meant to be and know that really, that has a lot less to do with you than you want …

***

 

And then with homeschooling, consider risotto.

You have to attend the pan pretty much the whole time. But it’s not as complicated as it seems.

You add some butter or oil and shallots.

You measure the rice and stir.

You carefully add stock and stir some more.

Salt and pepper.

(Lots of pepper.)

More stock.

Maybe asparagus or peas. (If you wanted mushrooms you should have put those in at the beginning, but it won’t be so bad if you add them a little late).

The more you make it, the more you’ll realize the exact moment to toss in some cheese …

I will tell you –

many, many times I have made mistakes in this process –

never once have I had to toss out a batch of risotto.

Because now I know the secret:

Just keep stirring.

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