Showing posts with label the school house rocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the school house rocks. Show all posts

Friday, October 12, 2018

little giants study session

On Monday Beach spent a little bit of the afternoon wandering through the Sugar House shopping district.  She told me she wished she had her homework with her so she could have studied in the coffee shop.  She thought it looked fun.  


FUN? Okay.  On Wednesday, we picked Sophie up from school and I dropped them off at the coffee shop by the gym for a study session before gym.  I'm not sure how much studying got done but it looks like a promising step towards educational independence for Beach.


Wednesday, April 18, 2018

one more year, a school post

It seems like a strange time to be posting a school post.  Especially when I haven't posted many school posts this past year.  The reason for both is high school.

At the end of last summer we made a decision to give Beach one more year of middle school.  Her age allowed us to choose between placing her in 8th grade or 9th grade.  Based on her early fall birthday our local school district would have placed her in 8th but she could have academically moved on to 9th.


We considered multiple factors in making our decision.  The biggest one was gymnastics- but not in the way you might think. 

Unlike a lot of young athletes, Beach is not focused on doing collegiate gymnastics.  She is focused on the task at hand.  Beach doesn't work as hard as she does for a spot on a podium or medals in a case.  She does gymnastics for herself. 


Her goal is to go and do as much as she can, as well as she can, while she can.  If in the end that includes the chance to do gymnastics at some higher level?  She will cross that bridge when and if she gets there.  Until then, Beach will do what she does best: work hard and make every day in the gym count.

However, on the homeschool front, in order to keep all doors open for Beach we need to follow NCAA guidelines for student athletes.  Utah does not require homeschoolers to keep records but transcripts can be helpful with college admissions. 


NCAA requires detailed transcripts and records, not to mention the high academic standards!  Standards that may or may not match your local/state high school graduation requirements.  Homeschoolers need to be careful- especially those who use on-line courses.

Record keeping begins in 9th grade.


When we looked at what starting high school (early) would mean under the high standards of NCAA we decided to give Beach one more year out of the system.  Our decision was "locked in" when Beach attended the Region One College Showcase Camp in October and her graduation year was declared within the recruiting system.


I have spent this last year stepping back letting Beach follow her passions.  Watching where she goes and finding ways to incorporate her interests into the high school years ahead of us.

We have a four year plan with some room to follow new passions or interests as they arise. 


It's hard to believe we are here. High school?! Even more surprising, a gymnastics season that was almost over before it started ended with Beach qualifying for Westerns! 


It was a gymnastics season that began with the diagnosis of an avulsion fracture in Beach's hip.  She was forced to work around an injury that impacted her ability to lift her injured leg.  No hurdles for tumbling, little to no split leg skills, forcing her and her coaches to scramble for a new series on beam and switch all her leaps to her "bad" leg (which was still incredibly painful & limited).


Through the pain and frustration Beach never lost sight of herself.  She powered through with a smile and the positive determination she known for.  She is not completely healed but she is back to tumbling with hurdles, regaining her flexibility, and leaping on her "good" leg. 


She has emerge from this year as a true and experienced leader, ready to take on the challenges ahead of her.  I am glad we gave her one more year of endless exploration, of art, of daydreaming- one more year in the nursery before she has to grow-up.    


Monday, January 8, 2018

before the storm

 There was a moment of quiet before the storm.  A whole unspoken-for day before I would wake at 5:00 AM, make a 1/2 pot of dark coffee, then wake her for a 6 AM practice.  A few hours of hidden swimming in soft music that swirled like water flowing in and out of a shallow tide pool.  A few minutes when she was as she was before- a child with her arm all the way up to the elbow submerged in the salty water.  Fingers reaching out for a touch of the rays slipper backs.
 Then it was 2 days of arriving in the dark and leaving in the dark as we hosted a Gymnastics Invitational at the gym.  Two days of running stairs, emptying trash cans, stocking water, endlessly refilling toilet paper, finding seats, smiling, counting, greeting, hosting, delivering plates of steaming food, mopping up the floors, passing pens & papers, and of hardly seeing her at all. 
Until she arrived to compete at the end of day 2.

To My Daughter who hasn't bothered to take her 1st place medals out of her gym bag. Who spent the day with Sophie (who is on crutches) navigating the slick sideways of The Gateway to catch a Sunday matinee movie.  Who in the night admitted she is tired of hurting. Tired of pain that takes her breath away.

Dear Daughter, there is a moment of quiet before every storm.  I have never seen it more clearer than on that mountain that day.  The highest mountain I will ever dare to climb- the bravest I have ever been. A moment of beauty so pure it has no sound to speak of.  Dark clouds hanging on a horizon pulled into the valley by warm wingless winds. Clouds of dry lightening by summer; ashy rain by winter's lungs.  They drive towards the mountain crowning the peaks before encasing them in stormy mist. The beauty is followed by power; graceful and destructive. Vital and wild; life sustaining.  

You are on top of your mountain. You are in the storm right now.  It's okay to come in out of the rain. And it's okay to stay out in a little longer. It has always been up to you.