A couple months ago, as part of a series of decisions for our kids and family, we brought Obi-1 home from school. Our hope is to try a different approach to education for a bit, settle down from the years of efforts that have not worked out for him, us, or the school, and regain a little perspective. Obi-2 had already been home for several months, leaving his kindergarten class in the fall when it was apparent he needed something different at that time. Given our lifelong commitment and love for public education and our neighorhood, these decisions were complex, hard and time-consuming. For the sake of your time, my sanity, and the privacy of my family, I won't go into those details now. Suffice it to say, our "nest" got a bit more crowded during the day, and we all have spent a few months adjusting to the transition. "Runamuck Elementary" has a little more meaning nowadays. Overall, it's been lovely and better than I could have imagined. At least for now, I'm very glad we have the boys home for school. And of course, now it's summer vacation anyway...
But back to my title of this post. The same week Obi-1 came home, we noticed a bit of construction on our front porch. Within a few days it was apparent that a bird had decided our home was a good place for her family, too. We wondered about the new neighbor, and were excited to soon find we had a robin sitting in the new nest! Before long, a long-armed reach with a camera revealed three bright blue eggs in the nest. We enjoyed learning together in the little biology exhibit outside our windows. Did you know that male and female robins take turns sitting on the nest, even though the female does most of the construction work and lays the eggs? Not only that, but after the little ones hatch, did you know the parents take turns sitting, warming, and protecting their tiny offspring, while gathering food to nourish the whole family? I don't think I knew some of these things before - if I did, seeing the life of this little family certainly taught me more than any reading I did on the subject.
It was sweet, really. Here, as we Kenobis entered a season and decision that felt so intimidating, a little bird family had shown up as a natural encouragement and model. We shared a lot in common, Mrs. Robin Redbreast & I: three children, all at home and learning to share, grow, survive, and eventually fly out into the world. We also shared this space in our neighborhood. The boys would eagerly peer out the windows to catch glimpses of baby beaks, poking out desperately for their parents and food, and learned to carefully open and close the front door so as to not spook the birds. The Obis named the baby birds, even though we have no idea which little robins in our yard might actually be "Alex" and his siblings. They dug worms out of the backyard, piling wrigglers in yogurt containers while creating vast holes in the dirt and mud, all in order to trek the treats to the mud in front of our porch and make life a little easier on Mr. and Mrs. Robin. Like our feathered neighbors, my boys would poke around our home, looking for me and asking for snacks or meals, listening to guidance on some of our academic endeavors, and discovering how to trust their God-given desires to explore and learn. We read this book and this book, checked out Audubon Society links, and memorized "Little Robin Redbreast" together.
After a couple weeks into the young birds' life, the parents protected and encouraged their young ones' departure from the nest. Meanwhile, I was gently urging my boys to engage their critical thinking skills, nurturing their inquisitive minds, reminding them to pay attention to detail, and helping them value their own time. They created poems and nature journals, measured lettuce in our newly sprouting garden, and read the newspaper. We read a lot, and played even more. While not fully settled as "homeschoolers," we were getting our bearings together at home, and that felt good. Flight is often awkward, full of failures and risk, and yet it delivers independent and exhilarating adventure.
With the flight of the baby robins, our front-porch science exhibit was over, or so I thought. Just a few weeks ago, a new (or the same?) red-breasted couple moved in. Within days, a photo revealed not three, but four little blue eggs. They were beautiful. We have loved watching this next "generation" in the same, yet different, processes of family growth. It has been a sweet way to start a transition to summer, think ahead to the cycles of our home in the upcoming year, and anticipate our little Obi-4's arrival later this season. More added, more nurtured, and more released to independence, life, and learning opportunities in the great big world.
But back to my title of this post. The same week Obi-1 came home, we noticed a bit of construction on our front porch. Within a few days it was apparent that a bird had decided our home was a good place for her family, too. We wondered about the new neighbor, and were excited to soon find we had a robin sitting in the new nest! Before long, a long-armed reach with a camera revealed three bright blue eggs in the nest. We enjoyed learning together in the little biology exhibit outside our windows. Did you know that male and female robins take turns sitting on the nest, even though the female does most of the construction work and lays the eggs? Not only that, but after the little ones hatch, did you know the parents take turns sitting, warming, and protecting their tiny offspring, while gathering food to nourish the whole family? I don't think I knew some of these things before - if I did, seeing the life of this little family certainly taught me more than any reading I did on the subject.
It was sweet, really. Here, as we Kenobis entered a season and decision that felt so intimidating, a little bird family had shown up as a natural encouragement and model. We shared a lot in common, Mrs. Robin Redbreast & I: three children, all at home and learning to share, grow, survive, and eventually fly out into the world. We also shared this space in our neighborhood. The boys would eagerly peer out the windows to catch glimpses of baby beaks, poking out desperately for their parents and food, and learned to carefully open and close the front door so as to not spook the birds. The Obis named the baby birds, even though we have no idea which little robins in our yard might actually be "Alex" and his siblings. They dug worms out of the backyard, piling wrigglers in yogurt containers while creating vast holes in the dirt and mud, all in order to trek the treats to the mud in front of our porch and make life a little easier on Mr. and Mrs. Robin. Like our feathered neighbors, my boys would poke around our home, looking for me and asking for snacks or meals, listening to guidance on some of our academic endeavors, and discovering how to trust their God-given desires to explore and learn. We read this book and this book, checked out Audubon Society links, and memorized "Little Robin Redbreast" together.
After a couple weeks into the young birds' life, the parents protected and encouraged their young ones' departure from the nest. Meanwhile, I was gently urging my boys to engage their critical thinking skills, nurturing their inquisitive minds, reminding them to pay attention to detail, and helping them value their own time. They created poems and nature journals, measured lettuce in our newly sprouting garden, and read the newspaper. We read a lot, and played even more. While not fully settled as "homeschoolers," we were getting our bearings together at home, and that felt good. Flight is often awkward, full of failures and risk, and yet it delivers independent and exhilarating adventure.
With the flight of the baby robins, our front-porch science exhibit was over, or so I thought. Just a few weeks ago, a new (or the same?) red-breasted couple moved in. Within days, a photo revealed not three, but four little blue eggs. They were beautiful. We have loved watching this next "generation" in the same, yet different, processes of family growth. It has been a sweet way to start a transition to summer, think ahead to the cycles of our home in the upcoming year, and anticipate our little Obi-4's arrival later this season. More added, more nurtured, and more released to independence, life, and learning opportunities in the great big world.
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