When homeschool education becomes outdoor school

Daffodilius spring breakius -- The Latin name of the "Spring Break Daffodil" that bloomed in our yard this week.

A few days after it was bone-chilling cold -- seriously, I nearly lost some of the kids on my soccer team I'm coaching to hypothermia at last week's practice -- something wonderful happened. Global warming happened. In Gloucester, Va.

The mercury shot up to the upper 70s/80 degrees range and that's when Julie called a homeschool audible. It was spring break time.

One of the beauties of homeschooling is the flexibility.  School happens pretty much year-round in the Sabo house because we account for weeks like this one when it is just too nice to stay indoors and do school. Everyone has been working hard in school and had earned a break.

So Julie took the education outside, where the learning involved a family working together in the yard and making it fun. I came home from being down at the office earlier this week and found Julie and half the kids in and around one of the big garden beds in the back yard. There was serious weeding going on. And raking of leaves, worm catching and two of the filthiest little boys you could imagine. It appeared to me that Seth and Judah had actually bedded down in the dirt and become one with the soil.

Madeline and Gabe were down in the dirt weeding, Eli, Ezra and Olivia had actually made an obstacle course game out of raking up leaves and putting them in a garbage bag and Seth and Judah were "lovingly" playing with the family of worms they had found and named, "Rudy," "Babe" and "Lovie." Let me tell you, those worms had never felt so "loved."

Our back yard garden of daffodils, irises, tulips and other bulbs is starting to spring forth in its springy loveliness and after being relieved of the weeds clogging it, the mulch is ready to spruce it up. I'm guessing that's a project that's going to start today, when the homeschooling "outdoor school" resumes, Sabo style.

The One Thing I Did As A Kid No One Does Anymore

My old stomping grounds: Pilot Butte Cemetery

Today was a good day for the simple reason I went back to my roots: I walked places. I dropped the van off at the shop to get a state inspection and for an oil change then walked 20 minutes home. Later on I walked the 20 minutes back to pick it up. Then I walked to work. Later on I walked home. It was cold, the wind was blowing and it took an hour out of my day to get everywhere, but it was great.

It was just like when I was a kid back in the day in Bend, Ore. Maybe it says more about my age than anything else, but I must be one of the few people in this country who walked to every school he attended -- starting in kindergarten. I was telling one our daughter's teenage friends the other day how I walked to Trinity Lutheran kindergarten -- a whopping two blocks -- and crossed a highway to get there. Of course, Highway 20, or Greenwood Avenue as its also known, carried a little less traffic in 1974 than it might now. But our daughters' friend was horrified that a 5-year-old kid would walk across a highway. Her horror is misplaced. I grew up in a different time, a different place. I consider myself lucky.

When I hit first grade I walked to Bear Creek Elementary, meandering through Pilot Butte Cemetery to get there. I was saying how much I enjoyed the walk to school. Maybe not every single day -- before global warming it used to snow in Bend as I recall -- but I just loved having that quiet time before and after school. I got the blood pumping -- it might pump more today if I was walking seeing as how a cougar was spotted in a nearby neighborhood last fall -- and got some exercise and got an education along the way. By the time I hit middle school I could have given you a walking historical tour of Pilot Butte Cemetery, including where to find the grave of a Civil War veteran and the grave site of a man born in 1845, the earliest birth date of any tombstone I had cataloged in the graveyard. To this day I have a soft spot for graveyards.

Miss Nesting, Mrs. Flanary, Mrs. Shepard, Mr. Powelson, Mr. Moore. My teachers at Bear Creek from 1st-5th grade.

From Bear Creek Elementary I matriculated to Pilot Butte Junior High. It was a longish walk to what's today known as a middle school. A couple of blocks down 11th Street, across Highway 20/Greenwood Avenue -- oh, the horror! -- then snake around the northwest flank of Pilot Butte. A lot of the time a few of my buddies, RB "Rand" Smith, Brian "BT Express" Thomas and Brian "Schwartz" Fleck, would assemble at my house and then ride our bikes to school. Either way, it was a great way to start and finish the day, from my perspective. I had a little adventure dodging cars on Highway 20 -- I never stopped when I crossed the highway and figured, rightly, the cars and trucks would yield -- a little communing with nature navigating the trails snaking through the juniper trees and sagebrush and then, of course, the exercise.

After three years in junior high it was off to the big leagues and a half-mile or so walk to Bend High School. I recall getting to school on some days with frozen hair. Seriously. I wouldn't wear a hat -- things have changed since then, obviously -- and would often leave for school with wet hair. Again, back before global warming it got cold in Bend in the winter and there were days I would use first period to thaw out my hair. Sometimes I would run home for lunch and then run back to school. Of course, there were plenty of times my homies and I would hit Sweetheart Donuts down on Third Street. Those were the days. I remember spending 35 hard earned cents on an eclair donut from Sweetheart Donuts. Can that be right? What does 35 cents get you anymore? Certainly not a donut.

The days of walking to school are long gone. Times have changed. In addition to the occasional cougar that might be prowling around, there's all the other stuff you have to worry about. For starters, I bet there's a little more traffic on Highway 20/Greenwood Avenue these days, especially considering there's about five times as many people in Bend now than when I grew up there. Then there's the general concern that a little kid walking alone through a cemetery might get abducted. That's definitely in play. Or that walking to school in snow might somehow constitute child abuse these days. Would Ma and Pa Sabo get busted for child abuse for letting their kid walk to school in the snow?

As I was walking back and forth through metropolitan Gloucester Point this morning, it brought me back to crisscrossing northeast Bend from the mid-70s into the late '80s. I go back to what I wrote earlier. I was a lucky kid.

To get an idea of what my walks around my neighborhood are like lately, check this out: Gloucester Point walkabout

*Author's note: A special thank you to Katherine Cockrum for snapping some photos of my old stomping grounds today and sending them to me. As a side note, her brother is none other than my longtime Bend homie the BT Express himself. And her husband is my friend and former Bend High School cross country teammate, Joe Cockrum. God bless you all.

The One Key To Our Family

A Sabo team meeting to see who's responsible for meals tonight.

Our family is what you would call a loosely run organization. By that I mean there's not an overabundance of rules, mandates, directives, laws and the like. If you're a Sabo kid, you'll learn about Jesus and be encouraged to own your faith in Him, you'll share a bedroom -- quite possibly a bed at some point -- share your toys, be kind and loving, grow into responsibilities, contribute to the welfare of the family and put up with your dad's sense of humor. Oh, and deal with your dad posting stuff on social media about you.

We don't have meal times set in stone, there's a rolling bedtime depending on age, there's no morning reveille and there's a lot of flexibility in how things operate. All this to say that we work on instilling a sense of personal responsibility, operating on the belief that strictly controlling our children's environment with rules, regulations, schedules and the like -- including medicating them for all variety of "concentration" and behavioral issues" -- leads to major problems as the kids get older.

I bring this up because this helicopter parenting is out of control. Sometimes I think there are basically two kinds of parents. The ones who aren't really involved in their kids' lives, or nominally involved. They don't have a relationship with their kids and think the "school system" should basically raise their kids, or basically anyone else other than them, and blame anyone and everyone other than themselves when their kids grow up to be ... just like them basically.

Then there's the other extreme, the parents who rigidly schedule every minute of their child's life, try and control every possible outcome and when they send their kid off to college pester their professors about their grades, monitor their college kid's every movements by tracking them on their smart phone and calling them daily, if not hourly, to see where they've been who they've been with and if they've been taking their medication. I kid you not. I have a child who has seen this firsthand.

Here's what I'm leading to. We're not perfect. We're not a perfect family, I'm a far from perfect dad, I've messed up, our kids have messed up and will mess up. But here's the one thing I think we've been blessed by. As our kids grow up and mature they come to own their faith in Jesus Christ. There's struggles and missteps along the way, but I truly believe that an authentic faith in Christ is the one thing that makes a family complete.

Knowing Jesus and following Him means you understand grace, mercy, humility, compassion, love and especially sacrificial love. I don't know how families operate without these things. Ours certainly wouldn't.

Biggest Snowstorm In World History To Blanket Virginia*

`Blizzard' conditions in Gloucester, Va.

I expect Jim Cantore from The Weather Channel, outfitted in one of those trapper-style fur hats with ear muffs and clad in a puffy jacket and Uggs, to show up here in Gloucester anytime now. There's a forecast of snow that may fall this weekend -- around here it's looking like a rain/snow/sleet mix -- which pretty much spells doom for the entire region. People are in full freakout mode. I happened to be in the grocery store during a snowfall last night and the clerk mentioned he's expecting the store to be cleaned out in advance of this weekend's possible snowpocalypse.

 It's pretty much panic central around Virginia. Washington D.C. could get a foot of snow, or more and the city will pretty much be shut down. It should snow in D.C. more often now that I think about it ...

For us species of non-native Virginians who are/were/have been fairly accustomed to dealing with that dreaded weather event called a "snowfall," the events that transpire here with the mere mention of the `s' word are a mix of mind-boggling and entertaining. Schools get canceled in "dustings." Schools get canceled for days when more than a couple of inches fall. I half-expect kids to start calling in snow threats instead of bomb threats to get out of tests.

The last couple of years we've had some pretty decent snow events. At least enough to make snowmen and snow ramps in the back yard for sledding purposes. The kids love it. I don't mind a good snowfall now and then, but it's this time of year I always start thinking about relocating to Aruba.

It appears we used every flake of snow in the yard for this `Olaf' 

I did my time in the snow as a kid in Bend, Ore., and I'm over it. Been there, done that. I think hauling firewood into the house a couple, few times a day through the snow as my big brother lay in ambush with a bushel of snowballs may have scarred me. One time the snow was so deep he actually climbed up on the roof and jumped off the roof as I plowed by in a surprise attack. I am not making this up. My bro was a Ninja snow monster.

The fact that I was so dang skinny with nary an ounce of body fat didn't help either. (That situation has since been remedied.) Once I got cold as a kid I could never heat up. Plus, I just wasn't into the whole snowsport thing. People are shocked -- shocked! -- that I grew up 20 miles from world-class skiing at Mt. Bachelor and have never once set foot on that hill in skis or a snowboard. I don't feel like I've been cheated out of anything or somehow missed out. I spent many an hour as a kid clearing the snow out of my driveway and shooting hoops or even playing on packed snow. It was a lot cheaper entertainment than skiing, I'll tell you that.

Anyway, we're hunkering down here in Virginia preparing for "The Worst Snowstorm Ever -- Or At Least In The Past 6 Months" by stocking up on essentials. Got the milk, eggs, bread and toilet paper so we're good to go. I drove by Ace Hardware, our cool little neighborhood hardware store, and saw they had some toboggans and snow shovels in the display window. I bet they're having a run on all items related to snow. Good for them. Bring on the snow. And I'll say hello to Jim Cantore for you.

*This headline may be hyperbole. Of course, I spent more than 20 years in the news media so I might know a thing or two about hyperbole.

Why We Homeschool: In Ezra's Words

Ezra enjoyed Christmas break. Now Ezra makes sure no one outsmarts him.

We are back to homeschooling in the House of Sabo following the Christmas break. There's a lot of "stuff" out there about homeschooling. Opinions. Negativity. Positivity. Blog posts. Facebook rants. I could go on. There's a ton of reasons why we homeschool. People have a ton of reasons why we shouldn't. The most comical I hear is that people might be concerned about our kids not being properly socialized. I don't think we have to worry about socialization in the Sabo house. With 14 kids, unless one of them hides under his or her bed all day every day, I'm pretty sure they are going to get "socialization." Plus, we actually do this thing where we "leave the house." Yes, it's true. We have been known to take our kids "places" where they have had actual "interaction" with "other people." I'm not making this up. It's for reals. They do other "socialization" activities as well. Our kids play youth soccer. They go to church where they "interact in social settings" with other kids. Some of our kids went ice skating recently. They have even been known to go to birthday parties, play with other kids and go to summer camp. It's like a socialization party around here.

Thankfully, though, our kids who are studying at home aren't subject to Common Core or sex and gender ed curriculum for elementary students that's probably written by Planned Parenthood or other agenda-driven organizations I take issue with. We're the ones responsible for forming their attitudes and opinions and developing their character, not a bunch of peers at school. We don't fear for their safety when they're at school. They don't bring home from school fleets of flu bugs or other illnesses. I could go on but I won't. The main point of this blog post was succinctly captured by our 8-year-old son Ezra last night. I had just finished bedtime prayers with him and his 6-year-old sister Olivia when this conversation went down.

Olivia: "Why do we have to do school?"
Ezra: "Because if you don't learn, everyone will outsmart you."

So there you go. As good of a reason as any on why we homeschool in the Sabo house. We will not be outsmarted.

Saying Goodbye To My Little Girl

Claire at Christmas. She likes chocolate. Go figure.

I said goodbye to Claire today. She heads back to Oregon for another five months to finish out her year at Cornerstone School of Ministry at Calvary Chapel Corvallis. I'm not a big fan of goodbyes, especially today's. Claire is a remarkable young woman. Everything is better here when Claire is home.

She's my first and thereby oldest daughter and I remember clearly the day she arrived, a little bundle of sweetness on a spring day in Prineville, Ore. After three boys there was a certain mystery to this little girl. She was soft and gentle and such a little girlie. I loved it.

She has blossomed into a beautiful, gifted young woman and when she's home and picks up her guitar and sings praise songs it's like the world stops for me and it instantly becomes a peaceful, beautiful place. She's led worship in our church, Calvary Chapel Gloucester, for the three or four Sundays she's been home and what a blessing. I could listen to her all day long. I really could. She and Madeline play and sing praise songs together and their harmonies are wonderful.

One of my favorite things about Claire being home is seeing how much Ezra loves having her around. Ezra is 8 and pretty reserved but with Claire he'll snuggle with her. There's a special bond there and it makes me smile to watch them together.

One thing I noticed when Claire was home for Christmas after being away for four months was how much she has matured in her faith. Not only has her singing and worship become richer and more beautiful, but I can her how close she is to the Lord in her songs, her prayers and really all of her life. As hard as these five months are going to be, I can't wait to see how much more beautiful she will become as she spends the time deepening her walk with Jesus. I love you Claire.

Here's her and Madeline singing: Amazing Grace

My Eye-Opening Experience At A Nigerian Boarding School

Doing the wash at a Nigerian boarding school.

I wanted to share a link to a post I wrote for my missions work over on another blog I've launched with the Transformational Education Network. It's an inside look at my eye-opening experience at a Nigerian boarding school. It was one of those experiences I will never forget. It's something I believe can be a call to action for those of us who follow Jesus Christ.

Check it out here: Boarding school

A Transformational Thanksgiving in Nigeria

It is the wee hours of Thanksgiving in America, but here at 7:30 a.m. Jos, Nigeria, I am chugging a bottle of “F.A.M. Vita” vanilla yoghurt in a dark guest house room without power. The pervasive, acrid smell of campfire smoke – people still cook with fire here and you can drive down the street and see garbage burning – lingers with me, as always. Outside my open window I can hear the noise of the bustling city: cars and three-wheel motorized buggies zipping down the street, horns honking, people talking and someone on an air horn announcing something. I am thankful.

I am here on a mission trip with the Transformational Education Network. I have traveled with our CEO, Joe Gallop, who presented at a symposium yesterday and discussed technology and transformational education. More than 100 educators and students attended and both Joe and I are very pleased with how things went. The Lord truly blessed it and I met a young man with a communications degree who I hope will help me with gathering photos, video and stories from here in Jos at the school we partner with, E.I.C.T. that I can use in my TEN3 communications.
 
Today we will be attending a workshop where Joe will speak on “Essential Values in Transformational Education.” It’s the first of a two-day workshop and we are looking forward to seeing what the Lord will do today. Yesterday went very well and we were able to connect with a number of educators interested in the Transformational Education Network curriculum and our method of education. One of the things that appears to be coming out of this trip is forming a network of schools – private, government and others – that can act as a forum and exchange of information, ideas and solutions to help achieve transformational education. Our role will be as facilitators and advisors and we will be working on how best to accomplish this exchange of information.

Tomorrow I will be traveling several hours with an American missionary named Eric Black to his post in Billiri in Gombe State. I should say that Lord willing, I will go. I have to check with the SIM security director to discuss whether I should go due to concerns about safety in that area. I think everything will be fine and it will be good to travel with Eric, meet his family and learn about the education center he is operating in Billiri.

After I return, probably on Monday, Joe and I will be traveling to the communities of Zonkwa, Kwoi and Kubacha (I think I got those right) southwest of Jos in the neighboring state of Kaduna to explore the potential for launching TEN3 computer training outreach programs. We also were invited by one of the educators at the symposium to visit her private secondary school here in Jos, so it looks like we will be heading over there as well.

As for my general experience here in Nigeria, I have to say I have met some wonderful people. They are universally friendly to me, greeting me with big grins. Whenever we exchange greetings people often reply with “Welcome sir. Thank you sir. Welcome sir.” It makes me smile. The traffic is crazy, the police are everywhere and they carry AK-47s. It’s the dry season here on the Nigerian Plateau so it’s dusty, hot during the day in the 80s (I’m not complaining!) and cool in the night down to the 50s.

On the 4-hour plus drive Monday morning up to Jos from Abuja, where we landed Sunday evening and spent the night, we traveled through at least a half-dozen and probably closer to 10, military checkpoints. Soldiers with AK-47s manned the checkpoints, I’m assuming because the area has seen its share of Muslim-Christian conflict. Boko Haram, the Muslim terrorist group, operates in the area occasionally and more than 100 people were killed earlier this year when they set off bombs in the bustling outdoor market that’s several blocks from the compound where we are staying here in Jos. Mostly we were just waved through the checkpoints, though a few stopped us simply to chat, it seems. One engaged us in conversation and our driver, Audu, asked the soldier if he was born again. We talked about being born again, Jesus, salvation and he said he was born again. He was quite offended we didn’t have our Bibles with us in the car – they were in our luggage in the back. I’m glad he didn’t shoot us. (Just kidding!) At another checkpoint a soldier asked Joe and me where we were from. When he found out we were Americans he said he wants to go there someday. What he really wanted, though, was for us to bring him a white American wife. I told him I could see what I could do and maybe make that happen. He got a big grin and then reached in the car and we “pounded” fists. It’s the first time I’ve ever pounded fists with an AK-47-toting Nigerian soldier manning a highway checkpoint. I have to admit it was a pretty special moment.
I have many more stories to tell, but we’ll save those for other times. Blessings to you all this Thanksgiving.