Writing | Inspired Homeschooling

June 22, 2016 Writing Post a Comment

Introduction to Copywork: Copywork FAQ’s

Copywork is a favorite tool in Classical and Charlotte Mason homeschooling circles, but what is copywork? What benefits does it provide? How do you get started with it? How do you find passages?

I’m glad you asked.

What is Copywork?

Copywork is just what it sounds like. Depending on your child’s age and developmental level, he copies letters, words, sentences, and/or paragraphs. You provide him with a model, and he copies it in his own hand.

What benefits does copywork provide?

At first glance, copywork appears to be the epitome of the reviled “busywork.” What good can possibly come from this? So, so much it turns out. Imitating a model is how children learn language. It’s how they learn spoken language without formal instruction. We don’t set out a curriculum to teach infants and toddlers grammar, vocabulary, syntax, pronunciation, phrasing, etc. We just talk to our babies. And they copy what we say to them.

Copywork (and hearing and reading good literature) allows us to tap into this natural imitative process in order to teach written language. By imitating a good written model, our children learn spelling, punctuation, grammar, letter formation, vocabulary, and how to eloquently express a thought.

Not bad for 5-10 minutes of effort a day.

How do I get started with copywork?

With the littlest kids, you start with having them copy single letters. Progress to short words. Around second grade or so you can give them short sentences. Sentences can get longer through 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade, and middle schoolers can begin copying paragraphs. However, if your kid has never done copywork before, even if they’re older, start with sentences. The right length is what they can copy neatly and accurately in 5-10 minutes.

Where do I find passages for copywork?

You can find copywork passages on the internet. You can buy copywork workbooks. Or you can simply choose a sentence or two from a book your child is reading. There are websites where you can make your own handwriting worksheets. You can type a passage into that, or you can write it by hand, or you can simply have your kid copy straight from the book.

Most people recommend choosing from a variety of types of passages – scripture, poetry, literature, great speeches, fiction, non-fiction. You want to give your child a variety of good models to imitate to get the most out of the exercise.

How much time should copywork take?

Most recommendations are to spend 5-10 minutes on copywork 3-4 times a week.

That doesn’t seem like much. Is copywork really effective for teaching language arts?

I’m going to pass you off to another website to answer this question. The short answer is “yes.” 🙂

April 21, 2016 Education Theory, Encouragement, Writing Post a Comment

Dyslexia and the Gift of Neurodiversity

I have a fundamental belief that each of us is a unique creation with strengths and weaknesses that equip us for our individual mission in this life. I have struggled so much with the idea of “learning disabilities” because I feel a hyper-focus on a person’s weaknesses can overshadow the development of that person’s gifts.

It makes sense to me that the human species benefits from the fact that no two humans are the same. Some people are strong. Some are fast. Some are amazing artists. Some are compassionate healers. Some are great engineers. Few people are all of those things.

Neurodiversity, that is the differences between our brains that make it easier for one person to learn math and for another to learn to read, is an evolutionary benefit for us humans. It allows us to excel at group problem solving. Because we each have a unique brain, we each have a unique way of approaching a problem and unique abilities to use in solving a problem. It’s this great diversity of brains that has allowed humans to produce electricity, build skyscrapers, write life-transforming literature, create heart-breaking works of art, create the internet, and use the internet for an unbelievably diverse multitude of functions.

Our society has come to worship at the altar of literacy. It is the one thing we must all master and love. Don’t get me wrong, I love reading and writing. I’m a reader. And a writer. I believe the ability to read well and write competently are skills that every person must acquire to live a constructive and fulfilling life in our society.

I also believe that the over attention given to these pursuits is damaging to some children. The idea that every child should love reading and writing just doesn’t gel with me. While we agree that every adult should be able to perform basic math operations, we don’t insist that every child should love solving equations in their free time. Though there are certainly those who do.

So what does this mean if your child struggles to read? It means that you should help him learn to read! It also means that you shouldn’t force him to spend an inordinate amount of time struggling to read and write to the exclusion of pursuing and developing his natural gifts.

It means you should help your child see his great contribution to the neurodiversity of the amazing human race. Help him to see that he has unique strengths and weaknesses just like everyone else. Help him discover what his strengths are, and help him to flourish in those strengths. Help him to overcome his weaknesses so that they don’t interfere with the expression of his strengths. Whatever you do, don’t laser focus on his weaknesses and ignore his strengths.

There are ways of helping children who struggle to learn to read. We should continue to discover and employ these tools. But, and I know this is sacrilege in many circles, I don’t believe the ultimate goal is creating a child who loves to read. I believe the ultimate goal is a child who loves to learn, who knows and can express his gifts, and can employ reading and writing as tools toward that end.

October 1, 2014 Curriculum Reviews, Curriculum Reviews, Writing 2 Comments

The Phonetic Zoo {Curriculum Review}

This year we are using quite a bit of curriculum from the Institute for Excellence in Writing. We’re using Primary Arts of Language for Helen’s phonics, Teaching Writing: Structure and Style for Henry’s writing program with our co-op group, and The Phonetic Zoo for Henry’s spelling.

Andrew Pudewa, president of IEW has been a mentor of mine from the beginning of my homeschool career when I saw him speak at the Rocky Mountain Catholic Home Educators Conference. The talk that most inspired me, Teaching Boys & Other Children Who Would Rather Make Forts All Day, is available on his website for a couple of bucks and is totally worth a listen.

There are many things I like about the IEW materials. First, they are all based on reaching auditory learners as well as visual learners. This can be hard to find, particularly in language materials which are often highly visual. Second, the folks at IEW totally get kids – lessons are short, interactive, and based on quick mastery of tiny pieces of information. Pudewa understands that kids want to do what they think they can do, and will often refuse to do anything they think will be too hard.

I have heard others describe IEW materials as “intense” or “parent heavy,” but I think these people may be falling into a common trap of homeschoolers – failing to use the curriculum as a tool and allowing it to be your master. I like the materials because they provide you with a lot of really good material to teach. However, the authors also frequently and insistently encourage you to use the materials as they best suit you and your child. Attempting to cram a lot of information into a passive and even resistant mind is NOT what IEW is about. If it takes you a week to get through a single day’s lesson plan, your child is still greatly benefiting from this high quality material, and you are in no way failing as a homeschooler. Why use subpar material just because the pace is slower? Why not set your own pace using quality tools?

I like Andrew Pudewa and the IEW materials so much, that Pudewa is a household name here. In fact, my son thinks I like him a little too much. During a particularly challenging Phonetic Zoo lesson, my son threw down his headphones and launched into the following tirade.

“This is too hard! I can’t do it! Why do you even like Pudewa so much? You like Pudewa more than you like your own family! You worship him like he’s some sort of god!”

Ahem. I guess I shouldn’t have been so upset when this child chose not to enroll in our enrichment program’s theater class. Clearly, he is already quite skilled in drama.

Fortunately, using some of the skills I’ve learned from Master Pudewa, I was able to navigate this little bump in the road and get us back on track.

So onto the nitty gritty of the Phonetic Zoo. The program is intended for students beginning in 4th grade and is designed to be self-teaching. It comes with an audio CD that the child listens to for each lesson. Each lesson consists of two audio tracks as well as a large card printed with the lesson’s spelling rule, a list of spelling words, and a picture of an animal or two whose names also illustrate the spelling rule (for example, caiman and ray for the ai/ay lesson).

When the child sits down to do his spelling lesson, he listens to the audio CD with headphones to minimize distractions and to help channel the information directly into his brain. The audio lesson consists the spelling rule repeated every 3-5 words, followed by dictation of the spelling words. The child writes each of the 15 spelling words as they are dictated while also listening repeatedly to the spelling rule. The following track is a self-check with the proper spelling of each word dictated back to the child. The whole thing takes about 10 minutes. As a mastery program, the child repeats the lesson every day until he spells each of the 15 words correctly. This might take one day or a couple of weeks. Once he has mastered the list, he receives a small trading card with a picture of the lesson’s animals on it.

I want to note that these cards are not childish. They have nice line drawings of interesting animals. The program is designed for later elementary kids, and it does not insult them with cartoonish, childish trading cards.

This program has been brilliant for us for three reasons. First, it is something Henry can do entirely on his own. Second, it is short and finite – Henry knows exactly how long it will take and when it’s done, it’s done. This is key for a kid who has trouble focusing on school work. Finally, Henry is a highly auditory learner, so hearing the words spelled back to him is essential. Incidentally, Pudewa asserts that this piece is critical for any type of learner because when we just look at words we don’t really see the order of the letters. You can learn more about the theory behind the program here.

The one bump we hit in the road, the one that prompted the aforementioned accusations of my preternatural adoration of Andrew Pudewa, was caused by my failing to properly introduce the lesson. Henry had done such a good job with lesson one, that I thought I could get away with just throwing lesson two at him with no introduction. While it is a self-teaching program, if your child is a particularly poor speller (as mine is), there are a number of ways you can introduce the lesson to help him succeed. First, you can read through the large lesson card together and have him copy the list of words while saying each letter out loud. Second, you could simply have him listen to the second track of the lesson and write each word as it’s proper spelling is dictated. He could even do this for several days until he is confident enough in his ability to pass the “test.” The point is to learn the material, not to make your kid cry.

While we are only on lesson three (that second lesson took a loooong time to master!) I have seen an improvement in Henry’s spelling, and more importantly, in his confidence around spelling. I really like the self-paced mastery approach because by the time a child can spell the more challenging words, all of the words are solidly cemented in his brain.

I highly recommend this program for anyone teaching spelling, especially if you hate teaching spelling or if your child has struggled with it in the past.

June 24, 2012 Homeschool Science, Our Homeschool, Rethinking the 3 R's, Writing 1 Comment

Monster Quest: Search for Big Foot

Henry has been deeply immersed in two different “unit studies” of his own design and choosing. One is a study of ancient Egypt, which I’ll blog about in another post. The other is a unit on crypto zoology, specifically the search for Big Foot.

I’m not sure what sparked his interest in this topic, but as a result my husband hunted down a couple of shows to stream on Netflix. Monster Quest and Is It Real both examine evidence for the existence of such terrifying and mysterious creatures as Sasquatch, the Loch Ness Monster and the Chupacabra.

I am astonished by the amount of learning that has come out of watching these shows. Henry has expanded his knowledge of folklore, geography (marking the states on a map where there have been Big Foot sitings), and the scientific method. In the process he’s also done a good bit of practice drawing and writing.

He researched on YouTube to find a video showing the process for creating a plaster cast of animal tracks. He practiced measuring and mixing and multiplication to create enough plaster to pour into the print he discovered.

Some non-standard unit measurement for the preschooler.

Working to get the cast out.

This was my favorite part. Our neighbor is a biologist and Henry thought he might be able to examine the specimen. He started to write the note and had me finish it. It reads: “To Brian, From Henry. Please take to lab. If your lab doesn’t deal with Big Foot evidence, please return to me and I will send to New York University. Thank you.”

The neighbors got a huge kick out of this. Brian did return the specimen noting that his lab generally deals with really tiny things, not big ones.

The project has also involved a lot of writing and drawing. Below is his recording of what he planned to do. “We spotted a big hairy animal. What was it? We will send it to Jack. Signed Monster Quest Member, Henry.” (Jack is his best buddy.)

He happened to have captured a picture of the creature on a hidden camera.

This is the unknown specimen. (Potentially Big Foot)

He then compared the unknown specimen to known primates with similar characteristics.
Could it have been a gorilla?

Perhaps it was a baboon?

Or maybe an orangutan?

Or not a primate at all, but a bear?

He determined that it most closely resembled an orangutan but that we could not rule out the possibility that he did in fact discover a new species.

September 4, 2011 Education Theory, Our Homeschool, Rethinking the 3 R's, Writing 1 Comment

Learning to Write: Zone of Proximal Development Part 2

In my last post I explained a bit about what the ZPD and scaffolding are and what scaffolding looks like when “teaching” babies how to roll over. In this post, I’ll provide a couple of examples of scaffolding the writing process.

I’d like to start by pointing out that writing is not a single skill, but rather a number of skills that come together into a finished product. In order to write, say, a thank you note that you would like your friend to read, you must 1) conceive of the idea of writing the note, 2) choose the words you need to express your gratitude, 3) decide which letters are in the words you want to write, 4) form the letters on the page, 5) plan ahead so you don’t run out of room and 6) put the words in order. I’m sure I could think of more skills involved, but we’ll leave it at that.

So that’s at least 6 things your child is doing if he’s trying to write something on a piece of paper. It’s a big task.

The first trick to scaffolding is identifying when your child is on the verge of moving up the skill ladder and determining what kind of support he needs to make that step. The next trick to scaffolding is recognizing when your child needs to just hang out and get comfortable on the rung he’s on before trying to make the next step.

For example, my son has recently learned to write. If you check the list above, he’s pretty good at steps 1 through 4. Steps 5 and 6 are still a struggle for him. Frequently throughout our day he will bring me something he has written and ask me to read it. He still writes pretty big. He hasn’t developed the fine motor skills he needs to neatly form tiny letters on the page. So he can fit two, maybe three words neatly on a page before he runs out of room. At this point, he just starts putting the letters for the words anywhere they might fit on the page. The result is something like this:

Which is fine if you have some context (that’s a drawing of Abraham Lincoln), and there’s only one word climbing up the page. But when the message is longer, it becomes a huge mess:

I have no idea what those say, though I do spot the word “the” in the second picture.

One day, feeling a bit frustrated, I told him that you have to write from top to bottom and left to right or people can’t read it and it doesn’t make sense. I wanted to show him. I wanted to have him rewrite what he’d written. He wanted to punch me in the nose.

I really should have kept my mouth shut in that situation. I wasn’t scaffolding, I was pushing. He’s not ready to move to the next step. He’s still getting comfortable with steps 1 through 4. The effect of my “help” was to make him feel incompetent and angry. I shut down all learning opportunities at that moment and replaced them with a flood of frustrated tears.

So there’s a great example of what not to do. But every once in a while my instincts are better.

My little girl is also learning to write. She’s not really “writing” as defined in the 6 step process above; she’s pretty much just forming letters on the page. Her fine motor skills are more mature than her brother’s and she is able to form letters quite small and neatly. She doesn’t know all of her letters, but she is very interested in writing her name and has picked up that “H” is the first letter of her name.

Helen had been writing “her name” for several weeks. Here’s an example:

Note that I am aware that you do not spell “Helen” HOI. But I hadn’t said anything to her about it. She’d tells me she’d written her name and I’d say, “wonderful!”

She kept practicing and made the following progression:

Note that she is practicing. She’s doing the same thing over and over. Not because I told her to. Not because she has a worksheet to complete. She’s doing it because writing her name is important to her right now. Also note that up to this point, I hadn’t given her any instruction on writing her name. We’d talked about how Henry and Helen both start with H. We’d pointed out H’s. Everything else she’d picked up just from living our daily lives.

Then one day she was no longer satisfied with the progress she was making on her own. We were at the library and while I was showing Henry how to find books using the computer, Helen requested her own scrap of paper and teeny golf pencil from the basket by the computer. She then pouted, “I don’t know how to write my name.” I asked, “Do you want me to show you?” She nodded. So I wrote her name on the piece of paper and she copied it. She has been practicing her name, again without prompting, for several days now and it now looks like this:

So in this case, the scaffolding I provided was a model for her to copy. Note that it still isn’t quite right. But it’s a lot closer than HOI. The letters aren’t in the right order, the “L” is backwards, and there’s no “N” at all (probably because she doesn’t feel up for tackling that diagonal line), but the model I gave her bumped her up to a new level of competence. My job now is to stand back and let her get comfortable at this level until she’s ready for my help to move up the next rung of the ladder.

How will I know she’s ready? More than likely it will be because she asks me. If I felt I just couldn’t hold back, I could ask her if she wants to learn to draw an “N.” Because I know she’s capable of tracing small letters on a page, I could print a handwriting worksheet for her and show her how to do it. But if I did that, I would be careful to present in a pretty nonchalant way. “Hey Helen! I put a worksheet on your writing table that shows you how to write the letter ‘N.'” And leave it at that. If she asked for help with it I would help her. If she ignored it, I wouldn’t bring it up again. I’d just leave it there.

The essence of scaffolding is waiting until a child is super ready to take the next step and offering just enough assistance to get him there. It’s holding a child’s hand as she jumps across a little stream. As opposed to pushing her across a river in a canoe. Either way she’ll reach the other side, but if she makes the leap herself, the experience will be much more rewarding.

September 3, 2011 Education Theory, Our Homeschool, Rethinking the 3 R's, Writing 1 Comment

When to Push, When to Hold Back: An Introduction to Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development Theory

Recently in my homeschool circles, there has been much discussion of when it might be appropriate to push/encourage/nudge our children. How can we discern whether a little encouragement or guidance from us will help them jump to the next level of competence, or push them over the edge of frustration?

Lev Vygotsky, the great educational theorist, posited that there exists what he called the Zone of Proximal Development, or ZPD in the educational jargon. Vygotsky believed that the ZPD is where the greatest learning occurrs. The ZPD is that area of competence just beyond a person’s current level of achievement – a level that one can reach with just a bit of the right help. He called this help “scaffolding.”

Scaffolding is something we all do more or less naturally with babies. Imagine playing on the floor with a baby who is lying on his back and rolling to his side. He’s just about to roll over. He’s almost got it. He just needs a liiiitle encouragement. You hold out a favorite toy just beyond his reach. He reeeeaches for the toy and – woop!- he rolls over. Yay! You’ve just scaffolded rolling over for the baby.

Now notice, if that baby was not yet reaching for toys, or was not yet capable of getting most of the way over on his own, or wasn’t interested in rolling or reaching at that moment, your efforts would have been fruitless.

Parents naturally scaffold new walkers. photo credit: sean dreilinger via photo pin cc/caption]

Again, this comes naturally for most of us when we’re working with babies. But it is much less intuitive when we’re working with older children. With older children who have more or less mastered the art of walking and talking, we tend to push a little harder. If a 5 year old can’t write his name, we may feel compelled to put a pen in his hand and use our hand over his hand to walk him through the steps. This isn’t scaffolding. I’m not sure what I would call it, but it isn’t scaffolding.

Our tendency to want to push to this extent comes in large part from a system of schooling that has tricked us into thinking that all kids need to learn the same skills at the same time and at the same rate in order to be at “grade level.” If a 5 year old can’t write his name, he is “behind” and we must push him to “catch up.”

Nah. The problem with this kind of pushing is that it makes learning harder than it has to be. I could start coaching a baby on rolling over from the day he comes home from the hospital, but he’s probably not going to roll over any sooner than if I’d just waited until he was ready. But in the mean time, I may make him think that this rolling over business is a lot of stupid hard work that he’s not really interested in doing.

Okay. So what does scaffolding look like beyond the babyhood? A big question that keeps popping up in my circles, and one I’ve written about before, is teaching writing. I’m not sure why we’re so preoccupied with writing, but it seems that we are. So in my next post I will look at what scaffolding looks like when teaching a kid to write.

August 6, 2011 Rethinking the 3 R's, Writing 2 Comments

How my son became a writer

When Henry started kindergarten last year, he showed absolutely no interest in handwriting. None. He failed every fine motor screening at his well child checks from the time he was two. At 5, as far as I knew, as far as he would demonstrate to me, he could not even draw a straight, vertical line.

I alternated between freaking out and searching for occupational therapists that accept our insurance, and telling myself it would come in time. I considered not only purchasing Handwriting Without Tears, but taking the full training so I would really know how to implement it. I used all of the tricks in my bag to entice him to develop his writing skills. I listened to advice from people who know less than I do on the matter. I listened hard to the tiny little voice in me that said, “he’s fine. He just needs time.”

On his first day of classes at his homeschool enrichment program, he came home with a paper that he’d written his name on. Not a scribble. Much more than a straight, vertical line. Five letters, that I could read: H-E-N-R-Y. Huh. Little stinker. Apparently he was capable of much more than I even knew.

That fact tormented me for a while. What else does he know that I don’t know he knows? Is he not showing his skills because he’s a perfectionist? Is he bored? And, of course, what have I done wrong? Why will he write for these strangers at school and not for me?

But again, I managed to hear the tiny little voice that said, “he’s fine. You’re fine. Everything will be fine.”

When I asked Henry who had written his name, he said, “I did.” I asked him, “who taught you how to write your name?”He answered, “you did.” Really? Huh.

So although it had been established that he could, in fact, write actual letters on paper, Henry was still loathe to put pen – or crayon, or pen, or paintbrush, or even a finger loaded with paint – to paper. I didn’t push it. I just made materials available and left it be.

Throughout the year he experimented more and more, but it never became his favorite thing to do. And then, one day, it happened. We had a Very Bad Day. It was the kind of day that makes you hang your head as a mother and wonder 1) how could I have produced such a rotten kid and 2) how can I look at these events and bring some growth out of them.

I’ll spare you the details of his transgressions. What’s important to this story is that on this Very Bad Day, Henry had to give up his TV time to write three apology letters.

It was brutal. It was excruciating. It took him a whole hour to write three letters that averaged about 10 words each. And they were pretty much illegible. I was embarrassed as we presented these tortured writings to their recipients. I feared the judgment of my failure as a homeschooling mom to teach my son to write.

I was still in a funk from the events of the Very Bad Day when my husband returned from work. He cheerfully asked Henry, “how was your day?” Henry’s response? “Great! I learned how to write all by myself!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

From that time, Henry has become quite the writer. He makes signs, labels pictures, and writes letters. He’s also started drawing pictures, which he’d never really done before.

So there you have it. While no expert I know would ever recommend that the way to encourage a reluctant writer is to force him to write letters of apology, that is, in fact, what worked in our family. Your mileage may vary.

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