Homeschooling in South Carolina

Homeschooling in South Carolina is okay.  It isn't great.  It isn't the free-for-all that is Alaska, but it's okay.  I have been able to grudgingly handle it for the last four and a half years.  Here are the rules that apply to everyone:

• The compulsory ages are from five to seventeen. (Okay, because I'm schooling them anyway.)
• The required subjects are math, reading, writing, social studies, science, with composition and literature being added in grades seven through twelve.  (Okay, I'm teaching that stuff anyway.)
• The school year must be 180 days long. (Okay, we homeschool year round anyway.)
• The homeschooling parent must have a high school diploma or GED. (Okay, I have that anyway.)

The law gives homeschoolers three options to choose from.  The cheapest and least restrictive option (which is of course, what we went with) is option three, which requires joining a homeschool association of at least fifty members and submitting proof of following all of the above requirements, plus semiannual progress reports (Not okay!  What business is it of theirs?).  I must also keep educational records, including a plan book (or other record) of subjects taught and activities and a portfolio of the child's work, though I am not required to show these to anyone.  Annual testing is not required, but is available through the homeschool association.

For those of you who don't know, military homeschooling families are required to follow the homeschool laws of the state in which they reside.  It doesn't matter that we are all legal residents of the free-for-all that is Alaska - we have to follow the silly legislation of whatever inferior state we are being forced to live in.  This means that I'll have to follow a whole new set of ridiculous laws when we move to Hawaii early next year, and I'm not happy about it.

So, can any of you tell that I really want The Man to tell The Man where to stick this stupid job?  He has this thing about making sure The Goobs eat every day, though.  It's beyond frustrating.

Edisto Island, SC: Part 1 (part 2 if you count the hotdog bun post, which I don't, even though the pictures are nice)

The first time we visited Edisto Island was way, waaaay, waaaaaaaaaay back in 2007 - so long ago that The Goobers could barely remember the details of the trip. Even looking at these pictures wasn't enough to jog their memories, so we did what any concerned parents would do - we packed our things and went again, this time for several days so the experience would have a better chance of sinking in. Jeez, Goobs. Way to inconvenience us.

We had a fabulous time camping at Edisto Island State Park, even though we did not have the good sense to reserve a site on the beach A YEAR AGO, which is what you have to do if you want to camp on the beach. That's okay. We stayed at the Live Oak campground and took long walks around the marsh and saw raccoons and spiders and egrets, and the beach was just a three minute drive up the road. Yes, we could have walked, but then I would have had to leave all my stuff behind. I happen to need my stuff. My stuff consists of:

• Ice (because it's hot)
• Water(because weget thirsty)
• Camera (because that's what I do)
• Sunscreen (because I'm white and pasty and wish to remain so)
• Towels (because without them we'd stick to the vinyl car seats)
• Tupperware (for the shells and dead creatures)
• Trash bags (because WILL get wet)
• First Aid Kit (because Anemone will skinherentire body on the ocean floor)
• Extra eye glasses (because JellyManwill losehis in the surf)
• Yarn (because Ihave to knit something every few minutesor my fingers itch)
• Beach chairs (because my feet get tired and besides, it's really hard to knit while walking in sand)
• Picnic lunch (becausethe natives get restless)
• Trashy novels (because I'm on vacation, dammit. Stop judging me.)

And I used every last bit of it because of all those becauses. So it's a good thing we drove because The Man wasn't too happy about carrying all that stuff even from the parking lot. If I had asked him to carry it from the campsite he might have insisted we go to the beach asGod intended - with a hand towel and a bottle of water. Or he might have justpacked everything up and hupped us up to Charleston to spend the night in a hotel.

Crap. Iwish I hadthought of that earlier.

Anyway, my big lesson learned for this trip - aside from 1) make reservations a year beforeI thinkI might want to go camping and 2) remember to provoke The Man into taking me to a hotel -was to always reset your camera when you aredone using it. Because, you see, the high ISO setting you used when taking pictures of your niece at her first birthday party (I just hate flashing light at babies) does not work so well at thebeach, even at sunset. All of your pictures will look like this:

or this:

or like this:

You were really looking forward totaking pictures of your family frolicking on the beach at sunset, so when you see what you've done youwill want to smack yourself really hard in the face with that dead fish your dog brought you. You'll wail and gnash your teeth and cry, "Why, why, why?" as you repeatedly knock your head against a palm tree. You'll moan and groan and whine and fuss until you realize this might not be such a bad thing. After all, you'll never make the samemistake again, that grainy look is actually sort of cool, and besides, Anemone is pretty no matter what setting your camera is on.

Cold War Memorial; Mount Pleasant, S.C.

Between purchasing our tickets for Fort Sumter and actually getting on the boat, we took a walk around this memorial near Patriots Point. It is a monument dedicated to those were lost aboard submarines during the Cold War. We were very impressed with the whole thing.

I have never studied the Cold War in depth, so I was very glad of the wealth ofinformation presented on the signs. There were stone benches scattered around the park; each one was dedicated to a different submarine. And of course, the "sub" itself wasvery cool. I love the fountain grass planted all around - nice touch.

Best of all, we were the only ones there, so we were free to take as muchtime as we needed towander around, read, and chat about what we hadlearned. And to havea little meltdown. I could make the same old excuses, "Oh, they're just tired," or "Oh, they had donuts for breakfast," or "Oh, they're off their routine," and it would all be true. But we're Lutherans, for crying out loud. We don't have meltdowns- at least not in public. ApparentlyThe Goobersdidn't get that memo, because here they are, in front of Godand the whole world, having a meltdown.

(Thisis where you'll have to imagine a picture ofThe Goobers having said meltdown. Theyhave asked me not to post it, so I won't.I really, really want to, because it's freaking hilarious,but Iwouldn't want to provoke my children to anger - they might have another meltdown.)

I have no idea what they were fighting about, because they had self-corrected by the time I walked over there. I guess theforce German is strong in them after all.

And this concludes myparticipation in Applie's "Take a Hike" week. Fortnight. Month. Whatever!We're still taking walks, but they're just around our boring neighborhood. I won't subject you to pictures of that. Really. I promise.

The Battery; Charleston, S.C.

Can you believe that in all our visits to Charleston, we had never walked around the Battery? We couldn't, either, so we made sure to do it this time. It was nice to see where the notorious pirate Stede Bonnett was hanged, but I still like Waterfront Park better. Even so, you just can't beat a morning constitutional in Charleston. Yes, its a beautful city, but really it's the people that make it interesting. There are a lot of dog walkers in Charleston, and none of them walk dogs that look anything like our Norman. They walk fancy dogs, and it's fun to try to guess the ridiculously obscure breeds. There are also crazy-healthy joggers all over Charleston, and it's fun to watch them dodge the fancy dog poop. There are also lots of tourists in Charleston, and tourists are always fun to watch because you never know what they'll do. Unless they're boring tourists. They're not worth watching, because all they do is:

pose on the sea wall

or by a cannon

and translate the Latin on memorials. It makes them feel smart.

Well, they try to translate the Latin on memorials.

We also went to the Old Exchange andProvost Dungeon. That was fun, but I don't have any pictures. (Photography was allowed, but I didn't have my camera with me.) If you click on the link, you can take a virtual tour of the place. The only thing I didn't like about it was that you could only see the dungeon on a guided tour, and you had to sit through long speeches made by Disney-esque automatons. It didn't do anything for the atmosphere.

Then it was on to lunch. Everybody says, "Oh, you've got to go to Hyman's Seafood. You'll love it." The guide books say, "Oh, you've got to go to Hyman's. You'll love it." We try to stay away from the "everybody loves it" restaurants, because, well, people are stupid when it comes to food. But this time, we went ahead and tried it because we were walking by and it looked like rain, and now I can tell you NOT to go to Hyman's. All of our seafood was tough and overcooked, except for the scallops, which were an interesting combination of overcooked and raw. How hard is it to choose scallops that are all roughly the same size so they cook properly? I'll tell you how hard it is - it isn't!!! The crabcakes were okay. A little too much bread, but not nearly as much as you get in some restaurants. The cheesecake was decent, too, but even the okay crabcake, the decent cheesecake and the dubious honor of sitting at the AC/DC table was not enough to make up for those scallops. Or the shoeleather flounder. I do have one good thing to say about Hyman's, though. They put boiled peanuts on the table. I hate peanuts. I don't like peanut butter and I don't like peanuts in my chocolate, and I really can't imagine why anyone would want to eat peanut brittle. But boiled peanuts are awesome! Seriously. Seek thee out some boiled peanuts.

The Man got us into the restaurant in time to beat the rain, but none of us banked on the storm lasting as long as it did. We lingered over our drinks as long as we could, but eventually we had to make a mad dash for the car, which was parked about a half mile away. We didn't have umbrellas, and every time we crossed the street we had to wade through ankle deep rivers, and by the time we got to the car we looked like drowned rats. But the rain made a pretty picture and our vehicle is upholstered with Manly and Rugged vinyl. No harm done.

We also visited Fort Sumter, and I'll blog about that tomorrow. Unless I decide to blog about cows instead. That happens sometimes.

Old Sheldon Church; Beaufort, S.C.

I am a tourist with a long list of must-see tourist attractions (I really must see the corn palace before I die) so before we left the Beaufort area we stopped to see the ruins of Old Sheldon Church. The British burned it during the Revolutionary War and the feds burned it again during the Civil War, and it's been standing empty ever since. There was a little bit of graffiti, but not enough to be distracting, and there is a nifty old cemetery around back. It was also suprisingly crowded - I had to time this picture just right.

I've read that there are sunrise services here every Easter. I bet it's pretty neat.

Hunting Island, S.C. (part three)

As we walked along the beach, Anemone's feet kept getting more and more painful, and the clouds kept looking more and more menacing, so we decided to call it a day. On the way out of the park we pulled into a parking lot by the marsh to rebandage Anemone's feet. She immediately felt better, so we took a walk out on the boardwalk. (A useless bit of trivia: the war scenes in Forrest Gump were filmed near here.)

This is what they were looking at: crabs. Crabs as far as the eye could see. We had a good time pretending to throw each other off the board walk and imagining the crabs swarming over our bodies, a la the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. Or the ants in Indiana Jones 4. Or the various carnviorous insects in the X-Files. (That swarming bug thing is way overdone, but it's good every time!)

The Man is looking at the clouds here, judging how long we have until the skies open up on us. The boardwalk goes up to those trees in the background, then turns into a dirt path. Then you hit more boardwalk and a viewing platform.

I've always enjoyed taking pictures blind - shooting from the hip, so to speak. Every once in a while I end up with a picture I kind of like. 

Here is my family:

There is more to Hunting Island than just the marsh, but we didn't see it because The Man hustled us back to the parking lot. Just as we reached the car there was a terrific crack of thunder, and as we buckled our seatbelts the rain started to fall. Yep, he is that good.

Hunting Island, S.C. (part two)

 

After our visit to the lighthouse, we suited up and headed for the beach.  As soon as we got there, the kids ran for the big pile of rocks you see in the picture below.  (Does anyone know what that big pile of rocks is for?)

The Man and I were very busy applying sunscreen to each others' backs, and we didn't think to warn The Goobers not to climb on the rocks in their bare feet.  Because really, who needs to be told not to climb all over barnacle covered rocks in their bare feet?  Apparently, The Goobers do.  They couldn't hear us calling them back, so we decided to let them learn their lesson.  Two seconds later, we decided that was really mean, so we decided to go over there and get them off the rocks.  Two steps later, we saw it happen.  Bummer.  Both of them had sliced up their feet pretty badly, but Anemone's were the worst.  See?  That's what I get for making fun of the dysfunctional mother and son at the lighthouse.  Our own deficiencies never seem quite as amusing as those of others, do they?

Since Anemone was bleeding freely and my tendency to neglect my children does not extend to letting them become shark bait, we decided to walk along the shoreline instead of swimming.  The beach is about 4 miles long, but we only walked about half of it because the sand is very hard packed and is brutal on bare feet.  Especially bare feet which have been cut to ribbons on barnacles!  Hunting Island has more trouble with beach erosion than other barrier islands along the coast of South Carolina, and that fact is really brought to your attention by all the fallen trees along the beach.  Creepy, yes?

The Goobers had a great time looking for shells along the beach and creepy creatures amongst the trees.  They found lots of crabs and spiders and were very impressed by the flocks of brown pelicans flying overhead.  We also saw what looked like terns, but we're not sure what sort of terns they were.  We didn't have much luck in finding strange and unusual shells, but Anemone did find a few jingle shells for her collection so she was happy enough.

There is more to Hunting Island than just the beach.  I will show you tomorrow.

 

Hunting Island, S.C.

We took Applie's advice and took a hike on Hunting Island, South Carolina.  Our first stop was the lighthouse.  It's the only lighthouse in the state open to the public, so we figured we'd better take advantage of it while we were there.  It cost $2 per person to climb to the top.  It was worth twice that just to watch one exasperated mother try to coax/pull/carry/drag/push her reluctant five year old up the stairs.  It was the funniest thing I've ever seen - those two deserve each other!   

The hunting Island lighthouse has 167 steps up to the observation deck.  I stepped on every single one.  Twice. I had a bit of a shock when I reached the top - I expected to see The Goobers and I didn't.  Mothers naturally jump to the worst possible scenario (at least this mother does) so I completely disregarded the gorgeous view and hurried around the deck looking for The Goobers, who are small and soft and wouldn't survive a one hundred foot drop to the hard ground.  I found them, they laughed at me, I scolded, they laughed some more.  Those Goobers and their shenanigans. 

The Man didn't laugh at me, but only because he is afraid of heights.  I love that he always comes with us anyway. He's brave like that.

There is more to Hunting Island than just the lighthouse.  I'll blog about the rest in the next few days. 

 

Columbia Museum of Art

We had planned on going to the zoo today, but it was insanely crowded so we went to the art museum to see the Egyptian exhibit. It's never crowded on weekdays - it's free to the public on Saturday so that's when everyone goes. Having the museum to ourselves is worth far more than $14 to us. (I still can't get over admission being only $14 for the four of us. What a great deal!)

The museum was one Monet, and The Goobers love it. They just sit down and stare at it. Eventually The Man and I get bored and wander off to look at other things, but when we come back, The Goobers are right where we left them. We let them look as long as they like, because really, that's why we're here.

After the museum we went to see The Spiderwick Chronicles. JellyManwas upset that they deviated from the books, but in my opinion the movie was much better! We went all out and bought vast amounts of popcorn and candy and buckets of Coke. We all feel sick now, but it was worth it.

We also did a little bit of shopping - we hit the yarn store and the art store and the book store and the big box store and bought yarn, books, fancy drawing pens, a video game and sparkly silver Converse slip ons. *Guess who got what.*

Field Trip to Congaree National Park, South Carolina

As you might recall, I was recently given the title "Field Trip Coordinator" by my local homeschool support group. I am undeserving of the honor (read that as, "I don't want this stupid job," if you like) but I am doing my best just the same. Several members of our group mentioned a burning desire to visit Congaree National Park, so, like a good Field Trip Coordinator, I coordinated said field trip. I also committed myself to getting up very early to drive over an hour to visit a park I wasn't really interested in visiting on a day The Man couldn't come with us. Okay, fine. I can live with that. I was willing to take one for the team.

So we get up at the crack of dawn to visit this park I have no interest in and what do I do almost immediately? I go and get lost. And then, after I find myself, what do I do? I go and get lost again. Anemone was my navigator on that leg of the trip and it would be convenient to lay all the blame on her, but I did make an unauthorized turn over her strenuous objections so it was my fault. Just for the record, it is so much easier to be lost with a cell phone than without one. I just called the park and this lovely, nameless voice guided me straight to the entrance. Fabulous.

So anyway, thanks to my driving, Anemone's navigation and the lovely, nameless voice, we found the park. We were almost ten minutes late and of course I was beside myself with guilt and embarrassment because I hate to inconvenience anyone. Well. Everyone else must have found something more interesting to do that day, because we were the only ones there. Did anyone call? No. Am I suprised? Not really. Am I bitter about it? Yes. I mean,no, becauseThe Goobersand I had a great time all by ourselves.

Notice the Weasley Sweaters. TheGoobers wear them all the time, so don't be surprised (or disturbed) if they are featured in every blog post this winter. There is always a clean t-shirt under there, I promise.

The kids like the Junior Ranger programs at the National Parks. You tour the park, fill out a little booklet (they even give you a pencil) and then get the booklet signed by a ranger, who then gives you a patch. It's a little preachy for my tastes, but really, what does it hurt to read an anti-littering message every once in a while? Congaree also offers guided walks and canoe trips, but only on the weekends which is nearly always a bad time for us.

While we were there, we found a baby stuck in a tree:

It looked really creepy, so we left it there.