confess that until we started playing this game I thoughtnBermuda and Haiti were somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.n(Until I was 25 I thought Missouri was on the Gulf Coast.nWhat can I say — I went to public school!)nMeanwhile, I have been called away at least five timesnto admire Beanie’s lovely letters and to arbitratendisputes over who is hogging whose side of the blackboard.nWe are all looking forward to the summer, when I will benable to spend more time teaching the little ones using goodnold Calvert kindergarten. For the moment, the nonreadersnget the shorter end of the stick. So I get out some pieces ofnpaper and crayons and tell them to color, warning of direnconsequences if I hear more squabbling.nIn the summer we will have gingerbread baking lessons,nalphabet flashcards, and cut-and-paste. We will roll snakesnout of clay and turn them into miniature pottery. There willnbe songs and dances and stories and poems galore. This isnalso when the older ones will get more extensive history, art,nmusic, science, and engineering lessons . . . sheer selfindulgence,nin other words.nBack to springtime at the kitchen table. Ted is gettingndown the French tapes from International Linguistics whilencrayons and children roll underfoot. I settle down withnMercy back in my lap and the three older ones crowdnaround our one picture book. There is a little multiplechoicenquiz at the end of each tape. Having scant faith innmultiple-choice, I also ask them to describe various picturesnfrom the lesson. When they all seem to have the vocabularynunder control, we will move on to the next tape.nMath drill is next on the agenda. Mercy is asleep on thenlambskin in her crib upstairs by now, and the two other litdenones are outside on the swing set. So I send Joseph, ourndaydreamer, to get our Providence Project CalcuLadderndrill sheets. “They’re in the right-hand filing cabinet, in thensecond drawer from the bottom.”nNaturally, he dawdles back a minute later claiming hencan’t find them. So I send Ted. He returns triumphantlynbearing the drill-sheet file and casting contemptuous looksnat Joe, who ignores him.nOur kids now hunch feverishly over their worksheetsntrying to beat the clock. If one succeeds, I draw a star on hisnor her paper and mark it on a sheet I use to see who is onnwhich level. If not, I mark the time it took to complete thensheet. This way, we can tell from day to day whether we arenprogressing.nToday Ted finishes his sheet the first time, while Sarahnand Joe each miss by only a few problems. They beg me tonlet them try once more. Feigning reluctance, I give in. I putnthe file away while Ted saunters off to do some work in hisnSaxon Algebra book. On a normal day, we also do somen14/CHRONICLESnnngrammar and English composition work, and the other twonalso progress through their math books. I grade all the worknas it is finished and answer any questions as they arise.nToday, however, I received some new art appreciationnmaterials in the mail, so Joe and Sarah gather around whilenwe pore over pages of art reproductions. History and sciencenlessons will take care of themselves, thanks to our extensivenlibrary of Usborne books, a heavily-used library card, and thenworld’s greatest collection of time lines.nNow it’s lunch, which means mail-opening time. Tednreceived another envelope from the Postal CommemorativenSociety — I think he is singlehandedly trying to double theirnannual budget. While he checks out their latest offering, thenlittle ones clamor for stamps off our envelopes. Some daysnthe pickings are good — we have received letters from as farnaway as Nepal. Today the hit of the day is a new flowerncatalog. I promise to read some of it to Beanie after lunch.nTed will be out catching bugs and butterflies this afternoon.nHe, will also be bugging me to add a packet ofnornamental corn seed to my gardening list. He has visions ofngoing into business selling it retail door-to-door and wholesalento the nursery down the road. Joe will be either writing anstory or drawing numerous action-packed pictures featuringnairplanes and fire engines (each of which he will bring to menfor a few words of praise and encouragement), unless hendecides to spend the whole afternoon outside on the swingnset or exploring the yard.nSooner or later someone will get out the Crayola markernset. Sarah will read a book or two to herself and one of thenchildren will read to Frank and Beanie. I will be writingnsomething or other on the computer: maybe answeringnletters, maybe working on a book. Bill will be runningnerrands and entering orders for our home business on hisncomputer. If one of us is not too busy, we might find timenfor a quick game of chess with Ted or Joe. The little kids willntake naps (in theory). About a dozen times this afternoonnsomeone will fall down or tease someone else or snitchnsomeone else’s toy. I will kiss the boo-boos, admonish thenteasers, and deal out on-the-spot discipline to the thieves.nThere will also be numerous diaper-changes, tubs, messynfaces that need scrubbing, and lessons in toothbrushingnskills. (Amazing that the “experts” think all this only takesnme 30 minutes a day!)nSuppertime is the signal to ask Daddy detailed sciencenquestions (“Why do candle flames go up?”) and to begnMommy to tell a story. Most of the stories feature threensiblings who live in cottages on the edge of a deep forestnwherein reside goblins and trolls. The goblins and trolls getnsnookered, and the children find their treasure and livenhappily ever after. This old plot, beloved of Ogden Nash,nstill is a hit.nArchaic fossils that we are, we never go out for thenevening to “get away from the children.” Bill might take outnhis telescope and let us look at the moon or Saturn.nSometimes we watch a video or read to the litfle ones. Thisnis also prime time for chess or Stratego. Then we havenfamily worship, and the younger ones toddle off to bed. Tedngenerally hangs around for a bit, exercising his privilege ofnreading for a while or just chatting with one of us beforengoing to bed.nOur schedule is not untypical for a homeschoolingn