Walk down memory lane with me and see how we practiced the Brave Writer Lifestyle in my home! Posted in Homeschool Advice, Julie's Life | Comments Off on The Love of Learning The Misunderstood “Child-Led Learning” Model No amount of sugar, sugary sentiment, pretty dishes, colorful pudding, reassuring comments, or gentle shoulder massage could ever EVER coax me to love pistachio pudding. I wished I could magically transport myself out of this hell hole called a family home. I ran to the bathroom and burst into tears. I had no words left-just teeth coated with a green memory. “Wasn’t that yummy? Aren’t you glad you enjoyed your dessert?” Citron’s incessant shoulder rubbing and constant coaxing, “There you go! One more delicious bite honey!” ramped up. I took the next bite and the next one, willing myself to not throw up, wishing my sentence would end, hating everyone at the table, and especially hating pudding makers for ruining my sleep over.Īs I got near the bottom of the dish, Mrs. “Now you’re doing it!”ĭespite my poor math skills, I quickly calculated that there were likely to be 15-20 bites of pudding ahead of me. I took one small slippery, putrid bite and thought: I will puke the meatloaf. She put her hands on my shoulders and began to knead them, Dolores Umbridge style.
She got out of her chair, walked to my side of the table, and stood behind me. They all sat staring at me and my uneaten pudding wondering what would happen next. Citron excused the family, but not me, from the table. No escape-the family of four had already licked their spoons empty and my pudding sat uneaten, swirled to inviting perfection.Īt this point, Mrs. She retorted that if I was too full for pistachio pudding, milk would make me fuller, therefore no milk for the dessert.
This mother countered that “No one is ever too full for dessert.” I asked for more milk thinking I could drown each bite. This swirl of unnatural green in the parfait dish sat in front of me and I knew I would be required to eat it. Citron’s friendly glare required it of me. I choked these down with glasses of milk despite the fact that my own family was vegetarian. Citron expected me to eat all the meat loaf and mashed potatoes and limp wet dull metal green beans on my plate. My friend Pam’s mother was a charter member of the “clean platers” club.
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