Diary of a Reluctant Homeschooler: A is for “Ah-ha” Moment

“Do you know the letter A? The letter A, the letter A. do you know the letter A? Here’s the letter A.”

All week long I’ve heard that song from the Hooked on Phonics CD Rom, and I’ve danced around the kitchen with an inflatable A to the Letter People song about Ms. A saying “Ahchoo.” I cut cardstock into  curves and lines and we used the Handwriting Without Tears model to make “puzzles” of the letter A. We traced the puzzles with our fingers. We traced them with crayons. We played letter recognition games, we used flash cards. We learned the sight words a, at, and & all. We read about Adam and Eve and the apple. We cut out things that started with a from magazines and pasted them in our notebook.

Thursday night he still couldn’t write a letter A, but I had finally figured out why.

All week long I’ve been trying to teach him by chanting and modeling, “Down, up, down, pick up your crayon and go across the middle.”

Over and over (and over)

Nothing.

Then Thursday, through tears he yelled and screamed as I reminded him for the millionth time to start at the top. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE TOP IS!”

Duh. The paper is flat. To him it has no top.

“Start away from you.”

All it took was that one simple sentence.

Silence. The crayon goes to the right spot.

“Now pull. Good! Push. Now pull down the other side. Pick up your crayon and slide across the middle. You did it!”

He did it. Then he did it again and again and again. It was not a fluke. He threw his fists in the air and shouted “I’m so happy with myself!”

Today when I told  him it was time for school he didn’t fight me at all. He sat down and practiced and he did an entire practice sheet all by himself for the first time ever. And he did the whole paper in under five minutes. (Normally it would take a solid half hour and he wouldn’t even get finished one line.)

I even think he is starting to understand the whole top and bottom of the paper concept.

It’s pretty stinkin’ adorable, see for yourself.
(As long as you promise not to comment on my very messy dining room table. Creating literacy is a messy job, people.)