Fresh starts and small beginnings

The beauty of low expectations

As a child I was always tantalised by the idea of starting at a new school and reinventing yourself with an entirely new personality. Not for me, but just in principle. I think I read a story about it, and if I did, I’m sure that the moral of the story would have been that you can’t reinvent yourself just because you start a new school because—duh!—you are who you are and you can’t change your personality in the way that you can change your hairstyle.

I’ve been thinking about this in the context of New Year Resolutions. Some people love them, some people hate them and refuse to have anything to do with them. I think that both the appeal and the downfall of New Year Resolutions is that, like the child starting a new school, part of us hopes that we’ll wake up on 1st January a whole new person—the kind of person who bounces out of bed, downs a green smoothie, and goes for a quick 5 mile run while the rest of the family are still asleep. Or maybe the tick of the clock into a new year will magically make us able to resist the lure of Netflix and read a book instead.

But a new year won’t change who you are any more than a new school or a new haircut will, which is why we swiftly find ourselves clicking ‘Skip Intro’ while reaching for another leftover Christmas chocolate, and vowing not to bother with resolutions ever again.

Instead of the glossy magazine, ‘New Year, New YOU!’ nonsense, how about we just enjoy the opportunity for a fresh start, or a small beginning? Fresh starts are lovely, and we all deserve them. They’re not reserved for 1st January—every Monday can be a fresh start, or every new blessed morning. A lot of people feel the ‘sharpened pencils and new notebooks’ energy of September, and the appearance of the first spring bulbs sees me throwing the windows open and making plans to make the most of the lengthening days.

Via Unplash

In the northern hemisphere we’re in the depths of winter, and for me it’s not the time to renounce comforts or embark on a punishing exercise regime (actually, it’s never the time for that). But I am using the nudge of a fresh start to make a tiny effort to clear the kitchen each night—it makes the next morning so much brighter—and move my body a little more, even if it’s just for a walk, not a 5 mile run. (Although in shocking news, I have been for three runs in the past fortnight, bringing my total for 2023 to… 3.) With the children, I’m slowly reinstating some read-aloud time. They were given some lovely non-fiction books at Christmas so we’ll ease back into homeschool by dipping into them together.

Like other home educators on Substack, I use the Christmas break to look at the plans I made over the summer, assess our progress, and work out some priorities for the coming months. (See recent posts from Amy Challis, Eloise Rickman, Jamey Fisher Perkins.) In the spirit of small beginnings as opposed to wholesale makeovers, my planning took less than an hour and one sheet of A4. I listed all our subjects (out of an irrational but persistent fear that I’ll somehow miss out an entire subject if I don’t write them down). I noted down a few areas of focus (History: Charlemagne, the Hundred Years’ War, the Crusades; Maths: fractions, missing number problems, angles and turns; English: some key grammar terms to introduce and reinforce). I jotted down a rough daily plan, and instead of trying to do most things, most days, I’m going to try covering everything each week. I admit I’m a little nervous about how the children will respond to the idea of going back to work after taking several weeks off, so my plan is to make things very small and easily digestible as we slowly get back into the swing of things.

What I’m trying very, very hard not to do is Buy More Stuff. I don’t know if it’s a hangover from December, but I feel a strong urge to buy, buy, buy at this time of year. I can tell myself it’s all education-related and therefore somehow unimpeachable, but I’m not totally convinced by myself. My bank card needs a break, and anything that’s really worth buying will be just as good in February as it would be in January. And of course, there’s a whole bundle of new things from Christmas, which will be instantly forgotten if I go and buy more stuff. I’m keeping a list of things I want to buy, so I can look at it in a few weeks and assess what I really want.

The other reason for not buying all the lovely shiny new things now, is that my children won’t wake up as different people on 1st January any more than I will. New books and resources come with a degree of pressure as well as pleasure: will the children enjoy them, or even want to use them? Will they use them more than once, or will I have spent my money on something that was good for a single afternoon? So for now I’m biding my time, and keeping my Things I Won’t Buy Right Now list, and easing us in to 2024 slowly, gently, and with low expectations. Some people like to aim high, in New Year Resolutions and in life, and that’s laudable. But there’s something rather wonderful about low expectations too, especially when you live with small children. Occasionally, when the stars align, you might even exceed them.

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