It all started with a Valentine… Sort of.
Hey, there! My name is Kaeryn Brooks. I’m the author of WinterPromise, and I am often asked how WinterPromise came to be. I love that question, because most of the time families pose it because they’ve found the heart behind WinterPromise — a heart hopefully longing for service, for reaching all kids (not just the “student-y” ones,” and most of all — a heart for Christ. I’d like to think these families feel that WP has become a good friend that sits down with them over a cup of coffee to help nurture their kids’ passion and their family life and culture.
So, when they ask, I get the feeling they want to know what makes that “heart” tick — and that’s quite a journey, one that I really trace back to that valentine. If you’d like to hear more about all that, here goes . . .
It all began in my first grade class, when Miss Broton asked us to draw a book cover with an exciting story name and a great picture on the cover. Crayon in hand, I named my story “The Valentine That Ran Away.” My pink valentine had funny, skinny legs and a twinkle in its dot eyes as it seemed to be speeding off the page. I was thrilled when Miss Broton looked at each of our covers, and let us go home with them. They were done.
But I wasn’t. The cover I had made inspired me. Where did the Valentine go? What happened to it? Did someone find it and take it home? I wanted to know the end of the story. But to do that, I had to write it. And I did. The next day I marched back into class with my completed story and gave it to a surprised Miss Broton, who of course had no inkling that anyone would actually write their story. She read my story, laughed a couple of times, and then shared my feat with the class. Which was all marvelous, of course, until Miss Broton told the class that everyone else could do what Kaeryn had done. A few of my classmates actually glared at me. (This did my popularity contest no favors.)
Well, that should have been enough to have convinced me I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, but I missed the signs. It wasn’t until after I started raising my family that my writing skills started really coming in handy. As my husband is a pastor, I frequently supplemented our ministry salary with contract work of some kind or another, and I was able to write for our church ministries as well.
It was really after starting our homeschool journey that writing became important. At first we homeschooled because we wanted more family time with the requirements of ministry, but eventually we fell in love with the lifestyle and the relationships we were building with our kids. Everything was great, except that I couldn’t find the curriculum I wanted. The primary kinesthetic program I tried should have included a full-time salary, because that’s what it took to pull it off. I wasn’t spending time with my kids, I was constantly prepping elaborate and sometimes bizarre activities. Next we jumped to a literature approach program. It was less work, but we spent hours each day reading (which my kids were already doing anyway), and at the end of the day they had a little trouble relating any true, hard facts. We spent a few years jumping from thing to thing — workbooks, computer programs, online courses, fun do-dads and bezeezers — it went on and on, and still wasn’t what I wanted for my family.
Until one day I sat down to really think about what I wanted. Here was my list:
- I want a curriculum that supports my family life, not one that takes away from it.
- The curriculum I choose should allow me to enjoy the journey along with my kids, rather than spending time prepping.
- I’d like for us all to discover new things together, so we have common memories, a family culture.
- It’s important that whatever we do sparks great discussions and allows for natural narration.
- I really want to connect with my kids about the important things, and I should have time in my day to do that.
- My kids deserve to learn to love learning and relish the joy of new discoveries, and immerse themselves in educationally rich experiences.
- If they could learn by doing, trying new and real-life experiences, I know they’ll remember it.
- Plus, if we could create homeschool scrapbooks, they’d have a lifetime of memories stored away in an easy-to-take-with-them format. They’ll keep it their whole lives.
- I deeply desire that each of my kids should learn according to their own learning style, so they’ll grow into being the best version of the person they were created to be.
- And of course, most of all, I want to share with them curriculum that leads them toward making Christ the most important thing in their lives. Period.
It all sounded so good. It was an extension of who I wanted to be as a parent, as an older sister in Christ. It was, I felt, what my kids deserved from me. And if they deserved it from me, then they certainly deserved it from something I was going to pay doggone good money for.
But where was it? Like the Valentine that ran away, I tried to find it. I searched everywhere. I finally discovered the Charlotte Mason method, which embraced so many of the ideals I was striving for. But Charlotte Mason taught in a classroom, and was long gone. Those who embraced her methodologies had, like her, perpetuated her ideals, but curriculum was hard to find. Those who claimed to be providing a Charlotte Mason education were in actuality more likely to be providing idealistic ideas that I still had to carry out, and many of them were just as difficult and time-consuming as the kinesthetic program I had tried years before. None of it seemed to help me connect experience with educationally-rich material. So I had a partner in Charlotte, cheering me on, but no real curriculum to get me where I wanted to go.
Finally, my husband just said, “If it’s not out there, Kaeryn, then you should just start writing it. You know you can do it.” And I knew my kids needed it, so I took a whole summer to do it. And it just started flowing. I was just writing for my family, for my kids’ needs. But my kids are, in essence, all kids — I’ve got one of every “flavor,” I think! So even though the curriculum was just for us, when my homeschooling friends would ask me what I was doing, I shared what I was creating. They insisted upon seeing what I had done, and to my surprise, when they saw it, they would say, “I can’t believe it! That’s exactly what I’ve been searching for! Can I get that from you?” And so WinterPromise was born by accident, and by surprise!
Now, anyone who gets to know WinterPromise should really know that it began as a sort of rebellion. Like my Valentine, I was running away. Running away from the way things had always been done, running toward the way I thought they should be, could be. If life can be fun, why shouldn’t it? Why can’t curriculum and learning be fun?
To understand this fully, I’d have to introduce you to my grandma, June Hawkins. Grandma Hawkins was a rebel, too. Grandma didn’t bake cookies, didn’t have white hair, and definitely didn’t watch Wheel of Fortune. Grandma loved the Lord, and I think she must have thought He took special time to make her out of some special stuff. I know I thought He did.
No, Grandma did what Grandma thought was fun. My grandma rode motorcycle and wore a black leather jacket. She wore cool boots and had a wardrobe that I envied as a high schooler. I actually borrowed her clothes and took her hand-me-downs! I even wore her old clothes to my wedding shower! And Grandma drove a beautiful, candy-apple red TransAm. Grandma believed in pedal-to-the-medal fun whenever it could be had. She and I flew over country roads in her great ride, and shared laughs over pretty much everything. Grandma taught me to be myself, and love myself as God created me. And Grandma taught me how to live in the moments God gave us.
That is what I want for my kids.
That is what WinterPromise is about.
After all, if you can run with Valentines and drive red TransAms, why shouldn’t you? Don’t our kids deserve it?