The Dad Saves It

Up until this point in the story The Dad has not had a big role.  The decision-making process was mostly "I" rather than "we."  My husband was supportive, but pragmatic -- acknowledging that I would be taking on the bulk of the work, so I would need to be the one to decide.  The journey was mostly my own, but I never felt alone. 

I spoke to a lot of people whom I respect and I carefully held their opinions in my hands and inspected each one, felt the edges, absorbed the warmth.  One of my favorite exchanges was with a lady who has taught my son some classes.  She gets him, and he has felt that.  I wanted wisdom from this special person in my son's world, so I asked her to meet me for tea.   After explaining the potential scheme, she and I candidly talked.  Her points were insightful, as she had worked many years in the public school system.  We analyzed the pros and cons. There were a lot of both.

"So," I asked swirling the leaf fragments left at the bottom of my cup, "if you were me, would you do it?"

"Would I do it?"  She looked thoughtful.  I understood why my son loves her -- when she is with you, she is with you.  She takes her time; her words hold meaning.  A sigh, then a smile, then with a conclusiveness that hadn't been in our earlier open-ended musings, "My daughter is 27.  Knowing what I know now... I would absolutely have done it."  

Looking back, I think that discussion is what led me to telling my husband that I felt good about it.  He told me that he felt like it was the right thing to do as well... And so we moved forward...

But what of my friend?  My lunch companion, the one whose egg-forming contributed to my egg-forming?  During all of this we were still meeting, exchanging emails with ideas, once we even went undercover and enrolled our kids in a very cool class at the New York City Center for Space Science Education.  She was a brilliant planner -- coming up with potential schedules and tapping into professionals and institutions around the city.  Yet, ultimately she decided that this is not the year for her family. 

When I received the email telling me that she was not going to do it I have to say that I felt deflated.  It is so much less-scary to do things with a friend.  I did not begrudge her decision even the tiniest bit, but it did take the wind out of my sails.  I texted my husband and then slipped into where the kids were sleeping, "Hey..." I poked my daughter, "If it's just us, just our family, do you still want to do the scheme?"  Yes.  I moved on to my son, "How much do you want to do the scheme?"  Very much.  I went back to my phone -- a text back from The Dad: 

"We feel good about it for our family.  We move on."  And so at the moment when it all hung in the balance, The Dad made his contribution.  

How/When Did the Kids Find Out?

"I'm thinking about a scheme..."  I started saying periodically.  My kids are mischievous, so this sparked interest.  They would ask random questions ("Does the scheme have to do with animals?"), and regardless of the randomness, the answer could always be, "Maybe."  

Sometimes I used it in a less constructive way, as in: "You must stop behaving like beasts or we won't be able to do the scheme."  While this was true (home schooling definitely did NOT seem feasible on days when they were twanging my last out-of-tune nerve), I felt gross when I brought it up in that context. 

The Dad and I decided that we would tell them while on a road trip -- as those are times when our family seems most like a team.  Well, more like a little ship of fools... Whatever -- it's when we're each others' captive audience.  We don't have a DVD player in the car, so I read to them.  The book for this trip was carefully selected... 

Again with the cosmic alignment: I stumbled on it while taking a pilgrimage to The Strand, where I go when I need renewed fervor to battle the doldrums.  It caught my interest because it has a Nick Hornby testimony on the cover, but it didn't make the cut that day.  When I went back months later I was drawn to it again -- same stack; same shelf in the children's area.  Because it waited for me, I bought it... but I had too many other books in my queue, so it was shelved.  Right about the time the home school idea started to percolate, I saw it on the shelf, again patiently waiting, and I finally read it.  It made me fall in love with the idea (ideal) of home schooling -- not necessarily for our family (I wasn't there yet), but in general.  

Skellig, by David Almond, is not about home schooling, it's strength is that it's not clear what it is about, or not about... There is a character in the book, Mina, who is home schooled, and it's because of her ability to see things as they are, her lack of construct-ness, that allows the story to progress into the totally weird-lovliness that it is.  

I was so excited as I read that day in the car that I had to control myself from saying, "Isn't Mina amazing?  Isn't Mina insightful?" too often.  When we got to the end of the book, and the lump in my throat melted down to a size small enough to talk past, I asked the kids if they thought that it was cool that Mina was home schooled.  

"Yes.  She learned to hear the birds."
"And she got to do a lot of art."

I said: "We would have to work hard -- do a lot of math to keep up and have a really good attitude... You would probably miss your school, and your friends... But would you two be interested in home schooling for one year?"

Yes.  The answer was yes.  A resounding, jubilant yes.  They were united in purpose and the excitement was palpable as we talked about potential topics to explore and field trips to take.  The next morning at breakfast, Judd the Red Chicken (not sure that name is going to work) turned to his sister and said, with his eyes hyper-lit, "The scheme!"  And she said, "I know.  I forget about it, and then remember and feel so happy."  

Do U See the Duck?

I think that for many of my friends, finding out that I'm blogging is going to be like Santa going on a diet.  I already had to eat my words, and crow, and whatever else when I started letting it leak that we're home schooling, so I don't entirely know why I'm doing this.  It was suggested by somebody who wanted to know what our curriculum will be, and to be honest, the idea didn't gross me out.  Perhaps I was already so far down the rabbit hole that one more weirdness didn't register as being that crazy.  

In a Saturday Night Live skit Will Farrell played an out of touch dad who referred to MTV as The MTV.  One night when a friend was visiting we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning looking at her Facebook account.  I think we looked up every single name we could pull out of our heads from elementary school on up. The next morning we were a bit trashed and when I tried to explain to her husband why we were so tired I was going to say "the computer," but then switched to "Facebook," and ended up becoming Will Ferrell's joke.

I am not on The Facebook, I only have a very vague understanding of what Twitter is, and I don't Instagram.  I do text, but I feel sick to my stomach when people write "u" instead of "you."  

Two experiences with blogs -- both bad: 1) quite a few years ago I emailed a blogger of a popular blog.  I was in the depths of despair because The Girl was allergic to peanuts, and I felt so frustrated at how awful some parents are (why shouldn't my darling eat a peanut butter sandwich around her -- he has a right!), so I got this bright idea that this blogger should write a post about peanut allergies and educate the horribleness out of people.  I pitched the idea in a weirdly crafted email.  He sent the nicest reply... and did I leave it at that?  Nope.  I did not.  In my "thank you" email I included a lame joke that I regretted the second I hit send.  If I wasn't already suspicious of blogs before then, I certainly had an awkward feeling about them after that... 2) a woman I knew started a blog with her friend and they wrote funny posts after visiting different parts of NYC.  I read several of the posts and laughed like I was at lunch with my girlfriends!  Oh!  Hahaha!  Aidez-moi!  One day I happen to see Girlfriend and I was like, "Hey!"  It seriously took me a second to realize that I actually did NOT know her.  She looked marginally panicked.  Here I had: let's braid each other's hair in my eyes, and her eyes were like: one step closer and I call 911. The balance is off with blogs.  It's unnatural and freakish.  Yet, I have birthed this blog.  And like all birthing of freaks, it wasn't pretty.

First, I had to come up with a name.  Incorporating phrases for never-ever made sense and then extracting the key words for something catchy... Voila!  hellpigs.blogspot.com.  But not really voila! because there was already a blog with a very similar name... should I keep it?  It hadn't had any activity for the past four years and from the entry I read it seemed benign enough, so yes... 

From there I purchased a template and had a heck of a time reformatting things.  Thankfully I have a 16-year old living with me that figured it out.

I didn't want to use a photo of me for the profile, so I asked Big Sister to draw something... We decided to go with something kind of Mother-Goosey/kind of Dorrie-esque...  Her reward for her creation was to get the address for the much-anticipated BLOG!!!  Only I got a text back that said: "That's no good -- that's a mega bible prophecy Armageddon site... unless that's your curriculum..."  

Yep.  hellpigs -- not blogspot, but blogpot (I had texted a typo) -- is in fact that.  Which is probably why I had had some visits to my blog even though I had yet to tell anybody about it. I'm sure those visitors were like, huh?!?  

Now I had to let go of hellpigs... but I didn't want to let go of me flying on a pig with striped socks and little snowflakes swirling around?!?  I was at a loss.  While picking the brains of some friends I realized that the name I had used for the email address would work fine.  In fact, better than fine.  Juxtaposing hellpigs101 (college jargon) with the children's-lit-esque sketch was exactly perfect.  As part of my investigating this summer I read a book about a family that home schooled their daughter for one year -- a sabbatical year.  The idea that most resonated with me is when she writes that one thing she would do differently is not treat her daughter like a mini-college student, but rather let her act her age.  Now I had a built-in reminder of that lesson -- not college students; yes children.  

About this time something started to poke around in the back of my head.  I had looked up hell pigs and found out that it referred to some wild boar or something... didn't concern me... but the fact that two other blogs had the name made me wonder.  So I looked up hellpig -- one word.  Oh my good golly.  Apparently it is slang for a fat, ugly woman with facial hair.  Yipes.  But guess what, like any mama-bear the fight to preserve my baby kicked in, so I was like: I'm taking that as a sign, too!  When I was throwing out phrases that mean never-ever for the blog title, Friend A suggested something about the fat lady singing... which I liked, but in the end didn't use.  But NOW Friend A's suggestion was connected, too!  Brilliant!

Full stop.  Do you see what was happening to me?  Making weird connections all over the place.  No joke -- as I was reading the definition of hellpig I was seriously like: well shoot, I haven't waxed in so long I need a different kind of wax (mustache!) -- so this is meant to be!  Blogs do that to a person; I can start making meaning for the sake of making meaning.  And I think that's okay, just as long as I'm aware and keep the proper ironic distance.  

Justification.  Validation.  Documentation.  Legitimatization.  Rationalization.  It -- the creation of this blog -- is for all those reasons.  Two days ago The Girl was excited because she saw the shape of a duck on her glass made by smoothie scum:

She wanted me to take a picture of it.  Which I did.  The Boy was like, "What are going to do with that?" all sassy like.  I made the girl very happy when I answered, "Put it on the blog." 

Now her findings were validated for having been documented.

I'm hoping that this is a way to share what we're doing with family and friends, journal our experiences, and maybe in a bassackwards (yet hopefully not inauthentic) way motivate us to make our home schooling experiences a bit better?   

The Big Reveal

I'm a Mormon.  

I bring it up for two reasons.  First, I don't want there to be any confusion regarding whether or not this is a religion-thing.  It's not.  While there is undoubtedly a Mormon home school curriculum... or thirty... with coordinating clip-art and downloadable sing-alongs... that isn't what we're using, and we certainly aren't doing this because we don't agree with teaching evolution or sex ed or a Tree Grows in Brooklyn or whatever.  Of course our faith is a part of who we are, so just as I'm excited that the kids will be able to spend more time bonding with family, learning the ukulele, and following through on responsibilities, I am happy that there will be more time for them to learn about and consider the facets of our beliefs.  

The second reason is because my sister is staying with us for this school year.  This is the practical reason why we're able to go ahead with this -- I could not do it without her.  She is a smart, lovely, insightful, fun, and creative young woman who brings a lot of joy into our home.  She graduated from high school at the ripe old age of 16 and was about to shove off to college when our mom started to hyperventilate.  The idea came to us that she could get out of Dodge like she wanted, but defer her college acceptance by a year and come to help out with our crazy scheme (while taking some online college classes).  Once again, it was clear that everything has come together so this year can happen. The children take instruction from her better, so she has signed on to handle all of the dirty jobs (math and swimming lessons).  

I brought this up now because when I refer to her as The Sister, I want it to be crystal clear that she really is my actual sister (i.e. got squeezed through the same birth canal), and not like a Sister-Wife or something.  There will also be Big Sister mentioned inevitably, she lives across the country, yet factors into our lives big-time.  Big Sister drew the picture of me riding on the flying pig.  (Note: I'm thinking that she's not going to like the use of "Big" now that I think of it.  I like it because she is older, it's nicely Orwellian (I do go to her as if she knows all), and it sounds like Big Witch from the Dorrie books, which are the best books ever.  Drat.  Well, stay tuned.) 

So what's with the goofy "names" -- The Mom, The Dad, The Boy*, The Girl, The Sister... And why aren't there any recognizable faces in the pictures?  Answer: because we have no names and we're ugly.  

Actually, I don't want this to be a blog about our personal lives, as much as our "school" experiences.  So far there has been a lot of personal (i.e. tedious) details dropped to build the foundation I felt was needed to holistically document the home school experience preface, but that is not the goal of the blog.  

*The Boy requested that his name on the blog be Judd the Red Chicken.  I told him that I would think about it.  

Traditions! (I'm With Topol on This One)

It stands to reason -- somebody who has to justify her reasons must have some hefty reservations.  It is true. Absolutely true.

Concerns:

1.  As a gal who used to mock home schooling and home schoolers I am very aware of the stigma.  Also now aware of cosmic comeuppance.  Yep.

2.  Myself.  I have a mean voice.  I can't find a balance.  It's hard for me to listen to moms use a sweetie-pie voice that isn't actually their voice.  I understand that it's a way of starting far at the end of the spectrum so that if things escalate, and the voice slides, there's a bigger margin.  For me I always start with my regular voice, a habit I think shows respect to the children, BUT the moment anything slides I'm out of range of what I think a rational and fair mom-voice should sound like.  I have lofty improvement goals in this department, but will say that I'm worried that their quota of mean-voice is going to be exceeded because there will be so much exposure time.  Either this will desensitize them to shrews for the rest of their lives, or send some future therapist's kid to college.  Oy.  

3.  It's inequitable.  Having been raised by a single mom who worked long hours it makes me feel insensitive to do something that most families in this country can't do.  My kids' upbringing is more enriched than mine was, but I fear it's also bloated.  The stigma with home schooling is starting to change, but I worry that it's not because people are becoming more tolerant and open-minded, but because the people who make the rules (i.e. the educated/those with resources) are starting to do it more.  I don't want to be lumped in with that group -- I feel like a traitor.  For the record, if I have to be put in a group, I would rather be with the nerds and the weirdlings than the elites.  

4.  Traditions.  The school memories that I want my kids to have include field trips on school buses, hysterical kid conversations in the lunchroom, goofy school pictures, exchanging valentines, and having adventures roaming the halls when they are supposed to be using the bathroom.  This is the one that hurts my heart.  The one thing I'm holding on to is that some of my favorite memories are when the traditions went wonky (hold up -- dibs on using that for a "reality show"... When Traditions Go Wonky...).  It's the Christmas tree that was actually a bush that gets the most laughs, the 10th birthday when I was sick and had to put my candles in Jell-o that comes to mind, the trip to the swimming pool ruined by the hail storm that brings a smile... I think it will be okay.  

And of course a smattering of things like: will they have friends when they go back, will they fail a grade because we don't do enough math, will they hate each other...

In the Ether (#1)

The Boy sits in our bedroom by himself* reading books, daydreaming, and listening to records.  The Girl used to tell me everything, but now I can tell she's starting to be more selective.  They are growing up and maybe it's pathetic of me to write it, but I want more memories.  

This year seems like the perfect time.  Both kids are fun to be with and funny to talk to, their studies are interesting (but not too hard!), and they still think their parents are authorities in some areas.  Last year The Girl would have been too little, next year The Boy has the big admission into middle school process (this is for public middle school placement and it's more work than most of us put into college applications).  Further, the time is swiftly approaching when I'll need to get off my biscuit and get a job.  This city isn't free and a savings account doesn't grow by itself.

And the number one reason we decided to home school is... it feels like our year.  The cosmos have aligned -- at least close enough for all of these reasons I've listed to make sense to me... right now.  


*I think he's alone.  This picture that I took makes me think that I have a ghost hanging out in there...

Depressing as Heck -- Sorry (#2)

I'm going to make this as not-dramatic as possible.  This past year I got the call from a doctor.  The one about the test that came back abnormal.  Thus started several sad, reflective weeks of tests and appointments.  Worse than the call was the panic brought on by too much Googling, and the time spent in waiting rooms.  There are a lot of sick people in this world.  There are a lot of things that can go wrong with our bodies.  Long story short, my time here is as guaranteed as yours.  Nothing too horrible... but the darkness of those months has tainted me.

I was also reminded during Unladylike-2012 that there is something worse to contemplate than leaving your kids... having something wrong with a child.  Still foggy from those depressing winter months, we moved into spring and had to experience another doctor-related classic: "Take this to the hospital first thing in the morning for the blood work -- it will be faster -- I'll call you by tomorrow afternoon."  I looked down at the paperwork the pediatrician handed me, and saw "STAT" written at the top.  Laying in bed that night it was surreal as I tried to wrap my brain around the fact that for sure I would be getting a call the next day and the doctor would tell me something about my child...

It turned out okay.

So here we are -- sick to death of 2012, and yet grateful to our core that we get to have it, right?  

Considering our own mortality, and the mortality of family did a lot to sway me about this school year.  A lot.  

My grandpa died last year and it was the first death I've experienced that really broke my heart.  I watched my kids with their grandparents this summer and thought: we must make our relationships with them a bigger priority... be that by writing more letters, calling more often, or arranging trips when we can see them. There is only so much time in a day... only so many days in our lives.  

Reason number two: to use our time to be with our little family and our extended family, and in so doing square off with the Grim Reaper.  

For the Love of Our Gnome (#3)

We have a gnome that loves to travel.  Here he is with a random, but willing, colonial stranger in Williamsburg.  What I said in the last post about Saturdays being too few and too crowded -- that's the same for Holidays.  If our kids have a few days off of school, so does every other kid (and airlines, car rental agencies, and hotels are very aware of these dates).  

A year to maybe: make it to the Delaware Bay when there are clomp-clomps of horseshoe crabs; be on the spot in Punxsutawney when Phil prophecies; see the fall foliage in Acadia... 

We huffed and puffed up Moro Rock this summer and while sitting at the top trying to figure out a good photo-op for the gnome The Boy asked what would happen if the gnome fell... It was suggested that a newspaper headline about the accident, sensationalizing our poor judgment as his caregivers, might read: "They Should Have Gnome Better."  

Number three on our top ten list of reasons to home school: to work on emptying the bucket list so we have no (gnome) regrets.  

NYC Unit of Study (#4)

If wishes were fishes they'd come on silver dishes... and we would be exploring the UK during the sabbatical.  Not possible with my husband's job.  Yet, if we said that we were leaving the school for a year to go to England it would make sense to most people... we would not get the what-the-what?!?-look that we often get... Which makes little sense, as New York City is a city worthy of exploration.  Saturdays are too few and too crowded.  

Did you know that there's a public library in the village that looks a bit like Hogwarts inside? 

Number four: an opportunity to learn about New York City.

Darry is SO Much Cooler Than Ned Nickerson (#5)

Socializing.  I know, right?  You always think of home schooling as being not socializing.  I don’t really think that anymore now that I’ve been sleuthing around (call me the Nancy Drew of the outsiders… Whhhhat???… Just thought of a terrific mash-up… Do you remember The Outsiders?  What if the Greasers had to team up with preppy Nancy with her convertible, chubby friend, and lawyer dad to bust open some sort of shenanigan with the Socs?… She's so much more than Cherry and the other Soc girls... there is a whole lot of good to explore there… another time…). 

While there are skills learned at school that maybe aren’t as honed in home schooling (standing in line, not taking freaking seventeen minutes to answer a question, raising your hand, etc.), I no longer believe that school is the great equalizer.  If it were we wouldn’t have so many weirdos (statistically and scientifically speaking we have way more weirdos walking around than graduates of the home school system…).  If anything, I think traditional school allows students to slip into little pockets and quietly exist without learning how to navigate in new situations. 

As a mom who home schools said to me, “Real life?  How often in real life do you spend the bulk of your day only with people your own age being told exactly what to do?”  Keep in mind that this family is comprised of four home schooled kids – the oldest two getting into their top choice colleges (MIT ain’t too shabby) where they have not struggled with the structure, the workloads, or the social scene.  And they haven’t gone wild either (another generalization debunked – that home schooled kids are oppressed and go all slutty/crazy/psycho when they get out from under the parents’ big fat thumbs).  If anything, the mom reports, while the other freshmen were off finding themselves her kids were like – ehh, do what you need to do, but I’m cool.  More important than their academic success is that I love how they interact with us.  They are cheerful, interesting, funny, and have excellent eye contact with both the adults and little ones in our family. 

Point being, there are many, many different skills to learn, and I think that those required when you’re not being instructed all day with the same group of kidlings will be useful to pick up.  And if I’m wrong and school does have this magic power to wipe out the weird, maybe I don’t want the wiping to be too comprehensive.   

My fifth reason for home schooling is to unearth new social skills (and to have an excuse to reread the Nancy Drew books… in which I’ll be mentally implanting new plot lines dealing with kids from the wrong side of the tracks…).  

Learning About Time (#6 on Top Ten List)

I would like the opportunity for us to learn how to learn. Lately it’s been feeling like we were doing stuff to get by: perfunctory piano practice; hasty homework; chores after considerable chiding… If an interesting idea or word came up while reading, the suggestion to dig out the dictionary didn’t spark curiosity, but hatred. 

I am absolutely certain that almost every teacher that I’ve ever met would LOVE to foster children to follow interests along twists and turns, but who has time?  With the core standards, the state tests, and the large class sizes their jobs are enormous.  I’m actually amazed and uplifted by the amount of enrichment and encouragement that my kids have been given.  The fact that I worry that there’s a get-it-done-get-it-done-okay-good-enough-time-to-move-on-culture at school is actually a beef with the DOE and current societal sensibilities, not with teachers or public school.

Example: there was a time when a child would go to the school library and have a very tactile experience while looking up books in the card catalogue.  Once the card was selected, the book was hunted down, and a different card taken from a pocket on the title page upon which the child had to sign her name (an action that said: I am taking responsibility – my name is currency), then walk up to the librarian and hand him the card (contract, if you will) while stating first and last name so that the card could be filed accordingly.  Things changed.  Fine.  I’m not done weeping in my pillow over the loss of card catalogues, but I have accepted that computers can keep up inventory, blah, blah. 

When I started volunteering in the library I was pleased that the children were expected to tell me their first and last name when checking out a book so I could click accordingly and scan the barcode on the back of the book.  It was a quasi-social lesson, a very brief public speaking stint.  It was sweet when the time came when I could remember a name, and a bit of a bond was created.  

A plan presented for the future in order to get-it-done faster?  The kids will each have a shelf card with a barcode on it (that will pull up their name), so they will need only to hand their shelf card and book to the person checking out and it can be: scan-scan, next, scan-scan, next.  I know I’m not the only one that feels like it’s a cold idea, so hopefully a social exchange will not be sacrificed to the god of efficiency, but it illustrates the point that “smart” and “progressive” seem to always be linked with “efficient” and “fast.”  I feel that an authentic learning process usually isn’t efficient. 

So if school needs to be efficient for obvious reasons, where can passionate, curiosity-driven learning happen… if by the time they are home from school, and free of homework, we are about tapped out?   Curiosity is often mental meandering; finding purpose usually happens after considerable bumbling about.

And now it’s time to make a muddle of this. I’m saying that time should be thrown out the window, right?  No.  I also believe that there’s an important companion to this – personal time-management.  I want my kids to learn that if they have an hour and have A and B to accomplish they must figure out how that works.  Instead of being kept on task (which needs to happen at school for obvious reasons), I want them to realize that there are consequences to spending too much time on any one thing.  If they choose to spend the entire hour on B, I want them to own up to the consequence of not getting A accomplished.  Put another way, I hope they learn to either a) find balance in their lives, or b) be courageous enough to say that A wasn’t valuable to them (or B was crazy-valuable -- because it was passion-driven), so the consequence will be taken like a (wo)man of character.   

Tall order for anybody, let alone a seven and nine-year old.  I’m not saying that any of this is going to happen while we home school, but the value that I put on it did indeed help me make the decision.  That’s why it’s number six on our list of top ten reasons – it’s valuable, but perhaps too far-reaching to earn a higher ranking.   

The Grid Really Doesn't Care If You're on or Not (#7)

Because of the blade grinder in Greenwich Village.  The man in the red truck with a bell that is strikingly similar to an ice cream truck, but instead of running for a sweet snack you run down the stairs with your scissors and knives.  He sharpens blades. Every time I see him slowly patrolling around with his bell a ringin’ I start on a tirade about how we’re becoming a homogenized society and pretty soon you won’t be able to see that truck, because people don’t value it and the skill is being lost.  Folks just throw things away, or feel like they have to have their own million dollar gadgets to sharpen their blades in the privacy of their own homes.  We’re all becoming isolated – yet strikingly similar – pods in a franchised world!!! (Can you visualize the flecks of rabies-laced-spit flying?  And full disclosure – I’ve never employed his services… but that’s because I use very dull blades around here because of my lack of grace).  

I’m hoping the year will stand as an example to the children – the grid is fine, but getting off the grid and looking around is good, too.  I had a somewhat unconventional job once and I took it because of a redhead from Australia.  The first interview had hundreds of people.  It took hours for everybody to stand up and barf up what we thought the suits wanted to hear.  Apparently I can (or could in my younger days) barf in a manner appealing to suits because I made it to the coveted second round – an interview with the president of HR.  For this round we were placed in groups of four, and we found out the pros and cons of the job in more detail.  After, walking to our cars two of the candidates said that there was no way they would take the job.  I turned to the woman from Australia walking next to me and asked her what she was going to do and she said, “Why wouldn’t I?  You only give it a go once.”  I was offered the job, took it, and only lasted four months before returning to my comfort zone, but I learned a lot in those four months. 

So an ideal that factored into the decision process: hoping that The Girl and The Boy can see that when you are feeling swept up by constructs and conventions and expectations you really can step aside for a moment.  Not to let the fear of being trampled or left behind keep them in the race if they are not sure whether or not they are running in the right direction. 

I hope it’s the beginning of understanding what Robert Frost is offering, and be able to say, “And I took the one less traveled by…” if they want.  And should they decide to get back on the one more traveled by, back into the grind, if you will – I soundly hope that there will still be the guy in the red truck cruising around who can give them a ride back. 

Seventh reason for deciding to home school… providing the opportunity to see the view from the outside (to know that there is a view from the outside).    

Truth in Glam Rock (#8)

Have you seen The Race to Nowhere?  Do.  It’s your homework. 

My kids sat in school from 8:30 am to 3:10 five days a week.  They had one recess that was 20 minutes tops (yes, mothers stand behind trees and time the recesses… a topic for another time).  They had gym once a week... 

“Mom, can we go to the park?”  

“Not today – we should get going with your homework.”  

(Because otherwise when are we supposed to a) bathe b) have dinner together as a family c) practice piano d) read books e) do a flippin' chore f) play with toys to wind down...?  Riddle me that.)

Kids should not have homework before middle school – and then it should be minimal, preparatory for legitimate (but reasonable) homework in high school. 

Tell me to read with them, have them write letters to pen-pals, suggest math games, whatever… but homework?  Dumb.  In the inspired words of the oft-quoted Twisted Sister – we’re not gonna take it.

Number eight on the list: NO FREAKIN’ HOMEWORK. 

(I took the picture above when I was volunteering in the kids’ library last year.  Made me giggle.)

Easy Process -- Like Cheese in Plastic (#9)

Having now provided the solid beginning of a libel suit by spewing about the DOE (disclaimer: it was my lowly opinion only!), I will say this: the Office of Home Schooling has been nothing but brilliant; it is the smirking magical jackalope that most mere mortals never catch a glimpse of in the land of the DOE.

My calls have been promptly returned, the director of the department is kind when I speak to him, everything is efficient/redundancy is avoided, the paperwork is straightforward and easy, and the handwriting on the envelopes is wedding-invitation-beautiful (true).

Number nine on my top ten list of reasons to home school is: because the process is simple.

Beginning of Top Ten Reasons for Home Schooling (#10)

Our family appreciates the public school that The Boy and The Girl have been going to. They have made sweet friends.  The teachers have been smart and professional and kind.  The principal and vice principal are savvy and tenderhearted. There are parents that volunteer their guts out.  There isn’t a scrap of hyperbole when I say that it was hard to walk away from the school.  We are hoping that next year when we start back there will be spots, but NYC is a crazy-mean beast when it comes to public school placements.  Knowing that there is a chance that the offspring will have to go to a new school when we get to the other side of this is the hardest part of the decision.  

I did speak to somebody at the Department of Education (DOE) in the Office of Enrollment and asked if my kids could return to their current school and the answer was optimistic, but non-committal.  When parents have asked me if that worries me I answer that I made the call to the DOE as a matter of course, I didn’t really expect to feel helped.  Guffaw.

As a parent active in the Parent Association for our school I have received emails, attended public hearings, and participated in meetings that have left me a trembling shell of a woman.  The NYC Department of Education's service to the community is about as valuable of a service as snake oil.  

Surely there are creative, hard-working, and ethical individuals associated with the DOE (if corporations can be people, surely the DOE… actually, no… I can’t even make a joke about it).  However, the overall DOE experience makes you want to scream: HUCKSTER at the top of your voice and strike out with your handbag swinging.

Number ten on the list is having a break from The Institution.  

The Hobbit says, "Yes," to Home Schooling

“Let’s go to lunch.” 

An invitation.  I think that’s usually how things hatch. 

A quick flashback that I think illustrates a lot:  I’m about done with graduate school and in a bar (Sprite for me – has to be said – I can never blame my poor performances on being inebriated).  We are a party of three – myself, a friend, and our 20^th-Century British Literature professor whom I respect a great deal.  We are celebrating/mourning the conclusion of our final semester.  A homeless man staggers in.  Stumbles into a table; knocks down a couple of chairs.  His hands are wrapped in long, trailing dirty bandages (hand to heaven – can’t make this stuff up), and he’s carrying an enormous bunch of gladiolas.  He looks around.  He walks over to our table and holds the flowers – stems tangled with his bandages – out to me.  My friend’s face across from me – the disgust I see there adds to my embarrassment? confusion?  own disgust?  There’s a nothingness while I sit mutely with one hand on my empty glass.  Our professor touches me on the arm and says softly, “Say, ‘Thank you.’”  I reach out and take the offered flowers and say too loudly, too crispy, “Thank you.”  He turns and walks back out the door.  I sit there with a pile of flowers on my lap and my professor concludes the most important lesson she ever taught me, “Always say, ‘Yes.’  Every great story exists because something is presented, and the protagonist says, ‘Yes.’”  

My style of acceptance is often about as fierce and/or elegant as Bilbo Baggins, but I have tried to remember what she taught me.

Of course it was easy to say yes to a lunch invitation. It ended up being the first of many such outings with a lovely, insightful, smart mom at my kids’ school.  What was our central topic?  Home schooling.  We had different viewpoints, but unbeknownst to each other we both had had these little eggs forming.  Note: it’s important to mention that watching somebody else’s egg form does a lot to form your own egg. 

From those meetings came my concrete reasons for home schooling.  

End of Phase 1 -- The Forming of the Egg

(And thus concludes our end of phase one.  I'm a blog-neophyte, but it seems that inherent to blogs is a linear, chronological style.  A day unfolds, an event happens, a new skill or secret is discovered, and it is documented and shared immediately.  And then a new entry is born and that old one effortlessly slides into the regions of yesterday. Once our school year starts, that is a formula that will work.

But before our school year starts, before the blog becomes a machine, I wanted to somehow show how we arrived on this threshold.  I wanted to explore the organic chaos that existed first.  

And so these first five entries were attempts at reconstructing the beginning of my decision-process, before I even realized that a decision was on the horizon.  With rambling sketches, an attempt to recreate the randomness, the self-analysis, the themes that looped back around, the what if moments, the rationalizing, the encounters, the phrases that people said that felt true, the self-centeredness that buoyed me into thinking that I have something unique to pass on, the dark pathos that comes to muck up such elation, and the hope that any mistake can maybe be unmade, because organic things usually just change -- they don't break.    

Before there’s an egg, there are just the elements – proteins and minerals that line up, that come together.

What came first?  The chicken or the egg?  The answer I heard that I appreciate for its succinctness is that it had to be the chicken, as an egg is just a probable chicken.  Something realized is worth discussing, while probabilities… well, there are just too many of them that float around in the soup of our existence to give them much thought or energy.

So a little egg formed, was even decorated... and it very well might have stayed as a lovely little "maybe someday...," but when held up to the light we saw that there was something alive in there... so hatch it did... On to phase two.)

Lockstep

“Boys, you must strive to find your own voice.  Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.  Thoreau said, ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.’  Don’t be resigned to that.  Break out!”  (From Dead Poets Society)

We visited St. Andrews in Delaware about a month before our kids were out of school.  We were on a road trip and The Dad mentioned that we were not too far from it, and so we stopped.  It was serene and every bit as beautiful as it is in the movie Dead Poets Society. 

I don’t often like to wander around places when it’s not clear whether or not it’s permitted. I don’t particularly like that about myself, and I’m sad that I seem to have passed that on to my offspring.  The Boy kept asking if we were going to get in trouble and The Girl was hesitant to stray too far from our car.  I have indeed instilled in them a respect for rules.  And I often wonder if that’s what I really want.

“Run,” I told them when we got to the courtyard where the lockstep scene takes place.  “Run. Jump.”  They were happy to obey, but then I realized that even though they were laughing, they were still obeying. 

“Actually.  Just do what you want.  Okay?  Do what feels right.”  

One Year

It started with Pale Male the red-tailed hawk (please use that link I just provided – for the love of all that’s decent don’t just randomly do a Google-search using those words… I’ve made that mistake – and by golly-golly if I’m going to be subjected to those types of pictures, I sure as heck don’t want “pale” to be part of the equation).  Some friends of ours invited us to go to the Conservatory Water in Central Park where, with binoculars, one can watch Pale Male in his nest. 

We were hooked.  From then on we cheered when we spotted a pair of mourning doves in Prospect Park, high-fived when American Coots came to The Lake, and could have been pushed over with a feather when we spotted a Black-Crowned Night Heron a few yards from us one day when walking home from school.  And let's just say that my mom at a Paul Anka concert had nothing on me when we actually saw Pale Male up close.  I’m somewhat blasé about celebrity sightings in this city, but when the photographer confirmed what The Boy and I guessed (Pale Male!  On a low branch right over The Boy’s head!), I gasped and grasped the forearm of the photographer to keep my swoon from becoming a concussion.  We had become birders.  Not particularly good birders, but enthusiastic and grateful birders.

We joined an Owl Prowl in Queens, and it prepared us for the lows that come with the highs and the need for constant vigilance (The Mom and The Dad saw the owl, but the kiddos were too busy stamping their boots in the snow in an effort to keep warm.  I think they learned the necessary lesson: poor blood circulation cannot trump devotion to the watch).  

We educated ourselves at Belvedere Castle.

We attended EagleFest at Croton Point Park along the Hudson River and learned more than our noodles could contain about birds of prey.  While standing in line for one of the presentations I chatted briefly with a charming boy. I totally cringe every time I’m that adult from The Little Prince, and yet nine times out of ten when I'm talking to kids their protective lenses drop over their eyes and they mentally make their escape as I start in with the lame adult questions.  So, yes, I asked the boy where he went to school.  He shrugged and said, “Places like this.” Another rare bird spotted – a home schooler. 

                                                                                                  ********

We also watched the movie: The Big Year.  I’m not sure what movie critics had to say, but our family enjoyed it.  A big year: you make spotting birds your top priority for one year and see how many species you can find (on the honor system)… and in the process discover what your life priorities are. 

How many birds, how many adventures, how many insights can be found in one year when your school is everywhere?