Back to pool
Today was the first day of school, or what I refer to as the first day of public school. When I'm really feeling sassy, it's the first day of government school.
Rocketboy is six, which he patiently points out to the occasional baffled person who repeatedly asks, "What grade are you in?" as if there is no other way to describe or understand children and childhood. And today he, his 1-year-old brother and I spent a big chunk of the afternoon at a pool party. We also fed dogs, rabbit and fish; read various books; played piano; practiced handwriting; shot marbles; pretended to be cheetahs; made a pressurized fountain with a milk jug and a water hose; and made a plaster-of-paris bowl for the sole purpose of breaking it to see how it would shatter.
Lots of parents look forward to the beginning of the traditional school year, and I do, too, for my own reasons. With the exception of the annual pool party, it's like any other day for my family, which means it's tailored to our needs, wants and obligations. It's different every year. And because we learn year-round, it's not the start of anything for me except a delicious sense of freedom.
We own our time. When it's time to go somewhere -- the dentist, Grandma's house, a vacation -- we don't have to ask permission or work around the school calendar or put it off because of tests. We take road trips in the autumn and spring. The boys don't scarf down lunch before a bell rings. Recess is a meaningless concept to people who spend half their days outdoors.
I have no idea how much the kids feel this sense of freedom, and Hombre is at the office all day so I can't say he feels it to the same degree I do. And yes, I'm lucky that I can spend my time with the kids, although there are days I covet an office job because in an office, you get to sit down a lot.
But every year when school starts, I remember the one-page calendar the school would send home with me, with its code of dates circled or squared or printed in red ink. This was to be my life for the next nine months. Any deviation from the calendar would require a note and supplication to be excused.
Because I was an ornery, defiant child, this stuck in my craw. And now I savor the freedom my family has from bells and in-service days and test dates. On the first day of school, the buses run and the crossing guard waves as I drive past, and I feel great. A breeze promises that fall will eventually come, the parks and museums are free of crowds, and the world is ours to explore.
cross-posted at The Radical Homeschool Blog
Rocketboy is six, which he patiently points out to the occasional baffled person who repeatedly asks, "What grade are you in?" as if there is no other way to describe or understand children and childhood. And today he, his 1-year-old brother and I spent a big chunk of the afternoon at a pool party. We also fed dogs, rabbit and fish; read various books; played piano; practiced handwriting; shot marbles; pretended to be cheetahs; made a pressurized fountain with a milk jug and a water hose; and made a plaster-of-paris bowl for the sole purpose of breaking it to see how it would shatter.
Lots of parents look forward to the beginning of the traditional school year, and I do, too, for my own reasons. With the exception of the annual pool party, it's like any other day for my family, which means it's tailored to our needs, wants and obligations. It's different every year. And because we learn year-round, it's not the start of anything for me except a delicious sense of freedom.
We own our time. When it's time to go somewhere -- the dentist, Grandma's house, a vacation -- we don't have to ask permission or work around the school calendar or put it off because of tests. We take road trips in the autumn and spring. The boys don't scarf down lunch before a bell rings. Recess is a meaningless concept to people who spend half their days outdoors.
I have no idea how much the kids feel this sense of freedom, and Hombre is at the office all day so I can't say he feels it to the same degree I do. And yes, I'm lucky that I can spend my time with the kids, although there are days I covet an office job because in an office, you get to sit down a lot.
But every year when school starts, I remember the one-page calendar the school would send home with me, with its code of dates circled or squared or printed in red ink. This was to be my life for the next nine months. Any deviation from the calendar would require a note and supplication to be excused.
Because I was an ornery, defiant child, this stuck in my craw. And now I savor the freedom my family has from bells and in-service days and test dates. On the first day of school, the buses run and the crossing guard waves as I drive past, and I feel great. A breeze promises that fall will eventually come, the parks and museums are free of crowds, and the world is ours to explore.
cross-posted at The Radical Homeschool Blog
Labels: free-range learning
KCB. permalink
Get Home to Mother