back to school

[these are tricky things to write about. education, and school specifically, is a hot topic these days, one with lots of personal and political weight. of course I am no expert in the field of educational theory and quite honestly, I change my mind about what I think about school on a regular basis. but I think it is important to be able to talk about that confusion and mixed bag of feelings openly because it is a decision (even if it is an on-going decision) all families make. after listening to this back to school special this week, I am even more convinced that we are doing the right thing as an education goes with our kids, no matter what our schooling choices look like. whew!]

parenting is a constant struggle, I've decided, and of course plenty has been said on the topic. there are all sort of decisions to make about having children, raising children, feeding children, and surviving children, but none has rocked my world as much as decisions about school. breastfeeding was a no-brainer for me: it was free, it was convenient, and (after the initial discomfort and learning curve) I really really liked it. the sleep thing was a hard one for us, but we just kept doing what made sense at the time and now we have a system that really works for our family. but school and the decisions that come with it are not quite so easy for me.

I liked school for the most part as a kid. I was a good student, I had some anxieties that showed up fairly regularly, but overall I did okay both academically and socially. I always felt sort of sorry for the kids in my church who were homeschooled because I loved band and my teachers and they didn't get to experience those things. when I started college I set out to major in education. it was an easy enough pick: I liked working with kids, I liked ideas and talking about them, and I got a scholarship to teach so that settled it. I took exactly two classes in the education department before I realized that it just wasn't for me. too regulated and not relational enough. there are many many great teachers that can find the balance in that and shine themselves through a haze of regulations, but it just wasn't the right fit for me. so I settled on a degree in english and the jumped into work in the social services field and never really looked back.

but those two classes that I hated in college piqued my interest in educational theory. working in a residential high school (go s&m!) after college contributed to that interest as well. and by the time I got to working in the group home where all of our kids required some sort of IEP or alternative classroom, I was determined to learn more about why we do what we do in the classroom setting. I spent a lot of time sitting in school meetings in those years, getting to know teachers, administrators, counselors, and therapists from an adult perspective rather than from the student side of the desk. and I got to see the school system from what one administrator called "the bottom of the barrel looking up": I worked with the kids who challenged the structure of "typical" classrooms because they were academically behind, truant to the point of failing, behaviorally challenging, and socially unprepared. these were kids who got kicked out of school (or off the bus or out of clubs or off of sports teams) with alarming regularity. and even when they really were trying there were still so many deficits in their educational background that they rarely seemed to make any real progress. even of those that "passed" all their classes, some could barely read and very few could write a cohesive paragraph. of course like any situation their were always exceptions and there were always hidden variables that made blaming any one factor (the schools, the parents, the kids' brains, whatever) pointless. but school was what took up most of their time and the one factor we (as group home staff) were pressured most to show as an area of success. and it wasn't always a system that was easy to succeed in.

one of the first books I read that made me think differently about schooling was The Teenage Liberation Handbook: How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education by grace llewelyn. it blew my mind. from their I jumped into john holt and just kept going. it changed the way I thought about the school experience for our group home kids. I didn't get to decide whether those kids had to go to school or not, but I could help them make the most of their experience by meeting the social norms required and guiding further learning when they got super excited about a topic outside of school. by the time eric and I had our own kids I was pretty sure homeschooling was the right choice for us.

first day 2013, getting ready for a road trip

so we did it. we started jamin's "kindergarten" year while we were still in new york, so it made total sense to homeschool since we weren't even in a geographical place to register him at that point. and in north carolina we don't have to make any official school decisions (registering for school or declaring ourselves as a homeschool) until our kids are seven. so we traveled, we read books, we did projects, we grew food, we played chess, we spent time in the woods and on the beach and that was that. he loved it. I struggled. I need far more social stimulation that jamin does, so while he was totally happy actually being at home for school, I wanted to do "school" on the fly, on the run, in the world with lots of other people around. we worked hard to set up an awesome homeschooling co-op (hooray, mountain roots ramblers!) that I was proud of and excited about. but it was hard to get families to commit, to agree on a programming plan, to be plugged in and excited for the long term. it was one of the first times I had to admit to myself that maybe what I believe philosophically about educating my kids might not be the best choice for our family. that was hard to swallow and even harder to say out loud. I still feel very confused about it.

first day 2014

so jamin started first grade at mountain sun community school last week. it really wasn't even that hard of a decision to make: we love the school's vision and mission, the class sizes are small, they use positive discipline, there's an emphasis on wholistic living and plenty of outside time. they use child-led learning practices, the teachers are invested beyond my wildest dreams, and the school is actually housed at a summer camp. the best of everything, all in one. it is the closest we can get to homeschooling while still taking advantage of what our community has to offer.

and he loves it. yesterday when I asked him the best thing about his day he said, "school.

after school grin

because I get to do so much math there." isn't that the passion we want all of our kids to feel about how they spend their days? he likes his classmates, he likes his teacher, he likes going every day. he has had no complaints yet.

even with all this wonderful (and there is a lot of wonderful about mountain sun, for sure) there is part of me that takes comfort in knowing that we are a family that can keep trying different things. I think we will homeschool again. there may even be public school in our future at some point. there is a lot of weight involved in private school for sure: the financial cost, the stigma of how we are choosing to educate, the smallness and shelteredness. and there are the weights of school in general: being tied to a schedule, a calendar year, less time to do things together, less time and resources to try other activities. I am confident to say I am glad we are giving this a try and that this is the right time to try it. and I am confident to say that I feel confident to change our minds. over and over if we need to.

I am already learning so much by having jamin in school this year. I am learning him better, watching him learn himself. I am learning what to do with my new wide open stretches of time. I am learning what it feels like to make choices for us and individuals and as a whole. and I am learning to find the balance in all of those things. if only there was a way to get class credit for all these post-graduate victories I'm having, I'd be well on my way to earning my degree in great parenting with a minor in mixed feelings.

this is how it works

This is how it works

You're young until you're not

You love until you don't

You try until you can't

You laugh until you cry

You cry until you laugh

And everyone must breathe

Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works

You peer inside yourself

You take the things you like

And try to love the things you took

And then you take that love you made

And stick it into some

Someone else's heart

Pumping someone else's blood

And walking arm in arm

You hope it don't get harmed

But even if it does

You'll just do it all again

~regina spektor

this was the summer that jamin learned to whistle and hula hoop and both kids tried so hard to master snapping. these were the days when cora would put her fingers right next to my ear to make the tiniest whisper of a sound, the look on her face holding so much pride and excitement that I couldn't help but claim to hear a snap where there was barely friction at all.

this was the summer of the irish, late night conversations highlighting both my geographical ignorance and my sheltered existence. this was the summer I learned again how little I really know about the world and the generation just behind me, just because of when and where and why I was born. 

this was the summer of waterfalls. log hollow (where we hiked in a downpour by choice and stevie the swamp monster was born) and white owl. living waters and looking glass. d.e.w. falls and dill falls. skinny dip where maeve missed her chance to jump and cove creek where she accidentally got brave enough to slide down. the waterfall in redbud springs that certainly deserves a name. we spent more time there this summer cleaning out and stacking rocks than we have in all four years we've lived here.

this was the summer of the dark and stormy, of all-weather hammocks, the summer of the beer journal and band practice on our deck (mallory broke my whisk playing that washboard with such fervor). this was the summer of the smell of citronella and the sound of crickets louder than the white noise machine in the kids' room.

this was the summer we learned jamin is allergic to bees, the summer we became epi pen carriers. the summer we held our breath in the ER only to let it go again where we saw how steady his breath stayed.

this was the summer of eagle lake. of friends that "get us" all the way. of kayak trips to the "trout spawning ground," a place they would paddle just out of my sight. eight kids on a paddle board. sand in the car floorboard.

this was the summer of free range chickens, accidentally here to stay. the summer of poop covered shoes and never being able to walk barefoot in our yard. this was the summer cora finally got pecked in the face, so close to her eye we hoped it'd scare her into cautiousness, but it hasn't.

this was the summer of our girl with a brand new baby. the summer of gender reveal where the word "normal" over and over was music to our ears. the summer where other people's babies are just as exciting as my own.

this was the summer of big kids, kids that hike for miles only to swim and swim and hike out again. this was the summer they spent leaping and climbing and proving me wrong over and over again. this was the summer jamin developed a shrug too old for his six-year-old frame, but he uses it so expertly I can't help but smile.

this was the summer of our last days of homeschooling.

this was the summer we spent seeing our life through other people's eyes. this is really the way we live. this is really the place we live. this is really our view, both from the windows and from our minds. and it is a good one.

all the single ladies

we have a lot of chickens. 

we've had chickens for years now, usually six or seven at a time, nicely contained in a pen a pleasant distance from the house. we feed them, we watch them do their chicken things, they lay eggs, all is good. we'd lose one occasionally to whatever it is that lives in our woods that likes to eat chickens, but even that felt sort of okay, in a circle of life kind of way. the kids have been present when it is time for slaughter, they have helped bury chicken parts when an animal gets into the coop. we got this farm life thing down pat.

this year we raised chickens from chicks. rabbit and eric researched and decided on a farm that would send us 25 chicks of various breeds in the mail. the post office called us one morning to let us know they had arrived and we hurried down the mountain to pick them up. we could hear them peeping as soon was we opened the post office door. it was exciting and heartbreaking to open that box. such cute little bundles of fuzzy, but five didn't make the trip alive. it felt like a sad way to go about starting a flock, and we quickly decided we'd never go the mail order route again. I especially had a really hard time with all those little tiny lives on my conscience, a new feeling for me, not being particularly fond of animals in general. but now we know. and now we know better.

the difference in raising chickens from chicks and just "having chickens" is huge. the girls we have now are pretty much pets. jamin and cora LOVE to play with them, carrying them around like babies and singing to them in some strange falsetto southern accent that is reserved for two chickens in particular, bebe and brobro. seriously, they can be in the yard for over an hour carrying these birds around and talking in this obnoxious voice. we've given all our birds individual drinking lessons (from a fancy waterer that rabbit built, complete with something called "chicken nipples"). eric brings home throw-away produce from the splat to feed them. they also love soured yogurt and cottage cheese, so our yard smells AWESOME. we had big plans for this fancy moveable electric fence so we could ease the wear-and-tear on our yard, but our ladies (of the chicken variety) quickly showed us they had other plans. so now we are free range homesteaders, by default more than design. now we have chickens waltzing into our kitchen on a regular basis, and we had to designate one broom solely for poop sweeping on the deck.

but this week we got our first eggs, little tiny things with the orangest yolks you have ever seen. we even got one egg without a shell. cora and rabbit put golf balls in the laying boxes to teach the girls where to do their thing, and it seems to be working. jamin and cora probably check for eggs six times a day, a novelty that will wear off in a week or less, I'm sure. but for now it is fun to see them excited and proud of the flock they have nurtured, even if they are totally partial to two of their babies in particular. I am thankful that they have had this time to chase chickens and make an investment that they know will end in due time when nature takes it course. and while I will probably never be a huge fan of those nutty hens (they jump into my car with me if I take to long with the door open), I can appreciate the lessons they are teaching my family. and the eggs. I can certainly appreciate those. and the photo opportunities they provide. and the free babysitting service they offer. okay, so maybe I do sort of like them after all. just don't mention it to them directly. they'd probably strut into the kitchen again just to thank me.