Unschooler Goes to College

 Ivan has left home. There was no graduation, no prom, not even a final project. His last summer here at home, he continued reading interesting books, sparking heated debates about politics and religion at the dinner table, working a bit in his beloved computer animation program that he had taught himself, and playing soccer at every opportunity even if it was only with the 12 year-old friends of his brother.

He had managed to get into animation College by the skin of his teeth....successfully side-stepping all entrance exams... and applying to the two toughest animation schools in the country. The rejection from one meant that it was a no-brainer to be persistent with the other.

So he is there now; shocked to have an-ending supply of assignments and homework; too much to actually get done in a thoughtful considered manner. He tries to avoid sleeping, but then he risks missing entire classes when he finally succumbs to deep sleep. He sounds dejected and cowed on the phone, humbled, and in awe of the many talented students around him. Is this too big of a shock? Has the quiet independent study of his first 18 years left him un-prepared for coping with the requirements of a rigorous Foundation year program?

As the parent who used him as a guinea pig for her radical educational theories, it's difficult not to want him to succeed where he is. He wanted it so badly. I remind myself daily that what I have instilled in him is the knowledge that he will determine his own success, even if it might mean forging an incomprehensible path. It will be painful sometimes supporting him along the way. I have to remember to listen, take a deep breath, and refrain from making any pronouncements.

Mowing

The Rapture

 The grass is cut. We had to borrow a lawn mower, as we consistently break lawn mowers in the thankless task of trying to keep the verdant land under control. Yesterday, when the borrowed one broke down, Gary was forced to once again try to fix our original mower...which he somehow did. Then, he realized that the borrowed mower simply needed a spark plug. So today, at one point, there was a symphony of two lawn mowers and a weed wacker all humming and whining louder than the 12 beehives.....

I

The bees take off after their queen

products from home

Eggs, honey and maple syrup.

Diving and age

My younger two kids prevailed upon me once again and we went to the local swimming pool on Tuesday evening. I talked myself into joining them in the water; afterall, swimming is supposed to be good exercise, and I used to like spending time in "the pool" when I was a kid. As a matter of fact, I used to be able to do a front flip off of the diving board. So, of course I thought nothing of doing a straightforward dive off of the board. I followed Marsden into the water, ignoring a searing pain eminating from my left big toe as I left the board. It wasn't until I was trying to help Ida get warm by the side of the pool a few minutes later, that I noticed the trail of blood I was leaving at the pool's edge. I looked at the bottom of my toe. It seemed to now have a hole in it. What happened? Is it the forty extra pounds of weight since I was 14 and used to do this with ease? Was there a nail on the end of the diving board? Is it the ancient quality of the dried and calloused skin on my feet that can't sustain the pressure of jumping from a diving board?

A second family arrived at the pool. I sat with Ida, my foot elevated as I tried to stop the bleeding, and watched a teenage girl do the most beautiful swimming I have ever seen. As she propelled effortlessly through the water, seeming to move at great speed, she caressed the water with a reaching action that involved rythmically turning her wrists at each stroke. I liked thinking how, once she was dressed and out of the water, one would never know about her sensuous strength as a swimmer...she would appear to be just another normal teenager.

Two uses for plastic milk cartons

Collecting Sap

 

Seedling ID

Heroic Task (Or what I won't do for my son)

Car dug out of 2 feet of frozen snow in one and half hours by 50 year old mother and 18 year old son, so son could get to soccer practice. Thank-you to neighbors for final help pushing it out and pumping the flat tire!

Feeding the Chickens

We have about an hundred chickens. (and currently no steady egg sale market so palettes of eggs are stacking up on the kitchen counter) Somedays, it is a real struggle to get that afternoon feed accomplished before it is time to set off in the car to guitar lesson or Spanish class. I found myself a few days ago, struggling to retrieve an antique wooden clothes pin from the mud under the chickens, as they cluttered around, excited about the maggot-ridden peanuts that I had brought them in a cellophane bag closed with the pin. The maggots had had plenty of time in the bag to make a fine sort of webbing that swaddled the bag, the nuts and the clothes pin, but I picked it up from the mud and put it in the now-empty food bucket. It is wonderful to even be able to put maggot-ridden peanuts to good use.