Un-schooling Again; 2 moments

Result of a science experiment 

 My two youngest children like to do science experiments, but I hardly ever "get around to it". It is not my area of expertise. I do make an effort every once in a while, so the other day we did a simple one about "beading" of liquids that held our attention for a while. Then the two kids remembered that we had the ingredients to do the bubble experiment again. We had done it many months ago. So, being the pro-active homeschool mom that I am, I left them to it.

glycerin, dish soap, water, a straw.....

Next thing I know, they have relocated to the dining room and are in the dark taking pictures and having a great time. I walk through and see lots of bubbles. It is several days later when I download the pictures off of my camera that I find the most beautiful image of bubbles.....

the dri-erase board does igneous

A few days later:
    I was in some horrible big box store when my son grabbed his sister's arm and said, "C'mon, I just remembered something I want." And they disappeared leaving me looking through racks of cornflakes or socks or car parts; I can't remember what.

When they reappeared, the afore-mentioned son was clutching a small "white board" or "dry erase board" I think it is called. I was skeptical. "How much is it? "  I asked, with an undoubtedly dour expression on my face.
"Oops, I forgot to look," he answered. Off they went again. Upon their return, he announced "$3.99" (or something like that).
I was still skeptical. And then he said, "I wanted to draw plans on it for drawings and also I could use it to write on. "
    Well, those were the magic words: "draw" and "write". This particular son is as artistic as his older brothers, but more focused than either of them on drawing. He is also the most reluctant of the 3 to read. At the advanced age of 12, he is finally interested in devoting a considerable amount of time and effort to the project of learning to read. His brothers both were actually reading by this age. So I looked again at the board and thought, well,  $3.99, is a gamble I can take. At worst, it's an art supply.
And lo and behold, he runs to get it while we are reading together and then he actually will write long and interesting words that we run into on it, something that he had been refusing to do on paper. Call it a gimic, if you will....it's not one I would have thought of.

Over The Top, Celebrating Life-Learning

Victoria building the lemon cake

My family of 6 celebrated New Year with one of our most favorite homeschool families  ....the 5 kids (only one of which is currently "homeschooled"!), a fabulous girlfriend of the eldest son, and the Mom of course, my companion through thick and thin.
      So we had 10 kids in and out of the house, playing Manhunt, attempting to build a bonfire in our water-laden back yard, 2 of them off to pick-up soccer in Albany, and others working on a fashion website...
     One of the best things that happens when we get together is the food. This particular family is very knowledgeable about food and they have taught us many things over the years, important things, like how to make good pizza, how to make french fries, what is important when baking a cake, how to incorporate lots of vegetables into your pasta dishes, how to make pasta, etc.

The waffles ready for takers

So, we "built" one of our trademark lemon cakes...I am very proud of having introduced this recipe to our collective resources, but I still can't make it with the ease that my friend does....This is a cake that literally towers with lemon.  Then the next morning it was a tower of Waffles from a new cookbook that my daughter got for Christmas...The waffles have cream and milk in them....We heated some of our frozen raspberries to drizzled over the top....
      This is one of the unspoken great things about home-schooling, the time and inclination to concentrate on good food. Our kids know what it is, even if they still love a bag of Doritos.
 

The Death of "Grandpa"

    We went away for several days, leaving our 50 or 60 chickens to fend for themselves more or less. We left them a lot of grain, and checked the weather while we were away and ascertained that the temperature was above freezing which meant that water would remain available.  Chickens are pretty hardy.
     We returned at night. The next morning, I went out early to feed the chickens and see how they had fared. They all came running, though I didn't see "Grandpa", who is a very old rooster who we have nurtured along in his old age, shooing the other roosters away while we make sure he consumes choice scraps and tidbits. He was first named "Snowman" but was eventually re-named because he had been with us since he was a wee lad, and then had grown up to father several of our hens, and to lead a long and noteworthy life as a retired "head rooster" which is actually a rather difficult role as younger roosters don't tend to value longevity. If we didn't specially look out for him, we are certain he would have expired a while ago, as he is not up to defending himself against the others. I was pretty sure he wouldn't make it through this next winter, as he has taken in a somewhat witless way, to sleeping alone, outside, on top of the old chicken pen, where he would undoubtedly meet his end as a frozen bird one cold night. I called for him in my goofy "Grandpa" voice, and looked for him out beyond the electric fence where he sometimes ended up, probably in a desperate attempt to avoid attention from the other younger aggressive roosters. No sign of him, but that wasn't unusual.
     All seemed well, until I got all the way into the hoop house. I was busy dumping more grain and searching for the few winter eggs, when I noticed the black and white pile of feathers in the far corner. He was dead. Had a desperate retreat into the warmth of the hoop house been his downfall? Had the other roosters picked on him to his death? He bore no signs of abuse when I picked him up later and put him to rest in a chicken food bag....

     This is one reason to keep "livestock"; as constant reminder of our ultimate destiny, and to help squeamish people like me literally learn how to "handle" death. 

Painting

"Second Reflection" oil on linen 60"x48" unfinished

"Jellyfish" oil on cardboard packaging 14"x22"

My son Ivan has a blog that he posts his better art works on from his first year in animation school. He thought I should be doing the same.

I just photographed both of these paintings in order to include them in my NYFA grant application. I have been applying for a NYFA grant for many years. "Second Reflection" to the left here is not finished, but it is now too cold in my studio to work out there. I was working on it up until 2 weeks ago when I had to be careful not to hold my brush too high above my heart for too long or my hand would go kind of tingly and numb. ANd then I would be so cold that I kept accidentally knocking my brushes to the floor. The paint seemed to stay wet longer in the cold, but I had a weird problem with thin wet applications of paint "crawling" when put on top of already dried paint. It was like using water-based house paint on top of oil without sanding first....

    Anyway, aside from weather-related technical probs, I have never had such a great experience with a painting. I get completely lost in it for hours which is different. Until now, I used to get completely involved working on a painting for about an hour and a half. Then I would feel a burning desire to take a break, stop, call it a day, or whatever. This painting is different. If nothing from my "real" life called me out, and it wasn't too cold, I would work on it till I was too hungry or tired to continue, which might be entire days. It leads me on and on and on. Each new mark that I make seems to point to the next spot that needs addressing; I am aware of the whole thing being a carefully synchronized "machine"? Not a machine, more of a web, where a change of one strand can compromise others, or indicate others that need addressing. I also think of orchestral analogies, which I alluded to in my grant application. I am the conductor of this visual symphony...guarding against dissonance unless needed, toning down the loudness here and there, making sure the different moments lead one to the other....keeping the rhythm going throughout, etc, 

   The "jellyfish" painting on the right was a much faster accomplishment, but it is a beautiful integration of "found packaging" (complete with holes in it where water gun was yanked from cardboard) and painting. It is painted from a photo of my son LEo when he was about 5 holding jelly fish in both hands. I worry that no one will know what he is holding (thus the title), but Ivan thought that it didn't matter, that he is obviously holding something and it just doesn't matter what.

   

Life and death of carrots

childhood trauma

learning to love each other

becoming an ingredient

    So many carrots, so little time. But I took some time to appreciate the harvest. I  was really struck by the childhood trauma carrot above...It seems like a real live example of how a young life will just grow around whatever disturbing traumatic events happen to it. I saw Slumdog Millionaire recently and I guess the amazing resilience of children was on my mind.

   I'm trying to decide if I should harvest the rest. Cause there are a lot more out there. Unlike an agribusiness farmer, I went out and carefully felt down into the earth in the crowded sections of the carrot row, and pulled out the biggest carrots who could be accused of bullying or crowding their smaller neighbors. I don't know if I could expect that the remaining carrots can still develop further, as there is snow on the mountains now...visible from my garden.

fruits of the garden

"I could never do that" (homeschooling)

Up at 6:30 most days. It was 7 this AM as I didn't have to teach at 8 this morning. That's tomorrow and Thurs. The 3 kids at home are still asleep. I check email, talk to Ivan (the oldest away at school) on the phone about his final design project that I have been a consultant on since yesterday. I eat some cereal, while checking that there is no new email since late last night. Then I go over to my studio and work for an hour on my painting. It's blissful doing this. It's a huge symphonic exercise of brushstrokes.

After awhile of losing myself in my painting, I check my watch and come back over here to turn on oven and wake up kids. Its 10 now. We will eat German apple pancake to try to begin to eat through the 4 bags of apples in the house. Then, the 2 boys and myself must go over and remove the huge contractor bags full of roof refuse from the tenant's front yard, so that her blow up Santa Claus isn't actually obscured by what could be mistaken for his bags of toys.

Then, back to studio for 2 more hours or so before I have to take Ida to orthodontist and then hopefully go pick up Leo's cello in Kingston after that.

Must remember to continue Marsden's reading lessons sometime soon.