Bon Courage

Sep 26, 2007 | This Life

Every once in awhile, my world goes spinning out of control. The universe conspires to test my constitution. What the universe uncovers each time, is that under stress, I am made of straw. One little match and the whole house of cards goes up in smoke. Such a pretty allusion, is my life. In reality, I’m a mess.

The Universe is an optimist. Or she has early onset Alzheimers, because she tends to forget that the outcome is always the same. I thought doing the same craziness over expecting different results was a textbook definition of neurotic—apparently, it’s the Universe’s way of being clever.

It never fails, we plan a vacation and one of us gets sick. This time it was Boy Wonder. He spent part of Sunday afternoon in an Emergency Room, official diagnosis of a Sinus infection. Joy. However, he managed to spread the little virus that led him to such, uh, green-ness. And the lucky recipient was me.

Now his little infection meant he needed to pack medication. He was still cleared to go, but he would need to stay on meds while we’re gone. If you recall, our Supermodel dog also is on medication. She was well enough to kennel but she would need to say on meds while we’re gone. You see where this is going? Yeah, well, that’s were it ended up. WHY, for the love of pete, the Universe couldn’t see it coming, is beyond me. It’s not like this is the first time I’m made such a mistake.

Of course, I didn’t discover my snafu until 10 pm. on Monday as I was settling the boy into our hotel room for the night. Uh, yeah… can’t give the kid meds out of that bottle. And then the panic set in… Oh no, Sophie. I’ve gone and poisoned my dog and deprived my very sick child of medication. I’m not fit for parenthood of any kind. At that point, I became the ultimate in mess. The knot that was growing in my stomach and had been giving me fits turned into a bowling ball of stress. And I succumbed.

Fortunately, IZ is made of stronger stuff. Stuff that does not burn down in a crisis. This is why I love him. Somehow, he managed to resolve the whole situation in under 2 hours. And his reward? A wife and child who are now competing to see how many trees they can kill in the form of lubricated kleenex. The boy is winning, but only because I’m more efficient and he’s a day ahead.

And somehow, I find myself in an amazing Inn in Santa Barbara. Sick, but on the mend. I’ve been wined and dined and treated to a fabulous new haircut. And in the midst of all this sunshine I remembered that the Universe works in mysterious ways. I’m not looking for reasons as to why I’m sick, and always sick on vacation… or explanations for why I fall apart under stress which tends to yield disastrous results… instead I’m basking in the love of a good man and the warmth of restorative sunshine. It’s good to be warm.

And so, photos. These are just going to be loaded up… and not under a cut or organized… it’s a long story and I need sleep. Unorganized is a state of grace. Or so I keep telling myself.

Back to School

Sep 22, 2007 | This Life

Baking 101

The blogosphere is full of back to school tales. From kids of bloggers to teachers’ classrooms, images of school abound. For me, the year begins in September. I’ve spent too much time in academia to change my habits. My day-planner runs August to August. I’m conditioned to think of September as a fresh start. New shoes, new clothes, new backpack, new paper, new pencils. New. Begin again. Fresh slate. Start over.

Homeschooling changes this reality on some fronts. It seemed a little forced to tell the kid to stand in his front yard for a “back-to-school” photo, only to then call him back inside for the morning. It’s not like he had a bus to catch, after all. And we’ve not bothered with the new school clothes drill in ages. My willowy child is weedy, keenly aware that highwaters are not a fashion statement of any kind. Pants should be long, like his hair. So, we buy new pants all the time and rarely schedule haircuts. Only having attended 3 years of brick and mortar public school, the back-to-school impulse never imprinted on him and he’s found his own rhythms.

It’s not that I miss the trappings of tradition. School shopping was tedious. Boy Wonder has never had a distinct style he liked, but he was plenty clear about what he didn’t like. Trying on clothes was high on that list. Yet, once he was cajoled into the dressing room, he would be completely non-committal or worse, insistent that everything fit, even if it didn’t. When he stopped going to a brick and mortar school and I realized that I wasn’t under any obligation to dress him in clothes that matched just to sit on our couch to read… I whipped out my computer and saved us all the experience. We’ve never looked back on that front.

The markers of change are just different for us. And there isn’t a direct replacement value for the trappings of tradition. I don’t have an equal exchange for Back-to-school night or the photos in the front yard waiting for the bus. It never seemed important to find an alternative. Instead, we’ve embraced a completely different pattern; one that has worked for us. Our photos are mundane and look like snapshots of any household—there is nothing in them that marks the beginning of something new. Without a guide to explain what you are seeing, you might not notice the difference in the record of our life.

But, there is a difference. For the past two years, while we considered ourselves homeschoolers, we were in fact part of an online charter school. Public school at home. And while we might not have shopped for new clothes or posed for pre-bus photos, we still had schedules to keep, projects to complete, books to read, teachers who called, and grades issued—all markers of our involvement in something larger than ourselves. It was a great system. It gave us the flexibility we needed while allowing us to teach our child in his learning style. We never regretted the decision to pull him out of public school, because in essence, we hadn’t. There was a safety net beneath us and it proved a rich environment to learn this art of home educating.

mmm… Pumpkin Chocolate-chip Squares.

The best part of the program is that it allowed our child to work at his own pace. Our sponge ate up the information and in the process found himself in 6th grade this year. Like most public school systems, the entry into middle school marks a shift in the way we educate children—and it’s a shift that may work for other kids, but not ours. Instead of having one teacher to account to, we now had half a dozen… each with their own expectations and most suffering from the “my subject is the most important” syndrome. Where we once had flexibility to dig deeper and provide enrichment that actually counted for credit, the emphasis was now on getting through the material in a timely manner. That might pass as education for some people—but it’s never been our definition.

And so, with a deep breath but with the full knowledge that we’d spent the past two years preparing for this (and blessing from our homeroom teacher who felt it was time!) we registered with the ESD as homeschoolers. While the markers have changed, we feel remarkably the same. I’m not sure what will imprint on Boy Wonder; if September will mean the beginning of fall or the start of a new year, or something completely unimaginable to me. I have no idea what of our schedules and our methods will take hold and become the definition of “school” for him. The rhythms that mark his life are so completely different than mine and I have never had any expectation otherwise. He’s been charting his own course since inception and I’m finally at a place where I can see that.

Back to School.

Craving Oranges

Sep 21, 2007 | This Life

   

On a Gray Day in September

Sep 15, 2007 | This Life