Saturday, July 30, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
What we did see:
-- Construction workers atop many blue tarped roofs, hands shading eyes, scanning the skies in a generally eastward direction
Later, when we took some homeschool friends out to the island for the afternoon, we got an eyeful:
-- Gopher tortoise lurching along then performing a splendid belly slide into his burrow
-- Junior armadillo waddling unconcernedly along the side of the house
-- Great Blue Heron enjoying the sun on our dock, accompanied by fledgling blue heron
-- Manatee grazing along the grassy bottom below our dock
-- Momma and baby porpoise rounding up mullet in the shallows of our bay
And then, for a grand finale, leaving the marina on our way to check the post office box:
-- Stout bobcat attempting to cross the road, reconsidering, and slinking back inside the mangroves
Later, when we took some homeschool friends out to the island for the afternoon, we got an eyeful:
-- Gopher tortoise lurching along then performing a splendid belly slide into his burrow
-- Junior armadillo waddling unconcernedly along the side of the house
-- Great Blue Heron enjoying the sun on our dock, accompanied by fledgling blue heron
-- Manatee grazing along the grassy bottom below our dock
-- Momma and baby porpoise rounding up mullet in the shallows of our bay
And then, for a grand finale, leaving the marina on our way to check the post office box:
-- Stout bobcat attempting to cross the road, reconsidering, and slinking back inside the mangroves
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe
THE PLAN: Sixteen days in New Jersey watching my nieces while Uncle M works days during his summer custody. Fourteen days of quality time for the aunt and cousins. Many day trips into Manhattan with Uncle M.
ROADBLOCK #1: Custody dates finally approved are later than anticipated, beginning after Elle's school start date.
STATUS: Seven days available for visit to NJ and sightseeing with Uncle M. One day to visit with nieces. My older girls will remain in New Jersey for additional fourteen days of visitation being watched by their grandparents, along with the cousins.
ROADBLOCK #2: Uncle M unexpectedly scheduled to attend animators' conference in Los Angeles during our visit.
STATUS: Five days stuck in New Jersey with my three children. Two days available for visits into city when Uncle M returns. One day with nieces.
THE BRAINSTORM: Rent a car at airport, drive to Boston. Visit 2,674 cousins in five days.
STATUS: Remaining two days spent with Uncle M. escorting us into Manhattan. Visit with nieces one day.
THE QUANDARY: Which museums?
----
Gracie is captivated by abstract modern art. MOMA has a good collection of Picassos, Mondrians, and Matisses, among others. The Guggenheim has a smaller collection, but has the added interest of being housed in a Frank Lloyd Wright creation. One of these should probably be on the list.
The Met, well, the Met has everything. That could easily take one whole day and maybe take care of the modern art, too.
Definitely the Whitney, just so the kids can enjoy one of my favorites, Calder's Circus.
The Frick would impress them, if not for the great collection, the masters and Whistlers, then certainly for the architecture and thrill of strolling through a Fifth Avenue mansion. Same for the Cooper-Hewitt.
Two days. Too many museums.
ROADBLOCK #1: Custody dates finally approved are later than anticipated, beginning after Elle's school start date.
STATUS: Seven days available for visit to NJ and sightseeing with Uncle M. One day to visit with nieces. My older girls will remain in New Jersey for additional fourteen days of visitation being watched by their grandparents, along with the cousins.
ROADBLOCK #2: Uncle M unexpectedly scheduled to attend animators' conference in Los Angeles during our visit.
STATUS: Five days stuck in New Jersey with my three children. Two days available for visits into city when Uncle M returns. One day with nieces.
THE BRAINSTORM: Rent a car at airport, drive to Boston. Visit 2,674 cousins in five days.
STATUS: Remaining two days spent with Uncle M. escorting us into Manhattan. Visit with nieces one day.
THE QUANDARY: Which museums?
----
Gracie is captivated by abstract modern art. MOMA has a good collection of Picassos, Mondrians, and Matisses, among others. The Guggenheim has a smaller collection, but has the added interest of being housed in a Frank Lloyd Wright creation. One of these should probably be on the list.
The Met, well, the Met has everything. That could easily take one whole day and maybe take care of the modern art, too.
Definitely the Whitney, just so the kids can enjoy one of my favorites, Calder's Circus.
The Frick would impress them, if not for the great collection, the masters and Whistlers, then certainly for the architecture and thrill of strolling through a Fifth Avenue mansion. Same for the Cooper-Hewitt.
Two days. Too many museums.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Rat bashing
MargaretWV wondered in the comments of this post whether it is possible to go to Orlando and not visit Disney World, especially with children in tow.
Of course, it is possible to avoid it, and by that I mean it is physically possible to not cross the property lines, but it is absolutely impossible to avoid the onslaught of product exposure. It is omnipresent. Orlando = Disney. Would I recommend skipping it? No way, baby.
First, for the obvious reason that the kids will have fun. You might too.
Second, it is a marvel of micro-management.* Anyone who has ever run any kind of business will be awestruck at the level of control exerted, apparently effortlessly, by the powers that be. Anyone who has ever worked in any other kind of amusement park (I was employed by the Six Flags Corporation in their marketing and promotions departments for a number of years) and is familiar with the specific and often overwhelming chores involved in providing mass entertainment will be blown away by the effort. The administration is unfathomable: Park Operations (which includes admissions, guest relations, maintenance, landscaping, entertainment, human resources, security, first aid, and transportation, among other things), Merchandise, Food Service, Marketing, and that's not even considering their resorts and media holdings. Just the cross-promotional opportunities are uncountable. Imagine the files. The infrastructure alone is truly impressive, and Mickey is in the details. But Disney goes far beyond mere amusement park. Did you know Walt Disney World is exempt from county building ordinances? It is pretty hard after all, to pull a permit to build Cinderella's Castle, or Space Mountain, or Mt. Everest, so Disney opted, years ago, to create their own governmental entity, the Reedy Creek Improvement District. While technically they might still be answerable to the state, or at least maybe the federal government, and are not completely above the law, they do have the authority to create their own laws. They have their own fire and police departments, zoning, utilities, and taxing authorities.
* A friend, Food Service Supervisor at our park, once bragged that Disney had hired him as Food Service Manager. When pressed, he finally admitted the position was Manager of Ice Cream Novelties. In the Magic Kingdom. On Main Street. He was in charge of the Mickey pops.
Third, you will above all else, if you are the least bit cynical, enjoy scrutinizing your fellow park attendees. Knowing a number of family, friends, and acquaintances who spend every single vacation exclusively at Disney properties, I can say it is truly a cult-like phenomenon. Dave Hickey, in August's Vanity Fair article, "Welcome to Dreamsville," agrees:
On observing the "pagan ritual in a Florida swamp," he writes:
Hickey also notes where the fantasy is beginning to fray, and I would have to agree. Approaching the front gates of the Magic Kingdom, in front of the statue of Mr, Disney and his best known creation, I had the distinct impression that Walt was spinning in his grave (not in a secret cryogenic lab somewhere.) Walt's vision and Eisner's are worlds apart.
Required reading for cynics, particularly those venturing to Orlando: Team Rodent: How Disney Devours the World.
Of course, it is possible to avoid it, and by that I mean it is physically possible to not cross the property lines, but it is absolutely impossible to avoid the onslaught of product exposure. It is omnipresent. Orlando = Disney. Would I recommend skipping it? No way, baby.
First, for the obvious reason that the kids will have fun. You might too.
Second, it is a marvel of micro-management.* Anyone who has ever run any kind of business will be awestruck at the level of control exerted, apparently effortlessly, by the powers that be. Anyone who has ever worked in any other kind of amusement park (I was employed by the Six Flags Corporation in their marketing and promotions departments for a number of years) and is familiar with the specific and often overwhelming chores involved in providing mass entertainment will be blown away by the effort. The administration is unfathomable: Park Operations (which includes admissions, guest relations, maintenance, landscaping, entertainment, human resources, security, first aid, and transportation, among other things), Merchandise, Food Service, Marketing, and that's not even considering their resorts and media holdings. Just the cross-promotional opportunities are uncountable. Imagine the files. The infrastructure alone is truly impressive, and Mickey is in the details. But Disney goes far beyond mere amusement park. Did you know Walt Disney World is exempt from county building ordinances? It is pretty hard after all, to pull a permit to build Cinderella's Castle, or Space Mountain, or Mt. Everest, so Disney opted, years ago, to create their own governmental entity, the Reedy Creek Improvement District. While technically they might still be answerable to the state, or at least maybe the federal government, and are not completely above the law, they do have the authority to create their own laws. They have their own fire and police departments, zoning, utilities, and taxing authorities.
* A friend, Food Service Supervisor at our park, once bragged that Disney had hired him as Food Service Manager. When pressed, he finally admitted the position was Manager of Ice Cream Novelties. In the Magic Kingdom. On Main Street. He was in charge of the Mickey pops.
Third, you will above all else, if you are the least bit cynical, enjoy scrutinizing your fellow park attendees. Knowing a number of family, friends, and acquaintances who spend every single vacation exclusively at Disney properties, I can say it is truly a cult-like phenomenon. Dave Hickey, in August's Vanity Fair article, "Welcome to Dreamsville," agrees:
If Lourdes were a theme park, the crowd would be like this, because all the pilgrims were doing their part and were on their best behavior. Adults wore Disney caps and T-shirts. They carried Disney bags. Little boys wore mouse ears, some, clearly, souvenirs of previous visits. Little girls came dressed as Princesses in sea-green taffeta and net. One little Princess even wore a hennin and wimple, fetchingly askew.
On observing the "pagan ritual in a Florida swamp," he writes:
I felt like Boy in one of those Tarzan movies, creeping into a torchlit cave full of spear-waving Africans chanting crazily at some Mesoamerican idol overseen by a wild-eyed swami in a turban.
Hickey also notes where the fantasy is beginning to fray, and I would have to agree. Approaching the front gates of the Magic Kingdom, in front of the statue of Mr, Disney and his best known creation, I had the distinct impression that Walt was spinning in his grave (not in a secret cryogenic lab somewhere.) Walt's vision and Eisner's are worlds apart.
Required reading for cynics, particularly those venturing to Orlando: Team Rodent: How Disney Devours the World.
Friday, July 22, 2005
2005-2006
LANGUAGE
Classical Writing – Aesop
Classical Writing – Homer
Harvey’s Elementary Grammar
Latina Christiana II
Henle Latin I
MATH
Saxon 54
Saxon Algebra 1
HISTORY
Gilgamesh
DK Illustrated Family Bible
Tales of Ancient Egypt
The Cat of Bubastes
Pyramid
Ancient Greece
Archimedes and the Door to Science
A Wonder-Book for Boys and Girls
D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths
Famous Monuments Past and Present: Ancient Greece
Famous Men of Greece
Four Four Plays by Aristophanes: The Birds; The Clouds; The Frogs; Lysistrata
Modern Rhymes About Ancient Times: Ancient Greece
Plutarch's Lives
Tanglewood Tales
The Best Things in Life
The Histories
The Iliad
The Librarian Who Measured the Earth
The Odyssey
The Three Theban Plays
The Trial and Death of Socrates
Till We Have Faces
Ancient Greek Civilization (DVD)
Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (DVD)
Commonplace Books
Timelines
TEACHING GUIDES
Beautiful Feet Ancient History Study Guide
Great Books Academy Study Guide
Introduction to Classical Studies
Classical Writing – Aesop
Classical Writing – Homer
Harvey’s Elementary Grammar
Latina Christiana II
Henle Latin I
MATH
Saxon 54
Saxon Algebra 1
HISTORY
Gilgamesh
DK Illustrated Family Bible
Tales of Ancient Egypt
The Cat of Bubastes
Pyramid
Ancient Greece
Archimedes and the Door to Science
A Wonder-Book for Boys and Girls
D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths
Famous Monuments Past and Present: Ancient Greece
Famous Men of Greece
Four Four Plays by Aristophanes: The Birds; The Clouds; The Frogs; Lysistrata
Modern Rhymes About Ancient Times: Ancient Greece
Plutarch's Lives
Tanglewood Tales
The Best Things in Life
The Histories
The Iliad
The Librarian Who Measured the Earth
The Odyssey
The Three Theban Plays
The Trial and Death of Socrates
Till We Have Faces
Ancient Greek Civilization (DVD)
Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (DVD)
Commonplace Books
Timelines
TEACHING GUIDES
Beautiful Feet Ancient History Study Guide
Great Books Academy Study Guide
Introduction to Classical Studies
The End
I finished The Half-Blood Prince very early this morning. Sarabelle is now locked in her room wrapping up the last few chapters, and any moment now I am expecting wails. She was very upset by the ending of Gallipoli. Hated it. Thought it was stupid. Not very eloquent, but there you have it. Definitely one who prefers the neatly packaged, happy ending.
And speaking of happy endings:
Dear Ghostwriter,
The series so far, except for First Husband: Beaten to a Pulp, has been fairly enjoyable, full of bizarre plot twists and red herrings. Your work in progress, though, Compass Points: Anywhere the Wind Blows, is becoming a trifle monotonous. The plot seems to have stalled. I need to know how it all ends -- not the series, we all know where that's going -- just this volume. If an advance copy is unavailable, please at least tell me where the chapter titled, "June 2006" is set. I've peeked at your rough draft, it may need a rewrite.
Your devoted fan,
L
And speaking of happy endings:
Dear Ghostwriter,
The series so far, except for First Husband: Beaten to a Pulp, has been fairly enjoyable, full of bizarre plot twists and red herrings. Your work in progress, though, Compass Points: Anywhere the Wind Blows, is becoming a trifle monotonous. The plot seems to have stalled. I need to know how it all ends -- not the series, we all know where that's going -- just this volume. If an advance copy is unavailable, please at least tell me where the chapter titled, "June 2006" is set. I've peeked at your rough draft, it may need a rewrite.
Your devoted fan,
L
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Good AfterrrrrrRRRaaaaawwwrr!
An extended read-aloud last night, trying to catch Gracie up, again, as Sarabelle has taken advantage of my down time to race ahead in her attempt to beat us to the end of The Half-Blood Prince, left us just four pages short of the goal, Sarabelle's dog-eared page, when Gracie revealed she had nodded off for just a sec' around 1:30 AM, and left me rather hoarse. Should you have happened to call my house this morning, that wasn't some cigarette smokin' hungover bar hag that answered my phone, it was me. All communication was performed in sign language and via this keyboard until the tea and honey took effect.
We are comfortably lodged in fantasy; we are allowing no reality to creep in. No political or current events have been sparking any deep debates here. And, if you hadn't noticed, there's no schedule either.
School, if you could call it that, consisted of Sarabelle doing math yesterday. That's it. I'm waiting for Gracie's replacement Latina Christiana I book to arrive. Maybe that will spur us on. The fall's reading list is still being whittled down. I think we may pass on Aeschylus's trilogy and focus instead on more of Aristophanes. He's more amusing, and if we're going to go hard core classical, better for us to start off with the more entertaining bits. A few of the books I'd initially chosen contain a lot of duplication and my latest efforts have been to discover which books cover the major players without being terribly redundant. Plutarch's Lives, available online at Project Gutenberg, seems to be the basis for both Famous Men of Greece and Famous Men of Rome, and D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths covers most of the same stories that Hawthorne covers in his Tanglewood Tales and Wonder-Book for Boys and Girls. Some overlap is good though, with two children of differing abilities. Green's Tales of the Greek Heroes is the only book eliminated thus far. I need to update my Curriculum link over there on the sidebar.
Next week the girls have their second round of kayak camp and then off we go to New Jersey. The plan was originally to head up north and assist my brother with his kids during his two week summer custody allowance. But surprise, surprise, plans change. Now I have to get Elle back to start school too soon to be of any help, so my parents will be handling the four girls, his two and my two older ones, and traveling home with Sarabelle and Gracie in tow. Want to bet everyone'll be a little testy after that trip?
After that, we should be ready to buckle down and get back to work. Well, after that and moving into the orange house...
We are comfortably lodged in fantasy; we are allowing no reality to creep in. No political or current events have been sparking any deep debates here. And, if you hadn't noticed, there's no schedule either.
School, if you could call it that, consisted of Sarabelle doing math yesterday. That's it. I'm waiting for Gracie's replacement Latina Christiana I book to arrive. Maybe that will spur us on. The fall's reading list is still being whittled down. I think we may pass on Aeschylus's trilogy and focus instead on more of Aristophanes. He's more amusing, and if we're going to go hard core classical, better for us to start off with the more entertaining bits. A few of the books I'd initially chosen contain a lot of duplication and my latest efforts have been to discover which books cover the major players without being terribly redundant. Plutarch's Lives, available online at Project Gutenberg, seems to be the basis for both Famous Men of Greece and Famous Men of Rome, and D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths covers most of the same stories that Hawthorne covers in his Tanglewood Tales and Wonder-Book for Boys and Girls. Some overlap is good though, with two children of differing abilities. Green's Tales of the Greek Heroes is the only book eliminated thus far. I need to update my Curriculum link over there on the sidebar.
Next week the girls have their second round of kayak camp and then off we go to New Jersey. The plan was originally to head up north and assist my brother with his kids during his two week summer custody allowance. But surprise, surprise, plans change. Now I have to get Elle back to start school too soon to be of any help, so my parents will be handling the four girls, his two and my two older ones, and traveling home with Sarabelle and Gracie in tow. Want to bet everyone'll be a little testy after that trip?
After that, we should be ready to buckle down and get back to work. Well, after that and moving into the orange house...
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
The Almighty has spoken.
God is throwing us a curve ball.
He has been apparently speaking to our soon-to-be new island neighbor, and has revealed His plan to him. Mr. Eccentric intends to eventually purchase not just our contiguous piece of island property, but the entire island. He believes it will ultimately cost about one billion dollars and take approximately twenty years. His plan is to build Paradise.
Now, if I were God, I'd be a little insulted that someone thought my work needed any improvement, but, hey, maybe that's why I'm not Creator of the Universe.
Mr. Eccentric still hasn't closed the deal with our neighbor, it's been delayed twice so far, so we're not holding our breath, but the other day when Jorge met with him, he was open to Jorge's suggestion of a land swap. Jorge indicated we would like to have a house on Boca Grande in order to maintain the quality of life we have struggled to achieve for our girls. He told Jorge to pick one out and fax him the details.
Never a dull moment around here, that's for sure.
He has been apparently speaking to our soon-to-be new island neighbor, and has revealed His plan to him. Mr. Eccentric intends to eventually purchase not just our contiguous piece of island property, but the entire island. He believes it will ultimately cost about one billion dollars and take approximately twenty years. His plan is to build Paradise.
Now, if I were God, I'd be a little insulted that someone thought my work needed any improvement, but, hey, maybe that's why I'm not Creator of the Universe.
Mr. Eccentric still hasn't closed the deal with our neighbor, it's been delayed twice so far, so we're not holding our breath, but the other day when Jorge met with him, he was open to Jorge's suggestion of a land swap. Jorge indicated we would like to have a house on Boca Grande in order to maintain the quality of life we have struggled to achieve for our girls. He told Jorge to pick one out and fax him the details.
Never a dull moment around here, that's for sure.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Presto-chango!
To prevent squabbles, and mostly to prevent anyone from swiping the book before I'm done, we've agreed to postpone the reading of The Yearling ("Four chapters, Mom, and so far, no baby deer...!") and replace it with Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Tonight I was on auto-pilot, working to reread the first 100+ pages to get everyone caught up.
I must say it's a nice change from the last few read-alouds where everybody wiggled and squirmed and interrupted for the first several minutes. Tonight they settled down immediately with nary a peep.
Tonight I was on auto-pilot, working to reread the first 100+ pages to get everyone caught up.
I must say it's a nice change from the last few read-alouds where everybody wiggled and squirmed and interrupted for the first several minutes. Tonight they settled down immediately with nary a peep.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Charlie and Harry
Just a quickie to say the movie was better than I anticipated.
There were a few visual homages to the old Wolper/Wilder version: The opening sequence of the candy being produced in the factory is very similar only more Burtonesque; the old sight gag of the reporter standing in front of the antlers before interviewing Augustus Gloop is imitated elsewhere with Mr. Salt; and Mike Teavee enjoys a pumpkin in a slightly different way than Veruca did in the original's completely edible room. There were even a few pokes at previous Burton/Depp partnerships, the most obvious one from Edward Scissorhands. Best of all, it still had that slightly creepy, anxious, what's-around-the-corner, freaky funhouse feeling. You know what's coming, but it's still a surprise.
I was happy to see Christopher Lee is still working. Remember MTV's Remote Control? They had a category Dead or Alive. I would've got him wrong. Who knew? Maybe all those Star Wars/LOTR fans.
The one problem I had was with Johnny Depp's makeup. I was distracted by the pancake; I could see it clogging his pores in close-ups. And is anybody ever going to give Mr. Wonka his goatee back? See how shallow I am? Big on visuals, I am.
Nearly through the movie, it seemed they had spoiled the ending and I was very disappointed, but they pulled it out. I'll say no more about that.
The girls immediately decided they'd like to get it on DVD, which is their equivalent of two thumbs up. The mostly teen-aged audience broke into applause at the end. When was the last time you saw that?
Now, off to read some more HP. G'night!
There were a few visual homages to the old Wolper/Wilder version: The opening sequence of the candy being produced in the factory is very similar only more Burtonesque; the old sight gag of the reporter standing in front of the antlers before interviewing Augustus Gloop is imitated elsewhere with Mr. Salt; and Mike Teavee enjoys a pumpkin in a slightly different way than Veruca did in the original's completely edible room. There were even a few pokes at previous Burton/Depp partnerships, the most obvious one from Edward Scissorhands. Best of all, it still had that slightly creepy, anxious, what's-around-the-corner, freaky funhouse feeling. You know what's coming, but it's still a surprise.
I was happy to see Christopher Lee is still working. Remember MTV's Remote Control? They had a category Dead or Alive. I would've got him wrong. Who knew? Maybe all those Star Wars/LOTR fans.
The one problem I had was with Johnny Depp's makeup. I was distracted by the pancake; I could see it clogging his pores in close-ups. And is anybody ever going to give Mr. Wonka his goatee back? See how shallow I am? Big on visuals, I am.
Nearly through the movie, it seemed they had spoiled the ending and I was very disappointed, but they pulled it out. I'll say no more about that.
The girls immediately decided they'd like to get it on DVD, which is their equivalent of two thumbs up. The mostly teen-aged audience broke into applause at the end. When was the last time you saw that?
Now, off to read some more HP. G'night!
Friday, July 15, 2005
Remakes and Sequels
Today, after dropping off the check for the second session of kayak camp, Sarabelle, Gracie, and I are going to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Elle is spending the weekend with Nana and Papa which gives us all a bit of a break.
Then tonight, we'll be up late for the 12:00:01 AM release of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. The party starts about an hour before and will no doubt be covered by the press, like last time, with the added story of being the first big event hosted since Port Charlotte's one and only bookstore is back in business after Hurricane Charley. Introvert me doesn't mind too much -- I will have my invisibility cloak on.
Elle is spending the weekend with Nana and Papa which gives us all a bit of a break.
Then tonight, we'll be up late for the 12:00:01 AM release of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. The party starts about an hour before and will no doubt be covered by the press, like last time, with the added story of being the first big event hosted since Port Charlotte's one and only bookstore is back in business after Hurricane Charley. Introvert me doesn't mind too much -- I will have my invisibility cloak on.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
It's not just the most boring state in the Union...
Never one to intentionally toot my horn, I prefer self-deprecation, sometimes the darn thing just goes off by itself. [TOOT, TOOT] I am vindicated! Absolved, exculpated, exonerated! I am victorious!
[TOOOOOOOOOT!]
The results from the IOWA Test of Basic Skills came back yesterday. Both girls did wonderfully, working four grade levels ahead for their composite scores, and with sky high national percentile ranks.
Would I be so vocal if they didn't do well? Of course. Hopefully it wouldn't just be loudly criticizing the obviously obtuse standardized crapola foisted on my poor little uninstitutionalized darlings and excuse-making for their low scores, but I'd still have to let you know how it all turned out. Honest.
Now I know where they're at after taking on the responsibility of educating them myself four years ago, and I know where they could use some reinforcement and improvement.
Now I know where I'm at after four years of educating myself. I've had my reinforcement, and I know where there's room for improvement.
Let me pass along a little encouragement to those of you who worry that you may not be doing enough, or may not be doing it right: YOU ARE DOING FINE. Believe me, if I haven't screwed up my kids with this topsy-turvy, indecisive, loosely structured lifestyle we've been leading for the past few years, or changing teaching methods after rethinking my theories on education, or making sweeping curricula changes to reflect those new aims, or even veering off into uncharted unschool territory from time to time, then you have nothing to worry about.
It's all about the effort and the one-on-one, and you all get very high marks in that department.
[TOOT]
[TOOOOOOOOOT!]
The results from the IOWA Test of Basic Skills came back yesterday. Both girls did wonderfully, working four grade levels ahead for their composite scores, and with sky high national percentile ranks.
Would I be so vocal if they didn't do well? Of course. Hopefully it wouldn't just be loudly criticizing the obviously obtuse standardized crapola foisted on my poor little uninstitutionalized darlings and excuse-making for their low scores, but I'd still have to let you know how it all turned out. Honest.
Now I know where they're at after taking on the responsibility of educating them myself four years ago, and I know where they could use some reinforcement and improvement.
Now I know where I'm at after four years of educating myself. I've had my reinforcement, and I know where there's room for improvement.
Let me pass along a little encouragement to those of you who worry that you may not be doing enough, or may not be doing it right: YOU ARE DOING FINE. Believe me, if I haven't screwed up my kids with this topsy-turvy, indecisive, loosely structured lifestyle we've been leading for the past few years, or changing teaching methods after rethinking my theories on education, or making sweeping curricula changes to reflect those new aims, or even veering off into uncharted unschool territory from time to time, then you have nothing to worry about.
It's all about the effort and the one-on-one, and you all get very high marks in that department.
[TOOT]
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Wally World
In honor of today's shuttle mission, I will now attempt to tell a story that made me laugh so hard when I originally heard it, that I nearly wet myself.
I know, you had to be there, and apologies if you've heard it before, but here goes...
My cousin C was down visiting family in Florida. Her now husband, R, was working at the time for Pizza Uno and was delivering an official Pizza Uno van from Boston to Orlando. They decided to take a break from all the pesky relatives and visit the Kennedy Space Center. As they approached the Space Center and the giant assembly building, they marveled at the wide open road and worried that with the lack of traffic maybe the Center was closed. They were nearly to the assembly building when suddenly, a swarm of black cars appeared out of nowhere, and screeched to a halt surrounding the Pizza Uno van. Serious faced men jumped out and demanded to know what they thought they were doing there. R and C, about as naive as they come, cheerfully explained that they were there to visit the Space Center and wondered how much further it was to the parking lot. The men dryly informed them that they were driving on the runway.
Later when they finally took the tour, they complained that the official view of the launch pad facilities was not nearly as good as the view they had earlier.
I know, you had to be there, and apologies if you've heard it before, but here goes...
My cousin C was down visiting family in Florida. Her now husband, R, was working at the time for Pizza Uno and was delivering an official Pizza Uno van from Boston to Orlando. They decided to take a break from all the pesky relatives and visit the Kennedy Space Center. As they approached the Space Center and the giant assembly building, they marveled at the wide open road and worried that with the lack of traffic maybe the Center was closed. They were nearly to the assembly building when suddenly, a swarm of black cars appeared out of nowhere, and screeched to a halt surrounding the Pizza Uno van. Serious faced men jumped out and demanded to know what they thought they were doing there. R and C, about as naive as they come, cheerfully explained that they were there to visit the Space Center and wondered how much further it was to the parking lot. The men dryly informed them that they were driving on the runway.
Later when they finally took the tour, they complained that the official view of the launch pad facilities was not nearly as good as the view they had earlier.
Far Out Space Nuts
We'll be keeping our eyes on this throughout the day as it plays in the background on my laptop, and then running outside and scanning the skies just after 3:51 PM EDT.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Too funny
If you think the original article posted on the NEA.org website is amusing, wait until you read the reply from homeschool parent, Dominick Cancilla, and the follow-up response from the author, posted by Natalie at Ramblings, Rants & Remedies.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Charity begins at home.
Trying to encourage Elle's spirit of giving, I gently suggested she donate a small portion of her birthday windfall to the less fortunate.
"What's that?"
"Well, there are a lot of people who don't have nearly as much as you. You know, poor people? You might like to help them a little."
"Oh! Like you and Dada!"
"What's that?"
"Well, there are a lot of people who don't have nearly as much as you. You know, poor people? You might like to help them a little."
"Oh! Like you and Dada!"
A Sunburned Country
With little else to do today than ignore the incessant, nearly hysterical news reports on Dennis, or the foul weather swirling around outside -- cleaning the house is just not an option -- I will relay to you my whereabouts of the last several days and enjoy a little quiet time with my blistered and slowly deflating feet up on the couch.
Call me a hypocrite, my husband already has, but I took the girls to the Crappiest Place on Earth for Elle's fifth birthday. In my defense (I just typed "dense," how's that for a Freudian slip?) Jorge and I went numerous times as kids and always had a blast, and though I despise the place and everything it stands for now, I won't deny the experience to my kids. After all, we turned out okay. Mostly. Jorge laughed that someone had thrown a switch and changed me from a girl who loves Carl Hiaasen's quote in Team Rodent, that his dream is to be forever banned from the place, into a pavement-pounding, four-parks-in-three-days madwoman.
Hey, I got my money's worth, and they didn't get one extra cent. No mouse ears with our names on them, no tee shirts, no vacation club memberships. I packed a two-liter bottle of chilled water and handfuls of cereal bars for snacks each day and off we went. One small splurge was the lemonade slushies they wanted the last day when the water ran out. We didn't know at the time we ordered, but the straw/spoon happened to have a miniature plastic Pluto attached to it. Yippee. There's your souvenir kids!
The heat and humidity were murderous. After a while I stopped snickering at the tourists carrying their Disney logoed, fan-topped squirting water bottles and hoped to be standing close enough to someone to catch a bit of overspray. We weren't dripping sweat, but covered in a continuously oozing oily sheet of wetness. But that didn't stop me. Oh, no.
Jorge joined us and spent the whole second day with us at Epcot, or NerDisney, where one employee left me to convert centimeters to inches on my own after a query about a ride's height requirement. Not an easy thing to do when your brain is being rapidly brought to a boil. We raced over to The Land to try out the new ride Soarin' which was a very convincing simulation of flying, literally by the seat of your pants. Like Eastern Airline's old If You Had Wings on steroids. When we flew over the surfers, Elle pulled her dangling legs up under her and asked if sharks could jump that high. Then we went on the main agricultural Land boat ride through the various displays and hydroponic greenhouses, which always fascinates Jorge and me. This time, upon exiting, we were approached by Yao Ming's twin brother dragging a wagon with what looked to be a giant cucumber. Sarabelle was the closest guesser among the group of onlookers for the correct weight of the monstrosity, 52 lbs., and was given a free pass for the "Behind the Seeds Tour." The rest of her group, received a 50% discount. Not bad! We were highly intrigued and signed on for the next available tour. With some time to kill, we went over to see the special presentation of Simba Trashes the Human Race. Bad, bad homo sapiens! Yeah, we humans have run roughshod over this poor planet for too long, except of course for the noble savages who only consumed enough to sustain themselves. Grotesque visuals of wasted resources, pollution, and mass consumerism, even so far as showing Las Vegas as a prime example, were splashed across the giant movie screen. They even bashed hydroelectric power when they displayed the Hoover Dam while criticizing the scars man has left behind tampering with Mother Nature. Timon and Pumba were added for comic relief, but the real comedy was the pure irony of Disney preaching conservation. Stunned by the mixed message in that public service bone, we proceeded to our peek backstage.
We learned a little about Disney's use of predatory insects to control pests and the breeding program. It was fun to wander around through the normally inaccessible garden areas. The guide was pleasant, if not thoroughly knowledgeable, she was after all an entomologist rather than a botanist or an expert on aquaculture, but at least she wasn't obsequious like every other park employee we met. I wanted to know how much of what they do is true research and development, if they receive any outside funding, or if it was all really self-serving (i.e. entertainment, good public relations.) Of course there's no response for those questions in the handbook. We saw mutant vegetables and scary genetically altered bass, used to supply their restaurants and entertain fisherman on the Seven Seas Lagoon. (Disney on a Budget Tip: Stay home and fish.) Jorge assured me that the ChickieNobs were over in the next building.
Speaking of creeping us out, Jorge was unnerved by the fact that the automated ticket taking machines at the front gates now require a scan of your index and middle fingers. Our drivers' licenses were also scanned when we purchased tickets. I've been hunting for a copy of their security and confidentiality policies. So far no luck. We ended up in a lame virtual reality exhibit sponsored by GM that Jorge suspects may have been a surreptitious retina scan. Think of the data base they have amassed. Credit cards, photos, fingerprints, licenses, all linked... Our government doesn't even do as good a job, and they certainly have a tougher time with compliance. Maybe Disney should be running things. Maybe they already are. Bread and Circus, anyone?
After leaving Frightening Future World, we proceeded to the World Showcase. The highlight of that jaunt was the theatrical presentation of The American Adventure, or as I like to think of it, We're Still Number One!, mostly because we could sit down and it was airconditioned. This presentation blended moving pictures, photomontages, and syrupy illustrations of our country's history in a rather loose, fast-paced way, anachronistically cohosted by the audio-animatronic duo, Ben Franklin and Samuel Clemens. The employee who gave us the pre-show spiel made sure every knew who the hosts were and challenged the audience to see how many people they could recognize in the montage. I know they all got Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, but how many spotted Edison and Eleanor Roosevelt? My eyes started rolling about thirty seconds into the production with the illustration of a weeping pilgrim woman prostrate across a small, fresh grave, as the rest of the mourners drifted back through the snow covered field to their miserable existence. My first thought, "Mighty hard to dig a grave when the ground is completely frozen and not leave any tracks," set the tone for the rest of the show. America got off to a great start, and accomplished great things in a relatively short amount of time. Oh, sure there were a few glitches along the way: natives, slavery, a civil war, but we overcame them all! And did it to a stirring soundtrack too. And now we're great again! The Greatest!! The juxtaposition of a quote attributed to John Steinbeck, I'm thinking from his essay, "America and Americans" although I cannot locate it, meant as a warning against complacency, described how no great civilization to date, once they have reached a certain level of comfort and success has figured out how to prevent that great inevitable downhill slide, went right by most of the impassive, complacent, comfortable audience. But not us. Another mixed message. But then back to the dramatic, patriotic, red, white, and blue grand finale. There was general cheering and whistling all around. I applauded the aircondition.
When we returned to our room that night, we were shocked to learn London had been hit by terrorists, and we had a major hurricane headed for us. This brought back memories of September 11, 2001, when the girls and I missed the news of the attacks on the Trade Center because we were happily wandering around a museum, alone, in New Jersey that morning. Not that we were so close this time, excluding the U.K. Pavilion at Epcot, but disconcerting to think that while we were all wrapped up in our own happy world, oblivious, major events were occurring.
For the first time ever, I saw local Sheriff deputies at Disney World. Disney, notorious for its iron fisted control, having its own absolute governing authority, is, for all intents and purposes, above the law, so whether they requested the police presence or not would be interesting to know.
We began running into bad weather the minute we left the park last night. Before we resumed listening to Bill Bryson read his audiobook version of A Sunburned Country, I returned a nervous phone call from our friend Johnny. He and his partner live up in Pensacola and call us for every birthday, anniversary, and hurricane update. They're scared. After they lost their home in Ivan, they were helping a friend remove a massive oak that had fallen on the friend's house, which then shifted and fell on Johnny, fracturing his back and shattering his leg in four places. After his surgery, recovering at the friend's house, his partner had the stone slab of the friend's coffee top fall off and break his foot and ankle. So the two of them have been hobbling around their new FEMA trailer for the past few months, and this morning were ordered to evacuate. I reminded Johnny of the Butterfly Effect and told him I'd go outside as the storm passed us and blow it toward Texas or Louisiana. He suggested I suck in and steer it over toward Panama City.
So now, with the house occasionally bumping from a minor wind gust, I'm going to pull out my ILL copy of Nock's The Disadvantages of Being Educated and decide what to do for our next read-aloud.
Call me a hypocrite, my husband already has, but I took the girls to the Crappiest Place on Earth for Elle's fifth birthday. In my defense (I just typed "dense," how's that for a Freudian slip?) Jorge and I went numerous times as kids and always had a blast, and though I despise the place and everything it stands for now, I won't deny the experience to my kids. After all, we turned out okay. Mostly. Jorge laughed that someone had thrown a switch and changed me from a girl who loves Carl Hiaasen's quote in Team Rodent, that his dream is to be forever banned from the place, into a pavement-pounding, four-parks-in-three-days madwoman.
Hey, I got my money's worth, and they didn't get one extra cent. No mouse ears with our names on them, no tee shirts, no vacation club memberships. I packed a two-liter bottle of chilled water and handfuls of cereal bars for snacks each day and off we went. One small splurge was the lemonade slushies they wanted the last day when the water ran out. We didn't know at the time we ordered, but the straw/spoon happened to have a miniature plastic Pluto attached to it. Yippee. There's your souvenir kids!
The heat and humidity were murderous. After a while I stopped snickering at the tourists carrying their Disney logoed, fan-topped squirting water bottles and hoped to be standing close enough to someone to catch a bit of overspray. We weren't dripping sweat, but covered in a continuously oozing oily sheet of wetness. But that didn't stop me. Oh, no.
Jorge joined us and spent the whole second day with us at Epcot, or NerDisney, where one employee left me to convert centimeters to inches on my own after a query about a ride's height requirement. Not an easy thing to do when your brain is being rapidly brought to a boil. We raced over to The Land to try out the new ride Soarin' which was a very convincing simulation of flying, literally by the seat of your pants. Like Eastern Airline's old If You Had Wings on steroids. When we flew over the surfers, Elle pulled her dangling legs up under her and asked if sharks could jump that high. Then we went on the main agricultural Land boat ride through the various displays and hydroponic greenhouses, which always fascinates Jorge and me. This time, upon exiting, we were approached by Yao Ming's twin brother dragging a wagon with what looked to be a giant cucumber. Sarabelle was the closest guesser among the group of onlookers for the correct weight of the monstrosity, 52 lbs., and was given a free pass for the "Behind the Seeds Tour." The rest of her group, received a 50% discount. Not bad! We were highly intrigued and signed on for the next available tour. With some time to kill, we went over to see the special presentation of Simba Trashes the Human Race. Bad, bad homo sapiens! Yeah, we humans have run roughshod over this poor planet for too long, except of course for the noble savages who only consumed enough to sustain themselves. Grotesque visuals of wasted resources, pollution, and mass consumerism, even so far as showing Las Vegas as a prime example, were splashed across the giant movie screen. They even bashed hydroelectric power when they displayed the Hoover Dam while criticizing the scars man has left behind tampering with Mother Nature. Timon and Pumba were added for comic relief, but the real comedy was the pure irony of Disney preaching conservation. Stunned by the mixed message in that public service bone, we proceeded to our peek backstage.
We learned a little about Disney's use of predatory insects to control pests and the breeding program. It was fun to wander around through the normally inaccessible garden areas. The guide was pleasant, if not thoroughly knowledgeable, she was after all an entomologist rather than a botanist or an expert on aquaculture, but at least she wasn't obsequious like every other park employee we met. I wanted to know how much of what they do is true research and development, if they receive any outside funding, or if it was all really self-serving (i.e. entertainment, good public relations.) Of course there's no response for those questions in the handbook. We saw mutant vegetables and scary genetically altered bass, used to supply their restaurants and entertain fisherman on the Seven Seas Lagoon. (Disney on a Budget Tip: Stay home and fish.) Jorge assured me that the ChickieNobs were over in the next building.
Speaking of creeping us out, Jorge was unnerved by the fact that the automated ticket taking machines at the front gates now require a scan of your index and middle fingers. Our drivers' licenses were also scanned when we purchased tickets. I've been hunting for a copy of their security and confidentiality policies. So far no luck. We ended up in a lame virtual reality exhibit sponsored by GM that Jorge suspects may have been a surreptitious retina scan. Think of the data base they have amassed. Credit cards, photos, fingerprints, licenses, all linked... Our government doesn't even do as good a job, and they certainly have a tougher time with compliance. Maybe Disney should be running things. Maybe they already are. Bread and Circus, anyone?
After leaving Frightening Future World, we proceeded to the World Showcase. The highlight of that jaunt was the theatrical presentation of The American Adventure, or as I like to think of it, We're Still Number One!, mostly because we could sit down and it was airconditioned. This presentation blended moving pictures, photomontages, and syrupy illustrations of our country's history in a rather loose, fast-paced way, anachronistically cohosted by the audio-animatronic duo, Ben Franklin and Samuel Clemens. The employee who gave us the pre-show spiel made sure every knew who the hosts were and challenged the audience to see how many people they could recognize in the montage. I know they all got Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, but how many spotted Edison and Eleanor Roosevelt? My eyes started rolling about thirty seconds into the production with the illustration of a weeping pilgrim woman prostrate across a small, fresh grave, as the rest of the mourners drifted back through the snow covered field to their miserable existence. My first thought, "Mighty hard to dig a grave when the ground is completely frozen and not leave any tracks," set the tone for the rest of the show. America got off to a great start, and accomplished great things in a relatively short amount of time. Oh, sure there were a few glitches along the way: natives, slavery, a civil war, but we overcame them all! And did it to a stirring soundtrack too. And now we're great again! The Greatest!! The juxtaposition of a quote attributed to John Steinbeck, I'm thinking from his essay, "America and Americans" although I cannot locate it, meant as a warning against complacency, described how no great civilization to date, once they have reached a certain level of comfort and success has figured out how to prevent that great inevitable downhill slide, went right by most of the impassive, complacent, comfortable audience. But not us. Another mixed message. But then back to the dramatic, patriotic, red, white, and blue grand finale. There was general cheering and whistling all around. I applauded the aircondition.
When we returned to our room that night, we were shocked to learn London had been hit by terrorists, and we had a major hurricane headed for us. This brought back memories of September 11, 2001, when the girls and I missed the news of the attacks on the Trade Center because we were happily wandering around a museum, alone, in New Jersey that morning. Not that we were so close this time, excluding the U.K. Pavilion at Epcot, but disconcerting to think that while we were all wrapped up in our own happy world, oblivious, major events were occurring.
For the first time ever, I saw local Sheriff deputies at Disney World. Disney, notorious for its iron fisted control, having its own absolute governing authority, is, for all intents and purposes, above the law, so whether they requested the police presence or not would be interesting to know.
We began running into bad weather the minute we left the park last night. Before we resumed listening to Bill Bryson read his audiobook version of A Sunburned Country, I returned a nervous phone call from our friend Johnny. He and his partner live up in Pensacola and call us for every birthday, anniversary, and hurricane update. They're scared. After they lost their home in Ivan, they were helping a friend remove a massive oak that had fallen on the friend's house, which then shifted and fell on Johnny, fracturing his back and shattering his leg in four places. After his surgery, recovering at the friend's house, his partner had the stone slab of the friend's coffee top fall off and break his foot and ankle. So the two of them have been hobbling around their new FEMA trailer for the past few months, and this morning were ordered to evacuate. I reminded Johnny of the Butterfly Effect and told him I'd go outside as the storm passed us and blow it toward Texas or Louisiana. He suggested I suck in and steer it over toward Panama City.
So now, with the house occasionally bumping from a minor wind gust, I'm going to pull out my ILL copy of Nock's The Disadvantages of Being Educated and decide what to do for our next read-aloud.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Final Gatto Chapters
I added the last couple of Chris's summary of The Underground History of American Education to the second post below. I didn't realize he was so close to the end as I, uh, haven't read quite that far yet myself. Now they'll all be in one spot. Thank you, Chris.
Independence Day?
All weekend long I've been hearing the Beverly Hillbillies theme song in my head, replacing the narrator's closing line, Swimming pools...Movie stars, with Red tide...Shark attacks, just before that famous banjo solo cranks up.
Nobody was swimming this weekend. Besides the viscous, respiratory irritating algal bloom, Boca Grande, our southern neighboring island, hosted the third Florida shark attack of the year (season? week?) Everybody used to snicker at ol' paranoid me when I wouldn't swim out past the sandbar -- that's where the big ones like to cruise. I was sharp enough to notice that most restaurants in the neighborhood have giant sharks mounted on their walls, advertising, "Caught in Boca Grande Pass," or some other such local swimming hole. And what about infamous Old Hitler, the legendary monster hammerhead who haunts these waters especially during tarpon season? Is there a creepier fish alive? I'm not paranoid, I'm just emotionally scarred from seeing, Jaws.
We said goodbye to our island nextdoor neighbor yesterday. She sold her house and two Gulf front lots and is hightailing it south of the border. Her buyer is going to make us an offer on our place. She was planting seeds, calling it a "very attractive offer" (it wasn't) and reminding us of the real estate bubble (which I believe South Florida waterfront property is immune from.) So who is this mysterious buyer with deep pockets? Jorge told me it was a representative for a Jamaican religious group planning on building a retreat compound out here. My first thoughts were there'd probably be lots of good music and spliffs galore, neither of which I'm opposed to. Let's see, I've been with Jorge for twenty years. You'd think I'd be wise to him by now. The truth is actually worse. He's an investor planning to build a resort of rental suites, "lock-outs," within a gargantuan, twenty-one bedroom single-family unit. He's talking ferry service, swimming pool, and buying ten waterfront homes to create a land base. I went to the second annual home owners meeting out on the island this weekend, and let me tell you, those people are rabidly anti-any kind of development. Most everybody out there comes from a line of redneck Crackers and loves it the way it is, because it has not been ruined like so much else of our beloved state. Water and sewer? No, thanks. Pave a road to help emergency services' access? Nah, don't need it. Garbage service? Nope, we'll haul our own. This guy is going to have a huge fight on his hands. Not to mention, there are several protected species living on those two lots.Twilly Spree and Mullet Fingers, two of my literary heroes. My girls are already planning to chain themselves to bulldozers. Our property is key to his plan as we are the contiguous link between the house and the vacant lots. The biggest problem is that now, as the majority owner of our five parcel subdivision, he could make it very expensive for us and the other single owner if he begins improving common areas, walkways, docks, etc., as we are liable to each pay a one-fifth share. He could squeeze us out. Even if he decides our piece is not critical to his development scheme, who wants a bunch of strangers tramping past your house all hours of the day and night, or a ferry pulling up to your dock, blocking your once beautiful view, or scads of tourists on the formerly deserted beach where you could once wear a bikini and not worry about the tummy roll or the dimples on your bum? With a big enough offer, walking would be a little less painful.
Jorge spoke with Big Spender on the phone this morning and has a meeting tentatively scheduled for next week to determine if this guy's got a viable plan or if he's in outer space. He did make the comment that his other option was to build two homes and sell them, but, "Who would want to live out there?" so I'm thinking it's 'outer space.' Once I get confirmation that the closing is completed, this afternoon, I'm sending out a red alert to the homeowners association. The coconut telegraph will be a-buzz.
It turns out I was afraid of the wrong kind of shark attack.
Y'all come back now, y'hear?
Nobody was swimming this weekend. Besides the viscous, respiratory irritating algal bloom, Boca Grande, our southern neighboring island, hosted the third Florida shark attack of the year (season? week?) Everybody used to snicker at ol' paranoid me when I wouldn't swim out past the sandbar -- that's where the big ones like to cruise. I was sharp enough to notice that most restaurants in the neighborhood have giant sharks mounted on their walls, advertising, "Caught in Boca Grande Pass," or some other such local swimming hole. And what about infamous Old Hitler, the legendary monster hammerhead who haunts these waters especially during tarpon season? Is there a creepier fish alive? I'm not paranoid, I'm just emotionally scarred from seeing, Jaws.
We said goodbye to our island nextdoor neighbor yesterday. She sold her house and two Gulf front lots and is hightailing it south of the border. Her buyer is going to make us an offer on our place. She was planting seeds, calling it a "very attractive offer" (it wasn't) and reminding us of the real estate bubble (which I believe South Florida waterfront property is immune from.) So who is this mysterious buyer with deep pockets? Jorge told me it was a representative for a Jamaican religious group planning on building a retreat compound out here. My first thoughts were there'd probably be lots of good music and spliffs galore, neither of which I'm opposed to. Let's see, I've been with Jorge for twenty years. You'd think I'd be wise to him by now. The truth is actually worse. He's an investor planning to build a resort of rental suites, "lock-outs," within a gargantuan, twenty-one bedroom single-family unit. He's talking ferry service, swimming pool, and buying ten waterfront homes to create a land base. I went to the second annual home owners meeting out on the island this weekend, and let me tell you, those people are rabidly anti-any kind of development. Most everybody out there comes from a line of redneck Crackers and loves it the way it is, because it has not been ruined like so much else of our beloved state. Water and sewer? No, thanks. Pave a road to help emergency services' access? Nah, don't need it. Garbage service? Nope, we'll haul our own. This guy is going to have a huge fight on his hands. Not to mention, there are several protected species living on those two lots.Twilly Spree and Mullet Fingers, two of my literary heroes. My girls are already planning to chain themselves to bulldozers. Our property is key to his plan as we are the contiguous link between the house and the vacant lots. The biggest problem is that now, as the majority owner of our five parcel subdivision, he could make it very expensive for us and the other single owner if he begins improving common areas, walkways, docks, etc., as we are liable to each pay a one-fifth share. He could squeeze us out. Even if he decides our piece is not critical to his development scheme, who wants a bunch of strangers tramping past your house all hours of the day and night, or a ferry pulling up to your dock, blocking your once beautiful view, or scads of tourists on the formerly deserted beach where you could once wear a bikini and not worry about the tummy roll or the dimples on your bum? With a big enough offer, walking would be a little less painful.
Jorge spoke with Big Spender on the phone this morning and has a meeting tentatively scheduled for next week to determine if this guy's got a viable plan or if he's in outer space. He did make the comment that his other option was to build two homes and sell them, but, "Who would want to live out there?" so I'm thinking it's 'outer space.' Once I get confirmation that the closing is completed, this afternoon, I'm sending out a red alert to the homeowners association. The coconut telegraph will be a-buzz.
It turns out I was afraid of the wrong kind of shark attack.
Y'all come back now, y'hear?
Friday, July 01, 2005
"R-A-M-B-L-I-N...Apostrophe"
We are encouraged by responses to various communiques from people who share our mindset. Most seem to say opportunities are for taking.
Here is an excerpt of a note from Becky in Alberta too big to fit in this post's comments section:
Thanks, Becky. I'm really interested in hearing more about your life on the farm.
Her reply reminded me of a series of posts on Gatto's Underground History of American Education from O'DonnellWeb I had been meaning to link to here. Chris summarizes and comments on each chapter of this wondrous book. If you've never read Gatto's magnum opus, you should, it's even available to read free on his website (along with the "Against Schools" essay from Harper's that Becky references), but if you desire a more easily digested version, check these out. To date:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
More Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
More Chapter 18
And a book recommendation via Daryl at Home Education and Other Stuff. It might be worth a look, but I'm preachin' to the choir, aren't I?
Here is an excerpt of a note from Becky in Alberta too big to fit in this post's comments section:
If anything, I think one of the best ways to encourage independence in our kids IS to live an old-fashioned family-centered lifestyle, especially if you think parents rather than peers are the best teachers. Maybe it's because we live on a farm (though in my case that's been so only for the last 11 years; before that it was apartment living in NYC, with a few detours in Vermont and DC) and there are more than enough jobs around here that the help of even the youngest kids is appreciated, but I've often thought that one of the reasons that so many North American kids seem to be at loose ends is that they no longer feel as if they're part of a family because they don't feel needed by their families. Most kids today don't make much of a contribution to the daily goings-on; I don't know how many times I've heard another parent say, "Oh, Brittany has so much to do between school, homework, and extracurricular activities that I couldn't possibly have her do chores around the house." One hundred years ago, not only did a lot of kids get their chores done before walking or riding great distances to school, but their help was invaluable to the family's well-being. I'm not talking about using kids as hired help -- and certainly I've heard some, um, redneck adults in Alberta accuse hs'ing farm families for keeping the kids home specifically to help with the chores (though as I tell any critics, our kids do chores AFTER they've done their Latin lol) -- but participating in the daily rhythms and activities of a family's day-to-day life.
That closeness as a family, with everyone working together for the common good (sort of a microcosm, really, for when we send them off, as fully, uh, fledged citizens), is powerful stuff. It gives even the youngest kids a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, a sense of accomplishment and the knowledge that way before attaining adulthood they are invested with important responsibilities affecting their parents' and siblings' well-being -- that externally-imposed "self-esteem" (ugh) can't hold a candle to any of that. My 4.5yo son's favorite job (though tellingly at his age he thinks of it more as fun than work) is washing eggs and putting them in cartons. Yes, he broke a few at the beginning, but he does a dandy job now, and even likes to stack all the cartons into what he calls the Great Wall of China. Some chores AND some history!
Nowadays the idea of independence means being able to send your two-year old off to daycare or preschool too many tears, shipping the older ones off for seven weeks to sleepaway camp when they've finally reached the minimum age, or having the various family members heat up a bite to eat in the microwave before taking off in four different directions every evening. For my husband and me, independence is knowing that when the time comes for them to leave our house (and yes, they *will* be leaving), my kids will be able to think and do for themselves.
I know this argument seems counterintuitive, but then I think of all those who kept asking if we didn't think that the kids would grow up spoiled or "too attached" when I continued to breastfeed beyond the first month, didn't dump the kids in daycare after six weeks, and carried each of them around in a Baby Bjorn (oh how I loved that
contraption) for the first year. Lo and behold, I didn't have kids who cried whenever they momentarily lost sight of Mommy or continued to demand too much attention when they hit the toddler stage, and beyond.
Rather, they were secure and confident in their exploring, knowing that Mom and Dad were always around somewhere to love them and keep them safe.
As I started writing this, I remembered that John Taylor Gatto has quite a bit to say on the subject of independence in "Dumbing Us Down"
and also in his Sept. 2003 "Against School" essay in Harper's (I still have the magazine copy, which miraculously appeared at the supermarket checkout counter the week we started considering hs'ing, but this page looks as if it has the whole thing, unedited and unabridged).
In DUD, he even mentions at one point the "Curriculum of Family" which to our family at least makes so much sense but would probably throw most of our friends and relatives into a tizzy. Gatto writes that the start of compulsory mass education in 1905 -- exactly a hundred years ago -- brought about "this enormous upheaval of family life and cultural traditions" (AS). This schooling "takes our children away from the any possibility of an active role in community life -- in fact it destroys communities by relegating the training of children to the hands of certified experts -- and by doing so it ensures our children cannot grow up to be fully human" (DUD). He ties in the idea of independence with the fact that mass schooling perpetuates mass childishness -- "Could it be that our schools are designed to make sure not one of them ever really grows up?" (AS). And again, "School has done a pretty good job of turning our children into addicts [as consumers], but it has done a spectacular job of turning our children into children" (AS). He finishes up, "School trains children to be employees and consumers; teach your own to be leaders and adventurers.
School trains children to obey reflexively; teach your own to think critically and independently. Well-schooled kids a low threshold for boredom; help your own to develop an inner life so that they'll never be bored....Challenge your kids with plenty of solitude so that they can learn to enjoy their own company, to conduct inner dialogues....The solution, I think, is simple and glorious. Let them manage themselves"
(AS).
In other words, you and your husband don't have anything to worry about.
Thanks, Becky. I'm really interested in hearing more about your life on the farm.
Her reply reminded me of a series of posts on Gatto's Underground History of American Education from O'DonnellWeb I had been meaning to link to here. Chris summarizes and comments on each chapter of this wondrous book. If you've never read Gatto's magnum opus, you should, it's even available to read free on his website (along with the "Against Schools" essay from Harper's that Becky references), but if you desire a more easily digested version, check these out. To date:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
More Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
More Chapter 18
And a book recommendation via Daryl at Home Education and Other Stuff. It might be worth a look, but I'm preachin' to the choir, aren't I?
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