A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

We have had an interesting end of the week (and month).

We thought we'd escaped the snow that the rest of the country is getting. We just had an interminable low pressure over us--and terrible wind.
But last night we had some clouds and when we took the dogs out for their before bedtime walk, we thought it might snow.

This morning, we woke up to a light dusting of snow--right--sunshine and a rising barometer. It was one of those, blue-and-white sparkly mornings. It was only 17 degrees, but already the morning sun was melting the snow off the bottom of the driveway.

Ah, the power of the sun!

Now there is no snow left on the driveway.



N. has been investigating the possibility of getting an air compressor in order to use a paint-blower to paint his models. We priced the paint-blower sets, but they are very expensive. So on Tuesday, we ended up getting some of our usual: Testors Model paints.

N. did find some spray paint that he had used on his last Pinewood Derby car, though, and he used it spray paint his old shoes--thank goodness, he did it in the garage.

What do you think?

N. thinks they look "sporty" and he has been wearing them everywhere as we go out and about.




N. has been waiting impatiently for his Kamana I set to come from the Wilderness Awareness School.

On Thursday, he took the unprecedented step of getting the mail-key from me and then he rode his bike down to the mailbox to greet our postal worker ("she can't be a mailman, Mom!") and see if his box had come. It did.

Here is N., as he and Lily investigate the box. It is Lily's job to pass olfactory judgement on everything that comes into the house.

The Kamana program will start in earnest on Monday, but N. has been looking up birds he sees in the North American Wildlife book he got.

N. and I read Part I of the Kamana book. I think I will be a lot slower than N. I have mid-terms this week and then during the Spring Break I have to get the house ready for Pesach and write the first draft of a hypothesis and support paper for my neurobiology class.

We did take the Pop Quiz at the beginning of Kamana I.

I know where our water comes from because Bruce is on the water cooperative's engineering committee. I know where it goes because I have a wonderful stand of scrub oak that lies downstream of the septic field. I know where north is from where I sit--after all, I live with an astronomer! I know that the closest plant to my front door is a New Mexico Desert Lilac--being a plant ecologist helped with THAT question. I was able to identify two poisionous spiders in our area--Black Widow and Brown Recluse and name important identifying marks. We don't use pesticides due to our animals, so we had to learn that information in order to use other means--Bruce's trap and release program--to maintain safe and effective insect control. I could not name two North American birds that resemble the robin--nobody in our house is a birder, although we do know the redtail-hawks, goshawks, and golden eagles that fly over our mountains. But I do know two mammals that feed within 30 meters of my house: cottontail rabbit and coyote. The cottontails eat the grasses, and coyote eats the cottontails. Finally, I know exactly what phase the moon is in for two reasons--I am married to an astronomer, so I have a cold bed on new moon nights, and secondly, the Jewish calendar is based on the lunar phases. Months start on the new moon, and most of the major holidays are either new moon (Rosh Hashannah) or full moon (the pilgrimage festivals).

N. did rather well on the quiz, too, although he did not know where our water came from. He could name the two birds, though.

However, we looked over "the alien test" (much longer)--so-called because most of us are "aliens" in our own backyards-- and we both know that we have a lot to learn.

The only question I have is this: What if this becomes more fun than graduate school?

Drawing: Another Result of the Titanic Perseveration

N. asked me to get him some drawing pencils the other day.

He had gone through a phase of drawing last year, but lately, his drawings have been for his history time-line and not for pleasure. So, expecting that he's use them for history, we went to Hobby Lobby and he picked out some decent drawing pencils.

Instead of using them for history, however, N. drew an anchor, as you can see to the left.

Note that he put the cost of the picture on it, as well as his initials. Now I own an early N.

The picture to the right is a drawing of the Torah Pointer that we gave him for his Bar Mitzvah. The drawing is very realistic, except for the chain that come in at angle to the left of the pointer. I think it looks more solid, don't you?

It is interesting how N. sees things. There is really tremendous detail in his drawings. The Torah Pointer really does look heavy and massive. It has the style of depression era art. I think N. captures that very well.

I also noticed the shading in the drawings. That is something new. I know that N. watched the drawing sequence for Titanic over and over again. In that sequence, the artist used a lot of shading. But this shading is very different from that. It lends a solid feeling to the picture.

You can also see how N.'s signature is evolving.

I am now out 20 cents. But I own two early N.'s.

Maybe we need to think about finding N. a class or a teacher. Or maybe some books. I wonder what he'd do with perspective?

The Porn Queen and Al Gore: Logical Fallacies and T'shuvah

Honestly! Sometimes I think I am going to "all music, all the time."

N. and I do a bit of driving. We live outside the city and on Mondays we have to drive in for my neurobiology class--which N. attends once a week--and then we meet Bruce who takes N. to dinner and Boy Scouts while I go teach my adult Hebrew class and then go home for a late dinner and an hour or so of peace and quiet before my guys get home.

On Tuesdays, we into town for N.'s science class at the Explora museum. We meet Bruce at the bookstore after that, and then Bruce takes N. home for dinner while I attend my special education law class. We do errands we need to do in town betwixt and between these commitments. Usually, we go into town on Saturday morning also, for Torah Study and Shabbat Services--although some Saturdays we do not.

We have gotten into the habit of listening to our local AM talk-radio station while driving because they play the news, traffic and weather every 10 minutes during afternoon drive time. This is very helpful because there is always road construction going on, and Albuquerque drivers are somewhat insane (not as bad as Israelis, but less predictable), and we need to know the weather in case we need to get home before the roads close. And I thought the "news" would be educational. Well it certainly is, in a counter-example sort of way.

Yesterday, I was zoned out driving when N. suddenly said: "Why is everyone so interested in this Anna Nicole Smith? Who is she? Why is she important? " I said: "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." N. persisted. So I said: "I really don't know why everyone on the news is so interested in her because I don't know why her name is a household word for people. But that is not important. What is important is that someone has died--a real human being with a family and she is not buried yet. What do you think of that?" And from there, we talked about the importance of accompanying the dead to burial and the importance of giving people what they need in life and in death. We talked about the dignity of the human soul and about why our previous rabbi kept the press away from the funeral of a young woman who was murdered in our town years ago.

N. was silent for a while and then asked me, "Mom, is this what you mean when you say 'body profiteers?'" Well, not exactly! But then these little Aspies are so literal! So I explained about the slavery of the modeling industry and the pornography industry and how others profit from the degredation of human beings. And then my N. said: "So those news people are profiting from the degredation of this lady who died? They have no self-control?"

Exactly! Out of the mouth of a yingele!

Later, as we were driving from the museum on errands, and I was again zoned out on driving, N. piped up: "Mom, is Al Gore really a hypocrite?"

So I gave him a lesson on the logical fallacy of ad hominim attack. Basically, I told him that sometimes when people do not want to hear the messenger, they attack the person or personal life of the messenger. I explained that it is our job as thinking people to look beyond the messenger and ask the right questions. In this case, we need to ask. "What is the evidence for global warming? What is the evidence that human beings are putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere? If the earth is undergoing global warming, then what will the consequences be for ourselves and our children? Are there direct benefits to reducing emissions? What other benefits might come from that?"

On a roll, I then explained that no human being is perfect, no human being is on message one hundred percent. We talked about how both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, champions of freedom, owned slaves. We talked about ideology and how it prevents people from thinking for themselves. We talked about how ideologues of all persuasions profit from getting us all upset about things that are not important so that they can carry out their agendas without interference from us.

N. said: "Will Al Gore have to change if he sees that he is a big emitter?"

I joked: "Yep, fewer beans for him!" Then I talked about how we all have to make t'shuvah--which means "turning" when we are shown some area of our life where we are not measuring up to who we are meant to be. But that does not mean that Al Gore's message is wrong. That is a different, and ultimately, a more important question.

N. said: "Then, this news is all a distraction--isn't it?"

Yep!

So I reached for the dial and made t'shuvah to the "all music, all the time" station.

His Passion Unveiled

When N. was younger he did a lot of rocking.
He rocked in his little rocker, he rocked on the couch--even when the chair wasn't supposed to rock he rocked.


When we lived in Noth Albuquerque Acres, we had one of those free standing dog runs that stood in the side of our yard. During his disasterous third grade year, when school was really hard and when accomodations were not being made for N.'s disabilities, N. used to come home, climb onto the side of this dog run and rock on it. One day I heard this really strange noise. I asked MLC what it was. She said: "Ask the boy why he rocks on the dog pen. It's kind of weird, don't you think?" So I stepped out onto the deck and looked down and sure enough, there was N. rocking on the dog run. And it happened again and again. And we looked at each other and said: "You think we ought to get him a swingset?" This is sort of like that.



We began homeschooling in August. One of the many reasons for our decision was that N. made it clear that one thing he very much enjoyed about our new home in the mountains was the peace and quiet. And that "Nature is all around, Mom!" I started by using The Well Trained Mind, which I had found at the local bookstore. This had a very well laid out curriculum that seemed accessible to me. One thing that it said about unit study, something that I had used much of when teaching gifted children in the public school, was that in the areas of study, kids would eventually find something of interest and take off with it in a kind of unit study.
So I have been waiting for this to happen since August. At first I thought it might happen with science. We did a lot of cool experiments using How the Universe Works. He played with the idea of the lunar colony model for awhile. No dice. Then I thought it might happen around something we were studying in Ancient History. Maybe something with Egyptian Mummies or Greek warships. Again, gornisht.




While I was waiting for that special interest to take over, our homeschooling was evolving anyway, as I saw what was working and what was not. We modified away from a strict following of curriculum as outlined in WTM, which emphasized outlining and a great deal of writing in all areas. For more details, see my post Creeping Eclecticism.

Lately, we have been working almost exclusively on Brain Engineering with a little math and a little history thrown in. And I have been wondering if N. was going to come across an interest that could become a full-blown unit study. But in the meantime, something else has happened. As we have done the Brain Engineering, we have also begun to move away from the trappings of "school at home"--you know, "it's 10:30, so this must be math" type of scheduling. We have become more and more fluid, as N. has demanded more of a voice in what we are doing. As I have read more, what I realize is that N. has been "deschooling" us even as we have done the Brain Engineering exercises.



I also began reading more about the different forms of homeschooling. A digression. When I was in college, my dad, who was a recovering schoolteacher (he quit and formed his own business) sent me a book by a guy named John Holt called Teach Your Own. I have no idea why he sent it. I wasn't even remotely interested in education, I was a Geology major. I had not children--in fact, I wasn't even married yet. But I did read the book. Then I went to the university library and checked out his other books: How Children Fail, How Children Learn, and The Underachieving School. I was quite fascinated by this man and by his vision of education that was different--and vastly more appealing--than the education I had recieved in the public schools. End of digression. Naturally, as I widened my scope in reading about home education, some of the first books I picked up were those by John Holt. And I expanded from there.



While N. was away on his boy scout camping trip last weekend, I was reading And a Skylark Sings with Me, as I mentioned last week. On Sunday, I read a section that included a reference to the books of Tom Brown, Jr. I was immediately interested because Papa (my dad) had sent N. one of these books called The Tracker. N. read it in a day and then we had several trips to the library and bookstore so that he could read the others. Well, in Skylark, David Albert mentions a program from The Wilderness Awareness School in Washingtion State, that has been put together by one of Tom Brown's students and that is intensive wilderness awareness and that is a correspondence program. Last Sunday afternoon, N. and I were on line checking this out. We took the "Tourist Test," perused the information about the program, called Kamana, and then N. said to me: "Mom, I want to do that. I want to do that for certification. Can we use some of my Bar Mitzvah gift money to do it?"




On Monday morning, N. said to me: "Mom, I could hardly sleep last night thinking about Kamana." And he called his Papa to tell him about it. He started by saying, "Papa, there's this really cool program that I am going to do and it's going to take me about four years..."


And Bruce and I turned to each other and enumerated the clues. "He's always outside."
"Remember when he taught himself to track snakes and lizards?"
"What about the summer he taught himself the bow and arrow?"
"And remember the summer when he did the bird rescue? We were down at the Nature Center with orphaned birds at least four times."
Boy scouts. The hikes. The time he camped out in the backyard. His nature museum when he was eight. The year he declared the wolf as his totem. Fly fishing.



"Well, duh! You think we ought to make this his curriculum?"



So--it's not classical education. It does have much journaling, awareness training, botany, ethno-botany, ecology, and mapping involved. He will be developing and using many skills that are more conventionally taught in school. But he will be developing them and using them for his own purposes. It is his passion.


Where this might take N. we don't know.

But this is his passion. It has been his passion for a very long time.

Once we were able to unschool ourselves, we were able to see our son.
This is what he needs in order to become the person he was born to become.


What an exciting moment it is when a person finds what it is he has to do next.

Word Magic: About Early Reading

I am currently reading And The Skylark Sings with Me by David Albert. It has been a truly interesting read and I am much taken with the author's story of the homeschooling of his two precocious daughters and also his discussions of the problems with compulsory education.





There is one point in his work, however, where Mr. Albert writes about reading and reading instruction, and he mentions that, in his experience, children who learn to read "early" are often the children of driven, narrowly intellectual parents. That bothered me.





Parents of gifted children who go to school are often accused of driving their children to learn to read before they are "ready" and thereby messing with the "proper" progression of teaching in the early grades. In my experience, these accusations are rarely true. The parents of such children are often non-plussed that their children know how to read and are often apologetic that their children have somehow done something out of step with the educationally prescribed method of learning. I think that's pretty sad!





I will confess that both of my children knew how to read before going to school. When MLC was little, I was a young scientist (desert soil ecology) raising my first child. I had no comparison for her early meeting of developmental milestones and did not waste a whole lot of my energy worrying about them. I was very busy instead chasing around an active toddler who regularly slept a bit less than 5 hours at a stretch (and that only in the deep of the night). I knew nothing about the educational norms that we would soon be breaking.





MLC did everything very early and she was had a deep alert quality that seemed almost spooky from the moment she was born. She was fascinated with words. Of course, like most parents in the '80's (remember "Baby on Board"?) we were anxious to give her the right start, so we read to her regularly. One day in the summer before he 4th birthday, she demanded that I read The Hobbit to her. Thinking she'd be bored quickly and return to picture books, I acquiesced. How wrong I was. We read the whole thing. She talked about different aspects of the book with a child's understanding--but she did want me to stop. When we were a bit more than half-way through the book, she explained that she wanted to see the words (I had been commanded to run my finger along the lines as I read) in order to learn "the word magic." I thought that was really cute and I asked her whether it was helping--I was probably annoyingly patronizing in my tone, too, because she said to me in an exasperated way: Well of course it helped! I've got the word magic now!" And she proceeded to turn to the first chapter and begin: "In a hole there lived a Hobbit." Thinking she had just memorized this when we had read the beginning of the book, I turned to the last chapters. I remember this little blond thing reading about the dwarves and Bilbo traveling down to the lake in barrels so that Bilbo had a cold on his birthday. I was truly astounded. I called my mother to inquire about this. She told me: "Well, you read at about four years old. Don't worry about it." Satisfied that this must be normal, we simply went on about our lives.





When the time for school came, MLC's kindergarten teacher, a young woman just out of college, never said a word about her reading. She just sent home stories that matched MLC's reading level but that also had lots of pictures because MLC liked the picture books. No Sweat! However, in first grade, Nelly, bar the door! I was summoned to school for a meeting. The first grade teacher demanded to know what to do with MLC during reading because we had "pushed her to read early." I timidly suggested that she just be allowed to read what she liked as she had in kindergarten. There was much hurrumphing and it was explained to me that MLC had not learned to read properly and so she would have to complete all the worksheets the other kids did in order to "catch up her skills." This seemed kind of silly to me. It is sort of like saying to kid who learned to ride a bike on her own that she had to go back and learn all of the 236 odd separate skills for riding a bike ( Geek Alert! I just made the number up) before she would be allowed to continue to ride the bike. I said to this group, again rather timidly, in a quavering voice that I thought the worksheets were a silly idea. Then, gathering my strength, I suggested that MLC be sent to 2nd grade reading. "Oh, no!" the teacher said, "She is already reading beyond that!" So I suggested that they send her to 3rd or 4th grade. "But then," enquired the teacher sweetly, "What will we do when she finishes that?" Sorry, no can do. So we settled on letting MLC read whatever she wanted in the reading cozy corner (unused to that point by the kids), while the others did the worksheets. MLC thus read an entire series of books about a girl named Anastasia and her precocious little brother in the otherwise rather lonely reading corner. At twenty-one, MLC does not seem to have been harmed by the experience of "not learning to read properly." She is an honors student taking a BS in Chemistry at a major research university. She still loves the Anastasia books and returns to them from time to time! Of course, she still does a prodigious amount of reading although most of it is not as entertaining as Anastasia was.





N. was an entirely different child. He was a baby who loved his sleep (I actually took him to the pediatrician because I thought he slept too much compared to his sister. The old doctor, now retired, must have thought I was crazy. He said: Let sleeping babies lie.") and he was later at most of the developmental milestones. He was not really interested in talking and his first words were strange: Moon and Helicopter and Cement Mixer rather than Momma and Daddy. However, he took apart his crib at about 14 months and escaped from it was he was supposedly napping. (I nearly had a heart attack!). He would get very upset if we varied our driving routine when taking him to or from his three-day a week Gan (nursery school) at our synagogue. He liked to line up all his toy cars by color (and he had a very discerning eye) and was most unhappy if someone moved one of them. He only wanted me to read him non-fiction books about spacecraft and lizards--which he memorized.





N. was a tiny, elfin child--and he is still small for his age. So he was already in school when we figured out that he could read, but he looked like he was about 3 years old. At this point I was being warned that N. had developmental delays and that he might never read or write. Everyone was very worried about his language pragmatics and certain odd speech characteristics. He was a wonderful artist at drawing but his writing was impossible. He had extreme sensitivities to too much light, too much noise, and too many people. I spent a lot of time crying and we all spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to call this disability. I was even told that he was mildy retarded at one point.





It was at this point that the children's librarian at our public library (not connected with the school) casually asked me when I had taught my child to read. She thought he was about 4 years old instead of almost six. I sputtered: "But he doesn't read. He has some kind of learning disability." She said; "Oh, that is just not possible. He has been reading here for at least 6 months. He tells me all about the lizards he reads about. He is really very knowlegable about them." So we found out that N. had also read before going to school, but he did not make it known to us. He says now that he just assumed we knew. (This kind of "mind blindness" is typical of people with ASDs). I don't think they ever really figured it out at his schools. When he was in the 5th grade, I received a note that he couldn't read according to a computerized test and that he would have to attend summer school. I had to laugh. He was reading the first part of James Michener's Hawaii. He really loves how Michener describes the formation of the Islands. At this point, for a number of reasons, I took him out of school completely.





N. can now read aloud or silently in two languages. He loves being read to more than reading silently with fiction. He has much difficulty interpreting and analyzing fiction and he still has difficulty sequencing stories and understanding motivation in fiction. He still prefers non-fiction. He had a melt-down with one of his school librarians about this. She had a rule that the kids could only check out one non-fiction book a month. (This is a philosophical issue of some kind--the library had plenty of books). N. did not "get it" that he should just check out the fiction and leave it in his desk and read non-fiction from the public library. Kids with AS are like that. Naturally, I got called to school. The next day, after he had recovered from this abridgement to his freedom, I instructed him in the fine art of subterfuge.



Some kids learn to read early. Some kids learn to read later. In my experience, most kids learn to read sometime. I think that when kids figure out that "there is magic in them thar' stacks", or that books have important information, they will read in order to learn about other things. Some kids need instruction to get there--but they get there because they want to read. They don't get there because they want to define what a dipthong is--usually. (I have to qualify that statement or my very literal 13 year old will certainly find a dissenting example).



Call me a heretic. Fire up the stake. But I don't think there is a certain pre-determined time when every child "should" read. I don't think I am a "narrowly intellectual" parent because both my kids read early. Okay, okay--I did go to college and graduate school. Twice. But in very different fields. That's called broadly intellectual in my book. But I was not driven--at least not to teach them to read. Oh, all right, I admit it! With MLC I was desperately driven to keep her busy little baby self occupied so that I could sit down now and then--so I read to her. With N. I was driven to figure out what was the problem with my odd little elfin child. But I never did forget that there were many wonderful things about his "maverick mind." I felt vindicated twice so far for my faith in his intelligence. The first was when the librarian told me he could read. The second was when I recently found out that not only is he NOT mildy retarded--(I never thought he was), but in fact, he has a very rare intellectual capacity.



One reason that homeschoolers choose the difficult but rewarding task of teaching their own children is because they know that every child is unique and will best find the joy in learning that comes with an education that addresses that uniqueness. Nothing can match the joy and excitement of seeing one's own child find his passion and purpose in life. But that's another entry...

Be Happy! It's Adar!

Today was the 1st Day of Adar. It is now the 2nd of Adar because the Hebrew day starts at sunset.

We had two days of Rosh Chodesh (New Moon) this month because the month just passed (Shevat) has 30 days.

Adar is a happy month! In two weeks we will celebrate the holiday of Purim, the feast of lots. The children will dress up in costumes and we will all listen as Megillat Esther (the book of Esther) is read. We will use noisemakers to drown out the name of "that evil Haman," who tried to destroy the Jews of Shushan.

Purim is the Jewish version of Carnival--a late winter holiday of hilarity when everything is turned upside down. It is customary for servants to become rulers and rulers to become servants. A play called a Purim Shpiel is often performed in which those in power are roasted. In the old days, before motorized vehicles, one was supposed to drink enough Shnapps or Vodka so that one could not tell the difference between "Curse Haman!" and "Bless Mordechai!" (I presume the old rabbis had asses that knew the way home).

But there are other reasons to be happy it is Adar. It is the last month of winter. And this has been a real winter for us. The days are getting longer and longer now, and the snow has finally melted from our driveway-- and although we are supposed to get more precipitation soon, it looks like it will be rain as the temperature in Albuquerque reached a balmy 63 degrees today. Here, it was in the low 50's, but a warm wind is blowing over the land, bringing with it "Mud Time." So the boots will remained parked by the door for a while. And the unpaved roads in our neighborhood--well--people who must drive them will still need their 4 Wheel Drive.

There are some personal reasons to be happy in our house too! I not only passed my first real academic test in 15 years--I got an 89! In Neurobiology! I am ecstatic. I know that I have said that I was not motivated by grades--but it sure is nice to know that I did learn something.

Also, the bathtub is finally in! Pictures tomorrow. There is still caulking and some tile patching to do, of course--but the tub is no longer in the middle of my bedroom. O, frabjous day!

Today, N. and I picked the following poem to read in honor of Adar:

Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson)

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought--

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Out and About

The past few days we have been enjoying a rapid melting as the sun has come out, the temperature has moderated, and the wind has shifted and is warm.

On Thursday evening, N. and I went over to Alta Vista and dug Henry out. I meant to take the camera, but forgot it and it was more than a mile to walk, so we did without.

N. manned the broom and I brandished the snow shovel. We deliberately waited all day on Thursday to give the sun time to do as much of the work as possible. However, the snow-plow had been by to plow the road, so there was still a good 18" of snow to dig through to get Henry on the road. But Henry is now home--safe and sound as you can see from above.

Yesterday, we took advantage of Henry's rescue to do some long neglected errands. One was the library. N. had a book out on my card that he had not returned but I made him turn his room inside out over the time we were snowed in, and he found it. So we went to the library to return it and get some new books. We are supposed to be studying ancient history, but N. has developed an interest in WWII Navy craft, so he stretched out on the kid-sized reading nitches to read about U-boats. (His book basket, below him, is not yet full, but it certainly was by the time we left. Our library is such a nice, sunny place with good reading corners and, on a Friday morning, there are only homeschoolers in the children's sections. We are getting to know a number of people by sight. When the snow melts and the Outer Limits Park Day resumes, I hope to get to know some of these people personally!

After we did our library "shopping," N. and I had to head to the grocery store. I needed a few items for Shabbat dinner, but mostly, N. had to shop for his Boy Scout Patrol's food for a camp-out this weekend. His interest in the outdoors led him to the Scouts and he is learning more than he knows in the process. Since they have recieved their Tenderfoot, the members of the Bazooka Berserkers patrol must now plan their meals, do the shopping (keeping to a budget), and cook and clean-up after themselves. This time, it was N.'s turn to shop. His patrol had to plan two meals (tonight's supper and Sunday breakfast) for three people. This gave them $6.00 per person, or $18.00. N. had to comparison shop and he learned that planning Gator-Aide would go over budget. I hope the boys are content with Apple Juice--64 oz. on sale for $1.29. Since, they had planned for pancakes, he also had to shoe-horn syrup into the budget--a process that led him to remark: "Now I know why the older patrols have eggs all the time--they're cheap and you don't need syrup!"

We came home and put the groceries away and ate lunch. I had N. practice cooking hot-dogs, but it's not much of a chore with a microwave! Then it was into town to visit the baker, the pet-store (we are almost to our free bag of dogfood), and then a break at Explora, before my class.

N. has his weekly science class there, but this week he was sick so we missed it. I promised we could stop and he could look at some of the displays that he doesn't have time for on class days.

Here he is, checking out a very large and complex version of those children's ball puzzles. They are the ones that you usually see at the doctor's office with the balls on the wires. This one is enclosed and the balls (not on wires) have all sorts of things happen to them--they get their trajectories changed by a variety of forces.

When we came home, after my class, N. packed for the camping trip while Bruce and I made Shabbat dinner. N. is now leading the Kiddush (Sanctification of the Sabbath day) every week and last night, he took over the Birkat ha-Mazon, which is the grace after meals.

We celebrated Bruce's birthday last night at dinner, too. But this morning the two of them had to get up at 5 AM in order to get N. to the drop-off point for the camping trip. This is the first trip that Bruce has not gone on with N. However, N. was really excited to go and the scoutmaster, who had been a guest at N.'s Bar Mitzvah, said: "After that, I know what he is capable of. I intend to push him toward Eagle. He wants it and he can do it."

I think it's so interesting that when I first imagined Homeschooling, I pictured N. and I huddled over books at our dining room table. I did not realize how much of his learning goes on elsewhere in the community: At the library, at museums, at the grocery store, and on scout trips. As I have learned to become more flexible and to follow his interests, N. has become a happier person. He is more engaged and more curious and willing to try many things that he never would have before. He is also a more interesting person, who has a lot to say and there are many adults in the community who really want to hear it. He talks to all kinds of people who know all sorts of things that he is interested in. The community and the world have become his school.

What is interesting is that most school people--like those in my university classes--immediately ask about socialization. But N. is socializing with more people than he ever did at school. They have important things to tell him--things he's interested in.

Anyway, this weekend, Bruce and I have a day to ourselves. Our driveway is turning into a lake--see the dark spots? That's snowmelt. It looks like it's cold in the picture, but actually, it is warm and the day's music has the beat and tinkle of water dripping and dropping and running down the drive.

Gotta go. We were snowed in for Valentines day, so we are going to go out to lunch and then do some bumming around--out and about in town. The snowmelt really feels like spring this time!