My son Woody turned six in November of 2011. That would have been the kindergarten year for most kids, 180 days that mark the beginning of the school career. But Woody did his learning in the big, wide, beautiful world, without school being a part of it.

I'm Teresa Honey, and I kept this blog to document this time in my son's life, to share pictures and stories with far-away friends and relatives, and to add ours to the many stories of families living rich, engaging, loving lives with learning happening all the time and in many forms, totally inseparable from every other part of being human.

Here you'll find 180 or so learning moments recorded from August, 2011 to April, 2012 in the life of a 5-turned-6-year-old radically unschooled kid.

Thursday, September 29, 2011


Daddy Honey is a historian. When we were living in Florida, he worked in the same building as the Museum of Florida History and worked on a couple of special exhibits. We visited the museum at least twice a month, and because it was free, there was never any pressure to see everything, or even to stay if the mood wasn't quite conducive. They boys called it "Daddy's museum," but really, they thought of it as their museum. They knew the arrowheads and mastodon teeth and tin can tourist cars and river boat paths and orange crates and turpentine tools and Civil War weapons.

I was so thankful that it was free, that it was personal to them, and that it was so close to our house. And on our last trip there, I remarked to Joshua how much I lamented the loss of that place as a playground for the boys.

But things have a funny way of turning out.

Today we visited the Shiloh Museum of Ozark History. It was free. It was fun. And it had a barn! We went before lunch, and so, only stayed until we got hungry. (I am the mother who always forgets to pack snacks.) But Woody thought it would be fun to go back next weekend when Joshua can come, too.

There wasn't accompanying text to this one-room house, so I'll have to go hunting around for the historical information. We were playing the three little pigs, taking turns huffing and puffing and blowing those doors open.