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.

Monday, October 24, 2011


Some days are so big and rich and full of new and interesting experiences that we need a day or two afterward when not much happens, when there is plenty of open time to think and remember and let our minds wander and wonder. Yesterday was one of those full days. I don't have any pictures of the morning, but while I was at church Daddy Honey took the boys to the square to run around and eat cinnamon-roll halves and play pretend restaurant, school, and Battle of the Bulge. When they picked me up, we went to Devil's Den State Park, which was very near as perfect as a state park can be. (I stole that line from their website. They just come right out and say that to you, which is forgivable since it's true.)

I was unprepared for Woody's fearlessness. He scampered easily up and down rocky crags, with and without shoes. He ran ahead of us on the steep and sometimes narrow trail and waited patiently by himself while we slowly caught up with two-year-old paced Fox. He stopped to really notice what was around him: the colors and textures of rocks, the changing states of trees, the range of crow songss, and the best places to hide to be able to jump out and surprise us. He talked to other hikers, informing them of what he found ahead and what game he was presently playing. 

I did not know this is what it would be like to be his mother in this moment, to be running to catch up with and then staring in awe at my independent, brave, careful, thoughtful, confident child. But there he was, utterly at home on the side of a mountain in his own skin.