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.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

100


We are in CHICAGO!

I have been excited about this for weeks. Months, even! Daddy Honey got approved to come here for a conference, and was willing to drive the 10 hours rather than fly, so the boys and I got to tag along.

Last week Woody and I did some looking at maps together to plot out our likely route (double-checking with Google maps, of course) and we narrowed down our list of things we wanted to do to three or four, checking things like distance from our hotel, cost, and opening and closing times. In a fit of efficiency, I created an orange trip folder with this and other information that I also actually remembered to bring with us. We have a loose plan and good attitudes. This was totally unexpected, so we're just happy to be here!

We arrived today after a drive that was long and a little tense in the middle, due to an argument between Daddy Honey and I about cell phones and driving that was followed by an hour and a half of ugly silence between us. But something about quibbles during long car rides is that you're pretty well stuck with the person you're mad at, so either you fester, you fight, or you make up and move on. We worked through the latter, just about the time that we started hitting these cool wind fields.

For dinner here on our first night, we followed a friend of Nana's recommendation to go to Gino's East pizza on Superior. It was deep-dish unlike any I'd ever had. Woody said the crust was like “delicious bread made mostly of butter.” Fox tried bruscetta, brushed off the topping and munched the olive oil-soaked bread.