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, January 16, 2012
Woody was in a mood this morning. He was throwing around "hate you's" and "stupids" and other ugly things. It was a quiet anger, one whose source I could not ferret out. He would be playing for five minutes, then tell one of us how bad our idea was or how poorly we did something or another.
I think people used to use the expression "full of piss and vinegar" for such dispositions, temporary though it was. Being with Woody this morning was about as pungent as the two.
But, we calmly moved forward with our plans for the day nonetheless. We were going to walk downtown to join in an MLK Day march. We read a book on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s life. We put on the favorite cammo pants. We walked slowly to accommodate tired young legs. We sweetened the pot with the promise of a family lunch out together afterward. We celebrated small moments: the time in the march that Woody got to walk along the top of a short brick wall, the time the banner flew up and whapped Daddy Honey comically in the chest, the time the two brothers skidded down the grass hill next to the marchers and landed as a pile of giggles and limbs, the cool drink of water from the fountain at our destination. We kept on with cheerfulness and sympathy.
The walk was about a mile. It was probably a lot to expect of Woody. And it was uneventful. We were too far back to hear the singing or chanting, though once we were so far back that the rear police escort was very near to us, and that was entertaining.
Woody doesn't want to do it again next year. Next year is a way's off, I told him. His legs will be longer and stronger then. He may decide it's not too bad. He didn't disagree. Today, we'll call that a successful ending.