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.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

123

(Written Friday, but not published until Saturday)

I'm going to be totally honest with you: I took a nap this morning.

It was not in the plan for the day, and it was not my favorite homeschooling moment, but there it is. Fox and I woke up feeling sick and still exhausted. So, at 10 o'clock, when I put sleeping Fox back to bed, I laid on the couch with Woody and found a History Channel series on the Revolutionary War for him to watch while I slept that light sleep that parents do when the kids are in the room and not asleep themselves. I don't know the word for that, but there should be one. It's lighter than a light sleep but clearly not fully aware of one's surroundings, which is a little scary but not always avoidable.

And nearly two hours passed that way, and then, I felt a little bit better. Better enough to make lunch, anyway. Woody had questions about the start of the War. He had tried to ask me these questions while I "slept," but was not satisfied with the unintelligible mumbly answers I had offered in my dozy-nauseous state.

We talked about Paul Revere and the Patriots' network of communications in the early stages of the revolution. I read him Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Paul Revere's Ride." He wanted to try to write with a quill pen. We watched a video about how they were made, then we thought about how we might improvise one, and gave it a shot.

And by the time it was time to write with our quill pen, Woody had more or less moved on. He made a few strokes. An X. Then he wanted to play a video game. He trotted happily away, and my brief reprieve from the symptoms of my illness ended, and the rest of the afternoon was again a blur, until Daddy Honey came home early and I could lay down for some real rest.


That's the way it is sometimes.