Time

On Monday morning, TCO excitedly put on her grey skirt and white shirt, her knee high white socks and pristine black shoes. We pulled back her freshly washed hair into a plait and she was ready to try school again, the cleanest and tidiest she’s been in almost four years (since she was last there)

“She looks the same as everyone else,” I lamented inwardly.

There have been a lot of quiet tears. Mine, not hers. Last Thursday, she told me that she definitely wanted to go as we were walking down Bristol’s Park Street, having seen an hour long Classical concert at St George’s and then eaten brownies at the Folk House, now on our way to @Bristol for lots of hands-on science activities and another trip to their completely brilliant 3D Planetarium, where we would imagine life on Kepler 452b, learn the myths of Andromeda and Perseus and witness our galaxy colliding with another. I cried then. On Friday, when we went to reaquaint ourselves with this area without grass that houses around 420 children, five days per week, 40-odd weeks per year, it pained me to hear teachers talking to 6 year olds about literacy, a word (at 9) she only learned this week. I cried then. On Monday, dropping her off at the gate (not allowed to walk her to the classroom, even on her first day), I cried again.

I cried not because I can’t bear to be without her – as you can imagine, after all this time, a little respite is welcome. It’s difficult to spend so much of your life with the same person, whoever they are, however much you love them. I cried because she so likes to climb trees, cartwheel everywhere, wear blue, sing all the time, smear everything she does on her face, whether eating ice-cream to digging in the mud (she’s always filthy) – most of this would have to stop and she’d be bound to a desk when she could be going wild. I cried buying the uniform, the most time I’ve spent in non-food shops for years (I don’t want to do this!). I cried because I just didn’t get it. All the amazing stuff we do, all those hours spent exploring and playing with friends, without interruption, all the time she could possibly want to play Minecraft or add to her YouTube channel, all those midweek trips to … wherever … the Farm at Glastonbury, Bristol, Bath, London … I cried because I couldn’t imagine a life where we’re bound by the clock, told what to by the Establishment.

“I’m bored,” was the only solid reason she would give for her desire to go to school, just once. “I just want to try it,” being the more common answer.

And so, just as I wouldn’t insist upon her going to school in the first place, neither would I stop her from going if she wanted to. This is 100% her choice. We cancelled this week’s wire working workshop, art and Spanish classes, the Syria workshop and the new 10 Pieces concert at The Odeon. She still managed to do all those ‘after school’ activities that have simply become part of her everyday learning – Karate, street dance, Cubs, Relax Kids (mediation) and a theatre trip. We still haven’t cancelled the upcoming trip to London, the film festival, the visit to an artist’s studio, the concerts, the Dissection Lab, just in case.

Well, guess what? She’s happy, really likes school. Made new friends, enjoys the singing, fine with the lessons. She’s extra chatty on coming out every day, telling me everything she’s done and asking me how my day as been (she gets that I have a life too).

I really, really don’t know how long this will last. I’m not entirely sure that she’s not using this as an experiment, another experience. I won’t make her go, just like I won’t tell her to leave. We’ll adapt. And if she decides not to stay, we’ll reevaluate our life together.

But maybe we’re more alike than either of us realised:
On Friday morning, the fifth day, on the 1.2 mile journey to school (yes that’s 4.8 miles a day for me, 24 miles a week: my legs are loving it, the dog is ecstatic), she said,

“It’s like the same day every day, isn’t it? It’s like Groundhog Day.”

Yep

Power Down Sunday (1)

The idea came during our recent camping trip to Dorset: there was a lot more variation going on during the day than is usual at home; a 9-year old who never reads books picked up some fiction and stayed with it; there were no leftovers from meals; more communication happened, we explored the immediate vicinity and, if we were chilly, we put on a pair of socks and a jumper.

We discussed the viability of incorporating Power Down Sunday into our lives; an attempt to use as close to no energy as possible one day per week – an absolute limit on electricity, gas and fuel. It’s an experiment to see how we’ll cope when/if the time comes when something similar might be a necessity, imposed upon us, in this increasingly fuel-poor world. It’s borne out of the need to do something different, have other experiences, get out more, read books, chill out.

Ours is the ultimate on-line family. iPhone/Pad/Mac users all. An Apple dream. From Instagram to Minecraft, YouTube to twitter, WordPress to Spotify. TCO spends much of her time recording videos for her YouTube account, Boo emails and Facetimes from her Taunton home, Mark is Facebooker extraordinaire and I couldn’t home ed without trawling pages to find out all those interesting things to do. Bank accounts online, calendars on devices (even the 9 year old), phones firmly in pocket. I don’t suppose we’re highly unusual.

So this was always going to be more an exercise in doing life without technology. And mugs of tea! Sunday papers in bed – gulp, we might actually have to go and buy a paper copy from the corner shop (a 30 second walk from our front door).

We’re not purists and we’ll learn as we go, change what we need.

On Saturday, we popped to Lidl, who’ve introduced the Living Wage Foundation’s recommended living wage for all its UK staff, and bought cheese, cold meats and bakery items for a continental breakfast and lunchtime picnic.

On this, our first energy light Sunday, I had a cold water wash in the sink (brr, it’s only September, don’t know how that will feel in January). Powered almost exclusively by an incessantly chatty little girl, we stomped over the hill, through the increasingly autumnal Worlebury Woods to Sand Bay, where we spent the afternoon with friends, 3 other families, picking up litter, playing, cartwheeling, sand castle/fort building, talking, eating. And we couldn’t tell our FB friends about it! The poor loves. Couldn’t Instagram memorable moments. What? (I reached for my phone on more than one occasion. Was sure I saw Mark, back to us, pressing words into his but, actually, he was examining shells and stones).

Sand Bay

We found what we thought was sea buckthorn but couldn’t google it to confirm so we took photos to check at home. Ah, yeah, the Olympus OMD, pre-charged on Saturday, is the one concession. Well, we are documenters. Oh, and we didn’t unplug the fridge; that would be madness. The fish tank pump remained bubbling away all day; Hector deserves that. Anyway, it IS sea buckthorn, though we didn’t find its description in any one of our half dozen foraging books, had to wait till Monday morning to verify online. D’oh. The man found out that it’s best picked after the first frosts, like sloes, rowanberries and rosehips, so we’ll wait a short while and turn October (?) into our bumper wine-making month. Whoop!

Check out the caterpillar tents. If you can ID them, please do:

Sea Buckthorn

Excited, TCO went off to sleep over with friends in Glastonbury, “But we can’t watch a movie – it’s Power-Down Sunday,” she told her pal. Bless her. We said other people’s houses were exempt. So, with two of us left, together with a very happy, thoroughly-exercised Jack Russell, we’re back through the woods and home, an hour’s reading before dark, cold leftover Saturday night chilli (infinitely tastier hot!) and rice with salad. By candlelight.

Books in bed. Yep, by candlelight. And very, very early to sleep. Refreshed!

I enjoyed the day. But, like I said, it’s September. It was a dry day. We had no tea or coffee but the adults did consume 2 cans of Coke each #fail. By December it will be dark at 4pm and cold. That will be trickier. If we get that far. We’re Jeremy Corbyn – we might not last but at we’re shaking it up and trying something different.

Keeping an Eye Open

I applied for The Celestial One (TCO) to go back to her old primary School as a Year Five pupil. She isn’t going because she had a complete turnaround within the week. But for a short while there, it seemed as though our current journey was at an end. She appeared positive – she wanted more routine, she said, and it just felt like time, like that’s what she needed.

I took her with me on every step of the school application process, including having her listen in when, at her insistence, I phoned North Somerset Council to verify that they’d received the form I’d filled out and we’d hand-delivered. They had. Actually, thinking about it now, I should have been a more on-the-ball home edder and encouraged her to do the filling, posting, chasing herself.

Then her surety faltered: if she went to school she’d miss her friends and our impromptu outings to wherever, she’d lack freedom, there would be restrictions. And anyway, she reasoned, she’s learning plenty, in her own way, although what she learns rarely coincides with what her peer-group in school are taught.

So routine, eh?

We don’t follow a curriculum, rarely plan our days, apart from those organised events that dictate you must be at a certain place at a given time. Nor do we have regular waking up/lunch/dinner even bed times (OK we have a going upstairs time of 8:30ish but she never goes to sleep then, always something to do up there, often connected to YouTube). And the workroom has turned into a bit of a tip, housing too much unnecessary stuff.

But everything is subject to change and TCO’s wobble has helped us both to remember that this gig will work however we want it too, that we can alter the way we do things, nothing is static, our educational waters need never become stagnant. Isn’t that the point of it all?

So, there and then, we made a start on the workroom, throwing out some of the crap (how much paper?), sorting out containers for pens, ideas, craft etc. She hasn’t been in

(Home Educators) Art Class Exhibition

The kids love Tracy Horstead’s weekly art class; you’ve never seen a bunch of home educated/unschooled kids keep quiet and concentrate in a group for so long.

Each week, they look at one artist and fashion their own piece based on that style: Goergia O’Keeffe; Aubrey Beardsley; Pablo Picasso; Frida Kahlo; Gustav Klimt; Piet Mondrian; Louis Wain; Wayne Thiebaud and more.

They had their first exhibition in Loves Cafe in Weston in September 2014 and now that exhibition has travelled to Glastonbury’s Red Brick Building. Yesterday we went to have a look.

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May in Pictures

This gallery contains 19 photos.

Running Wild

I can’t remember everything we’ve been up to this week – I know there’s been the usual story/lyric writing, role-playing/playing, netflix watching, dentist, trips to the park.  And Mandarin classes started back after an extended Easter break – always great to catch up with our mates there.

Another (Friday-Monday Easter) weekend at Paddington Farm Trust was spent with friends – days of tree climbing, egg collecting (chicken and chocolate), spinning and playing for TCO and her pals and some coursework, reading, serious chilling by the fire, a titchy amount of digging at Torganics and a bit of semi-naked sunbathing for me. And, as a complete bonus, my Growing Resilience course held workshop number 4 at the Farm on the Saturday; it was great to feel so much at home on the Farm and to see the positive reactions to it from those who had never before visited. The afternoon was spent learning about growing vegetable and community gardens in the Orchard (where else?)  And did I mention that we’ve got a brand new 5m bell tent. Did I? Did I?  Loads of space, gorgeous.

Growing Resilience

The Tinderbox was our higher cultural treat on Wednesday evening at Bristol Old Vic.  I wrote about that here!

A late night gave way to a morning on Uphill beach as volunteers for Marine Conservation Society’s Big Beach Clean-Up!  A well attended event, complete with an industrial sized BBQ, food and chefs supplied by M&S and the Rainbow Steel Band, TCO and I collected a black bin bag of rubbish.  A lot of plastic (particularly sweet and lolly wrappers) and polystyrene; I did the picking and she wanted to take care of the tally – over 200 items, apparently.  We’re back doing some more at Sand Bay Beach with some fellow home edders on Wednesday!

With some of the MCS team (including Starfish)

Documenting Litter

From TCO’s “The Story of Me” journal

For something completely different, we headed up to Trinity Community Centre on Saturday for the 2014 Bristol Anarchist Bookfair, an event I’ve been meaning to visit for years.  I was pleased to see a few people I know and to find yet another recipe for chick peas. We did some drawing, chatting, browsing and eating but the highlight was definitely the Wounded Warrior trail at the Trinity Community Garden!  Interactive storytelling at its best, we learnt how a handful of herbs can be used medicinally, hand-picking them from the garden with lots of other families.  They’ve got a similar trail coming up at Trinity’s May 11th Garden Party – go if this is your bag!

Curing the Wounded Warrior in Trinity’s Roundhouse

 

Collecting Medicinal Herbs

Knowledgable Tree Folk

Learning

What learning happened this week then?  A great deal, I suspect!

 

A Week at Paddington Farm

Adventures with Education were coming to Paddington Farm Trust!  Tanya emailed me to say there was room in the Farmhouse if we wanted to stay?  4 nights with a group of unschoolers from London, people we had bumped into on previous visits to our second home in Glastonbury.  Well, yes please, yes we do!

And so, an impromptu Monday to Friday visit at one of our favourite places. And this time we’d be more sheltered that we usually are; no tent, no sleeping in the van.  This could be strange.

Within 20 minutes of arriving, TCO was off playing on the Witches Hat with her new friends.  10 minutes later, I was pushing them.

Hanging Around

It was a chilled week, spent with four other families – a real good mix.  We took it in turns to cook – lots of pulses and grains.  And plenty of wild garlic, harvested on Tuesday, after a jaunt into town.  I had arranged to meet Hannah from my Community Horticulture Course, to do a spot of foraging in North Wootton in a gorgeous, secluded spot called Dragon’s Hill.  Beauty and green were plentiful here, where TCO went native, navigating the stream and swinging above the water on a piece of pre-placed rope.  “You were right, Mum.  This really is fun!”  She had doubted this, wanted to stay with the group, yet didn’t.  I collected enough wild garlic to add to every meal for the rest of the week (the last of it has just been plopped in with some nettles, olive oil and sunflower seeds to preserve as pesto).

Jumping Stream

On Wednesday, we did a little planting in Paddington’s Community Garden, though some of us less than others as, when the thunderstorm came, she wasn’t so keen: there was upset and tears, so we went back to the house to draw and bake.  The rest of the team eventually followed and the kitchen/living area was transformed into a family bakery as we made bread, oat biscuits (I’d over estimated hunger and love of porridge that morning, so the leftovers were put to good use) and pizza for lunch.

Julie came over to teach the kids how to massage their parents – what a stroke of luck!  Keep it up, you lot.  And a couple of spinners (of wool) brought their wheels in and, well, did some spinning.  Forest school followed – the kids used a bow saw, teamwork and strength to cut wood for ‘tree cookies’ or medallions.  The fire was lit and a colourful vegetable soup cooked over it, keeping us there for hours!  Back at the farmhouse, as evening approached, we lit another!   When I smell fire on my clothes, in my hair, I feel happy 🙂

Soup

Thursday was wedding day as TCO and a 5 year old friend had decided to marry 2 of their soft toys.  Invitations were sent, a cake of sorts was made, speeches were written, a party was planned.  The ceremony proper coinciding with Paddington Farm’s topping off ceremony, back at the forest school area.  The outdoor classroom has been three years in the making – it’s a gorgeous, unusual, curvy roofed structure and well worth celebrating!  We took food and we did the hokey-cokey.

Ceremonious

Later, the kids sought out decorations from the art room to make the open space at the top of the farmhouse into a wedding reception area.  Armed with a list of activities, we danced and watched/performed shows for 2 hours.  What a fine way to finish the holiday!

We’re looking forward to meeting up with our new friends again – maybe next time in London!

Thanks Paddington, thanks Adventures with Education!

 

Next weekend we revert to our tent.  I’m pretty sure that I prefer camping to staying in a house as it lengthens the experience, changes the focus, feels more like a break from the norm.  She prefers it too, “because it’s more wild, more in Nature.”

 

Monday

Today was FunBusy!

First up, a DNA Workshop with Ginny Gould, which included genetics’ bingo, spit and observing our own DNA

 

 

Then we went to Tracy Horstead’s History of Art class, where the kids looked at symbolism and made some of their own art in the style:

 

 

Next up the Blitz Cafe, surrounded by World War II memorabilia

 

 

And home to work on her “All my Friends” series of books

Learning about Life

“It’s not fair!  I want to come to the farm with you,’ she complained as I got ready for another field trip as part of my 2014 learning adventure.

“Not this time, TCO, but the reason I’m doing this is so that we can go on lots more farms together!’

After a couple of years of periodically hanging out at various West Country farms and communities, I’ve decided that it’s time for me to do my own bit of study about working with the land and in our community.  A lifetime of institutionalised education came to a natural end when I gave birth, nearly eight years ago.  I was done with achieving qualifications, had enough of giving other academics what they wanted, how they wanted.  During my PhD, “Your approach is a little journalistic, flowery, you need to temper it.’

This time it’s different.  The need to gain practical skills that I can share is at the forefront of this particular journey.  Real skills that I can use.  The sort of learning that will translate to helping explore with others the need to grow our own food, rely less on supermarkets, eat better and enjoy it.

The 12-week Full Design Course with Bristol Permaculture is held every Thursday evening in St Werberghs plus weekend field visits.  Four weeks into it, we have already visited Feed Bristol, Easton Community Garden and Ragman’s Lane Farm. Plus we’ve got handy with A-frames made out of sticks, stones and string at a Design Day, where we measured and plotted a map of a half-acre garden, working together to dust off the cobwebs of our mathematical minds.  (Truly, I did A Level Maths and I don’t ever remember physically measuring any large space, have zero recollection of triangulation and barely know how to use a protractor).

I can sit in a class and listen happily, taking notes and asking questions.  But the real learning happens in situ, surrounded by tangible examples of what works (and what doesn’t), when I can finger the growth, feel the biting winter wind, walk around willow open mouthed, draw a base map.

And then the Community Horticulture Course run by Somerset Community Food, brings together a group of people who want to know more about growing food within our own communities.  Comprised of five guided learning sessions and six workshops held in different parts of the county, the emphasis is as much on working with people as on living with nature.  The course structure is very much up to the participants – we are all teacher and learner.  As I sat there last Tuesday in Glastonbury’s Red Brick Building, listening to the experiences of all those interesting people around me, I was amazed and excited by the diversity of the group.  They filled me with enthusiasm!   We are the community and we want to engage.

I’m looking forward to getting my hands dirty.  Wanna join me?

Some people are born organisers.  Some people are doers.  Some people are always researching the ‘What’s On’ pages, finding new and interesting places to go.  Some are inclusive and want your kids to be involved in Life, reminding us that we are in a supportive and nurturing community.  Some people are fun to be with.

J’s mum is all of the above and, currently, once a week, her Mendip home hosts Science Club, run by Bill from ‘Adventures in Science’.  Usually around 4 kids (at £5 each, yes – we Home Edders have to pay for pretty much everything) gather at a table in the lounge; Bill takes one science topic a week and makes it as interesting as he possibly can for our small group of 6, 7 and 8 year olds.  Today, he talked about heat and that trio of convection, conduction and radiation.

My school science education, I have always believed, is zilch.  I learned about the human body when I was pregnant, about nutrition when I worked at Holland & Barrett in my early 20s, a little about the universe after staring at the night sky on campsites and even a bit on the subject of convection when I had severe damp in my last flat.  Mostly a need to know basis then.

As we go on with our Life Learning adventure, I need to learn stuff so I can explain it to my seven year old daughter.  Yes, really.  This is a journey for two.  Or three. Or whoever wants to join us.  And my big gaps are in science and the natural world.  Shamefully. Annoyingly.  Truthfully.

In school, I learned more of what I was supposedly good at.  How to read and write better, do sums, understand the grammar of foreign languages, peek into history.  Never played an instrument, always “rubbish” at art.  I learned mostly by reading and reciting.  Rote.

OK, so this might be the way I learned those things that I ‘could’ do.  But what about all the rest?   I can be artistic but not in the drawing sense!  I have an inquisitive mind; why can’t I be a Scientist?  I love being outdoors but it’s never occurred to me to read up on birds or trees.  This is changing.  Thankfully.

Having spent a few years teaching in an adult education setting, I always tried to diversify my sessions – something for the aural, visual, tactile learner. Well, you have to really. Part of the job.

So it’s interesting to see how my daughter learns.  Today, she sat and listened to Bill for about half an hour, watching his experiments, taking part when invited and even answering a couple of questions.  Then she got up, leaving her pals to a lesson without her, and exclaimed, “I’m bored.”

Sitting next to me at another table, she picked up a piece of paper and a pen and started doodling.  I didn’t interfere, understanding a pattern here – when she watches films, she draws, when we go to the theatre, she draws, when she wants to explain an emotion, she puts it all down on paper.  This is her mark, this is her notetaking, this shows that she isn’t being dismissive or inattentive.  This is her way of learning.  And these are her notes on ‘Convection, Conduction, Radiation’: