ending beginning

Little and I are coming to the end of our homeschooling time together. Just before Thanksgiving, Joe and I decided that the time had come for Little to go to school.

It's good news, really. When Joe first lost his job, we really didn't know what to expect. We knew I needed to start substitute teaching and looking for a permanent teaching position, but we didn't have any idea what Joe would be doing. We thought it was possible that he would be collecting unemployment and homeschooling Little. That was, I admit, not our first choice, but it seemed entirely possible.

Instead, he's found that there are lots of people who would like to have his research expertise and insight on their new projects, which means that he's busy. He still doesn't have a job, and the day when he gets one is probably still a long way off, but he has lots of consulting work. That's the good news. We are both delighted that he's got plenty to do.

But it means that Little is going to public school as of the first of the year, simply because there won't be anyone at home who can pay attention to him, let alone school him. I am of several minds about this. I am delighted that I'm not going to be stuck at home all day, all week anymore. For myself, the news that I can now resume my teaching career and get the hell out of the house is nothing but happy.

But for Little, I wanted something different. I believe he'll be fine in public school. He's reading, he's very socially aware, he genuinely likes people and is looking forward to making new friends. He's excited about the change, and I'm sure this is partly because Big has made such a beautiful transition to public school. As a sixth grader, he's around a bunch of other guys all day, he's learning some cool things from some fabulous teachers, and he's loving it. Not every aspect of every day, but the benefits far outweigh the problems.

However, Little will be starting school for the first time as a first grader. When Big started, he was already well on his way. He has enough of a background in progressive education that he knows to value autonomy and an intellectual challenge. He also has the maturity to suck it up when those features of an excellent education are absent.

Little has no such grounding, and no such maturity. He's going into a system much larger than himself without the tools he needs to negotiate it when things don't go his way. I really wanted for him an early elementary education in which I could count on the adults in his life to be conscious, intelligent, attentive, and flexible. Also one where he got to play a lot and spend lots of time outside.

Certainly there are many families who manage to raise awake, alive, interesting children, even as they send their kids to public school. Perhaps ours is one of them; Joe and I both survived the experience more or less intact.

I admit that my fears of public school for Big have not been borne out in his experience. I have every reason to hope that school will go swimmingly for Little. Perhaps the professionals at my neighborhood elementary school are there because they care about elementary education just as much as I do. We shall see.

curve ball central

What is the etiquette, exactly, of sharing bad news? Does one assume one's friends will want to know, and therefore tell everyone, as quickly as possible? Or does one keep it to oneself, in the interest of keeping everyone's lives as simple as possible? And what about those friends and connections we make only through the internet? Facebook friends, some of whom I haven't seen since I was 19 and don't really ever expect to see again? Blog friends, who live far away but have come to be familiar faces of sorts?

I don't want to burden you, but it feels dishonest to pretend everything is just as it was last week.

Joe and I are both, suddenly, looking for jobs. Joe got laid off (downsized? subtracted?) on Monday. I spent all of Tuesday pulling together materials to apply to substitute teach. I expect to be working within two or three weeks. After I get a feel for the schools around here, I'll start looking for a permanent position.

Every option is on the table: we could move far away, Joe might go back to school, or we might stay here so he can do consulting work with the contacts he's made in the last two and a half years working in green chemistry. Maybe we'll move to New Zealand. Or Belize.

My mind is filled with all the possibilities that this opens up for us. I am strangely pleased. I know I may not be quite as pleased when the money runs out and we don't know how we're going to pay the electric bill, let alone the mortgage, but for now, it's all good, and I'm loving my life at this moment.

anticipation

That's a freshly carded batt of exceptionally soft corriedale, lounging on the back of my spinning chair and waiting to be spun on my delightful new spinning wheel. It will wait until after laundry and dishes, and some schooling for the little guy.

Little and I have really shifted gears in the last week. I'm having what I hope will be a minor health crisis, and he has had several minor meltdowns, and all of that is pointing us in the direction of fewer scheduled activities. We're going to be home, and we're only going to go out when there's something we've just thought of that we really want to do.

This means we're opting out of some great organized activities and projects this fall, but it also means we'll have time for the library, the museum, trips to see his grandparents and his papa at work, not to mention time to play at home. We need our daydreaming time, and starting this week, we're going to get it. We're both excited and pleased about this change.