Possibility

I haven't posted any poems in a while, but this morning I was visiting one of my favorite sites and saw a video of Bill Murray reading some poetry to construction workers in New York City. They were all kind of laughing and Murray was poking fun at the poems, until this one by Emily Dickinson. The workers got really quiet and serious as this poem was read aloud. And they applauded when it was done. It kind of sums up how I've been feeling lately–with people giving so generously to the books drive–so I thought I'd post it for you.

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Impregnable of eye –

And for an everlasting Roof

The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –

For Occupation – This –

The spreading wide my narrow Hands

To gather Paradise –

 

 

 

 

Why?! Why?! Why?!

So, Jerry has three close friends, right? He has Jackson, Shea, and Yulia.

Jackson and Jerry met at age 2 and spent the next 11 years glued together at the hip. Sure they went to different schools, but they spent every possible moment--that they weren't in school or doing homework--together. In the last year, however, Jackson has become more involved in school and school friends. He's been more difficult to get together with, and for the second year in a row Jackson made other plans for Halloween even though the two of them have a tradition of trick or treating together. So that's been hard on Jerry. He feels like Jackson is "dumping" him. I've been trying to figure out if Jackson is feeling like he and Jerry don't share the same interests anymore or if he really is just busy, and then the other day Jerry tells me Jackson has a girlfriend. Well, that explains it! So, Jackson has a girlfriend. Strike one.

Then there's Yulia. Yulia is the only person from our homeschool group that Jerry really clicked with. And boy did they click. They met a little over a year ago and formed a fast friendship. These two totally speak the same language. When he found out Yulia was moving, Jerry was devastated and since she moved to Texas (at the end of September) Jerry has really missed her. Strike two.

Then there's Shea. We met Shea when Jerry was homescholing in kindergarten, then lost touch when Jerry started school the following year. But in the past year Shea and Jerry have rekindled their friendship and it's been really great because Shea lives two minutes from our house. I love that I can just bop over and pick him up for last minute play dates. Well, I found out yesterday that Shea's family is moving--to Portland!!! Strike three!!

What is happening here!? Why is the universe conspiring to take all Jerry's friends away? Can somebody please cut the kid a break? I know he'll be gaining valuable life lessons from all this. Blah, blah, blah. But really? Does it all have to happen at once? He's having a hard enough time sorting out how he feels about Yulia leaving. And Jackson having a girlfriend. And now Shea will be going, too? Come on!

I know we can visit them. I know they'll have e-mail and Facebook. But Jerry needs some live, in-the-flesh friends that live in Los Angeles (preferably on the Eastside). Where the heck are all the anime and manga loving, video game playing, computer hacking teens around here? I know they've got to be out there. And I know some of them have got to be homeschooling.

But that's not really the problem. I'm sure Jerry will find other friends. He's already started developing a couple new friendships that I can encourage. The problem is they aren't his old friends. And he wants the old ones.

I can't stop thinking of the Billy Collins poem "On Turning Ten." Jerry's obviously older than ten, but I think he must be experiencing some of the same feelings. It breaks my heart.

On Turning Ten by Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Another Poem

Not much happening today so I thought I'd share the Mary Oliver poem that's been rolling around inside my head for the last couple weeks.

Black Oaks

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.

But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,

I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I probably won't post anything here until after Thanksgiving so I just wanted to wish you all a happy day and tell you that I'm so very grateful to all of you who read my blog, and leave your comments. You've become an important support system for me on this journey and I really appreciate you! I hope we get to meet in person some day.

I'm going to leave you with another Mary Oliver poem.

Daisies

It is possible, I suppose, that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead

oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petaled daisies display
the small suns of their center-piece, their - if you don't
mind my saying so - their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know.
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun
lights up willingly; for example - I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch -
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.

A Revelation (& Some Poetry)

I'm gearing up to start a teeny bit of "teaching." Not a huge amount. Just enough to make my husband relax a bit. We all have to be okay with what's happening in our house and at this point Warren is having some doubts about the whole child-led learning thing. I'm not quite ready to break out the workbooks, but I did order the "I Hate Mathematics Book" and I bought what looks like a really cool science book with some history thrown in called--shoot, I can't find it. That's the down side of being messy. You can never find anything when you need it. Anyway, the book is all about great inventions throughout history, who invented them and why, and it gives you instructions on how to create the inventions yourself. There's a pottery wheel, a trebuchet, vegetable dye...it looks really fun.

The reason I'm not jumping right in, though, is that I want it to feel kind of organic. I'm not sure if that's possible since organic would be coming from Jerry. I'm trying to devise a plan that will make it seem organic, at least--maybe even make it seem like Jerry's idea. But, before I start that I really think I should write out my educational philosophy. I know. I know. I said I was going to do that weeks ago. I'm procrastinating.

Why am I procrastinating? I think I'm kind of scared. Dumb, huh? I mean, I've already chosen homeschooling, then I went even further outside the norm and decided to try unschooling, so it's clear I'm taking my own path but writing down my educational philosophy will mean that I have to own it. It will mean that I'm not going by what other people are telling me is "right."

Oh my God! I've just had a revelation! I went from doing what the Waldorf school said was right, directly into doing what the unschoolers say is right. So I'm comfortable being told what to do because that's the usual way of life. The "experts" give their opinions, tell you what you need to do, and you do it--at least I do. So this whole time I thought I was such an individual, but really I just went from following one (not so mainstream) set of rules to following another (even less mainstream) set of rules. Sure, they weren't rules the majority of people in the US were following, but they were still rules. Wow! That explains my fixation with unschooling the "right" way. This is fascinating! I've been a follower for so long, that even though I'm on the road not (or less) taken I'm busy trying to step into someone else's footprints. Wow! I have to stop that!

Okay, here's the Robert Frost poem for some inspiration:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

So, for about the 500th time I'm telling myself to mellow out, and do what feels right to me. I guess I don't even really need to "gear up." It's okay if I don't know what's right immediately. It's okay if I don't have a plan. I can still move forward.

One of the reasons I felt the need to prepare for this teeny bit of teaching, though, is that I'm still unsure about the place of the computer and video games in our daily lives. Jerry likes to turn them on in the morning as soon as he wakes up, which I completely understand because I like to do the same thing. It helps me ease into the day. It also tends to suck the day away, if we're not careful. So maybe I won't wait until I "figure out" the screen thing before I make some changes. I'll start the teaching (facilitating? guiding?) slowly by showing him some of the books I bought, by doing some of the experiements with him, by continuing our mental math and maybe even writing some of it down. Maybe our daily rhythms will adjust on their own and I won't have to "gear up" for anything.

But I do have to figure out MY philosophy on education. That I'm sure of. I need to know what I believe, so I can stop trying to do what other people think is best. Okay. I'll do that but I won't wait until it's finished to start making small changes to our daily lives.

I'm going to end with another poem. This is by my favorite poet, Mary Oliver.

Why I Wake Early

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety –

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

My Mantra & W.B. Yeats

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire."
-William Butler Yeats

I'm going to add that to my mantra. So, my new Beginning Unschooler Mantra is "Light the fire, watch it grow." That's much better than "We'll see." And it still leaves room for the unexpected--which is important since just about everything, at this stage of the game, is unexpected!

Since it was Yeats that inspired my new mantra, I'm going to post one of his poems. Last Christmas Warren, Jerry and I (I'm using full names now, by the way) went to visit my sister in Ireland and we went to the very same Hazel Wood Yeats mentions in this poem. The photos were taken there.

The Song of Wandering Angus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread:
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

-William Butler Yeats
Here we are in Hazel Wood. Going clockwise, that's my sister with her daughter Cora in the Baby Bjorn, then me, Warren, my nephew Carson, and Jerry.