NotSheep

Up and out very early this morning - I can’t remember the last time I was dressed by 7.30, never mind hair done and make-up on Today is one hundred years from the first day of the first Scout Camp ever, and at 8 a.m. - the exact time that camp was begun - Scouts across the UK gathered in hundreds of locations to renew the Scout Promise - including over 40,000 Scouts at the Jamboree. Throughout the 24-hour period, millions of Scouts in countries around the world gathered at 8 a.m. in their local timezones to do the same thing. There is something about connecting to the larger movement - it’s easy to forget about it when you’re planning for a few Beavers at local weekly meetings, but it’s a part of what makes Scouting what it is.

Fortunately our local gathering was only a few minutes from where we live, or we’d never have made it on time I wasn’t expecting a great turn-out - it’s the middle of summer (allegedly) and lots of people are away, it was early in the morning, and it was cold and raining - but I’d estimate there were about 150 people. Unfortunately I was in a very bad spot for taking photos, but I’m hoping someone else got some and I’ll be able to get copies - and I think there might have been some coverage from the local media too.

We spent the rest of the day lazing about; we did bits of a jigsaw-puzzle, watched some Doctor Who, encouraged Barney to put away the clothes he’d brought home (all beautifully-folded, by A, I’m told - now I see where Henry gets it ;-))

I had one of those conversations with someone who just doesn’t get it last week; every home-educating parent will know what I mean. It started as a casual chat, then the fact that we home-educate came up. The woman I was talking to mentioned that she was a teacher; I find that teachers are sometimes very positive about home-ed and sometimes very defensive. This one surprised me though; she just couldn’t see how it would work at all. The first thing she said that surprised me was, “Someone obviously comes and monitors what you’re doing.” - I know a lot of people ask if this is the case, but I don’t think I’ve ever encountered someone before who assumed with such conviction not only that home-education was monitored by education authorities but also that it needed to be. When I questioned this, she told me - as have other teachers - that some parents just wouldn’t bother; I know this is true, but I suspect that the parents who can’t be bothered are very unlikely to take their children out of school; they’re too glad to get the free babysitting. I also suspect that the vast majority of parents would bother if there wasn’t a school system effectively saying “oh don’t bother - leave it to us, we’re the experts, you know nothing about education anyway”.

Then she asked how my children would ever get qualifications and I explained some of the various routes they could take. I tried to explain that I am not anti-teacher, nor even anti-school, but that I am anti-system: I do not believe a system can cater for the individual. She responded that there has to be a system; she seemed to see some of the problems with a system, but to be unable to accept that any child could learn outside one. She surprised me by saying that “some children are just lazy” - I tried to say that I thought that was very rarely true, that certainly some children weren’t interested in academics, that some children weren’t interested in working on specific things at specific times, but that in my experience, all children, when presented with something that interested them, were active learners. She just didn’t believe this.

Then “what will you do when they want to learn something you don’t know about?” - heh, that happened a long time ago. I talked a bit about how children learn all sorts of things without being actively taught, about how parents could learn alongside their children, about how people could teach themselves - and she disagreed. I asked if she believed that nobody could ever learn something without someone else teaching it to them; it seemed she’d never considered this possibility before, but that yes, she did think that. I’m baffled as to how anyone can think this for more than 20 seconds: knowledge would have come to a standstill very early in the history of mankind if it were true. How on earth did any of us over the age of 30 learn how to use computers?

She also questioned how someone with no “teacher training” could actually teach. I tried to explain that what I do is very unlike what a teacher in a classroom does. I asked her to try to imagine that when she returned to her school in September, she was told that she would have five pupils in her class, all of whom she cared about a great deal. There would be no curriculum requirements, no requirements for them to do SATS, no paperwork, no answering to the principal or anyone else. She would have absolute freedom to do whatever she felt would fulfil their educational needs. And she would have those five pupils right through their years in school, so she would get to know them very well.

She couldn’t imagine it. I don’t mean she thought it was beyond her imagination; I mean she said, “oh that would never happen”. Well, yes, I know it would never happen, but I was asking her to imagine how different it would be. But she just couldn’t. She was so firmly tied by the system in which she works that she just couldn’t see beyond the traditional approach of a school system at all. She just sat there shaking her head and saying “but it’s not going to happen”.

Then she started talking about how imminent changes to the curriculum are supposed to “stretch the brightest children” and “personalise” learning - but commented that while the theory was all very good, there was no additional funding for it, therefore it wouldn’t work, and that class-sizes needed to be smaller before the education system could improve anyway. I’m not sure I believe that class-size is relevant, really; I think the problems with the system are far deeper than that, but anyway…

(As an aside, I did read a bit about these curriculum changes and my reaction was twofold: first, the thought that the changes are meaningless within the context of a system, and second, horror at the grammar and spelling of the documents published on school and education authority sites: “teacher’s will become aware”???!)

Then came what I felt to be one of her most revealing comments, though I don’t think she realised it: “If I could have my way, I’d get out of school and be paid for going around to home-educated children and teaching them to read.”

Where to start with that one? Her subconscious admission that she doesn’t enjoy the system? Her assumption that children can’t learn to read without being actively taught to do so? Her belief that as a “qualified” teacher, she’d be better able to do it than a child’s parents?

I don’t want to give the wrong impression; the woman I was talking to wasn’t a stupid person, nor an unkind one, nor even argumentative. She just could not get past her unquestioned beliefs about schools: that they are essential, that parents are incapable of teaching their own children (and shouldn’t be trusted to do so even if they were), that children are incapable of learning without being led. Her attitude seemed to be that parents are incompetent and/or disinterested, children have no thirst for learning, and the school system, though not perfect, is the only possible way to provide education.

Every time I think of this conversation, a quote comes to my mind: “Once your consciousness has been raised, it cannot be lowered.” I wonder where her consciousness stands now?

I am firmly of the opinion that one can never have enough bookshelves. Well, I can never have enough bookcases anyway. And so when one comes up on freecycle, I always beg for it. Yesterday I was successful.

Once Scratchy got here, Barney and I took off to collect the bookcase. I must confess to having an ulterior motive to taking him with me: it’s been quite difficult to draw him out this week. He’s clearly having a great mixture of feelings about being back - he’s missing Henry and his French family, he’s glad to be back with his brothers but also finding them a little overwhelming at times (even Toby, who is not as cooperative and malleable as he was when Barney left), he’s still doing half his thinking in French - and playing Gameboy and reading in French - but is also afraid it won’t stick. We’re hearing the occasional French word, some French sentence construction (”So George has ten years and Freddy has eight years, right?” LOL) And French gestures He’s also not getting enough sleep, because he’s staying up late reading; I don’t want to lay down the law on this point, partly because he’s only just come home, but partly also because he’s at an age where he needs to start taking responsibility for that kind of thing for himself. The emotional confusion, plus the lack of sleep, have led to a few weepy moments.

We had a good conversation in the car. I told him about the conversation I blogged here yesterday; he was of the opinion that an adult shouldn’t be so daft. When I spoke about the woman’s belief that people couldn’t learn things without being taught them, he immediately came up with half a dozen examples which disprove it. We also talked about how he’d found school in France. Like so many children, he felt the best thing about it was the friends he made there. Early in July, before X’s accident, Barney had said on the phone that he preferred term-time to school holidays, because he was missing his school-friends. I asked him why, then, he wanted to be home-educated here. He said that the biggest problem with school was that it took up all his time: “You get up and get ready for school, you go to school, then when you come home you have homework, then it’s time to have dinner and then you go to bed so you can be up for the next day at school - you have no life of your own.”

I’m relieved that he doesn’t want to go to school, because I don’t happen to think it’s the best option for him right now, but if he wanted to go, I wouldn’t stop him. He’s old enough to know the pros and cons, and to understand the consequences - especially now that he’s had some time in school in France. When I said this to someone last week, she remarked on how empowering it must be for him to know that the decision was his - to have so much control over what he does. That hadn’t occurred to me before, but I think she’s right. Twelve-year-olds think they’re very grown-up, and in many ways they are, but they rely on other people for almost everything: food, housing, clothing, money, transportation, etc. Most of them have very little say in where they spend most of their time, what they do with most of their time - in effect, very little control of their own lives. I’m glad Barney is able to make decisions about such things for himself; even if the decision is the same as the one we’d have made on his behalf, it makes a difference, I think, that he’s the one making it.

That was what Freddy asked as we were eating dinner. The conversation then ranged through the following topics - goodness knows if the links between these will be visible to anyone who wasn’t there at the time, but anyway:

Electrical charges in clouds
Columns of warm air rising within clouds
What makes warm air rise
How that produces wind
What makes the air warm
Why the sun is hot
How long the sun will last
(”That’s the same as it said in Doctor Who!”)
Where science-fiction writers get their ideas
Ideas from old science fiction which exist today
Ideas from today’s science fiction which might exist in the future
Time-travel - Barney said it will never happen because of the paradoxes
How do we know something will “never happen”
What people who lived a century or two ago would have thought many of the things we take for granted today
Which things we could see would have existed a century ago
Which things would have existed but we probably wouldn’t have owned
Computers, phones, plastics, books, pencils…
Responses to the first motorised vehicles on the road
What children played with a century ago
How children spent their time a century ago
Childhood in Victorian times
Childhood in Tudor times
Childhood in poor countries today

Considering that was just the dinner-table conversation, is it any wonder I’m exhausted?

I know what I was doing exactly two years ago this minute: finally having contractions that were somewhat organised and effective

I suppose it’s about time I stopped adding the label “babies” to all my posts that mention Toby then…

I am soooooo tired. Spending most of one day worrying about a dog, most of the following night up and down to give said dog rehydration solution orally from a syringe, then most of the day after looking for a fridge - trust me, don’t do it.

Okay, let’s try to remember things in order.

Monday morning brought about a very frustrating phone-call with the insurance company. After taking lots of information about the engine-fire, the woman on the phone requested that I take the car to one of their approved repairers. Uh, half the engine is melted: this is not a car that is repairable, nor is it a car that’s going to be driven anywhere. Oh, their repairer would examine the car and decide if it could be repaired. I pointed out that fixing it would involve replacing the entire engine - at a cost substantially more than the value of the car. She finally agreed that it was a salvage case, and put me on hold while she got details of the salvage company they’d send out to get it. She gave me the details of a company in Bristol.

I pointed out that getting the car to Bristol would cost more than it was worth; she said the company would have a yard local to me. Uhuh.

Then she gave me the details of the office that would be dealing with the claim. That bit was fine, the office is probably the closest to me. The postcode, however, involved “T for Tango, Q for Cubic”. Eh? “Q for Cubic?” I said. “Yes,” she said firmly, “that’s right.”

I gave up and phoned the local office. The upshot is that the insurance company will write us a cheque for the value of the car less our deductible. The car is eleven years old though, so the value is low, and it might be better financially for us if we could just sell it for scrap and avoid increasing our insurance premiums. Except that I doubt any of the scrapyards will be interested.

In the meantime, Cass was ill overnight - believe me, you don’t want details. She had no interest in food all day Monday, and in the evening I took her to the vet. It was her first visit, and the practice I’d been recommended to use had no appointments available, so we ended up using a different one. They were okay, I suppose, but I wasn’t enthused. The vet was very uncommunicative, didn’t tell me what he thought, gave her three injections and didn’t ask my permission or even tell me what they were until I asked about each of them after it was given (antibiotic, painkiller, anti-inflammatory). He wanted to keep her overnight and have her on an IV; I knew she’d be distraught if we did that (she doesn’t even like it if Andie gets taken for a walk without her) so asked if it was really necessary. He said he’d prefer to do it, but it was my call. I decided to bring her home, so he gave me some hydration solution and an appointment for first thing this morning. Overnight she wasn’t as bad, and she’d brightened a bit by this morning, though still wouldn’t drink of her own accord (hence me syringing fluid into her mouth through the night). Back at the vet she got another two injections and a pack of oral antibiotics, even though the vet didn’t know if she actually had an infection, never mind whether it was bacterial. He also gave me a can of dog-food that would be “easier on her stomach” - I told him she was raw-fed and would be getting something very simple, like a chicken fillet, to start with, but he said that his can of “meat and animal derivatives”, unspecified cereals and “derivatives of vegetable origin” would be easier on her than that. Still trying to work that one out.

When I got her home she was a bit brighter again, and even drank some water from her bowl. I had to go out for a couple of hours; by the time I returned she was looking much better, and when I offered her some food, she ate it with relish. No digestive problems since, and she’s been drinking water and peeing, so fingers crossed she’s on the mend. I haven’t given her any of the antibiotics, because she’s already a lot happier and more interested in things again

Meanwhile I’d been looking at fridge-freezers. Big, expensive ones. I thought we’d decided on one, but when I looked at it again next to our second choice, I decided I liked the second choice more. Then I saw another one that was a bit cheaper, but also appealing, and thought maybe that was the way to go. And then I saw yet another, same price as the first two but a better brand and a much better build. So now I’m trying to decide whether a solidly-built stainless steel Admiral is worth £300 more than an average Daewoo… oh, and to work out where the aquarium’s going once either of them arrives.

As for the kids, they’ve pretty much entertained themselves for the last couple of days. The weather’s lousy and we were invited to join friends at an indoor playground tomorrow but a) I won’t have the car, b) Barney and George might be going to drama (can walk or cycle to that though) and c) we might have someone visiting.

I think I need to go to sleep. Now.

Barney and George have been to drama - a huge turnout this week: them and one other child. Still, they had a good time from the sounds of it.

The rest of us have been to the bank and the library, where we left the books we’d been able to find, but didn’t have the nerve to borrow any more, there being too many of them still invisibly occupying our house just now. In between the two stops, Jack asked, in a very serious tone, “Do we have a magic carpet?” Hm, useful as that might be, I think he might have noticed by now…

We went to the indoor playground too. Barney had decided he was too old for such things, so took his GameBoy so he could play with it in the café while the others were in the play-area. There’s an under-fours area right beside the café; I’d hoped Barney would play with Toby in there for a while so I could have a cup of tea and a chat with the friend who’d suggested the trip in the first place.

The woman at the entry-desk didn’t believe that only four of my five children were using the play area; she very obviously and suspiciously counted them all. Then, after I told her Barney wasn’t going in, she told me no less than four times that he had to keep his shoes on and stay in the café - which was fine, because that’s what his plan involved anyway. But I had to “watch him and make sure he doesn’t go in”. And he wasn’t to be allowed to go into the under-fours area to sit beside Toby and play with him; I had to do that too, because only people over 18 are allowed in there. “And if you were 16 or 17 and had a child you’d actually given birth to?” I asked. She looked blankly at me, then said “Well no, you have to be over 18 to go in there.”

So I had to both stay with Barney, just in case he was suddenly overcome with desire to climb on the shiny plastic, and also stay with Toby in the under-fours area…where Barney wasn’t allowed to be. Which would have meant me being in two places at once, except that it was three, because she’d already told me I had to supervise George, Freddy and Jack in the bigger-kids’ play area. I can do many things, but triplicating myself isn’t one of them. Never mind; I took the easy way out and didn’t point out that she’d just told me to do the impossible.

And then Jack took his shoes off, and revealed that he hadn’t put any socks on. Oh, the indoor playground could sell me a pair. For £2.

I asked for my money back, apologised to my friend, and left.

I am annoyed right now for many reasons. I’m annoyed that my son did not do what he was told. I’m annoyed that the woman at the indoor playground clearly thought we were trying to pull a fast one and only (only!) pay for four children when five were going in. I’m annoyed that she assumed that Barney couldn’t be trusted, that he’d whip off his shoes and jump into the play area as soon as I wasn’t watching him. I’m annoyed that they have stupid rules that effectively say that no one parent with a child under four and a child over four can use the place. I’m annoyed that we had to let down our friends. I’m annoyed that, having charged quite a lot for the children to enter (£5 per child, for one hour), the facility then over-charges for socks too. And the café isn’t exactly cheap either.

Barney’s at tennis, having taken the train for the second day in a row. He doesn’t want to grow up - says he’s having too much fun as a kid - but he’s not exactly displeased about the extra freedoms that growing up brings.

George and Freddy were going to hang out at the library while Jack went to Kindergym, but George has had one meltdown after another since waking this morning, so I wasn’t leaving him anywhere without supervision. Since the leisure centre is closed, Kindergym was taking place in the town hall. We got there, Jack watched them setting up. We went into the room, Jack clung to me. George and Freddy stood in the hall. The class started, Jack clung to me more. I heard someone talking to George and Freddy in the hall; they were being told off for sticking their feet all over the walls. I brought them in to stand beside me. Jack was still unwilling to participate. The woman running the programme came over and asked if I was staying; I confirmed that I was. She said I couldn’t: “if I let one parent stay all the parents would stay and there’d be no room for the children” - which might have been credible if every parent had already left except for me and one other mother. Jack started to cry. I told him - loudly - that I had no intention of leaving him unhappy, and we left.

I know Jack. I know that he’s a little slow to warm up to people, and I knew he wouldn’t be happy to be left in a place he’d never been before with a bunch of adults he didn’t know and 20 or so other kids he’d never met. I also know that if he’d been allowed to sit with me and watch for ten minutes and given a little encouragement, he’d have joined in and had a great time.

I don’t believe it’s appropriate for an instructor of anything to insist that children from 3 to 5 years of age are left without parents. Jack is on the waiting-list for the regular Kindergym programme; I’ll be taking his name off it, and writing a letter to say why.

George and Freddy were in gymnastics with this old bat until last December. The class was fine, although too big in my opinion, and really only the “stars” got any particular attention. A couple of weeks before Christmas, we were told they had to be there the following week at 9.30 instead of noon. When I told the instructor that they would be in the swimming-pool (having lessons) at that time, she basically shrugged and said that was tough. I know that competitive gymnasts have to sacrifice a lot of other things in order to practise - but these are classes for children aged 6-9. George and Freddy didn’t re-register for gymnastics when the new term started.

Today can only get better…right?

I seem to be in a slump; I’m not sure why. The effects of this slump include a lack of blog-posts; I just don’t seem to be able to get my mind together enough to compose anything. So if this post is all vague and meandering and pointless, I apologise in advance.

Last week was a… well, not quite a busy one, really, but certainly one in which I had to live by other people’s schedules. Weeks like that remind me of one of the bonuses of home-ed; if my children were in school, I’d spend a large portion of my day doing school-runs. Assuming each of them attended the nearest school for their age, I’d be leaving the house with all of them by about 8.20 every morning, getting back about an hour later, leaving again at 1.30, maybe getting back for a few minutes before leaving again at 2.30, not returning after that until after 4 p.m. And that’s without taking into account any after-school activities. And my children probably wouldn’t be attending the nearest school for their age. And last year and next year I’d have a child in nursery school, which would mean the morning run would be extended by another 20 or 30 minutes, and an extra run just before lunch. I’d be spending a lot of time sitting in the car waiting for bells to ring - and I think I might be using that time writing letters to MPs demanding a North-America-style school-bus system.

Well, I did warn you I was probably going to meander.

Apart from the taxi-ing, and the frustrating bits I’ve already blogged, there isn’t much to say about last week. It’s all been very challenging recently. George is suffering from the lack of routine in our days right now, which means the rest of us are also suffering. I know I’ve written about it before, but he is not a child who would be happy with an autonomous style of living. He needs routines. He doesn’t need everything to happen at exactly the same time each day, but he is a much happier and settled person when the first few hours of each day follow the same approximate pattern. He can handle occasional days without it, but give him three non-routine days in a row and things start to unravel. Give him an entire summer during which, for one reason or another, we haven’t followed our usual routines, during which the weather hasn’t been good enough to get out and see friends every day, and during which there have been several stress-causing events affecting, and you’ve the recipe for the worst meltdown he’s ever had - which happened about a week ago. I’ve been watching the build-up all summer and have tried several ways to ease things for him, but in the end, it was all just there inside him and had to come out.

Next week we’ll be back to our usual daily pattern. I’d reinstate it right now, but the rain we’ve experienced all summer has finally stopped for a while, and there are only a few days left before the boys’ local friends return to school, so I don’t want to take away the brief opportunity for them to spend some time together. Barney was out yesterday with a couple of his friends; they are not pleased about going back to school. The older one wants to be home-educated too, apparently; I’m just waiting for his mother to arrive on my doorstep shouting at me for putting ideas in his head I’ve spent most of the last few days making educational plans and gathering resources for the next few months, as well as planning out almost the entire year for Beavers. I’m feeling very organised about that, but our Scout Hall is getting a new roof sometime soon, and I need to know the dates so I can arrange outings for the weeks when it’s not available.

I took Barney out with me to walk the dogs along the shore on Saturday morning; he wasn’t very keen to go, but he was glad he did, because not only did we have a pleasant walk, but we also got to meet some German people - a big plus, in Barney’s book - one of whom loaned him her binoculars so he could get a better look at some seals they’d spotted.

Toby has been trying to climb onto Jack’s bicycle, which is much too big for him, and since we hadn’t actually got him a birthday present yet, Freddy and Toby and I went in search of a set of wheels. The local bicycle shop didn’t have anything small enough, so I resigned myself to a cheap bit of plastic from Toys’R'Us, but we actually found a great little tricycle there - really nice quality and design, and Toby loves it. I have some photos of the trike, but I’m trying to get one of Toby actually on it - every time I point the camera at him he climbs off and hides in an attempt to wind me up Unfortunately, or fortunately, TRU also had a very good offer on a set of Little Tikes items, so I “saved” £100 buying that, and so now we also have a playhouse (complete with greenhouse), a large slide, a rocker thing and a Hot-Wheels-style ride-on. It was very much an impulse buy, but worth it, I think. Oh, and Freddy bought himself the biggest super-soaker we’d ever seen, so if summer ever arrives properly, we’ll be ready.

See? Vague, meandering and pointless