Beyond the Rubicon

And so it came to pass, on the 10th day of March I delivered to the Superintendent my Notice of Intent to Home School.  Life’s newest adventure began with a flurry of last-minute decision making. 

On that same day the local School Department announced a $5 Million budget shortfall, and the Department of Education began to be decimated.  Change abounds; our timing providential.  

There is no turning back.  

A world of materials is available online.  Khan Academy is one not-for-profit free site with a goal “to create online tools that help educate students.”  The site has 168.7 registered users, 58.7 Billion total learning minutes, and annual revenues of $107.3 Million.  My son had used the platform at school, so we adapt that to our needs.

With DOGE-like efficiency, we pare the day down to its most basic form.  The result is productive.  The conventional middle school day lasts 6.25 hours, of which half is spent in homeroom, lunch, recess, “Jobs For Maine Graduates,” plus walking the halls between classes; thus about 3 hours for straight line study of Math, Science, and Humanities but a portion of classroom time is lost in the quotidian, explanations and questions, the general bustle.  The essential learning reduces further toward 1.5 hours.  At home we easily do that much, then add in outings, exercise, and hands-on experience.  Bottom line: my son is engaged.  

For Science, we have been using the Periodic Table of Elements to learn welding.  I hired a friend, the “Pema Professor,” a journeyman philosopher/carpenter to teach this course.  We drive to his home in Lyman, Maine.  The first week’s homework was to circle the elements Hydrogen, Helium, Argon, Iron and Carbon.  We also discussed the Noble Gases and Noble Metals.  The practicum was MIG welding, an electric arc between a continuously fed wire electrode and the metal, melting both to create the weld – a pool of molten metal – protected by a shielding gas.  Argon prevents water from entering the weld, which would lead to rust, to failure. 

The second week focused on the difference between an element and a molecule.  My son used an acetylene torch to bend metal.  Acetylene gas is mixed with oxygen to create a high-temperature flame, reaching well over 1,000 degrees.  The metal turned cherry red then bent as the heat increased the energy, electrons moving freely, expanding, creating a pliable rather than rigid structure.  My son held the torch, set hot metal into a wooden jig, his weight laid against the rod, it bent. He is forming the letters of his name.  Making his mark. 

For math we are doing online exercises and learning the Pythagorean Theorem.  Hidden in plain sight, Pythagorus resides in every corner of every room.  As we design and build a trapezoidal bookcase, he can measure and calculate the legs and hypotenuse, help prepare the measured drawing and then build.  Stay tuned on that one!

He has asked to be more challenged, and so I expand our repertoire; more math handouts and more reading materials to come.  He is cooking meals, which brings a chance to study weights and measures, even converting metric to standard.  As the growing season erupts we will dig into the earth at friends’ farms.  My son helps with repairs at the Friends School of Portland; as a private religious school OSHA and Child Labor Laws do not pertain.  

To assist in our holy experiment and to handle the annual assessment I have hired a State of Maine Certified Teacher.  Alexander the Great, at the age of 13, was tutored by Aristotle; I shall refer then to this teacher as “Our Aristotle.”  A young man, he was my son’s student teacher last year in the 5th grade; a keen and passionate observer, dedicated to his students’ needs.  He was fired when the Assistant Principal told him – at the last hour of the last day – to change classrooms.  “Our Aristotle” declined, reasoning that his students would benefit from closure, while an abrupt change would abrogate their experience while giving worthless time to engage new students.  The Assistant Principal issued an ultimatum but “Our Aristotle” called the bluff; escorted out of the building, his dignity was in tact.  The Administrator lost on all counts and all the students were left wanting.  

My son, born of the “Anxious Generation,” comes of age during an epidemic of mental illness and teen suicide.  Social media is a black hole, its focus upon other, not self.  Grounding must come from within.  Such is the tradition of New England: Henry David Thoreau, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined,” or the Bard of Concord, “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.”  Our Aristotle exemplified same in his refusal to acquiesce.  He spoke truth to power.  

Such then is the temperament we want to shape our son’s bearing and so our team grows.  Life has no dress rehearsal.  My son comes of age now, I am charged with his education.  Schooled to the standards of the state, he will be educated to all of life.  

In March we crossed the Rubicon.  Now we go forward daily.  We shall see where all this leads.