can they talk to kids their own age (a rant)
[email protected]
Oooooooh....
Cold, but not even a stretch.
<< The other has three girls, all in public school. When she would start
with the "aren't you afraid he won't know how to talk to kids his own
age" stuff I would say, in a most sympathetic and concerned way, that
I'd just seen where two kids killed a classmate and a teacher was
arrested for sexual abuse of a student and a school had slime mold
contamination and how about that head lice out break and how sad her
middle daughter was being teased for being heavy and that must make her
feel sad as a parent, sending her off to school to be tortured and
humiliated everyday... and now I don't hear so much about what Dylan is
missing in public school. Now I hear about what a happy kid I have and
how curious he is and how interested he seems in everything. >>
I hope her girls are given some slack and freedom to some degree because of
Dylan's example.
Last night was Holly's last night at her modelling school. I went in to
pick her up after their little party. I wasn't sure what room they were in,
as it's a little warren of hallways and rooms, but I heard people saying
"Bye, Holly! Bye, Holly!" and followed their voices.
When I got in there she was engrossed in a conversation with the teacher and
wasn't even hearing people say bye, so I nudged her and indicated she was
ignoring people (irritating mom behavior) and she said bye.
The teacher gushed and gushed (as usual, but with more feeling) and I told
her Holly would really like to babysit sometime or even just get to hang out
with her kid (who's just two) and she lit up, which made Holly feel great,
because she likes that teacher and loves to be around kids, and she had
forgotten to ask for a babysitting consideration (though she had told me she
was going to).
Holly had made little business cards, by hand, on the halves of cardboard
backing that come from vending machine stickers. She bought more stickers
just to get more cardboard. So she had given out her webpage, e-mail address
and phone number to every kid in class, and the teacher. That was entirely
her idea. And she had taken one of my business cards to give the teacher,
who has expressed an interest in homeschooling, just because of Holly, and
because of materials I gave them to read when Holly was first there and they
said and did some things I wasn't comfortable with, when Holly wasn't reading
well and didn't have school experiences the other kids had.
She almost forgot about her cards, she said, but they were doing a game in
which each kid said something nice about each other kid, and when one boy
told a girl that he liked her because she had given him her phone number and
now he could tell the boys at school that he had a girl's phone number (!!),
Holly said "Oh! A girl's phone number? Here, have mine too" and passed them
out all around.
But here's the bad thing that happened that night. I heard it from Holly and
the teacher separately so I have a more 3-d picture than Holly has, though
Holly experienced it directly.
The manager of the site (school and agency) saw Holly's wild sculpted haircut
(which now has the front right corner shaved to the skin--Holly's doing), and
was NOT nice about it. Asked Holly WHAT she had done to her HAIR and told
her that if she wanted them to get her work she couldn't do things like that
to her hair, and to let it grow out. To the teacher she had said that they
couldn't place Holly unless she had natural little girl hair, and she needed
to get a good haircut, a headshot, and then KEEP her hair that way.
I'm not even NEARLY going to tell Holly to keep her hair to suit the cranky
manager of a pissant modelling agency which has more disorganization in one
day than Holly sees in a month at home, which did NOT have any interest (as a
school) in bending anything to suit a homeschooler, and blah blah, I'll quit.
Holly wasn't upset. She was amused and confident.
So how can someone REALLY think that being in a classroom where there are
small, lame right answers and where kids aren't even allowed to "socialize"
with kids one grade up or down from them would have an easier time "talking
to kids their own age"? Those are the only kids they ever GET to talk to,
and WHEN they're allowed to talk, much of what they say isn't very nice
because they're cooped up together agains their will with no escape.
Meanwhile Holly and thousands of unschoolers are interacting with people who
are younger, and older, who go to school, who don't, who are clueless and
not, and so talking to kids who happen to be their own age is a snap, AND
they actually have something to talk about besides "what grade are you in?"
and "what math are you doing?"
She can stand up to being criticized by a shrill and twitchy talent agent,
and come away smiling and shaking her head at how little an adult can really
understand.
Marty stood calmly while a twitchy two-year military vet criticized him for
wearing camouflage pants, in a thrift store. Came away smiling and shaking
his head.
These kids are FINE. They are more than fine. They're real and they're
confident. They're living outside the little box, with its fifteen
chit-chatty dialogs (fifteen? Maybe, including "what are you going to make
with that? that's a lot of cloth" which I was asked at the cutting table at
the fabric store, and because I didn't like the tone, which implied I was an
idiot to want 12 yards of something, I just looked at the girl until she
looked and then looked away. Sometimes I'm glad to tell someone what I'm
going to make, but I'm not answerable to her. What I said was "Is there 18
yards?" (I had asked for all that was left on a sale bolt.)
"No, 12 and a half."
"Well I wish it were 18, but I can use it anyway."
We're making tents. But she was unworthy to know that. <bwg> She can't get
from the box she's in to where our tents are, or WHY we care how those tents
are constructed.
If Holly had been with me, she would probably have chattered away about
center-pole tents and Viking tents with two oars and ropes. And the woman
would have gazed at her as though she were uttering Czechoslovakian recipes,
in Czech.
Sometimes it's like being on another plane of existence.
Sandra
Cold, but not even a stretch.
<< The other has three girls, all in public school. When she would start
with the "aren't you afraid he won't know how to talk to kids his own
age" stuff I would say, in a most sympathetic and concerned way, that
I'd just seen where two kids killed a classmate and a teacher was
arrested for sexual abuse of a student and a school had slime mold
contamination and how about that head lice out break and how sad her
middle daughter was being teased for being heavy and that must make her
feel sad as a parent, sending her off to school to be tortured and
humiliated everyday... and now I don't hear so much about what Dylan is
missing in public school. Now I hear about what a happy kid I have and
how curious he is and how interested he seems in everything. >>
I hope her girls are given some slack and freedom to some degree because of
Dylan's example.
Last night was Holly's last night at her modelling school. I went in to
pick her up after their little party. I wasn't sure what room they were in,
as it's a little warren of hallways and rooms, but I heard people saying
"Bye, Holly! Bye, Holly!" and followed their voices.
When I got in there she was engrossed in a conversation with the teacher and
wasn't even hearing people say bye, so I nudged her and indicated she was
ignoring people (irritating mom behavior) and she said bye.
The teacher gushed and gushed (as usual, but with more feeling) and I told
her Holly would really like to babysit sometime or even just get to hang out
with her kid (who's just two) and she lit up, which made Holly feel great,
because she likes that teacher and loves to be around kids, and she had
forgotten to ask for a babysitting consideration (though she had told me she
was going to).
Holly had made little business cards, by hand, on the halves of cardboard
backing that come from vending machine stickers. She bought more stickers
just to get more cardboard. So she had given out her webpage, e-mail address
and phone number to every kid in class, and the teacher. That was entirely
her idea. And she had taken one of my business cards to give the teacher,
who has expressed an interest in homeschooling, just because of Holly, and
because of materials I gave them to read when Holly was first there and they
said and did some things I wasn't comfortable with, when Holly wasn't reading
well and didn't have school experiences the other kids had.
She almost forgot about her cards, she said, but they were doing a game in
which each kid said something nice about each other kid, and when one boy
told a girl that he liked her because she had given him her phone number and
now he could tell the boys at school that he had a girl's phone number (!!),
Holly said "Oh! A girl's phone number? Here, have mine too" and passed them
out all around.
But here's the bad thing that happened that night. I heard it from Holly and
the teacher separately so I have a more 3-d picture than Holly has, though
Holly experienced it directly.
The manager of the site (school and agency) saw Holly's wild sculpted haircut
(which now has the front right corner shaved to the skin--Holly's doing), and
was NOT nice about it. Asked Holly WHAT she had done to her HAIR and told
her that if she wanted them to get her work she couldn't do things like that
to her hair, and to let it grow out. To the teacher she had said that they
couldn't place Holly unless she had natural little girl hair, and she needed
to get a good haircut, a headshot, and then KEEP her hair that way.
I'm not even NEARLY going to tell Holly to keep her hair to suit the cranky
manager of a pissant modelling agency which has more disorganization in one
day than Holly sees in a month at home, which did NOT have any interest (as a
school) in bending anything to suit a homeschooler, and blah blah, I'll quit.
Holly wasn't upset. She was amused and confident.
So how can someone REALLY think that being in a classroom where there are
small, lame right answers and where kids aren't even allowed to "socialize"
with kids one grade up or down from them would have an easier time "talking
to kids their own age"? Those are the only kids they ever GET to talk to,
and WHEN they're allowed to talk, much of what they say isn't very nice
because they're cooped up together agains their will with no escape.
Meanwhile Holly and thousands of unschoolers are interacting with people who
are younger, and older, who go to school, who don't, who are clueless and
not, and so talking to kids who happen to be their own age is a snap, AND
they actually have something to talk about besides "what grade are you in?"
and "what math are you doing?"
She can stand up to being criticized by a shrill and twitchy talent agent,
and come away smiling and shaking her head at how little an adult can really
understand.
Marty stood calmly while a twitchy two-year military vet criticized him for
wearing camouflage pants, in a thrift store. Came away smiling and shaking
his head.
These kids are FINE. They are more than fine. They're real and they're
confident. They're living outside the little box, with its fifteen
chit-chatty dialogs (fifteen? Maybe, including "what are you going to make
with that? that's a lot of cloth" which I was asked at the cutting table at
the fabric store, and because I didn't like the tone, which implied I was an
idiot to want 12 yards of something, I just looked at the girl until she
looked and then looked away. Sometimes I'm glad to tell someone what I'm
going to make, but I'm not answerable to her. What I said was "Is there 18
yards?" (I had asked for all that was left on a sale bolt.)
"No, 12 and a half."
"Well I wish it were 18, but I can use it anyway."
We're making tents. But she was unworthy to know that. <bwg> She can't get
from the box she's in to where our tents are, or WHY we care how those tents
are constructed.
If Holly had been with me, she would probably have chattered away about
center-pole tents and Viking tents with two oars and ropes. And the woman
would have gazed at her as though she were uttering Czechoslovakian recipes,
in Czech.
Sometimes it's like being on another plane of existence.
Sandra
Susan Fuerst
Sometimes it's like being on another plane of existence.
Sandra
My children are still in the younger category. (Oldest is Katy, 11) But
"another plane of existence" is something zI say frequently to describe
how I feel about the way my family lives. I have to try to remember
when and find ways to interact with the different planes"...or maybe
I'll just keep being who I am and growing how we are and maybe somebody
around here (meaning geographically) will want to join us!
Susan
Sandra
My children are still in the younger category. (Oldest is Katy, 11) But
"another plane of existence" is something zI say frequently to describe
how I feel about the way my family lives. I have to try to remember
when and find ways to interact with the different planes"...or maybe
I'll just keep being who I am and growing how we are and maybe somebody
around here (meaning geographically) will want to join us!
Susan
Betsy
**Maybe, including "what are you going to make
with that? that's a lot of cloth" which I was asked at the cutting
table at the fabric store, and because I didn't like the tone, which
implied I was an idiot to want 12 yards of something, I just looked at
the girl until she looked and then looked away. **
Was she the clerk, or the person behind you in line?
Sometimes standing in line is boring and the chatty among us want to
talk, or (in my case) amuse ourselves by speculating about what the
person in front of us is buying.
On one memorable occasion, in college, the person in front of us who was
buying an entire cartload of salt claimed it was to perform taxidermy on
a gorilla. That was startling!
(Maybe I'm ridiculously gullible. Any taxidermists on this list?)
Betsy
with that? that's a lot of cloth" which I was asked at the cutting
table at the fabric store, and because I didn't like the tone, which
implied I was an idiot to want 12 yards of something, I just looked at
the girl until she looked and then looked away. **
Was she the clerk, or the person behind you in line?
Sometimes standing in line is boring and the chatty among us want to
talk, or (in my case) amuse ourselves by speculating about what the
person in front of us is buying.
On one memorable occasion, in college, the person in front of us who was
buying an entire cartload of salt claimed it was to perform taxidermy on
a gorilla. That was startling!
(Maybe I'm ridiculously gullible. Any taxidermists on this list?)
Betsy
[email protected]
In a message dated 5/7/03 1:23:53 PM, ecsamhill@... writes:
<< Was she the clerk, or the person behind you in line? >>
The clerk who was cutting.
I've had some great long conversations with people about costuming and other
uses for swimsuit material and corn bags and all kinds of stuff, but her tone
of voice and demeanor were more like I was clueless and she was bored with
having to deal with the clueless cloth-buying public.
<<On one memorable occasion, in college, the person in front of us who was
buying an entire cartload of salt claimed it was to perform taxidermy on
a gorilla. That was startling!>>
Maybe I could adapt that line next time I'm buying a bunch of cloth.
"Do you have salt and a coathanger too? I'm going to mummify a gorilla."
Sandra
<< Was she the clerk, or the person behind you in line? >>
The clerk who was cutting.
I've had some great long conversations with people about costuming and other
uses for swimsuit material and corn bags and all kinds of stuff, but her tone
of voice and demeanor were more like I was clueless and she was bored with
having to deal with the clueless cloth-buying public.
<<On one memorable occasion, in college, the person in front of us who was
buying an entire cartload of salt claimed it was to perform taxidermy on
a gorilla. That was startling!>>
Maybe I could adapt that line next time I'm buying a bunch of cloth.
"Do you have salt and a coathanger too? I'm going to mummify a gorilla."
Sandra
kayb85
> On one memorable occasion, in college, the person in front of uswho was
> buying an entire cartload of salt claimed it was to performtaxidermy on
> a gorilla. That was startling!Once I bought a cartload of salt because we were attempting to
>
> (Maybe I'm ridiculously gullible. Any taxidermists on this list?)
>
> Betsy
mummify a chicken! lol
Sheila