I was sitting outside downtown last night knitting while waiting for my husband to bring pizza to the table. Two kids walked by, a little girl age 7 and her brother age 5. 5 looked at me and shouted in his excitement, "IS THAT YARN?! Do you have YARN?! Like for a KITTEN?!!!" They were very bright and inquisitive and curious and forward kids. I smiled and replied that yes, this is yarn, exactly as kittens universally love, and its very soft. I offered the yarn to 5 and for a moment he existed for that yarn. He squoze it, really dug in. He rolled it around in his hands. He noted the ball was attached to a string that was attached to something I was doing and he got right into the physics of the situation, winding and unwinding, carefully. I suggested his sister might like a turn. He handed over Precious Yarn right away with no hesitation to share.

7 was more interested in the knitting itself and I was so happy to hand her a wrap I had stashed in my bag so she could pour over the details of a Knitted Thing without unraveling the knitting on my needles. She noticed that knitting is full of holes. I explained that knitted things are actually made of holes and we all shared a very excited wonder-filled laugh about the irony of holes creating warm things. 7 thought it might be nice to know how to knit but was worried about the sharpness of the needle. Rather than using words she communicated in silence, pricking her left pointer finger with her right, while wincing. I held up the knitting needles so she could feel for herself the softness of their tips. I told her she was old enough to learn how to knit but she pointed out, rightly, that she couldn't do it by herself. She would need someone to help her learn how to knit. She said this with a resignation and tacit understanding that no such is help available.

The whole lesson took about four minutes, embodied principles of math and science, art, and physical intelligence. It was quite possibly richer in a visceral way than anything that happened to those kids at school this week and more memorable. It was free. It was unscripted and genuine. It had a clear note of truth, beauty, and pleasure for everyone involved.

Picture 7 and 5 two years from now. After two years in the school system, how might we expect them to be different? We all know exactly what they will have been taught, both intentionally and unintentionally. The curriculum for that age is predicable, purposefully average, institutional. Everyone who has been there has felt the results.

Homeschooling is a thing made of holes creating a loose interconnected vibrant warm colorful fabric of infinite possibility and shape. Homeschooling looks into the worried longing eyes of a bright child with the authority ability and intention to say, "Yes, here, let me show you how" in an atmosphere of love without competition, with an understanding of time bound only by issues of practicality, for reasons driven by curiosity, yearning, and tangible needs.

More often these days I encounter that same look of worry and longing in the eyes of young parents. Its not as easy to say, "Yes, here, let me show you how" to them. They've already been well trained in, "No, not right now, it won't work, we don't have time, we don't know how, these things are necessarily procedural, we can't."

                                                                                                                           image credit   ~ RWR