learning in the nest

A couple months ago, as part of a series of decisions for our kids and family, we brought Obi-1 home from school.  Our hope is to try a different approach to education for a bit, settle down from the years of efforts that have not worked out for him, us, or the school, and regain a little perspective.  Obi-2 had already been home for several months, leaving his kindergarten class in the fall when it was apparent he needed something different at that time.  Given our lifelong commitment and love for public education and our neighorhood, these decisions were complex, hard and time-consuming.  For the sake of your time, my sanity, and the privacy of my family, I won't go into those details now.  Suffice it to say, our "nest" got a bit more crowded during the day, and we all have spent a few months adjusting to the transition.  "Runamuck Elementary" has a little more meaning nowadays.  Overall, it's been lovely and better than I could have imagined.  At least for now, I'm very glad we have the boys home for school.  And of course, now it's summer vacation anyway...

But back to my title of this post.  The same week Obi-1 came home, we noticed a bit of construction on our front porch.  Within a few days it was apparent that a bird had decided our home was a good place for her family, too.  We wondered about the new neighbor, and were excited to soon find we had a robin sitting in the new nest!  Before long, a long-armed reach with a camera revealed three bright blue eggs in the nest. We enjoyed learning together in the little biology exhibit outside our windows.  Did you know that male and female robins take turns sitting on the nest, even though the female does most of the construction work and lays the eggs?  Not only that, but after the little ones hatch, did you know the parents take turns sitting, warming, and protecting their tiny offspring, while gathering food to nourish the whole family?  I don't think I knew some of these things before - if I did, seeing the life of this little family certainly taught me more than any reading I did on the subject.

It was sweet, really.  Here, as we Kenobis entered a season and decision that felt so intimidating, a little bird family had shown up as a natural encouragement and model.  We shared a lot in common, Mrs. Robin Redbreast & I: three children, all at home and learning to share, grow, survive, and eventually fly out into the world.  We also shared this space in our neighborhood.  The boys would eagerly peer out the windows to catch glimpses of baby beaks, poking out desperately for their parents and food, and learned to carefully open and close the front door so as to not spook the birds.  The Obis named the baby birds, even though we have no idea which little robins in our yard might actually be "Alex" and his siblings.  They dug worms out of the backyard, piling wrigglers in yogurt containers while creating vast holes in the dirt and mud, all in order to trek the treats to the mud in front of our porch and make life a little easier on Mr. and Mrs. Robin. Like our feathered neighbors, my boys would poke around our home, looking for me and asking for snacks or meals, listening to guidance on some of our academic endeavors, and discovering how to trust their God-given desires to explore and learn. We read this book and this book, checked out Audubon Society links, and memorized "Little Robin Redbreast" together.

After a couple weeks into the young birds' life, the parents protected and encouraged their young ones' departure from the nest.  Meanwhile, I was gently urging my boys to engage their critical thinking skills, nurturing their inquisitive minds, reminding them to pay attention to detail, and helping them value their own time.  They created poems and nature journals, measured lettuce in our newly sprouting garden, and read the newspaper.  We read a lot, and played even more.  While not fully settled as "homeschoolers," we were getting our bearings together at home, and that felt good. Flight is often awkward, full of failures and risk, and yet it delivers independent and exhilarating adventure.

With the flight of the baby robins, our front-porch science exhibit was over, or so I thought.  Just a few weeks ago, a new (or the same?) red-breasted couple moved in.  Within days, a photo revealed not three, but four little blue eggs.  They were beautiful.  We have loved watching this next "generation" in the same, yet different, processes of family growth.  It has been a sweet way to start a transition to summer, think ahead to the cycles of our home in the upcoming year, and anticipate our little Obi-4's arrival later this season.  More added, more nurtured, and more released to independence, life, and learning opportunities in the great big world.

living the dream

The boys and I watched Martin Luther King Jr's famous "I have a dream" speech this week.  We pulled out a youtube video during time we cheerfully refer to as, "Runamuck Elementary School."  Purposefully misspelled, "Runamuck" is our description of the day-to-day family life where we are learning and experiencing things that stretch, instruct, and enrich our lives.  It's a nice combination of activities, adventures, friends, family, and often, mess.  


Sometimes, people will refer to this "Runamuck" concept as homeschooling, but I think that term should probably be reserved for the families who take on the responsibility of teaching their children seriously and intentionally, with plans, curriculum, and vision of a specific form of education.  In our case, "Runamuck Elementary" is just part of parenting (and living) in the Kenobi household.


Lately, however, I've spent a lot of time thinking, reading, and considering what really makes one well-educated.  I ran across some of Dr. King's thoughts on the subject, which seemed as timely today as in 1947, when he evidently spoke these words:

"Education must also train one for quick, resolute and effective thinking. To think incisively and to think for one's self is very difficult. We are prone to let our mental life become invaded by legions of half truths, prejudices, and propaganda. 

At this point, I often wonder whether or not education is fulfilling its purpose. A great majority of the so-called educated people do not think logically and scientifically. Even the press, the classroom, the platform, and the pulpit in many instances do not give us objective and unbiased truths.

To save man from the morass of propaganda, in my opinion, is one of the chief aims of education. Education must enable one to sift and weigh evidence, to discern the true from the false, the real from the unreal, and the facts from the fiction.  The function of education, therefore, is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically.

...We must remember that intelligence is not enough. Intelligence plus character--that is the goal of true education."

Well said, MLK.  Well said.

three seconds

This evening, I suggested that Obi-2 have more water after dinner.  I commented that I noticed he really didn't drink much water at lunch each school day.  (I knew this because his water bottle, attached to his lunch box, rarely bares signs of use.)  Obi-2 replied that he does too drink water - in fact, he drinks all three seconds at the water fountain.


All three seconds?  What in the world did he mean?

Turns out, the children at our elementary school line up for water breaks twice each day.   Each child gets a chance to have a drink of water at the fountain. When it is his turn, the children behind him chant "one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, go!"  Then, the turn is over, and the next child gets the same chant, the same three-second opportunity at the fountain, and the whole thing continues.

I was incredulous at this story, but Obi-2 seemed matter-of-fact.  I turned to Obi-1, who affirmed that this is their system.  Neither boy seemed to have a second thought about it.  I needed clarification.  What, I asked, if they were still thirsty after three seconds?  They go back to the end of the line.  Obi-1 said that once, the drinking fountain wasn't working very well, and he barely got a drink during his three seconds.  He had to go to the back of the line several times before he had really gotten a drink.  Usually, however, they only get one turn.

Grown ups in the room: think about this for one moment.  When you're thirsty, what do you do?  When you're at your office, or in your living room, and another person takes a drink, do you count out loud, then expect them to stop after an arbitrary few seconds?  What is possibly the logic behind three seconds for a drink?   Is this the answer to the challenges of diversity in urban classrooms - giving everyone equal access to the water fountain?  Good grief.  It's not prison - it's kindergarten!

Sorry for the sudden outburst and lack of optimism.  I just had to share the latest moment from our dinner table conversation.  Moreover, I'm thirsty.  So start your stopwatch - I'm headed for a drink.