Week Four: I am not a special snowflake.

I am NOT a special snowflake.

So often, after explaining my views about unschooling, I am told "not everyone could do that. You, you're different. You have a thirst to learn. You clearly are a human with opinions, and you have gone out and actually wanted to learn things, and here you are. Not everyone is like that. You're special."

Given, this may not be the exact words that are said, but the idea behind them is there. Always lurking behind the fact that I can measure up to whoever is holding up the yardstick is the subtle (or not so subtle) inference that I just happened to get lucky, and that I'm not the norm.

Before I go any further, I want to make something abundantly clear. I am not saying that my lifestyle is for everyone, since I know a few friends who have been unschooled for their entire lives, and then chose to go to school because they wanted to. I'm not saying that some people don't need structure. I'm not saying that everyone would do well in the intensely radical life that I lead.

Here is what I am saying.

I am not an abnormality.

I am not some sort of wonder child who has managed to reach beyond my hopelessly unstructured and uncontrolled life to grasp at knowledge against all odds.

I am not a special snowflake.

When you tell me that I'm an anomaly, that I'm doing well, but that's not the norm, you are doing a number of things, and none of them are kind.

First, you are seriously underselling the vast majority of people, and their abilities to function in the world. I am a firm believer in the theory that, if given the chance and left to their own devices, most (if not all people) will end up knowledgeable in whatever field that interests them. A structured, oppressive school system feeds information into people's heads so that they can take tests well. This is what school is for. School is not for following passions, for finding out who you are, or who you want to be. It is for taking tests and passing tests.


Secondly, you are saying that I have, against all odds, managed to be a person with thoughts, intellect, and a grasp on what everyone so maddeningly calls "the real world*". When you think you're complimenting me, what you're really doing is congratulating me on overcoming my life.

My life is not something to be overcome. It's not something that I struggled against. It's not a miracle that I'm doing as well as I am.

So in closing, even if you think it's a compliment, please don't tell me that I'm a special case, and that I'm just better/more motivated than everyone else.

If you want to compliment me, just please do not do it in a way that makes it seem like I have overcome my chosen education.

Thank you,

~Whimsy

P.S. Thinking about doing a series of posts on unschooling.

P.P.S. The heavy topics will eventually go away, and we'll go back to Whimsy's Usual Madness.

*There's so much to say about this, too.

Week Three: Thoughts On The School System.

A friend of mine asked for suggestions on how his English teacher could improve her teaching. Well, it kind of evolved into this rambling reply regarding my first few thoughts on the school system.

Here is the massive message I sent, totally unchanged from it's first draft.

My thoughts on the school system are MANY AND VARIED, but my viewpoint boils down to this:

Firstly, compulsory education is kind of bullshit. No matter how old you are, you should have the right to choose if you do or do not want to do something.

Secondly, all educations should be set up like college is: if you want to go, you go. If you don't, you don't.

Thirdly, regarding college: There should be no "required classes". If I'm going to college to get a piece of paper that says "Yes, good on you, you know lots about maths", then why should I be required to take an English class (and vice versa).

Fourthly, testing is not, never has been, and never will be an accurate way to measure if learning has taken place, or if you have knowledge of a certain subject.

Fifth, (and this is more of a collective social consciousness type-thing), there needs to be NO STIGMA AROUND WHAT CLASSES/SCHOOLING/COLLEGE/LACK-THEREOF YOU CHOOSE. On the flipside, there needs to be a general consensus that if I'm home/un/private/public schooled, that does not mean that I am anything other than a human being. Do not assume that I am a genius, or that I have no social skills, or that I am stupid, or that I have no thoughts of my own, or any of those things.

Sixth, respect. Now, I'm not talking about the mouth-shut-listen-to-me-while-I-am-talking kind of respect for teachers, but more along the lines of I-am-a-person-you-are-a-person-respect.

Seventh, safe space. Create one, enforce it. If someone's breaking the safe space, get them either A: spoken to about it or B: removed from the space.

Really, there's only two of these that your teacher-person can do anything about, and that's the last two. I'm going to go into a bit more detail on each of them now.

Respect: the thing is, I think a lot of teachers think that the students should respect them purely on the grounds that they are The Teachers. In reality, all this hierarchy crap is just that, crap. If you are expecting respect without wanting to give it back, that's just not going to work. I seriously doubt that in a teacher's personal life, they expect respect without giving respect in return. Bottom line, your students are people, same as you, no matter what age they are. Treat them like you want to be treated. Don't be an ass based on age or supposed classroom hierarchy.

Safe Space: this kinda falls under the umbrella of respect, but since this is super-crazy important, I'll say it again. Please, if you ask your teacher to do any one thing, ask her to make sure that her classroom is a safe space for everyone, including and especially lgbtq+ students. If she can educate herself about making sure she's not making unintentionally hurtful comments, and if she can make it damn clear that anyone who does is going to be spoken to about it, and that she won't tolerate that kind of crap, all the better for EVERYONE.


~Whimsy

Week Two: Whimsy's list of wonderful things!

Lat year, I posted a getting-to-know-you type blog. This year, I'm doing a bit more simple version of the same thing.

January 2012: Whimsy's list of wonderful things*.

Snow at night
Re-reading books
Dance parties in the kitchen
Green things
Hugs
Christmas crackers
Lists
Rainbows
Waltzing
Puns
The smell of books
Clever television
Making music
Writing
Baking cookies
The internet
Trees
Art
Spices
Woodsmoke
Stars
Sock puppets
Surrealist humor
Webcomics
Magic
Speculative fiction
Tailcoats
Quotes
Books
Laughter
Friendship


This is by no means an exhaustive list. However, I'm already behind with my posting for this project. HOWEVER, I will prevail!

I've started teaching the younger kids again, and as usual, it's wonderful, and the kids are charmingly adorable. I love them all, I really do.

Talk to you soon!
~Whimsy


* I am of the opinion that what a person likes gives a great slice of who they are as a person.

Week One: Bringing back The BOW Project and my personal resolutions.

As some of you may recall, last year, I took on a crazy project. The attempt was to write and publish 52 posts in a year, one each week.

As you may have noticed, I failed this project. However, I reached 45 posts in 2011, not counting the daily blogs I put out during the month of August. I count that as a success. I mean, I wrote far more than I would have otherwise, and that was the whole point.

Because I haven't learned my lesson from last year, I'm trying again. Yes, The BOW Project is going on into 2012, and I couldn't be happier.

I don't like to do new year's resolutions, and the reason is this: I don't want to feel like I failed at something. I think that too many people set themselves up to fail when they pick the resolutions that they choose. That being said, I'm making some resolutions that I think I can keep up with.

In no particular order:

* Don't run away from new experiences based solely on my anxieties and irrational fears.
* Do things that make me happy.
* Create more things.
* Don't second-guess myself so intensely.
* Do something that I've never done before.
* Write what I'd like to read.

I think those are good goals.

Week Forty-Five: Playing Catch-up

Oh, Yuletide. You're always such an interesting time of year. From the endless Frosty and Rudolph songs on the radio, to making gifts for my friends and family, to finding a tree, all the way to the various holidays that we celebrate, it's always a fun time of year.

This year, as I mentioned previously, I am becoming increasingly more and more fed up with the radio's song choices, and have gone to far as to talk about creating my own station of holiday music for the EXPRESS PURPOSE of not playing any songs about magic snowmen or reindeer. I don't dislike the songs completely, but the frequency is really wearing on me.

As usual, I'm busy at work, creating gifts. I always make gifts, and although it takes a while to get it all done (and my out-of-state friends may end up with late gifties, sadly), I love doing it.

Remember the classes that my family and I teach, the ones that started in September? Well, just yesterday was the final day of the semester, and I could not be prouder of all of the students. It was a lot of fun, and while the workload of getting everything prepared for the ten classes we taught at once was admittedly heavy, I can't say that I didn't enjoy it. We're already brainstorming for next semester, and it's looking like we'll be teaching a whole pile of new classes, and I'm thrilled.

Life is always busy, and right now is no exception. I'll be surprised if I reach my goal of 52 posts by the end of the year, but let me tell you, I'm going to try my best.

This has been a pretty newsy post, so I'll toss it to you all...if there's still anyone reading this, that is.
What's new in your life?

Now I must go so I can sleep so I can wake up and do more Yule elf things.

Cheers,
Whimsy

Week Forty-Four: The Face On The Milk Carton

This was written as a project for one of the classes my family and I teach. We did a book report on our least favorite book from the six that we covered in our Banned Book Club. I had great fun with this.

The Face on the Milk Carton

This book tells the story of a teenage girl who finds out that she was kidnapped as a toddler through a series of totally unrealistic coincidences and absurd conjecture. Janie Johnson is our paper-flat heroine, a girl with no apparent interests other than the boy next door and no more character depth than trying not to drink milk because of her mild lactose allergy. One day, while surrounded by her insipid and wildly annoying friends who don’t seem to really know her at all, (judging by the fact that they can happily ignore that Janie is having a complete and total mental breakdown while they cheerily eat their lunches,) Janie finds a photo of herself in a missing children’s ad on the side of a milk carton. She recognizes the photo of herself from the dress that she’s wearing, goes into a tailspin and promptly decides that her loving parents must have stolen her away from her “real” family at a young age, all in less time than it takes her school lunch to get cold.

Here is where the real fun starts for Janie. Not only does she spend ninety percent of the rest of the book flip-flopping between hysteria and numbness, she also acquires a markedly crappy boyfriend named Reeve and fails every single one of her classes, but she also becomes so attached to the milk carton with her face on it, she can’t be without it for more than an hour at a time.

During poor cardboard Janie’s meltdown of self destruction, the strangest part of the book happens. Nobody notices. Her teachers just simply keep on giving her assignments, not one of them stopping to wonder why this formerly brilliant pupil is doing so poorly. Her friends actually get mad at her for being distant, not even noticing that she’s having full-blown panic attacks in front of them. Her supposed “Best Friend” calls her up one night, and when Janie doesn’t want to make small talk about nail polish and boys, gets so upset that she essentially disowns her as a friend.

When Janie finally reaches her breaking point, she skips school with her boyfriend, Reeve, and takes a four hour trip down to New Jersey to attempt to find her family through searching through a phonebook at then stalking them outside their home. Neither Reeve nor Janie seem to see any problem with this, and they wait creepily in the car while Janie’s assumed biological family comes home from school. In this interlude, Reeve appears to just have been waiting for Janie to be done with her parked-car stalking so that he can ask her to go to a motel. Janie turns him down, and they get back in the car to make the four hour drive back home. About halfway back home, without having exchanged more than six words, Reeve turns off the highway, drives into a astonishingly skeezy motel parking lot, and rents a room using his mother’s credit card. Janie, who has not been interested in finding a motel *wink wink*, turns him down yet again and then they get back in the car and drive away, not even bothering to check out. With Janie’s breakdown taking up most of her brain space, is it really the golden opportunity to try to find a motel?
For the rest of the ride, Reeve doesn’t speak to her until they realize they had better get their stories straight for their parents, who are going absolutely insane from wondering where their children have gone, and then shortly after the road trip to New Jersey, he dumps her.

I think now is a good time to pause the manic action of this book and talk briefly about the writing style. For example, the metaphors weighed down the pace of the book like a dumbbell on a folded paper airplane. As a matter of fact, wading through the metaphors was like sloshing through a four foot vat of jelly. Reading the superfluous metaphors made me feel as if I was drowning in the ocean with thousands of paper cuts all over my skin.

When the plot wasn’t being bogged down by the poor word choices, The Face on the Milk Carton felt both intensely melodramatic and breakneck, slowed down and meticulously described in all the wrong places, and then suddenly the writing would take off and sweep over hours or days of time in a sentence or two. There was no plot arch, and the one big plot point of the book was stretched out into an overlong, dazed and poorly paced literary cacophony of confusion.

In short, The Face on the Milk Carton is a novel full of unrealistic coincidences, gaping plot holes, overly complicated metaphors, and a plot that is stretched so thinly it’s nearly at its breaking point. The underdeveloped characters left me without a speck of sympathy for their unrealistic plights, and the ending, while leaving the story open for a sequel , left me apathetic with no real desire to read onward.

Week Forty-Three: Out Of Hibernation

Hello, bloggy-types!

Yes, I know, it's been a while. I disappeared during November, but on the bright side, I've written my third novel.

It went better than I'd expected, actually. Especially since I had my busiest November on record, managing to finish 50,000 words has been quite the trip. I had very little idea as to what I wanted to do with my novel this year, and almost everything that I'd planned went straight out the window. I couldn't be happier.

As of now, I'm re-reading it, and to my surprise, there's actually some not-that-bad bits in there, including an argument that I particularly liked. Clearly, I'm going to need a lot of time to edit it into something coherent, but at least it's there. I had a really good time with it this year, and I'm really proud of my little fledgeling book-baby.

With the self-imposed challenge of BOW'11, I've obviously missed a handful of weeks, but that's okay, I think. My goal has been revised to post 52 times this year, so look forward to tons of posts until December 31st. Even though I technically failed the guidelines of this challenge, I don't really feel like it. I've posted roughly forty-three more times than I would have without attempting this mad project, and because of that, I have a window to look back at how I was feeling, what I was doing, and who I was throughout this past year, and in that case, it was totally worth it.

It's the Christmas-Yule season now, the house is decorated, and the holiday music is playing over the radio.

For now, I have to say goodbye. It's time to go get the tree, and we need to find the biggest, fattest tree we can, so I must go.

Look out for Whimsy's triumphant return, as I attempt to write 10 blog posts in three weeks.

Happy holidays!
~Whimsy