A Journey in Homeschooling

BARBARA HEDGEWITCH

Summer 1999

With the coming of Litha, our lives shift gears. Our homeschooling pursuits, unstructured as they were, have become even more unstructured. External classes are now finished, and we slip into casual days. We do more hiking, camping, and going to the river. We get up earlier, with the early birds singing and the sun blazing, and we stay up later to stargaze by the firepit that we built this spring. John is learning to tend fire.

We continue to observe the world around us, noting that the Turkey Vultures, hummingbirds and other summer birds are here. We watch barn swallows dip and soar, and see their babies peeking over the edge of the nest up in the barn rafters. We are fascinated by the weather, and take photos of unusual cloud formations. We line our chairs up by the living room windows and watch lightning strike across the valley. We see a small tornado being born, first as an angry boiling cloud, sucking up the mists on the hill opposite us; then as a hook tentatively reaching out, retreating, reaching out again, finally touching down in a field below. It is a very small tornado, and we are more fascinated than frightened.

Summer chores keep us busy, the grass grows very fast, and the weeds threaten to overtake the garden. Raven, 4, revels in her paganism, proudly proclaiming, "I'm a baby Witch", while 11 year old John struggles with trying to blend in with general society. He loves our activities, our Druid circles, our drumming, and our Esbat and Sabbat celebrations, yet most of his friends are nominal Christians. He would prefer to keep his family firmly shut in the broom closet, and claims that he is NOT a witch. It's tough being a conformist in a non-conformist family.

I consider enrolling John in Religious Education classes at the local Unitarian Universalist church. I want him to have a solid basis in learning about all of his religious/spiritual options. Of course, this means that I too, would have to get up and attend on Sundays, something which my spirit heartily rebels at doing. Raven would love the opportunity to socialize, viewing any gathering of people as a special event held in her honor. I find a million excuses to not start "this week". Perhaps when the days turn shorter, and we once again add structure to our lives.

Sometime in this freeform summer, I intend to build a labyrinth. It will begin as mowed paths separated by unmown grass and will progress to unknown complexity. Perhaps eventually the separations will be hedges, or flowerbeds. My mind toys with the endless possibilities. I've considered this project for several summers now, and always became bogged down in the mechanics of laying it out, and trying to figure out what to put in the separations. John is old enough now to help me with the mechanics of it all. Raven is always willing to lend an eager hand, happy to simply be outdoors with her family.

From this vantage point, summer seems to stretch on into infinity. The hottest days still lie ahead. The crops aren't yet ripe, the birds are still nesting. On Midsummer, we will celebrate the Sun and the light, and mark where it sets on the longest day of the year. It will be a wonderful, wonder-filled summer.