I Love to Home School

It all started innocently enough. The Boas Street Delps were sitting around the kitchen table after church on Sunday morning. I had looked at the Sports section (I say looked at because it usually takes several different sittings with the sports to really read them. On the first pass I read headlines and captions. Pass two reveals how someone else viewed an activity in which I am interested. Pass three and four gets me to the things for which I really do not care; the scores, statistics and schedules. Scores, statistics and schedules used to be much closer to the top. However, as I find myself going through the aging process my arms have become shorter and the small print is harder to see. My eyes are still good; my arms are just too short.) and moved onto the Parade Magazine.

Featured this week in the smart lady’s column was a question about if all the nation’s money was distributed equal to all the people, how much would everyone have. The magic number was $9,000. The homeschooling gene kicked in at that very moment. I read the question out loud interrupting the comics, the Best Buy ad and Section A. I explained to one and all about how stupid this really was. I explained how we need the rich and how as soon I could figure out to get each of their $9,000, that I would be wealthier than each of them and that they could work for me so that they had an income with which to survive.

Needless to say I was passionate about the subject. I grab Seth by the arm and said, “This stuff, this passion just effervesces from within me. I am like an artesian well.” I’m starting to roll. I asked my audience whether or not they knew what ‘effervesce’ means. Ann raised her hand. Seth looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues. Micah was back to the Best Buy ad. I continued on with hand motions I had learned to use years ago in Sunday school. Placing the heels of my hands together in front of my face with my fingers pointing skyward, I thrust my arms straight up spreading my now open palms outward as if I were exploding champagne exiting a bottle. Over and over I repeated this act until I had everyone’s attention. But it didn’t end there. Now I had to explain what an artesian well was. I have everyone’s attention now as the looks on their faces were the same amazed looks we have as we watch a shooting star blaze across the night sky burning brightly as it nears eternal darkness.

So I ask Seth, “What comes out of an artesian well?” He looked quizzically at me ask he realized he was being slowly sucked into this madness. Ann interjected “H2O.” So Seth said “Water.”

It was at that moment I reached to point of no return. “No!” I shouted, not water but “agua”. I am truly going to make this an interdisciplinary home school moment around the Delp family breakfast table as I have now jumped from economics, to vocabulary, to science and now to foreign languages. Micah caught the spirit noting that the mention of H2O was chemistry. I jumped on this as Hop-a-long Cassidy used to mount his horse, with both hands. “H” stands for hydrogen and “O” stands for oxygen as I revive the Village people YMCA-like antics. I then launched into a quick run through of the periodic chart of the elements. H – Hydrogen, He – Helium, Ne – Neon as I took a detour through the inert gasses. Then back to Carbon, Boron and on and on. All this chemistry stuff resurrected my all time favorite science poem:

Johnny was a chemist,
Johnny is no more,
For what he thought was H2O,
Was H2SO4.

I asked Seth, “What is H2O?” He replied, “Water!” I shouted him down with, “No! No! Agua! Agua! Use your Spanish!” I love homeschooling. It provides so many opportunities for immediate feedback. I asked Micah, “What’s H2SO4?” He said, “Sulfur something, sulfuric acid.” Close enough, soon to be struggling chemistry student.

I explained how one can ingest water with little or no harm. Swallowing sulfuric acid means you life story and next of kin will soon be printed on pages 3 and 4 of Section B. Rest in Peace you confused chemist.

I am sure there was more rapid fire insanity from the dark corners of my frustrated educators mind. Only the fog of a tired mind and the late hour stand between that madness and your knowledge of it.

As I pushed my frame back from the table, grabbed Sunday’s HARD Sudoku, I left them cheering as I announced that due to the quantity and quality of material just covered, Sunday could be counted as a school day. Only a home school child or parent can fully understand the significance of that statement.

They were still cheering and singing my praises as I walked to my bedroom. - Dan