Paddle, Paddle, Paddle Your Boat

My son and I are in Summit County, Colorado, now after a brief trip to St. Louis. I didn't have access to a computer (not to mention much time to use one) in the "Show Me" state, and I still don't now, so I'm blogging from my phone. For which reason, I'll make this brief (sort of like the Missouri chapter of our across-the-country trip).

As soon as we landed in St. Louis, I asked my uncle whether riverboats still cruise up and down the Mississippi River. Industrious fellow that he is, he found out (via the internet) that there are still a couple riverboat outfits in St. Louis. He got pretty excited about the prospect of riding on a paddlewheeler; apparently he'd never been on one, despite having lived his whole life in the greater St. Louis area. We collectively decided that we'd all go for a riverboat ride on Monday.

I wanted to take Parker on a paddlewheel boat because it was pretty much the only kind of boat he'd yet to experience in his short life. Growing up on a small island, you get exposed to all sorts of watercraft just during the course of your daily life: sailboats (monohull, catamaran and trimaran), motorboats, fishing boats, kayaks, canoes, barges, ferries, cruise ships and container ships. We've talked about how each type works, in addition to their individual purposes. I was more than jazzed to show Parker a riverboat with an honest-to-goodness paddlewheel, since that's the one kind of boat (well, apart from some Navy vessels) that neither of us had neither seen nor ridden on before.

The boat ride was a blast, and educational besides. The captain continually pointed out both historical landmarks and present-day industries (who knew that they harvest sand from the river bottom?). Parker and I talked about how fast the river was moving, the tugboats that were pushing up to eleven river barges up the river, the plentiful driftwood (as well as trash) floating past us and where all the river water would end up. It was great fun, though sweltering. We had the fortunate option of descending down into the air-conditioned dining hall, but doing so I couldn't help but imagine the poor souls who cruised the river aboard paddlewheel boats a hundred years ago, dressed to the nines and forced to bake in the Midwest summer heat.

Fauna

It's about time to pack up our suitcase and drive to the Cleveland airport. My son and I have had an amazingly fun, enriching and memorable stay here in Ohio. My appreciation of Erie County grows with each visit; the sense of community and family--of interconnectedness--here is so strong, and I really miss that living on St. John. (No family is a island, though they might live on one!) It warms my heart to see my son soaking up all the love he receives from his great-grandmother, great-aunts and -uncles and second cousins here in Ohio. And they each teach him something new, from how to collect buckeyes to how to herd miniature horses to how to shake hands "like a man" to how to climb over a cattle fence carrying a bucket of apples (thanks, Great-Grandma Prout!). Here in Ohio, the proverbial village shares with me the weighty (though not onerous) responsibility of raising my son, and I enjoy the sense of collaboration.

Thanks to my mother-in-law, my son and I visited four of the Erie County Metroparks during the course of our two-week visit, and what a discovery they were! The park system even employs a young naturalist who conducts free "Park Pals" programs for youngsters; the list of Park Pals events for September alone numbers in the dozens. This past Monday, we drove to Castalia Quarry Metropark (where my mother-in-law's father worked, once a upon a time) to participate in the "Wildlife Is Everywhere" Park Pals program. We hiked into the old quarry and observed turkey vultures, centipedes, butterflies, crickets, blue jays and wasps' nests. Julie, the Metroparks naturalist, is a gifted educator; she effortlessly imparted a sense of wonder and excitement about the local flora and fauna while we wandered around the park. My in-laws, my son and I stuck around after the program so that we could hike up to a tower above the quarry, from which we could see all the way to Lake Erie. On our way back to the trail head, we were lucky enough to happen upon a bright red cardinal giving himself a bath in a rain puddle atop the lid of a trash can. I'd seen birdbaths before, but never a bird actually giving itself a bath. Man, what a hilarious sight! That little bird was splashing around to beat the band, spraying water everywhere. I loved it.

After we left the park, we met Mike's cousin's wife at her family's barn, and watched (and tried to help) as she tended to her horses (and goats and llama). Between the wildlife at the old quarry and Emily's miscellaneous quadrupeds (and the puppies we met later on at my mother-in-law's sister's house), Monday was filled with learning about and interacting with animals. What more could a homeschooling mom ask for?

Naturalist Julie tells us that we're about to embark on a wildlife safari.

Checking out some signs of insect life.

Cookie the Miniature Horse grazes amidst buckeyes while Parker plays with his second cousin's Tonka trucks.

Jake the Llama. (He moved too fast for me--I couldn't get a good picture of him.)

Watching Jake get herded out to pasture. (Jake didn't seem to be feeling very cooperative that day.)

Even the goats wanted to watch Jake's antics.

A horse smaller than Parker.

Dust bath!

Aw, puppies.

The (operational) quarry in Parkertown! Parker loved seeing all the machines at work. (This was as close as we could get, and I don't think we were even supposed to get this close!)

Why I Like Paying Taxes

Grandma Betty took Parker and me to Osborn Metropark this morning. When she told me we'd be going to a park, I was expecting just some big grassy field with a playground attached. Was I ever wrong! Osborn Park is amazing: it's huge, with soccer fields, a beautiful old barn, a dog run, a public garden, a visitors center, a children's forest and the requisite playground. The children's forest astounded me. It's such a resplendent (and educational!) interactive treasure! Hooray for whoever designed it! And hooray for the tax dollars that payed for it!

Pink Houses (er, Shelves)

My son and I are only one week into our magical mystery tour and we've already visited a zoo, attended a wedding, enjoyed a festival, watched a parade, run a 5K (well, in Parker's case, a 1K... most of it atop his grandfather's shoulders), waded in Lake Erie, careened around naked in my in-laws' backyard (OK, I abstained from that activity), bathed in mud (that one, too), visited a local orchard, strolled along the remnants of a bustling, prosperous nineteenth century canal, romped around my husband's family's 150-year-old family farm, and eaten a combined total of seven ears of sweet corn, half a peck of peaches and one buckeye. This weekend promises more excitement, with a trip to my father-in-law's factory, an evening of bowling, a morning at Cedar Point Amusement Park where we'll cheer on my father-in-law as he swims in a half-Ironman and an afternoon celebrating the Erie County park system.

Believe it or not, we've had ample downtime in the midst of all the hullabaloo, during which my son and his doting, ever-patient grandmother have played and played and (cue the trumpets) done some Montessori activities! My mother-in-law used to teach in a Montessori school here in Ohio, and she prepared for our visit by setting some old pink shelves (originally built for her own kids) in a corner of her living room and filling them with all sorts of fun Montessori-inspired materials. Grandma Betty and Parker have been bead stringing, gluing, pouring and labeling. They've done puzzles together, read books and created farm and zoo scenes using little animal figurines and pieces of felt. It's awesome to see my son not only basking in the love and affection of his grandparents, but also practicing old skills and acquiring new ones under the tutelage of a teacher other than yours truly. Students cannot help but benefit from occasionally being taught by a "substitute teacher." Different teachers use different methods, have different personalities and provide a different point of view. And my son has the best substitute of all in his grandma; my mother-in-law is a natural educator and constantly perceives learning opportunities, even in the most mundane of tasks.

I, myself, have learned a lot over the past seven days. It's such a gift to be able to sit back and really observe your youngster, especially when you're accustomed to acting as his primary caregiver and educator. My son has been absolutely insatiable with regard to knowledge since we arrived here; he's soaked up everything his grandmother has said to him as well as everything we've seen, from the trucks on the highways to the combine harvesters in the fields to the family photos displayed around the house. That's not a huge surprise, though, since Parker, like most three-year-olds, wants to know everything about just about everything. Also not surprising is how much he has profited from his grandmother's seemingly endless reserves of patience. She either has a very good poker face or she just really and truly never gets frustrated while interacting with my son (and I tend to think it's the latter). It's obvious to me that Parker is thriving in the glow of his grandmother's (and grandfather's) unconditional love. More to the point, it's undeniable to me that he's learning more; and he's learning more because he's not distracted by the fear that his grandmother will fly off the handle if he spills a little glitter or gives up halfway through putting the matrushka dolls back together. (In case you haven't read any of my earlier posts, I have a bad habit of occasionally flying off the handle.) What is surprising to me is how beneficial it's been to have the pink "school shelves" constantly at hand. At home we keep our school materials put away and only pull them out when it's school time, and no playing is allowed during school time. Here, Parker flits from playing with cars to bead stringing to playing with trucks to gluing to reading books to playing ball. It just feels so much more organic, and there's never a "But I don't like school!" struggle. It makes me think that maybe I shouldn't keep Parker's school stuff tucked away in his closet. I don't know, though, if I could really let go of the reins. The absence of structure scares me. I mean, our culture has taught us that kids need to spend a set amount of time in school; a set amount of time learning (or being taught, at least), without any toy-like distractions. What would happen if I did away with school time? Would my son still learn--would he periodically choose to pick up his graduated blocks or dressing busy board--or would he spend all day vrooming his Matchbox cars around the kitchen table? I don't know, but my mother-in-law's pink shelves are making me wonder.

Best Laid Plans

Cruz Bay Playground, Post-Earl

My son and I leave tomorrow, and we won't return to our little island home until the end of October. Imagining our homeschooling materials sitting neglected on their shelves in Parker's closet, gathering dust in our absence, I was determined to do as much homeschooling with my son as possible prior to our departure. I knew I'd miss our Montessori mornings, and I was pretty sure Parker was going to, too, regardless of the occasional "But I don't like school!" utterances. Well, best laid plans, and all that. Mother Nature decided to give us a practical life lesson all her own in the form of Hurricane Earl. We spent most of Sunday getting ready for Earl, all of Monday hunkered down and the majority of yesterday cleaning up after Earl (category 4 hurricanes leave behind quite a LOT of debris). This morning I was busy doing loads (upon loads upon loads) of laundry (our bed sheets were disgusting--you get really sweaty sleeping with no electricity and your house all shuttered up), and this afternoon I'll be packing, so our school stuff has already acquired a thin coat of dust and we haven't even left yet.

Not being able to do school aside, we were incredibly fortunate this week. We were without power for about 36 hours (an amazingly small amount of time--go WAPA!) and we were greeted with a big ol' mess on our deck when we opened up our hurricane doors yesterday morning. (And I wasn't actually upset about the mess! I'd just spent 24 hours stuck inside, and we couldn't leave the house once Earl had passed because there was a curfew in effect--not to mention most roads were impassable--so I took one look at the muddy, leafy pond that our deck had become and attacked all that debris with the vigor of one who has been sitting around, twiddling her thumbs, for hours and hours.) If all you have to complain about after a category 4 hurricane is a brief power outage and a muddy mess, then count yourself lucky. I went out walking this morning and saw dozens of downed power lines, huge trees uprooted and beautiful sailboats sadly washed up on shore. I came home humbled by the devastation I'd witnessed. Count us lucky, indeed.

Tomorrow we leave for Ohio, the first leg of our trip. We're actually flying into Detroit (cheaper airfare that way), and my in-laws plan on taking Parker and me to the Detroit Zoo after they pick us up, before the two-hour drive to Milan, Ohio. I'm sure my son and I will be doing some sensorial and language activities while we're in transit, as well as some "unschooling" at the zoo, and I'm sure I'll be blogging about it all soon.

Sailboats Washed Up

(from St. John Source)

Practical Life Activity: Helping with the Clean Up

Fun with Mops during Earl