Unschooled

I am dedicating a new series of poetry to one of the newest passions of my life, which has been developing since Noelle's birth and my exit from the institution of education in this country, unschooling myself.



School comes from a Greek word which means "leisure", because the first school consisted of young Greek males strolling among gardens, talking to wise philosophers about the bigger questions of life. When I came across this I had to read it several times because it was shockingly apparent how far from this original intention we have come.

Or was this ever the intention, here?

There are many things I could say about the institution of schooling, but one thing I find at odds with my current life is that it attempts to break things into subjects, declaring false boundaries that leave children (or people) naming themselves as a "math person" or an "artist".

Unschooling involves dissolving these illusionary boundaries to find the all encompassing energy of the universe which envelopes paradoxes to make one beautiful, complete whole.



Poetic Math.

Artistic Science.

Creative Logic.



And all this beautiful, ripe fruit of learning cannot and will not be vacuum sealed into a textbook that has become so dull I cannot imagine a more spirit breaking job than editing these monstrosities.

It must remain living, breathing, and free -- books written by those passionate about their work, who can see the life and beauty in what they are doing.

Simply, it must remain whole.

This first poem is a dedication to what I feel as I walk this path.

The Spring

When I was young

I drank from a Spring

That spilled down

From the Hills

It was clear

And cool

And I felt

Born Again

After drinking

One day a Woman came

To say it was time

To leave the Hills

For the Spring

I had drank from

For so long

Could no longer

Sustain me.

She said I must come with her

To the place

where they make

Healthy water

Fortified and Modified

With Enzymes and Minerals

She seemed Nice

at least not Mean

And she talked

Like she Knew

what she said

And so I left my

Mother

And the Spring

And she gave me

a Plastic Bottle

Filled

With water

That was better

than the Spring's

You know,

Full of extra Vitamins

and Minerals

That could sustain me

It tasted stale

and was warm

But I drank anyway

And because I was lonely

in this Big New Place

I did what I was told

So I could bathe in the warmth

Of a Smile

Or Kind Word

I still occasionally hiked

through the Hills to

The Spring

For fun

I still felt Reborn

After Drinking

Very different from the tiredness

I felt after the Woman's Water

Time went by

And I believed she

Was Right

This Water must be

the Answer to Everlasting Life

And so I drank and drank

And became so waterlogged

That I never felt Thirst anymore

But my mouth was always

Dry

As if

My thirst was never fully

Quenched

And as time passed

I no longer went to the Hills

I could not bear the thought

of Water

After so much drinking all day

And so I forgot the way

and there was just an Echo

of a memory

of a magical stream

that could renew Life

One day

Swollen

And Lazy

With their dead, altered

water

Sickened by the

Hollow Praise

Handed out only

To those

Who Obey

I took a walk

And wandered

Into some Lush

Green

Hills

There I found a sparkling

Clear

Spring

Singing sweetly

To the Trees

And something in me

Woke up

Remembered

And I drank

And the Vitality of this

Water

Washed away the plastic taste

And my mouth did not feel

Dry

Any longer

But Cool

And Wet

And suddenly I Knew

This Spring

was the only thing

I had ever needed

Would ever need.

And on that Day

By the Spring

In the Hills

I became

Young again.