Not Quite Ready

By-the-by, I updated my appearances page to reflect some upcoming events. I’ll be adding more shortly. 

The first thing I did this morning was make and drink a cup of coffee. The second thing I did was move the cows to a day paddock and after I did that, I stood in the middle of the not-still-dark-but-not-yet-light pasture just listening to them chew. I love the sound of cows dipping into fresh grass. There’s a rhythm to it, a metronomic contentment that I find enormously relaxing. This morning I had the crazy idea of inventing a white noise machine with the sound of cows chewing. Hell, I could go to sleep to that (then again, I can go to sleep to pretty much anything, so perhaps that’s not the best litmus test). Funny thing is, I bet it’d actually sell.

As I finished chores, I was thinking about a couple of Jeff’s comments in recent days. Jeff seems to have ruffled a few folks, judging from the private emails I got. Me, I don’t mind so much, and particularly because I get the feeling the guy actually cares. He’s not just trying to wind me up. Furthermore, I don’t write the things I write expecting everyone to agree with me. I do not mind dissent, though I’m not big on vitriol. But so far, at least, that hasn’t been an issue.

Anyway, for those that missed it, Jeff’s comments are organized around the idea that perhaps Penny and I aren’t doing an adequate job of preparing Fin and Rye for the “real world.” As he writes “the real world” is unforgiving under the best of conditions and more so for the unprepared. In another comment, he says I sincerely hope that, when you have the advantage of 20/20 hindsight, the choices that you make for Fin and Rye will have worked out in their best interests.

I should first say that I simply disagree that my sons’ atypical education isn’t preparing them for the so-called “real world” which, as Jeff and I agree, is an occasionally unforgiving place. Maybe you could even scratch “occasionally.” I actually have a high degree of confidence that immersion learning is precisely the best preparation for the “real world” simply because it fosters a degree of resourcefulness, self-confidence, and self-awareness that I believe is too often uncultivated by standardized curricula.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about. Indeed, it’s not what I really hope or intend for my boys – that they’re optimized to compete in the dog-eat-dog economy and social structure of the “real world.” As I started to write to Jeff in a reply to one of his comments, I believe strongly (dare I say passionately?) that the best antidote to the oft-unforgiving nature of the “real world” is to raise children who come into that world as compassionate adults. Who, in some small (or maybe even large) way, erode a fraction of its unforgiving nature. Who do not feel compelled to compete in the snarling pack of humanity for whatever scraps of wealth and resources they can glean. Yeah, that’s a little hyperbolic, but you get my point.

I think one of the reasons Penny and I have so much confidence in our path is because we have been incredibly fortunate to know and become close to people who chosen to live as antidotes to the unforgiveness Jeff writes of. I think of Nate, whose mark on this earth is as compassionate and humble as any I know. I think of Erik and his devotion to connecting children with the wild and how he holds that devotion above all else, including making what most would consider a livable income. I think of Jimmy and Sara, who work hard and long, with a degree of good humor and integrity that inspires me no end. I think of many others.

I wonder if some of the skepticism regarding our educational choices is rooted in the fact that many Americans are not so fortunate to live in a community where there remains a reverence for the natural world and where so many people have figured out how to live meaningful and prosperous lives largely (though not entirely, of course: None of us are separate) beyond the boundaries of the unforgiving world Jeff writes of. Where someone can be a laborer or a farmer or a logger and be treated with the same respect as a doctor or a software developer. Perhaps even with more respect. I’m not saying northern Vermont is the only place this is true, but it is one place it is true and I suspect it is why when someone leaves a comment to my Outside article about how the only occupation my sons will ever be qualified to hold is that of subsistence farmer or ditch digger, I think to myself well, ok. I think better to dig ditches with dignity than to sell one’s compassion down the road. Not that the two are mutually exclusive, but you get my point.

I guess what I’m saying is, it’s sort of hard to understand how my children might prosper in the unforgiving “real world” if unforgiveness is primarily what one sees around them. I’m not sure if this is the case with Jeff; truthfully, I sort of get the sense it’s not. I think he sees what I’m talking about.

He might just not quite believe it yet.