Lift Up Your Hearts!

Eternal Vigilance Is the Price of Liberty

Whether you attribute that quotation to Wendell Phillips, Thomas Jefferson, or Patrick Henry, it's the truth, and no less true when it comes to the rights of parents to educate their own children.

When we first considered educating our children at home, that right was in legal limbo here in Florida, not being mentioned in the statutes at all. Some homeschoolers stayed under the government's radar by never registering their children for school in the first place (and staying out of sight during school hours), and others registered their homes as private schools, but I believe the most common choice was to homeschool under the "umbrella" of an existing private school. Some private schools were set up specifically for homeschoolers to be able to choose that option. It worked reasonably well, and thus some homeschoolers were reluctant to rock the boat when others pushed to make home education specifically legal. They were—quite reasonably—afraid that bringing the issue to the attention of lawmakers might result in less freedom rather than more. It's a legitimate fear, but recent events in California show the danger of not making rights and freedoms explicit.

A California appellate court ruling in the case of one specific family has thrown into confusion the legal status of homeschoolers in the whole state. The homeschooling family came to the attention of the authorities when the oldest child made accusations of child abuse. Whether these accusations were valid or a rebellious teen's reaction to resonable and legitimate family restrictions and discipline is not the point here—I only mention it because there's a general assumption that the parents were guilty, and I know personally that the alternate scenario is sometimes the truth. The matter of immediate concern to other homeschoolers is that the court made a general ruling on the legitimacy of homeschooling, and "published" it, making it available as legal precedent for other court cases. The judges ruled that parents do not have a right to educate their own children unless they hold valid state teaching certification at the appropriate grade level.

Several things are frightening about this, not the least of which is that the issue didn't even come to light until several days after the court decision had been made. The battle was lost before it was joined.

California homeschoolers are trying not to panic. The host that has arisen in their support includes Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger and the state superintendent of education, Jack O’Connell, as well as the Home School Legal Defense Association (HSLDA). Predictably, however, opponents are taking advantage of the opportunity as well. Los Angeles teachers' union president A.J. Duffy: What's best for a child is to be taught by a credentialed teacher. Los Angeles Daily News columnist Paul Kujawsky: [W]hat could work would be a regulatory scheme in which the California Department of Education creates standards for initial training and continuing supervision of home-schooling parents. This training and supervision could be carried out by organizations of credentialed teachers under contract with the department. Such a solution may not satisfy everyone, but it would preserve home schools while ensuring that their students are getting the sort of education California law requires. Note that Kujawsky's "solution" says nothing about how well children are actually learning and puts parents under direct control of the state and the teachers' union. (See Kujawksy's whole column here.)

If this doesn't scare you, read this column by Steven Greenhut of the Orange County (California) Register. Here are few excerpts (emphasis mine).

The judges—two Republican appointees and one Democratic appointee—argued that "parents do not have a constitutional right to home-school their children. … Because parents have a legal duty to see to their children's schooling within the provisions of these laws, parents who fail to do so may be subject to a criminal complaint against them, found guilty of an infraction and subject to imposition of fines or an order to complete a parent education and counseling program." The court made it clear that parents face a loss of custody if they don't comply, arguing that "the juvenile court has authority to limit a parent's control over a dependent child.

The ruling is shockingly totalitarian, as it echoes this point: "In obedience to the constitutional mandate to bring about a general diffusion of knowledge and intelligence, the Legislature, over the years, enacted a series of laws. A primary purpose of the educational system is to train school children in good citizenship, patriotism and loyalty to the state and the nation as a means of protecting the public welfare."

Is this California or Germany? I haven't written about the homeschooling horrors in Germany since the Melissa Busekros case (see here, here, and here), but the situation is so bad people are fleeing the country rather than turn their children over to the state. Homeschooling has become a significant movement in the United States, and most families who now teach their children at home have no memories of the battles that won them that freedom. They may have to repeat them.

I have had my quarrels with the HSLDA in the past, but nonetheless we chose to support them (and join them) while we were actively homeschooling, and I would do so again. As far as I can tell, they are the best and most effective organization around for monitoring the legal assaults on homeschooling, both here and abroad, and as they have matured they seem to have become more calm and less likely to panic unnecessarily (one of my objections in the past). One HSLDA opponent complained that the organization should have quietly gone away after home education was legalized in all states, instead of continuing to grow. Much as I respect that person, one California court decision was all it took to prove him wrong.

I'm not sure of the value of petitions, especially the electronic variety, and though I've signed some physical petitions, I'd never signed one online. Until now. The HSLDA website has a petition requesting that the California Supreme Court "depublish" this case, which would mean it could not be sited as legal precedent. Normally I would not expect petitioners to matter if they are not California citizens, but the HSLDA would like to show broad national support as well, so I signed.

On the other side of the continent, Washington, DC is now considering instituting Draconian restrictions for its homeschoolers. According to this Washington Times column by J. Michael Smith, president of the HSLDA, The regulations cover everything from record keeping and home visits to the power of government officials to immediately terminate a homeschool program at their discretion.

Here's an interesting map, taken from this San Jose, California Mercury News article.

Note that both California and Washington, DC were considered to be "low regulation." Connecticut is a great place to live if you want to homeschool, almost an island in the midst of its heavy-handed neighbors. North Dakota, on the other hand, stands out in the other direction.

Many people choose where to live based on the quality of the public schools. Homeschoolers are liberated from that concern, but would do well to consider the homeschooling regulations to which they would be subjecting themselves. Even so, nothing can be taken for granted. To continue the Wendell Phillips quote, Only by continual oversight can the democrat in office be prevented from hardening into a despot. That's a lower case "d" democrat—Republicans are not exempt.

Our spam filter usually works really, really well, but the stupid spammers are getting more and more clever, and there were two when I awoke this morning.  I deleted them, but those of you who use feedreaders will no doubt see them.  In case you were wondering, my posts were shanghaied—the spam came from Shanghai, China.  (Thanks, Feedjit!)

More disturbing, however, was that in the process of deleting them I discovered two legitimate comments that had been marked as spam.  I fixed that, but one was in made January and the other in February, so they don't show up in the Recent Comments list.  My apologies to Peter V and Stephan; click on their names to see the posts and their comments.

Last year when we went to Switzerland we tried several new Swiss dishes, but somehow missed raclette.  To make up for it, this trip we ate raclette four times, and lest you think we tired of it, we were inspired to purchase our own raclette set.

I call it our Swiss souvenir, though in point of fact I bought it from Amazon.com, in order to get one that didn't need a power and plug converter, and to save carrying it home.  Although this is a Swiss appliance (manufactured, alas, in China), it appears to have been super-sized for the American market:  the little pans are perhaps twice the size I was expecting.

Friday night we had our first raclette party, and though there are some modifications I would make next time, it went well.  I found raclette cheese at Whole Foods, but it was French raclette cheese, which may explain why it was softer and not quite as flavorful as that which we ate in Switzerland.  No matter; we spiced it up with the raclette spice and seasoned sea salt that did make the journey from Basel to Florida in my suitcase.

The cool thing about raclette is that, like fondue, it is a community cooking experience.  There's a bit of preparation involved, but the actual cooking is done by the guests as you all converse companionably around the dinner table.  Each person places a slice of cheese in his little pan and sets it under the grill to heat.  When the cheese is melted and bubbly, he  scrapes it out onto small, boiled potatoes (okay, so that part of the cooking is done in advance), seasons the mixture, and then digs in.  Accompaniments are traditionally pickled onions and cornichons.  (We substituted baby dills for the latter.)  One of our Swiss hosts cooked bulgoki on the top part of the grill, which was delicious.  I wasn't that ambitious, but did use the top of the grill to cook marinated green beans and mushrooms.

Dessert, of course, was Swiss chocolate.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver,  Steven L. Hopp, and Camille Kingsolver (HarperCollins, 2007)

When we were visiting Janet, a friend of hers was reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  The friend wasn’t totally happy with it, but it sounded intriguing enough that I borrowed it from the library when we returned.

I’m not totally happy with it either.  Kingsolver apparently doesn't know much about capitalism and corporations other than the standard leftist line, so every time she ventures into politics she becomes more annoying than enlightening.  She also seems to have a vendetta against anyone who doesn't believe in evolution (she has a master’s degree in evolutionary biology, which may explain a lot) and can't resist making totally unnecessary snide comments in which she reveals how little she really knows about most people who don’t accept the entire package of evolutionary theory.  She likes to point to microevolutionary changes and say, in effect, "See, take that! You ignorant creationists!" when in fact that is not a part of the theory creationists generally have a problem with.  She also misquotes the Bible at one point, which ought to have been caught by a proofreader, but that merely rankles; it doesn’t affect any of her arguments.

Be that as it may, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is well worth reading.  As a writer, Barbara Kingsolver combines a poet’s ear for language with an entertainer’s sense of presentation.  Even if I had found the subject dull, I believe I would have enjoyed reading this book.

The subject is by no means dull.  Kingsolver, her husband, and her two daughters decided to move to rural Virginia and dedicate a year to eating only what they grew themselves or that was grown nearby (with a very few exceptions, such as coffee and some spices).  In the process of following the family’s adventures, the reader learns too much for comfort about the sad state of eating in this most food-wealthy of nations.

For quite a while now I’ve been becoming increasingly uncomfortable with our “factory farming” methods of producing food, but my concerns were generally limited to two:  Cruelty to the animals and the associated pollution of their meat and milk with stress hormones, not to mention antibiotics and other unwanted chemicals; and the loss of flavor in our food.

These are certainly important issues, but there are many, many more.  I’ll mention here only one, perhaps the most frightening, though the book doesn’t give it as much prominence as I think it deserves:  Our food supply is no longer self-sustainable.  Plants and animals have for years been bred for many characteristics, but those which encourage reproduction, by seed or by sex, are not among them.  Those who sell seeds have little interest in plants that will allow the farmer to save seeds from his current crop rather than purchasing new seeds for the next year.  Characteristics that make animals successful reproducers are not generally compatible with the technique of keeping animals in close confinement, and besides, artificial insemination is more reliable and predictable, so that’s the way our agricultural animals are reproduced.  I find the idea of a food supply that can’t last beyond the current generation without artificial intervention to be very, very scary.  Closely related is the way we have bred variety out of our food plants and animals.  Ninety-nine percent of the turkeys we eat, for example, are of a single breed, the Broad-Breasted White.  All I can think of when I hear numbers like that is the Irish Potato Famine.  We may end up owing our lives to heritage and heirloom plant and animal breeders like our friend at the Claude Moore Colonial Farm.

This family’s year-long experiment could be considered a time of deprivation, but it was a time of abundance and joy.  They would be the first to say it would not have been so joyful had they been trying to earn their living as farmers.  With their living secured by outside employment, their farm work, onerous and time-consuming as it was, was more in the nature of a hobby—albeit one that bore primary responsibility for putting food on the table—than a job.  They only had to feed themselves, not figure out how to sell food to others.  The work of raising, harvesting, and preserving their plant and animal crops was hard, but also worthwhile, meditative, and restorative.

I don’t believe the author would recommend their course for everyone, but she rightfully and strongly believes everyone should know a lot more than we do about where our food comes from, how it grows, and how it gets to us.  Most of us could benefit from planting small gardens of our own, be it only a window box-full.  Buying whatever we can from local farmers’ markets would improve our eating while supporting small farmers, and some of us might even consider encouraging our political leaders to transfer some of the government’s farm subsidies from mega-conglomerates to small-scale farms and individual farmers, as an investment in a more sustainable (not to mention flavorful) future.

Happy Palm Sunday, one and all!  The choir sang for two services today, so we had double the fun.  Those of you who live up north are really missing a treat—real, whole palm branches, and all the better if you whacked yours off one of the palms in your backyard last night, as we did.  :)  We started the service outdoors, and then the whole congregation processed around the church singing All Glory, Laud and Honor (Episcopal Hymnal chorus/verse version), led by the rector with his guitar, and through some miracle and a little help from modern technology we were actually together and in the same key as the piano and organ when we entered the church.

The rest of the service was good, though not quite what I would have liked.  I prefer Palm Sunday to be Palm Sunday, but often, as it was today, it is celebrated as Palm/Passion Sunday, because so many people don't attend the midweek Holy Week services.  Doing that, you pass from the Triumphal Entry to the Resurrection without having passed through the Last Supper, Gesthemene, and the Crucifixion, which is a rather significant omission.  So we give Palm Sunday short shrift as a concession to the reality of modern living.  Sigh.  But it was good, anyway, and although the framework was the same in both services, they were different enough to keep the second from feeling like a repeat:  one was Rite I, the other Rite II, and there were even two different sermons.

I hope your experiences today were as good! 

One of the strangest and most difficult aspects of interacting with other people is discovering those areas which you consider to be so basic, so foundational, so obvious that you don't even think about them—until you run up against someone for whom they are not basic, and maybe not even important.

For me one of those givens is that you don't take food from a common dish and then put it back, and if your hands touch something on a common plate you take it, even if you didn't mean to.  Thus I find it particularly unnerving to watch at church potlucks, or <shudder> restaurant buffet bars, as folks violate those maxims repeatedly and egregiously, with no consideration for those behind them in line.  I'm not speaking particularly of children here; the adults are just as likely, sometimes more so, to be the offenders.

This raises two questions:  Is this really a matter of fundamental hygiene and common courtesy, or merely a particular, culture-specific custom?  I do hope not the latter, or I may have to stop eating away from home.

and

What are the habits that seem perfectly normal and natural to me, yet cause in others the stomach-turning reaction I experienced this morning?

Not until I was writing the date on a customs form did I remember this most numerically felicitous of days.

I found this joke on the official Pi Day website:

Since—ta da!—we expect our fourth grandchild in October , and since choosing a baby's name has an aura of sacrament in the Daley household, and since others have already begun making positive suggestions, I hereby offer an article on baby names not to use.

Ancestry.com's Bad Baby Names on the Brain features the book, Bad Baby Names: The Worst True Names Parents Saddled Their Kids With—And Now You Can Too!  I don't know if the article is open to the public or requires a subscription; in case of the latter, I present just a few of the 2,000 or so names, culled from census data, that I would rather not use when speaking of our newest grandchild:  Title Page, Magenta Flamingo, Ghoul Nipple, Mann Pigg, Mary A. Belcher, Deuteronomy Temple, Hell Grimes, Lucifer Carmendo, Sandwich Green, Mayo Head, Tuna Fish, Fanny Pack, Major Nutt, Warren Peace.  Some people have no imagination; names like Octavio and Quintin clearly indicate birth order (though the one present-day Octavio I know is an only child; go figure), but the authors also found, as first names, "every number from one to twenty, by tens to a hundred, and thousand, million, billion, and infinity."  I know our Puritan ancestors were fond of naming their children after virtues (Love, Prudence, Patience, Charity, Endurance), and sometimes after circumstances associated with their lives (Fear, Wrestling), but who would name a child Lust, Wrath, Greed, Avarice, Envy, Sloth, Wrath, or Pride?

Take a moment and be thankful for your parents' wisdom.  Even if you've always hated your name, you now know it could have been much, much worse. 

I've known the Agony of Defeat often enough when it comes to the sport of e-mail balancing, but today I glory in a victory:  My Inbox is empty.

That's rare enough, but not enough to merit a blog post.  Although it seems to balloon to over 100 e-mails with unconscionable ease, and sad to say even 300 if I blink, I can usually whack it down to manageable size, even briefly zero, with a little sustained effort.  And some cheating.

You see, I have this other folder called Awaiting Action, a kind of alter ego for my Inbox.  When I’m hacking through the e-mail overgrowth and come to an item I can’t deal with immediately, I move it into Awaiting Action.  This keeps me from becoming discouraged and giving up, which is a good thing, but organizationally it’s the equivalent of clearing house clutter before company comes by throwing things higgledy-piggledy into a box and stuffing the box into a closet.

Like that box in the closet, it’s out of sight, out of mind, easy to ignore until the next clean up spree when one opens the closet door to deposit yet another box.  Yet it’s not really out of mind; I don’t know about you, but such boxes—real and virtual—haunt my subconscious, the nagging discomfort of things “left undone which we ought to have done.”

This weekend I was inspired—perhaps by Porter, whose e-mail deluge makes mine look like a drippy faucet—to open the closet door.  My Awaiting Action box contained items that had been waiting since 2005.  It had sprouted several subfolders, as if organization could substitute for action, and the contents of each had grown apace.  I picked up my best Ponce de Leon machete and plunged in.

The subfolders are now gone.  The contents of Awaiting Action now fill a mere half page on my screen.  I hope to do better still, but at a more gradual pace, since the remaining e-mails involve projects, some of considerable magnitude, that are not suited to machete-style work.  “Good enough is better than perfect,” and indeed some of the projects are of too low a priority to merit much effort right now.  Nonetheless, I’m determined not to let this box grow beyond a page—no scroll bars allowed.

In the process I reorganized and simplified my e-mail folders, taking better advantage of Thunderbird’s expanded tagging and filtering options.  I like it!  More than that, I hope the new system will help me stay on top of my e-mail at last.  Posting about it is part of the effort, too, providing Accountability, as they say in the 12-step biz.  Feel free to come back and ask me how I’m doing as the days, weeks, and months pass.

Now about that closet….

I had hoped to bring you video of tonight's launch of the space shuttle Endeavour.  Night launches are rare and beautiful.  However, although Endeavour had a successful launch, my view was completely obscured by a generally-overcast sky.  So my best view was the same as yours:  that provided by the television cameras.  Only I'll bet none of you were actually up at this hour watching.  I wouldn't have awakened just to see it on TV, but any launch is worth seeing, and even the chance of a night launch is worth arising for.

It was almost worth getting up to see another phenomenon:  twilight at 2 a.m.  The clouds were low and reflected back so much city light that I could have been excused for thinking I'd wandered into the Land of the Midnight Sun...were it not for the 62-degree temperature.

Two years ago, Andy F. alerted me to a National Review article by Rod Dreher entitled Crunchy Cons.  This was actually a reprint, the original having been published 'way back in 2002.  Andy suggested I might enjoy both the article and the opportunity to turn it into a blog post, and he was right.  It's not his fault it's taken me so long to write.

Dreher has a book of the same title that I haven't yet read, so I'll only be commenting on the article.  But the book's subtitle nearly says it all:  How Birkenstocked Burkeans, gun-loving organic gardeners, evangelical free-range farmers, hip homeschooling mamas, right-wing nature lovers, and their diverse tribe of countercultural conservatives plan to save America (or at least the Republican Party).

Despite having been a card-carrying Democrat from the day I filled out my first voter registration form, I've never fit well with any political party. I learned quickly that the Democratic Party and I differ in significant respects on many crucial issues, not the least of which is the definition of words such as "liberal" and "conservative." Yet the Republicans haven't won me over, although I confess it's been many years since I've been able to stomach voting for a Democrat at other than the local level.  I consider myself a Liberal Conservative—on some days a Conservative Liberal—when I think of labels, which I rarely do, and feel very much alone.

Yet Crunchy Cons lets me know that I am not alone after all.  I'm not the only one who shares interests and convictions with people of drastically diverse political persuasions.  A number of those who hold conservative views on economic and family issues also realize that homeschooling, home birth, organic farming, locally- and humanely-raised food, recycling and composting, freedom of choice, and putting family and community before profit are inherently conservative activities, important ground not to be ceded to the political Left.  By following our desires and beliefs in these areas we often find ourselves side by side in common cause with those whose views on other issues we find appalling, as they do ours.

This is a good thing.  It's far too easy to demonize an unknown political enemy, but when that enemy has a face and meets you each week at the farmer's market, or works with you to make home birth legal in your state, then is the soil tilled for planting seeds of peace and understanding and hope.

As Janet has mentioned (in her comment on My Lenten Disciplines), nothing sends me to sleep faster than staring at the television set:  broadcast show, DVD movie, or even a Teaching Company lecture that I'm particularly interested in seeing, it matters not.  There's something about the experience that triggers the sleep reflex in me.  Oddly, it's a particularly pleasant sleep, too—perhaps it hearkens back to childhood days of drifting off to the incomprehensible yet comforting sound of adult voices.  Thus I couldn't help noticing when two consecutive comics (Baldo and Hi and Lois) in my morning routine hit that nerve.

For those of you who don't read Heather and Jon's blog, I can't resist posting this view of life through the eyes of a four-year-old living in a geek house in this new century:

We happened to get two pictures in the mail, and Jonathan was holding them and looking at them. Then he piped up, "How do you get pictures to look like this?" Like what? This is a 21st century boy—he meant how do they get on paper.

It's another one of those things I lived without just fine, thank you, though now I wonder why I waited so long.  Blame an outdated sense of the cost of webcams; I never imagined I could buy one for under $100, much less under $30.  But thanks to Stephan, Janet, and Best Buy, I'm all set.

It has been great to be able to see Janet when I talk with her, as well as for her to be able to initiate phone calls.  Now I'm having double the fun (or five times as much, depending on how you calculate it) because another of my favorite families has joined the video Skype crowd.  I'm sure the excitement will wear off after a while, but for now I'm enjoying lots of smiles, hugs, I-love-yous, what's-happening-now, and best of all those dear faces and voices.  I love to get those quick little text messages that say things like "Hi! I finished my math and am now going to do writing," with plenty of music note and hugging teddy bear emoticons.

And this morning?  This morning I was the delighted one-person, long-distance audience for a cello concert!

Now here's something we don't see every day.  In fact, this is the first time.  I looked out the front window, saw a flock of ibis (or ibises if you prefer) standing around on our street!

  

Then they started marching.

Our neighbor, who is reroofing his house, made a sudden noise, and they flew off.

(As usual, click on the preview pictures for a larger view, and click on the links to see the videos.)