From the ashes rose a rock

I notice something. That some of the best things about home education are also some of the worst.

Children who are home educated (even ones you force to do maths worksheets) tend to have a lot of self-direction, ambition, drive, and energy. Worse, they bring great passionate commitment to what they do. Indeed, they will pursue an activity for hours and hours, while you mock and scorn those who claim that children have the attention span of newts. But look! you cry. Tinkertop has now devoted six hours without a toilet break - to her art!

To the gullible and foolish home educating parent, perhaps one just like Grit, this is good. This is better than good. This is proof that home education WORKS. This is watching your adorable offspring Tinkertop focus herself totally on her goals; she dedicates herself to mastering her desires; she responds to the wonderful things you have shown her in the world; she brings her magical visions to practical fruition, and controls stuff like metal and rock - all normally beyond the reach of the average mortal - and creates beautiful, inspirational art! Original, creative, autonomous!

Secretly, softheaded parents like Grit hope offsprings like Tigers will be hailed as the heir to Tracey Emin because, even aged ten, she really is Art Personified.

But even softheaded fools like Grit must sometimes wake up, then look around the builder's rubble they call home.

In reality, Tinkertop has left a trail of destruction through the entire house, abandoned smashed up brick fragments on the bathroom floor, spilt yellow ochre powder paint all over the kitchen table, wedged a paintbrush down the washroom plughole which you can't get out, stained the Indian carpet orange, spilt water down the back of the kitchen sink which, thanks to faulty wiring, results in the house fuse exploding, and leaves a collaterally damaged sister called Squirrel, groaning flat out on the front room floor, nursing a head wound thanks to an unfortunate collision with a rock.

And at the end of the day you have this to show for it.


Possibly the most magnificent representation of a stone age leaping deer I have ever seen, and worthy of the moment Picasso emerged moist-eyed from Lascaux.

Or it's a lump of old river rock with some ground down brick dust scratched on it.