Showing posts with label uncontrolled use of font styles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label uncontrolled use of font styles. Show all posts

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

The missing hours of education lost!

I came across a document the other day - how permission will be denied, if you want to remove your child from school for any day except under special circumstance.


The institution kept bolding this word, special, as if to say, there ain't no special circumstance special enough that would be given permission, so don't even try.


As reasons why you should never pull your child from school? Apparently, days out of school are a negative impact.


Your child would miss out. Your child would even lose their friends. They would be all alone in the world and IT WOULD BE ALL YOUR FAULT.


If you were still wavering, the school then reminded you about the penalty notice and your PROSECUTION IN COURT.


You were still interested in taking your child out of school? Sure! Go ahead!

The school suggested your contact point from here might be THE EDUCATIONAL WELFARE OFFICER.


This role, as parents are taught to fear, deals with abused, marginalised, despairing families who, like you tainted now forever, simply don't care.

Contact them and the next step can only be POLICE, SOCIAL SERVICES and FORCED ADOPTION.

Now go ahead if you think you're special.

Yes, that document pissed me off. It was blatantly threatening. Like the tactics of a bully. Personally, after reading it, I wouldn't want to trust anything that a Local Authority or school told me. Do they feel themselves on weak ground so that they have to resort to threat? What weaknesses of their system are they hiding?

Really, it's the sort of document that would make me pen that deregistration letter right there and then. I accept I'm a little awkward over such matters.


But we have to remember, they're just providing a service. And if you think the service ain't good enough, you don't have to take it. You can take your kids elsewhere.


No matter where you go in this world, you'll always find a home ed group.


Taking part in this wide, wide world. Our classroom.


Today's missed opportunities in learning? Finding out how the world works,
how friends get along, how particles slide, and how the earth spins. Shek O beach

Thursday, 10 December 2009

Grit's guide to Christmas for mean parents (4): Decorations

Don't have any.

The end.


OK, I understand you might feel a little short-changed now after that Christmas advice.

I mean, you would pay good money to come to grit's day! Source of eternal parenting sunshine and bright hope worldwide!

You would, wouldn't you? Assuming you say YES I WOULD, I know you expect better service.

Like the reason why grit is Mrs Touchyabouttheruddydecorationsinthefirstplace.

Well there is a reason I turn my back in total denial of anything decorative at this festive time.

We are a home educating family. The children already decorated my house. And as home educating families know, their idea of decoration isn't confined to the fridge.

I bet I am not alone in saying I have not seen my walls, floor, nor any surface, for nigh on ten years. Every bead, button, stick-on loveheart and scrap of paper ever slaughtered in the name of art has gone up on the walls all around me. I am surrounded by the sacrificial remains.

This is a lifestyle that uses every inch of a house as a teaching aid and learning resource. This is a path that allows kids self-expression, that validates every skill, pen stroke, and the near-ability to roll out of bed before 10am in the morning.

Of course we call the result decoration. Or Education. Achievement. Commemoration. Adornment. Beautification. Triumph of hope over despair. Walls that look like tombstones. A total bloody mess.

Then, thanks to the daily pursuit of the decorative arts within the home education setting, there's the decoration I already keep on every surface of the house.

The mail table. Don't send me any cards. We won't open them.

Tiger's desk. Aka landfill.

Computer table. Shark with her hand over the screen.
She doesn't want you to see what she's viewing.
Being a home educated child, it is how to use a bong.

Hall table. Last seen 2003.

And this is a view of one of the kitchen walls, which is especially reserved for showcasing decorative items.


To take this picture I already moved the floor decoration - three empty beer bottles and two mouse traps - and I stood on the kitchen table where I extracted from my left ear a wicker fish chained to the ceiling. (And if you doubt that, ask Ellie and Mr W. They are regular visitors and bring curry.)

At this point, do not say grit, in the right light that kitchen could look quite attractive in a post-modern chic eclectic type of way. NO WAY. This kitchen is littered floor to ceiling with kid art and craft since the first bum prints in 2001.

See that face far right on the wall? That was made by two-year olds Shark, Squirrel and Tiger bombing a piece of cardboard with paint and beads. But can I take it down? Can I fly up to the moon on the back of a fish?

The problem with decoration of the education variety is that it turns me into a schizophrenic. My brain takes up polar positions and one side starts arguing with the other until both halves are smacking the crap out of each other. As umpire I am forced to knock myself out with eight aspirins and a bottle of whiskey.

The conversation starts something like this:

Left brain: God! It's a total mess in here!

Right brain: I know! Strip that crap off the walls and let's see some space!

Left brain: No! No, no no! Don't you dare clear up! This mess is the price you have to pay. Because this is ART. And it belongs to the children. They gave ART to your walls with LOVE. And you have no right to remove that. Bitch.

Right brain: But look at that picture of a flower! It looks like catshit.

Left brain: OK, good point. That one does. You could throw that away. But Squirrel will notice that you think her art is CATSHITRASH. And that will be the lesson you teach Squirrel. That she is CATSHITRASH. You MONSTER.

Right brain: But can't we throw it all away and start over again on a clean wall?

Left brain: You tried that in 2002. Look where it got you! That was the night you thought it was a good idea to throw yourself under a bus. So why don't you try it again ARTKILLINGMONSTERMOTHER?

So the upshot to this chapter in the long-winded series of Christmas Death is

Decorations? Save yourself time, money and SANITY. Don't go there.

Especially if you home educate. Please please please, in all that is holy, can we call a decoration-free day once a year?

Can we all just go now and clear up and SEE WALLS AND WORKSURFACE ONCE IN A YEAR.


PS. Dig just reminded me of these. No wonder I had wiped them from my consciousness.